#the center but no one is really looking at him

[spidermanifested]

another black sails fantheory ive seen around a lot is that silver is jewish, usually specifically sephardic, but despite its prevalence i havent been able to find anybodys actual thesis statements about it. so if there are Essays out there (especially by somebody with more historical-slash-judaism knowledge than i with my meager wiki-crawls) i would love Links

however once again ive pondered a bunch of the stuff ive noticed personally, about mr john "if thats even your real name" silver. and honestly at this point id be kind of surprised if it Wasnt the actual context the writers shaped his character around. everything just seems to come together really neatly

hes impressively literate for his circumstances/time period, and really good at quickly memorizing large amounts of text. a solid religious education could very well explain this

specifically– and this is one of the things that feels like a huge bit of intentional subtext to me– the scene where hes hiding with the lepers and memorizing the urca schedule REALLY seems to evoke someone reading scripture under a prayer shawl

not only does he not know how to cook pork, but does not even seem to know what pork looks like when finished cooking

the pretext flint used to get his crew to hunt down the hamiltons' ship was that it was carrying sephardic riches. this is a completely throwaway detail we learn secondhand, in a story where there are very, very few completely throwaway details

silver speaks at least some spanish. this comes up Once and goes totally unquestioned by everyone around him, likely because they think he just picked it up as a sailor. he almost certainly has not been at sea long enough for this to be the case. speaking ladino as a first language on the other hand would give him a huge leg up (so to speak.) in that department

further point. around the time period of the show, the biggest sephardic community in the world lived in thessaloniki in modern-day greece. it was:

a) one of the most major seaports in the ottoman empire

b) a famous center for learning, which boasted 100% literacy of its jewish population

and c) despite its long and prosperous history under ottoman rule, beginning to decline along with the rest of the empire, for many interconnected reasons, including but not limited to: Problems With the Governments Handling of the Textile Industry (where have we heard that before)

lotta unrest. religious schisms and doomsday prophecies. reactionary groups of overempowered soldiers attacking civilians for stress relief (again. where have we heard that before). people, unsurprisingly, started leaving

so if you did want, against john silvers express wishes. to theorize a backstory for a surprisingly educated stowaway of Mystery Origin, who has Mystery Trauma and doesnt want anybody to know who he is or where he comes from, and which would give a new level of relevance to all the greek stuff that permeates the show (down to the actual name of the thing!), along with containing parallels to several other backstories and events in the show proper,

Well this one make sense i think 👍

[acid-ixx]

i would not survive wayne manor if i had to stare into dick's y/n blue orbs everyday

stop looking at me with those eyes! (again &. again mini drabble)

ft. post-kidnapped reader w/ yandere batfam shitpost

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist ! ; related post !

thank u for sending this oh my god, i need to write about this!!! i absolutely love your art style for the reader, they're so handsome i'm crying and laughing ��😭😭 and it's true!!! i will also die if i look at the entire family's eyes as a filipino who has never once stared at a foreigner's eyes because it's just so bright huhu.

unfortunately for your case though, your refusal to look straight at them just translates to extra unwanted counseling sessions with the family in one of the large expanses of the living rooms housing the available members for a meeting. it's a whole gathering where you're the center of attention.

and it's not only dick involved, it's also all the other blue-eyed bastards and an additional glowering, pair of green ones which shines the brightest of them all— and if not for cass and duke's dark colored peepers, you might've truly passed away because it's no joke that their eyes glint under the light passing through locked windows, especially when the sun is at its highest peak and hits at just the right angles to glisten.

not only have you no physical escape, but their obsessed stares never leave your form too, devouring and locking you whole in your place and claustrophobic to the chains of their bright-orbed gaze.

"(name), dear, as much as you don't wish for me to address the issue; it's becoming an unhealthy habit that you refuse to maintain eye contact with the family. it doesn't help that your heart palpitates, you perspire more often, and you make excuses to run to a different room when you do. what's wrong?"

you don't even have to look up from staring at your lap (as if you want to, hah!) to know it's your father's voice directed at you. it's a unique tremor that reverberates across the room and commands attention from all corners; yet when he speaks to you, it's coated with an unhealthily sweet reverence that seems completely foreign to someone who has never once spoken to him until now.

"u-uhm..." stuttering, you bite your lip, drowning in your own self-preservation that had you ignoring dick's stealthy steps to your seated body on the couch, only for his fingers to carefully graze on your chin, snapping you out of your attention yet being too late as he lifts your head up, forcing to stare at his wide-blown eyes.

they're unnaturally bright today, shining more than the beaches in those private islands bruce owns, it's even more terrifying that he's staring at you.

"it's unfair too... baby bird, that it's me you avoid the most," he groans, it grates at your ears but it was better to focus on your other senses if you wish to control the ever-living fear of miley cyrus' blue eyes burned right into your retina, now associated with dick's emboldened ones. his palms find its way to either side of your head, cradling it side to side, the contact forced you to continue staring ahead of him. and no matter how much you resort to blanking out, the intensity of his baby blue eyes forfeits you to focus on anything else.

yet it's the gentle graze on your side that encourages you to speak your mind, you really hate how infantilizing this entire scene feels, and comical that they're - dick - is taking your excuses too seriously.

"ah... well—" how do you explain that you're shit at eye-contact because, first, and can't deal with their luminescent stares pinning you down to your spot, brighter than diamonds and emerald crystals, second?

"everyone's just too... you know. i- i really can't explain without it sounding... uhm..."

"too overwhelming? too what? akhi/akhti? it has been years since we last took you in, and you've been perfectly communicating with us until now. what has changed? has that rebel, todd, dare to make another deal with you again which involves refusing to properly communicate with us? with me? because if he did—"

damian's voice slithers with conviction, condemnation and possessive threats that strike fear into your heart with every venom-laced word. if not for his head nuzzling into the shadows of your neck, the dichotomy of dialogue and action, you would've been convinced he's out to kill you instead.

yet the same gremlin muttering insults is your little brother who takes the entire space beside you on the velvety couch, rendering you completely cornered by his expecting glare. except now, unlike the mental torment he subjected to you, his green-eye gaze glimmers with concealed adoration you've learned to discern, he's always been a heckler for your attention; the tan hands wrapped around your waist in a snuggle tightens, not too tight that it deprives you of oxygen, but demands your answers instead.

like father, like son. as the saying goes. always finding solutions with unwanted affection. couldn't even push them away without them interpreting your actions as rebellion which only results in more uncomfortable competitions on who gets to cuddle you for longer.

and wait, no, they didn't take you in, bullshit! they basically kidnapped you. it's only that you've grown accustomed to dealing with them individually and as a group, but because they've been more lenient with technology, providing you access to wifi with supervised search results, you stumbled across one of , which not-so faintly reminds you of them.

your past traumas of them replaced with jaded motivation to survive and tolerate the ever living plague in your life you call your family.

bruce did advise you to associate them with positive things instead as a first step to your adjusting phase, and miley cyrus' anthropoidal, not-quite human stare isn't negative in any way, yet it's also by no means negative, if not unsettling— which leads you to a common ground, a common affiliation which helps you cope with the fear that they might harm you and isolate you with loneliness even further; forgetting your presence once again.

learning to love them was hard, so relating them to anything comical was way easier on the still-heavy burden in your heart which yearns for freedom burned off through countless of escape attempts, the grief of your mother's death now decades worth, and just the shock of it all that they're still interested in you until now that hasn't worn off still, despite the years passing by quicker than blowing off a candle-light.

still, everyone retains their gaze on you, never once breaking contact with your form as if you're capable of escaping their grasp. you try to look down, but to no avail, dick was too invested in hogging your head all to himself and nuzzling it in his toned stomach, whilst damian refuses to separate from his ever tightening hold which renders you unable to full grasp your thoughts and speak.

god-damned hypocrites.

"holy shit..." it's tim who broke off the silence, muttering under his breath in disbelief whilst his hand fiddles with the modded tablet bruce had given you as a christmas gift. his lanky finfers continue scrolling eyes fixated on the scene before him, every expression illuminated by the faint glow of your tablet's screen. the most visible feature, gazing at him through whichever was left of your vision unobstructed by dick's body; was of course, his widening blue eyes, as it seems like he'd hit jackpot with his appalled reactions.

it seems like he found the exact same picture.

would it be a bad thing now if you'd run away from the room once they all collectively hone in on the image before them? or is it too risky of a task?

honestly, with just how routine your life must be right now, you'd prefer to run, to feel the air run through your hair, to bask in the sun washing your body in its warmth.

maybe to find unbidden joy in another game of cat and mouse, or it may be another one of your excuses to avoid those piercing eyes once more if even by just a mere fraction.

or maybe you could stay for now, because is it just you, or did you actually succeed in traumatizing them for once instead of you?

[sunshineyuyu]

princess treatment (j. yh)

★ summary: you have a crush on jongho, but he’s chatting up someone else. so, you end up getting high and hooking up with yunho instead. ★ pairing: yunho x f!reader ★ genre: college, smut (mdni!) ★ word count: 4.3k ★ tags/warnings: weed & alcohol consumption, yunho calls reader princess, high sex, piv sex (with a condom!), vaginal fingering, spanking, choking, slight dom/sub undertones, ig under-negotiated kink?, big dick!yunho, yunho manhandles reader, yunho is taller than reader, yunho has tattoos lol, dirty talk, intentionally lowercase ★ notes: this is the prequel to the jongho fic chained and the final “part” of this series! yunho from chained was just a lil too hot for me to not write something for him too! let me know if i missed any warnings!! ofc beta’d by the bestie @starhwas-bunny ★ masterlist | read on ao3 | chained (jongho sequel)

you look so hot tonight. you’re wearing your new favorite top—with a deep deep cut that makes your chest the center of attention—and a pair of jeans that you know makes your ass look good.

all of this to hopefully attract the attention of one choi jongho, who you’ve been crushing on for the better half of the semester, since san introduced you to him. he’s built and tan and nice and smart and sexy.

and he’s currently leaning against a wall—cradling a red solo cup and swirling its contents like he’s james fucking bond or something—and chatting up some pretty blonde girl.

you practically feel smoke coming out of your ears as you stare at the two of them—the way jongho leans forward so that he can hear the girl amidst the blaring sounds of somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper. ryujin puts a hand on your shoulder and the warmth of her palm makes you realize how tense you are. she shoves a beer into your hand.

“forget about him, honey,” she says. “he’s not worth it.”

“it’s not like he’s a fuckboy,” you whine, struggling to crack open the can with your recently cut nails. ryujin takes pity on you and opens it for you. you take a deep drink from it before wiping the edge of your mouth with your wrist. “he’s nice. he brought homemade coffee to class for me the other day.”

“mmm,” ryujin says. “i know, honey, but no boy is worth it. c’mon, let’s go play rage cage.”

you let ryujin pull you away to a different room, where the birthday girl yeji is parading around on wooyoung’s shoulders while spraying everyone with bubbly champagne. you don’t even really know yeji—she’s an acquaintance of an acquaintance, but you came because you wanted an excuse to get drunk and look hot and get jongho’s attention, only two of which you’ve managed to succeed in.

you finish the beer at an alarming rate and crush it in your fist.

“i’m gonna go get some air,” you say. “i’m not really feeling rage cage right now.”

“i’ll come with you,” ryujin says.

you venture to a different part of the house, trying to locate the stairs back down to ground level, but instead spotting a balcony. ryujin follows you here, where up close you realize it’s not empty.

the balcony is big—big enough to have several foldable lawn chairs strewn around, all occupied by various zooted-adjacent individuals. you and ryujin find a small opening against the railing, and you push up against it to feel the wind blow against your hair.

“men are shit,” you proclaim, apropos to nothing.

“men are shit,” ryujin agrees.

“you wanna smoke?” this voice is new, and it doesn’t belong to ryujin. it comes from your other side, and you turn slowly to appraise the person it originates from.

he’s holding a blunt out to you, a small thin thing between his thumb and pointer finger.

it’s jeong yunho. 

you don’t really know yunho, but you know him enough. he’s a friend of seonghwa’s, which means you’ve seen him at enough parties—been shoved next to him during rage cage, had him hold your hair back while you took a bong hit. he’s tall, with soft black hair, and has a tattoo of a dragon curled around his right forearm. there’s a perpetual lazy look to him—a smirk always playing at his lips.

he’s attractive, and he’s offering you a smoke from his blunt. you don’t think twice before you’re stepping closer, pressing your lips against the end of the blunt and inhaling. a low tsk comes from ryujin, but you focus on letting the sour smoke fill your lungs, all while you maintain eye contact with yunho.

“ryujin,” you say, coughing a little since it’s been a while since you’ve taken a direct hit. “can you get me some water?”

ryujin gives another tsk, but then you shoot her a look that she understands in an instance, and she slips away to “get you some water.”

you turn back to yunho.

“you looked like you needed it,” yunho says, taking a pull from the blunt and then blowing the smoke back out. 

you hum lightly, crossing your arms from both the night chill and because you know it makes your tits look better.

“you’re right.”

yunho holds the blunt back out to you, right in front of your mouth. you take another hit. this time you close your eyes and you breathe it back out, letting your head fall back and your hair hang loose.

“it’s nice,” you say. “thank you.”

“anytime,” yunho says.

you continue the back and forth of the blunt a few times, until you’re starting to really feel it, which is good because the blunt is practically finished, yunho barely pinching onto it after your puff.

“last one,” yunho says, a little breathy, and eyes more hooded than usual. 

on this last one, you meet yunho’s half-gaze and blow the smoke directly into his face. he’s closer than you really remember him being, but you don’t mind. he’s big and he blocks the wind. he flicks the stub of the blunt onto the ground, grinding it with the toe of his shoe. he raises his head back up to you.

“that was hot,” he says.

“i’ve always wanted to have high sex,” you say.

“i can make that happen,” he says.

he leads you to the stairs, down them, and out the front door with a surprising amount of clarity. meanwhile, you’re letting the sound of whatever chainsmokers song is playing drag you back to your high school days. an uber appears out of seemingly mid-air, and you’re suddenly in the backseat of a sedan. yunho’s shoving the armrest into the backseat and pulling you into him.

the ride is smooth, and you take it in turns to focus on different things. first, the dulcet sounds of a jazzy trumpet, fragmented and dusty because of the car’s worn speakers. second, the rushing of lights in the windows, leaving behind trails of white, yellow, a smear of blue.

finally, yunho’s hand on your waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles in that sliver of skin between your top and your jeans. it’s nice, makes you feel warm. you press deeper into his chest, your hand pressed into the cotton of his shirt.

he leads you up to his apartment and throws his keys into a ceramic bowl near the front door. 

“do you want water?” he asks, heading towards the kitchen like you hadn’t propositioned him fifteen minutes ago after sharing a blunt together.

“yeah,” you admit, when the full feeling of cotton mouth hits you.

after several gulps of the most delicious filtered water you’ve ever had, yunho’s crowding you into the countertop. he towers over you, but that works because you like feeling small, overpowered.

“you sure about this?” he asks, and if you weren’t high you would’ve said something about appreciating the ask for consent. instead, you lock your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your height and pressing your lips against his.

the kiss is immediately intense, his tongue roving against yours, while his hands—jesus, they’re massive—press into your sides, palms hot and fingers digging.

“yes,” you say.

he picks you up effortlessly, and you manage to wrap your legs around his torso as he carries you into his room. he sets—no, throws—you down onto the mattress. you bounce a little and fall backwards onto the pillows. you’re getting ready to bite out a retort at being tossed aside so roughly when you see his face: calm, emotionless, but a distinct darkness in his eyes.

“fuck.” you mean it as a breath, but it comes out like a moan. 

yunho pounces.

he kisses you briefly, before descending to your neck, your collarbone. he’s pushing your top off your shoulder, mouthing at the flesh at the top of your breast.

“take it— take it off,” you say.

yunho obliges, sitting back to push your top up past your chest and over your head. he lingers there for a little longer, eyes running over your tits and your nipples hardening under his heavy gaze.

“hot,” he says. “you’re so fucking hot.”

“touch me,” you say.

he obliges, palming your tits and pinching your nipples. rolling them between his fingers and revelling at the way you keen under his touch. 

“sensitive?” he says, all breathy while watching you.

“y- yes,” you say. “the- the weed—”

“mmm, yeah, i know what you mean.”

you reach down to the button of your jeans, but yunho catches your hands and lifts them above your head. he presses into it, hovering over you.

“i’ll take care of you, princess,” he says. “be patient.”

this pulls a squeak out of you. the assertive tone, the pet name, combined with the way that it only takes one of his hands to lock your wrists in place—it’s new to you, but you’re suddenly so fucking desperate to get out of your pants.

the unoccupied hand goes to your jeans, and you close your eyes, as yunho deftly unbuttons it, but drags down the zipper slowly to reveal your mildly scandalous underwear: red and lacy with a little bow.

yunho whistles. “y/n. that’s kinda sexy.”

he releases your wrists to use both hands to slide your legs out of your jeans. he goes slow, trailing behind his hands with his lips, which leave a scorching trail of lazy kisses. he’s looking at you as he goes, his eyes never wavering. you almost blush from the heat of his glare.

“you shy?” yunho teases, reaching up to palm one of your tits. 

“no,” you say. “just- just ready.”

“mmm,” yunho says. “i told you, princess. be patient.”

in an instant, you’re suddenly on your stomach, bouncing again. your waist feels a little tender from where he gripped you hard to turn you over, and your head feels a little woozy from the sudden movement, but then you feel yunho tapping on the outside of your thigh.

“up.” one word, one syllable, but coated in dominance, and you’re on your knees in an instant, ass up.

“fuck, that’s a nice view,” you hear yunho say, and you feel his hands splay out on your cheeks. he squeezes a little and chuckles.

slap! 

you fall onto the mattress, arms slow to catch yourself. did he—? did he just smack your ass? the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done in bed was some light hair pulling, but you’re finding that you don’t mind the buzzing you feel in your ass right now.

in fact—

“oh.” it comes out like a whine, and yunho hisses in satisfaction.

“you like that, huh, princess?” yunho says, his voice low.

“mm.” you can’t manage words.

“good,” he says, but even then you can’t anticipate the next slap. it’s harsher this time, and you jerk from the touch. “gonna make ur ass red to match those panties.”

it’s filthy. the way he’s talking. you’ve only heard talk like this in porn, and you’d always thought it was overly scripted. but yunho’s just talking, eliciting tiny squeaks and squeals of surprise from you that you also have only heard in porn and thought was fake.

“p- please,” you say, lower lip trembling a little. you finally chance a look back at yunho, and you find him still completely clothed, kneeling on the bed behind you with his hands on your hips.

“please what?” yunho says, smirking.

“touch me,” you gulp.

“where?”

“here.” before you can overthink it you’re taking his much bigger hand and moving it to your core, to where your underwear is already soaked. 

“okay, princess,” yunho says. “since you asked nicely.”

he starts rubbing your clit over the fabric of your underwear, a feathery touch that still makes you shudder. his other hand slides up your back and settles between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.

“stay still, okay?”

you whimper in response, because soon he’s pushing aside the crotch of your panties, teasing the pad of his finger at your dripping entrance.

and then he’s pushing not one, but two long fingers into you. the first thrust is slow, and you can feel your walls pulsing around the digits. the second, third, fourth thrusts are hard and fast, and his hand on your back is bruising.

“fuck,” yunho hisses. “so wet and tight, princess.”

“hnng,” is your reply, because yunho is hitting that spot in the back, and your thighs are quivering.

“turn around,” yunho commands. “i want to see you when you cum.”

you scramble to follow his direction, flipping onto your back and pulling your knees closer into you. yunho shoves fingers into your mouth before you have a chance to say anything, and you suck on instinct, lapping at his fingers and tasting yourself on them.

“fuck,” yunho says, and then he withdraws the fingers and pushes them back into your cunt. you stare down at his hand, at his arm—the one with the dragon tattoo wrapped around. at how the scales of the dragon dance with the veins of his forearm as he pistons his fingers into you.

you’re a babbling mess of whines and coos and squeals, and suddenly yunho’s other hand flies up to your throat.

“this okay?” yunho asks quietly. his voice is low, like he’s trying to be sultry, but you can tell he’s watching carefully to see your response.

this is new. you’ve never done this before. you’ve seen it, heard about it. 

you like it.

you nod, and yunho smirks.

his grip is loose, but this new pressure on your throat makes you a little dizzy, a little lightheaded, and makes the fluttering in your stomach speed up. both your hands come up to grip his arm, to feel the muscle beneath your fingers.

“i’m- i’m close,” you croak.

“good.” and yunho picks up the pace, fucking his fingers into you until you feel that crest of nerve endings exploding. your back arches, your head falls back, your eyes close—the feeling ten times more intense than usual because of the weed in your system.

you collapse against the bed, breathing heavily and clenching around his fingers.

“fuck,” yunho whispers. “that was hot.”

he’s perched over you now, a hand on your cheek brushing your sweaty locks out of your face. he kisses your neck, softly.

“i- i want—” you have to pause to catch your breath.

“yeah, princess?” he grins at you.

“this,” you say, your hand cupping the very apparent tent in his pants. this takes yunho by surprise. he jerks, but your hand remains. you experiment with palming him a little, feeling how firm his cock is. how big it feels even under the thick strain of his pants.

“yeah?” he says.

“yes,” you say. “please.”

“ok, princess.”

he reaches behind his head to pull his shirt off by the collar. you blanch at the sight of his torso. lean, lithe muscle. another tattoo along the top of his ribcage that you’ve never seen before. black calligraphy strokes that spell out something in what you think is japanese.

“what does it say?” you say, before you can stop yourself. you run your fingers along the words, touch soft.

“nana korobi, ya oki,” he says, equally softly. “it means ‘fall down seven times, get up eight.’”

“it’s beautiful,” you say.

“not as beautiful as you,” yunho says, and he tugs your underwear down from your hips and off your legs. you suddenly remember exactly what you’d asked for.

“so. fucking. beautiful,” he continues, undoing his belt and throwing it aside. he unbuttons his jeans and pulls them halfway down his thighs. there’s a small wet patch on his briefs, but those are soon pulled down too to reveal—

he’s big. long but not too thick. the head of his cock flushed red and leaking pre-cum.

you feel your mouth inexplicably fill with saliva.

“you’re- you’re—”

“you can do it, princess,” he says, kicking off his briefs and jeans the rest of the way. “you can take it.”

you nod obediently.

he reaches over you for his bedside drawer, returning with a silver foil condom packet and a little plastic bottle of lube. he tears the condom open with his teeth, spitting out the corner and then rolling the thing down his length. you lay back, eyes up to the ceiling. you hear the distinct pop of the lube cap, hear a liquid sort of noise, and then you feel his fingers again. cold and a little slimy, probing at your entrance and briefly nudging at your sensitive clit.

“you ready?” he says, lining himself up.

“mm.”

he pushes in slowly, and it takes all of your willpower not to clench instinctively. he groans while he slides into you, and the pace allows you to feel every inch of him. the stretch is difficult at first, but the further in he gets, the less control he has and soon, he bottoms out.

“you can- you can move,” you say.

“don’t have to tell me twice, princess.”

yunho’s hands find your waist, grip it hard, and then he pulls back and thrusts in again, but still slow. you can feel his eyes on you, making sure his size doesn’t overwhelm you. as he builds up his pace, his hips snap against yours, filling the room with positively lewd sounds that combine with his deep breathing and grunts and your whimpers and whines.

he fucks you into the mattress, stretching you so deliciously.

you find one of his hands and lead it up to your throat. yunho’s eyes widen, but he wraps those long, perfect fingers around your neck, grip tighter this time.

“fuck, you’re so pretty, princess,” yunho says. “taking my cock like that. such a good fucking girl—fuck!”

you’re overstimulated, but in the best way. lightheaded from the choking, sensitive everywhere from the weed, and so turned on from yunho’s praise. you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of being so thoroughly fucked.

as yunho pounds into you, he starts cooing and moaning about how good you look, how good you sound, how good you feel.

“yeah? you like that, princess? yeah—let me hear you. tell me how good i’m fucking you. fuck—your pussy is perfect. like you were fucking made for me. such a perfect princess.”

you can’t tell if you’re close to another orgasm, or if this is just all one long extended orgasm. all you know is that your body is buzzing with pleasure, and you feel really fucking good.

eventually, yunho’s thrusts grow faster and more erratic. he gives one final push and stays buried in you, chest rising and falling.

he pulls out slowly, checking to make sure the condom worked.

“fuck, that was good,” he says, breathless.

“yeah,” you agree, boneless.

yunho swings his legs over the side of the bed, taking off the condom and tying it up before throwing it into a trash can. you’re a bit miffed that he is already fully operational, while you feel like you had all of your inner organs rearranged.

“give me a sec, princess,” he says, as he tugs on a pair of sweatpants. “i’ll get you some water and get you cleaned up. just relax.”

your head still feels a little woozy, but you slowly come back to your senses as you hear yunho bustle around outside. finally, he comes back into the room guzzling a chilled bottle of water. he recaps it and hands it to you. you drink deeply as you feel yunho wipe at your thighs with something warm and wet. the cool water reinvigorates your throat after having yunho’s hand pressed against it. 

“you good?” he says. “i wasn’t too hard or anything?”

“no,” you say. “no, it was good. i liked it.”

“good girl,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting your head. it’s mildly patronizing, and but you’re to tired to retort back. 

he shifts deeper onto the bed to lean back against the headboard, running his fingers along your spine. it’s relaxing and—together with the water—helps you ground yourself as you feel the last remnants of weed and arousal fog clear from your mind.

“you like jongho, right?” he asks, apropos to nothing.

you choke. you spend the next few seconds spluttering and coughing while yunho rubs your back soothingly.

“i don’t- why are you—?”

“that’s why you were all sad at first, right?” yunho says. “on the balcony?”

you stare at him, finally able to breathe properly.

“yeah,” you say quietly. “but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t like me.”

yunho hums. “i don’t know about that—” and he pinches your back when you open your mouth to protest “—but i don’t mind being your fuck buddy while you get over him.”

you purse your lips. truth be told it was good sex, but your… thing for jongho isn’t something that you can just get over with a couple good fucks and some weed. you don’t know how to tell yunho—someone you’ve only really ever been around either drunk or high or both—about pulling all-nighters with jongho to finish your homework together, sleepy and giggly and delirious; or how he knows your coffee order without ever having asked; or the way his eyes crinkle when you show him a funny meme.

so, you settle with a small smile and a peck to yunho’s jaw.

“i’ll consider it,” you say, and you get up to start redressing. you’re sobering up properly now, and the flimsy top you’d been wearing before feels a little scandalous for your current mental state. after hesitating briefly, you grab yunho’s discarded top and put it on.

“well shit, when you do stuff like that,” yunho says, running his eyes over how his shirt dwarfs you.

“i’m- i’m cold,” you mutter.

yunho just laughs, ruffling his hair.

“hey—you hungry?”

he takes you to the 24/7 burger joint just outside his apartment, harsh fluorescent lights and greasy air doing their best to sober you up even more. he orders and pays for you, while you slide into a corner booth to avoid anyone seeing how utterly fucked out you look: hair in a messy bun to hide the knots, body swimming in yunho’s shirt, mascara smeared under your eyes, and hand constantly on your neck to cover up the massive hickey you discovered while peeing—when had yunho even given it to you?

yunho scoots into the seat opposite you with a handful of napkins and a little paper cup of spicy ketchup. after you receive your tray of food, you and yunho spend the next fifteen minutes talking about the basics when you both realize that you don’t know much about each other.

it’s easy to talk to yunho, whose light chuckles and lazy smiles are comforting. while you might not take him up on the fuck buddy proposal, you just might keep him around as a friend.

you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket, and you reach for it to see a text from san, asking if you’re okay.

to: san

[1:40 AM] yeah i’m good

[1:40 AM] actually can u come pick me up. i’m at the burger place on 8th.

from: san

[1:42 AM] yeah omw

you slip the phone back into your jeans while you sip on your soda.

“san’s coming to get me,” you tell yunho.

“oh, cool,” yunho says. “yeah i was gonna offer to take you home or something—it’s so late.”

you hum, warming in appreciation for yunho’s intent. he really isn’t a bad guy—not that you’d thought that before. he’s always been a neutral acquaintance, but you’re really starting to enjoy his company now.

“thanks,” you say. “for the food, and—the other stuff.” 

yunho laughs.

“you’re cute,” he says, tapping the tip of your nose with a greasy finger. you dab at it with a crinkly brown napkin.

ten minutes later, your phone vibrates again to indicate that san is outside in a silver uber. you thank yunho again, and even give him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, your face flaming as you turn away from him to leave the diner.

when you throw open the door of the car, you find not san, but—

choi jongho, stuffed into the backseat with a slight flush on his cheeks and a loose grin. you stare at him, and he stares back. the only empty seat is in the middle.

“scoot,” you say.

“i’m too big for the middle seat,” he says, but he doesn’t make any moves to exit the vehicle to give you the space to slide into the car. you nudge him. “just climb over me.”

a low string of curses leave your mouth as you reluctantly clamber around his big frame and into the middle seat, where you finally see san sitting on the other side. you’re so preoccupied with greeting him and thanking him for coming to get you that you don’t notice jongho’s eyes narrowing at the shirt you’re wearing—yunho’s.

“you coming to our place or going home?” san asks.

the words your place are on the tip of your tongue when you look back at jongho, noticing now a small red bruise blossoming just under his jaw. this causes you to snap a hand to your own hickey, which you hope is hidden by the shadows.

“home,” you say quietly. “ryujin’s probably waiting for me.”

the uber starts up again, and you lean your head back onto the headrest, determinedly avoiding jongho’s gaze. you know that you just went off to hook-up with someone random, but it doesn’t sting any less that apparently jongho was doing exactly the same thing.

at that moment, your phone lights up with a new text.

from: unknown number

[1:59 am] hmu whenever, princess ;)

continued in chained (c. jh)!

[yuechihua]

one hundred paper stars.

summary: There's an old story from your childhood where if you make a hundred paper stars, then you're granted a single wish. However, it's not you, but your infuriating partner in Section Six whose wish you want to come true instead.

notes: 7.4k words, author's notes, spoilers for harumasa's backstory, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, fluff

It’s during a drowsy, sunshine-drenched afternoon, a brief moment of respite where there isn’t any paperwork to file or field missions to carry out, that Yanagi appears at your desk, giving you no time to hide what you’ve been fiddling with during your break. 

Though there’s no reason to feel guilty, it’s still slightly embarrassing for Yanagi to catch the rainbow strips of paper littering your desk, interspersed with fruit-flavored candy that Soukaku left earlier that morning as a present. In the center of it all, there’s a jar brimming with paper stars, the results of two weeks’ worth of progress made whenever you have a snippet of free time.

However, Yanagi doesn’t pause to acknowledge the way your hands are trapped in the middle of folding a half-finished origami star. Lips pursed in familiar frustration, she asks, “Have you seen Asaba anywhere?”

“Not since this morning, when we were doing reconnaissance in a Hollow,” you reply.

She sighs. “He’s supposed to have finished his break half an hour ago.”

“Do you need him for something?”

“I need you two to follow up on the work you did this morning. The ether readings have changed, and they wanted someone to check it out,” Yanagi says. “If you could find him and get him to come with you…”

“I get the gist. I’ll head out as soon as I find him,” you say, folding the ends of the paper expertly and tossing a newly formed red star into the jar. 

“Thank you. I’ll make it up to you for cutting your break short,” she says apologetically. “Since you’re his partner, Asaba tends to listen to you a little more.”

“He barely listens to me at all,” you grumble. You pat the daggers tucked snuggly near your thighs, and Yanagi’s eyes drift to the mess on your desk.

“I was wondering where Soukaku got all those pieces of paper,” she says thoughtfully. “Did you bring them into the office?”

“Yeah. She thought the stars were candy, so I had to stop her from eating them. I taught her how to fold them, and in exchange, she gave me these.” You gesture at the hard candies littering your desk.

“It’s nice to do some crafts to relax.”

“There’s also something special about these stars. If you fold a hundred of them,” you say, “you get a wish. It was a popular story back in my elementary school. The local convenience store used to sell origami paper, and I would buy them with my allowance. I never did make it to a hundred, though.”

“Then there must be something you really want to fold a hundred now. I hope your wish comes true,” Yanagi says.

“I hope so, too,” you murmur.

A few minutes later, you’re cutting down the halls and up the stairways of your workplace, climbing until you reach the entrance to the roof. Barricade tape and warning signs block the landing, but with practiced precision, you duck under the tape without slowing and nudge open the door with your shoulder, which gives way without a fuss.

Cool wind whips at your face, and you scan the rooftop, nothing but a broad expanse of concrete and whirring, blocky machines, caged in by a metal fence. You jog down the length until you find who you’re looking for, lounging on the floor like a cat soaking up the golden afternoon sun, limbs askew and eyes closed. 

Harumasa looks like he’s asleep as you approach him with silent steps. You crouch over him, your shadow cutting across his face, and he still doesn’t stir. For a few seconds, you watch him quietly. His headband flutters in the wind like a loose sliver of sunlight. His face is pale, splotches of dark ink forming under his eyes. Maybe he isn’t sleeping well.

“Admiring the view, partner?” Harumasa says without opening his eyes.

“Hardly,” you say. “I was just thinking about the best way to wake you up.”

“All you need to do is call my name and I’ll respond.”

“Right. Just like how the last few times I tried to do that, you kept pretending to be asleep until I used physical force.” You emphasize the last few words and Harumasa groans as he cracks open an eye, propping himself lazily up with his elbows.

“Come on. We’ve been working together forever at this point, and you still can’t be a little nicer to me?”

“I’m only nice to those who deserve it,” you say. 

“Right, right. I bet Yanagi sent you up here.”

“How did you know?”

“You usually let me slack off otherwise,” he says easily. “It’s only when there’s something important that you bother me. Huh. If you think about it, that’s pretty nice of you. Isn’t there a word for someone who acts abrasive to hide how much they care about someone else? Ts–”

“Keep talking and I’ll tell Yanagi just where exactly you like to hide during break,” you threaten. 

“Aw, don’t do that!” Harumasa gives you an exaggerated pout, and you roll your eyes. “Come here, partner.”

“Why?”

“Come on. Come closer,” he wheedles, and you reluctantly lower yourself until you’re sitting next to him, face to face, legs folded under you.

Once you do, Harumasa drops his head against your shoulder, leaning all the warm weight of his upper body against your side like he’ll fall apart without your support.

“What’s this about?” you grumble, but you don’t move away. It’s become a familiar routine at this point: he teases, you complain, but you still gravitate towards each other. Maybe it’s because you’ve been paired with Harumasa on so many missions that you’ve developed a habit of putting up with all of his mischief.

“I’m not feeling well,” he says. “Lend me your shoulder.”

“It’s a little too late to ask when you’ve already done it.”

“You know what they say. Ask for forgiveness, not permission.”

“I’m sure you know all about that,” you say dryly.

“Now. now. I’m just being pragmatic.”

You usually don’t come to the roof at all, not unless you’re looking for Harumasa. But when you do come here, the air feels refreshing and cool, the sunlight more gentle. Though you pride yourself on being efficient and responsible, the first one to file your reports and to take notes during meetings, you can understand why Harumasa likes to nap here.

It’s comfortable. Or maybe it’s Harumasa that makes the place so comfortable. It feels like your own private corner of the world, one where it’s just you and him. Not that you could ever tell him that, of course, or it’ll make him insufferable.

“Yanagi needs us to follow up on the Hollow we investigated this morning,” you say.

“Again? We just got back.”

“The ether readings have changed. They want us to investigate.”

“Hm… but I’m on break…”

“Your break was over half an hour ago.”

“You’re on break!” he protests.

“So? I’ll be reimbursed for it.”

Harumasa groans. “You’re way too serious. You need to learn to take it easy. I’m not feeling well, you know.”

“Is that so? Well, if you want to nap the day away, I can investigate by myself–”

“Wait.” Harumasa’s weight shifts off your shoulder, and now you’re face to face with him again, close enough to see the way his smile slips off his face, the intensity of his liquid gold gaze. “I’ll come with you. Don’t do it by yourself.”

“You don’t think I’m capable, Harumasa?” you try to tease, but his lazy smile doesn’t return.

“You’re capable,” he says quietly. “You’re more than capable. But I want to be there to back you up.” He’s the first to look away, and you feel cheated, even though you don’t know what you would have said in response. “So, let’s get going. The sooner we finish, the sooner I can clock out of work.”

“Of course,” you say, a smidge too quickly. “I’ll need to file reports for Yanagi when we’re done.”

At least the awkwardness of the moment on the rooftop blows over quickly as you prepare for departure. Working with Harumasa feels like being a part of a well-oiled machine, every movement in efficient, coordinated sync, the consequence of a well-established partnership. You fall into a routine as familiar as meetings or paperwork as you prepare to enter the Hollow: checking your weapons, gathering your supplies, escorting your Bangboo guide, and then striding into the Hollow at the designated entry point.

Within the Hollow, you and Harumasa alternate who takes the lead as you follow your Bangboo, slipping through half-hidden pathways and narrow crevices, all the while avoiding lurking Ethereals. There’s little need for words with Harumasa when all you need to do is read the tension of his body, like a bow pulled taut, and simply follow what it tells you. You have your own private language of body gestures, flicks of the hand or turns of the head, refined over years.

It’s not as if you always worked this well together, of course. The first time you were paired together with Harumasa on a mission, both of you were fresh recruits to Section Six. You couldn’t stop arguing with him. His lax manner and sloppy dress infuriated you, but what was worse was how he always delivered results with minimal effort when you never did anything less than your best. In turn, he made fun of you for being a stick-in-the-mud and being unable to relax.

“You’re going to go grey if you keep stressing yourself,” he would tease, looking much too pleased with himself, as if he enjoyed your little spats.

Harumasa touches your elbow lightly, and you’re drawn from your thoughts. “Did something happen?” you murmur. The Hollow stretches before you, twisted metal and broken concrete buildings stitched together with corruption that shimmers like an oil spill, but there’s no sign of anything unusual.

“Nope. I’m just bored,” he says. “We’re not any closer to finding the disturbance Yanagi told us about. We might have to head back soon if we still don’t find anything usual.”

“We haven’t even gone that deep in the Hollow yet,” you say. “We should at least cover all our bases. What, scared of doing overtime?”

“Yes,” he says seriously. “Maybe a workaholic like you wouldn’t get it, but overtime is the public enemy of every government employee out there. So, what were you thinking about?”

“About… the past,” you say, relenting. “And how we used to fight all the time.”

“Oh? Thinking about me?”

“Only about how annoying you used to be.”

“Rude. Is this how you talk about your precious partner?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s too late to find someone else. You’re stuck with me,” Harumasa says cheerfully.

“I never said I would find another partner. You’re the only one I want.” You try to keep your voice casual, just like Harumasa, but something honest creeps in, something a little raw and unfiltered, like light through an unsealed crack.

And maybe he senses it, too, your inability to play the blithe role as well as he does, because he doesn’t jump in right away with another joke. The silence lingers, throwing the rhythm of your banter off-balance.

“The only one, huh…” From the way his hair shades his eyes, you can’t make out his expression or read his tone. 

“Harumasa,” you begin, but a sudden beep cuts off your words. You glance at each other, all awkwardness vanishing as Harumasa glances at a device in one of his pockets. 

Your Bangboo guide jerks to a sudden stop. This is the end of its automated guidance, as far as its data will take you. The two of you have reached the top floor of what must have once been a tower, a spiderweb of uneven, rusted metal and crumbling walls exposed to the low, grey sky. The floor slopes down to a sharp drop, leading to nothing but open air.

“Ether spike,” Harumasa says. His hand is already drifting to his bow. “But I don’t see anything. Where…”

It happens in a split second. Your body reacts before your mind can, years of training ingraining in you the necessary reflex to spring back as an Ethereal drops down from above, crashing like a meteor where you and Harumasa once stood.

Your daggers are already in hand, and you leap forward as an arrow flies from above, distracting the creature long enough for you to slash along one of its appendages. It roars, and you’re already darting behind it, Harumasa running along its other side.

It’s an Ethereal like none you’ve seen before. A Thanatos? A Duhallan? No, none of the existing classifications match. It’s eerily beautiful, its core pulsing with multi-colored light, corrupted growth framing it like a star, delicate, vine-like appendages darting out momentarily to propel the Ethereal away from your reach. This must be the source of the disturbance Yanagi told you about.

Harumasa calls your name, and on instinct, you fall back as he lunges forward with a dizzying series of slashes with his blades. You’ve faced worse than an unclassified Ethereal of unknown strength. Even if neither of you have expected to engage an enemy, that doesn’t mean you aren’t prepared to. 

The battle continues back and forth, a waltz of sharp steel and split-second communication between you and Harumasa as you implement all the maneuvers you learned in training. It seems like there’s no end in sight, but you’re tiring the Ethereal, slowly but surely. It’s only a matter of time before you find an opening to destroy its core.

And then, Harumasa stumbles. It’s only a brief moment, his body dipping as something like a cough shudders through him before he steadies, but it’s enough time for the Ethereal to lash out several appendages like a bolt of lightning. You’re helpless to do anything but watch as Harumasa flies backwards, his body bent like a doll discarded by a careless child.

Before you can think, you’re running, propelled by some instinct deeper than habit at the sight of your partner on the ground, throwing your daggers with wild precision as the Ethereal howls like a wounded animal. There’s not enough time to do anything except to throw your body in front of Harumasa before the Ethereal lashes out again in a brutal, sweeping arc.

Your body explodes with pain. Then, you’re weightless. The Ethereal has sent you flying, and briefly, it’s like you’re back on the roof, Harumasa leaning against your shoulder, the wind in your face, before you’re tumbling over the edge of the tower.

In the field of your vision, something gold flashes. Harumasa’s headband. It’s all you can see, the afterimage of it burned into your eyes like the sun as everything goes dark.

—

From your earliest memories as a child, you had always been lonely. Maybe that’s why you were drawn to things that reminded you of the sun, searching for anything to give you stability or warmth.

Your story wasn’t particularly unique: your parents were killed in an accident in a Hollow. You were shunted from relative to relative who never knew what to do with you. You clung to academics and books to prove yourself because you had nothing else.

You had a decently high Ether aptitude, so when you got the opportunity to join an elite academy on a scholarship, why wouldn’t you take away your chance to escape away from relatives who never cared for you? At the time, you had been living with one of your mother’s older brothers–what was his name? You’d long since forgotten, and he hadn’t bothered to keep in contact once you left.

Either way, you graduated with honors and a flawless academic record. When Miyabi selected you to join Section Six, despite your lack of experience, you were excited.

“I believe you’ll deliver results,” Miyabi told you simply, that very first day. “That’s why I chose you.”

A flush of pride made your face glow. “I won’t disappoint you!”

It was so nice to be relied on. To find a place that needed you, where you were valued. You were tied to Section Six through more pragmatic things than fragile family ties that easily dissolved.

You did your best, but it was hard when you weren’t the only new member–Asaba Harumasa was assigned to Section Six at the same time as you. From the very start, your work ethics, lifestyles, and attitudes couldn’t be more different.

“Could you try to finish your paperwork on time? When you don’t, it slows the entire process down,” you would tell Harumasa.

“It gets done, though. Does it really matter when I do it?” he would reply.

Frustratingly enough, even then, the two of you did so well on missions together that you were always assigned to be each other’s partner. Maybe his work on the field earned him a little respect in your eyes; it was the one thing you couldn’t really criticize him on. But at the same time, it was infuriating that you had to put so much time and effort into delivering flawless results, and Harumasa always skated by with minimal effort. 

One particular fall, the two of you were assigned to a mission to investigate high-level Ethereals in a local Hollow. Soon enough, you and Harumasa were surrounded. As skilled as you were, parrying several different Ethereals meant one could easily slip into your blind spot and strike. Too late, you only noticed when it was already moving, and you could only grit your teeth, bracing for impact–until its limbs met a flash of steel. Harumasa had leapt in front of you, pushing the Ethereal back and giving you enough time to strike its core.

“Harumasa–” you began to say.

“On your left!”

And then you were flung into the heat of battle, with no time to process what just happened until the threats were neutralized.

It was only then you saw the gash running along Harumasa’s arm, blood soaking into his rolled up sleeves. Without a word, you took out your medical kit, and started applying disinfectant. Harumasa didn’t even wince as you dabbed away the blood with cotton balls. You knew, from the location alone, he had got it while protecting you.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, wrapping bandages around the wound. “This is my fault.”

“What are you talking about? I did this on my own.”

“But if I hadn’t been so careless–”

“You’re my partner. I’ll always have your back,” Harumasa said. His tone was as blithe as always, but there was a strange, tenderness underlying it.

His face was coated in dust and drying blood from battle, and yet, his eyes were still a startlingly pure gold, vibrant and warm. When he looked at you, it was like he was seeing you, all of you, warming you like the sun. He didn’t avoid your gaze or look past you, like your relatives had.

After that, you settled into Section Six, not because you were needed, but because you were wanted. Your arguments with Harumasa melted into something softer, something more playful. He was your partner, and you no longer grumbled about taking the same missions as him.

One day, when you were sent to fetch Harumasa for some mission or meeting (a favorite errand of everyone’s to send you on because you had developed an uncanny sense of knowing where he liked to hide), you found him hunched him over in an empty office, knuckles white against a table as he coughed wetly, the force of it shuddering through his entire body. 

Harumasa, who had always looked for any excuse to slack off, who slept on the job, who acted like nothing could bother him, looked more vulnerable than you had seen before.

You knew he had a medical condition, but he never talked about it. Even when he did, he always made it seem so trivial. A minor inconvenience, and nothing more.

“You need to go to the infirmary,” you said, rushing over. “Or the doctor. I’ll call someone right now. I’ll–”

“Don’t,” Harumasa rasped. He grabbed your arm with more desperate force than you expected. “It’s fine.”

“You’re–”

“It’ll pass. Just let me… lean on you for a little.” Half-crouched on the ground, he collapsed his weight against you, and you both sank to the floor. You wrapped your arms around him and he leaned his head against your collarbone. You rubbed circles along his back, a meager offering to soothe him until the coughing subsided.

Harumasa’s breathing was shallow, and you wondered if he could hear the racing of your heart, the fear making it pound uncontrollably. His illness was more serious than he had ever let on.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly.

“I’m fine. It’s just all the pollen and dust, you know,” he said. There’s that familiar carefree, teasing edge to his tone, but it’s strained by his recent coughing.

“You don’t have to joke with me. I’m your partner. If there’s something I can do for you, you can let me know.”

There’s a moment of silence before Harumasa sighed, a soft, resigned sound. “I just don’t want the others to know.”

“I won’t tell them,” you promised.

He took a few more shallow breaths before speaking, voice cheerful, deceptively light and hollow, like a bird’s bone. “I have Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome. It manifests primarily in my heart and lungs, but in exchange, I have high Ether aptitude. It’s the reason my parents… left me, a long time ago. A doctor took me in, but… Well. I was recruited to an academy, graduated, and ended up here. But you know about that part.”

You’ve known Harumasa long enough by now to know that he was only giving you carefully curated bits and pieces of his past. There was something he wasn’t not telling you, but that didn’t change the fact he had decided to place his trust in you, regardless. 

You understood what it was like to be left behind, to have nothing but yourself to cling to. Sympathy and pity weren’t what he wanted. No generic condolence could change his past or his fate.

Instead, you drew him closer to you. Harumasa let out a small, strangled gasp as you sheltered him in your arms. “I’ll be here for you, so thank you for trusting me.” 

Sometimes, words were cheap. The only response you needed was Harumasa’s arms wrapping around you in return, a tentative promise. 

It’s only a few weeks after that, when you were passing by a convenience store on the way home from work, that you saw the origami paper strips lining the shelves at a discounted price and remembered the elementary school pastimes of your classmates. 

As a child, you had wanted to make a hundred stars so you could make a wish for your parents to come back. But now, there was something else you wanted: not to make someone come back, but to make someone stay with you.

—

Your body aches. It’s all you’re aware of at first, a throbbing pain, spreading through your body in waves.

Your vision is blurry, the Hollow wavering in front of you like smeared paint, black protrusions and metal platforms blending together, a nightmarish portrait.

You drag your arm in front of your face, flex your fingers slowly until the world stops spinning. 

You’re alive. Against all odds, you’re alive, but you have no idea where you are or how much time has passed. You’d probably fallen into a distortion.

With any luck, Harumasa has already left and called for back-up. You could survive in a Hollow longer than most ordinary people could, but you didn’t want to test your limits. For now, you would have to do your best to survive. With agonizingly slow movements, like you’re dragging your body through water, you check your daggers and equipment, and survey the area around you. It’s full of twisted metal structures corrupted with black growth, platforms and stairs jutting from rocky walls, like a building that’s been swallowed by a cliff, with no particularly distinguishing feature.

It then takes even longer to convince your legs to support your weight, and to take a few steps without leaning against the wall.

Something clatters in the distance, heavy limbs dragging on the floor. Ethereals. This part of the Hollow is infested with them, a mutated sea of green and pearlescent black cores, though you’re temporarily sheltered in the area where you fell. As long as you avoid them, you should be fine; you’re no longer in any condition for prolonged combat.

All you can do is slowly drag yourself around, daggers at the ready, sneaking past any Ethereal you see. It’s agonizing work to be so careful, especially when you’re occasionally hit by waves of dizziness and your injuries make your reflexes slow.

Is Harumasa safe? Did he escape? Did he destroy the Ethereal? Or did something worse happen to him? There’s no point thinking like this and driving yourself insane, but your thoughts scatter like a flight of migrating birds, and no matter where they go, they always end up drifting in Harumasa’s direction.

Maybe you can blame Harumasa for distracting you when an Ethereal catches sight of you before you can fully conceal yourself. You can do nothing but mumble curses under your breath as more Ethereals are drawn to the noise and you’re forced to draw your weapon.

It’s harder to fight without Harumasa to cover your back. You’ve gotten too used to having him at your back. Several times, you open your mouth to call his name, but he’s not there to answer. It’s just you, clumsily dodging blows and aiming weak strikes at Ethereals you normally would have been able to dispatch with ease.

You might die here. The thought comes, unbidden. You’re weakened, surrounded, when an Ethereal looms over you. You twist your body around trying to dodge, but your body refuses to move as fast as you need it to as the Ethereal prepares to strike–only to still, stagger a few steps, and then collapse onto the ground, a spray of arrows protruding from its back.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you whip your head up in the direction the arrows came from. It can’t be, but it is. It’s him. Your partner, his mouth set in a grim, furious line as he draws his bow back. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him look so angry.

In what feels like no time at all, the remaining Ethereals fall and your body feels light as you fight with renewed energy. Hardly any of them could get near you before Harumasa has shot them down with enough force that their bodies slam into the floor with a shattering crack. As soon as the last threat is neutralized, you’re running to Harumasa, but he’s faster than you.

“Harumasa—” Your words are muffled as Harumasa pulls you into a hug. His fingers dig into your shoulders, his grip tight. There’s something possessive and desperate about his touch, as if he might never hold you again and he has to memorize the shape of your body while he still has the chance.

His skin gleams with sweat, his white shirt sticking to his torso. Has he been running around this whole time, looking for you, without resting? You press your ear to his chest, where his heart rabbits in his chest in a frightened run.

“I thought you died,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“I…”

“I thought I lost you. And I couldn’t stop until I found your body, and I would have to tell the others that you… because of me, you…”

“Harumasa, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear that.”

You tentatively bring your arms around him, and a shudder wracks through his body at your touch. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Then don’t do something so reckless again! If you die… If you die, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do…”

“I can’t promise that. You’re my partner. I told you I would have your back. If I see you in trouble, I can’t just run away.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I want you to live,” you murmur. “I want you to live, no matter what.”

“Then you have to live with me.” Harumasa pulls back abruptly, bringing his hands to your cheeks, and pinching. 

You attempt to reply, but you can only make a garbled noise of affirmation. It’s hard to talk when Harumasa is pulling your cheeks like taffy, but maybe he isn’t ready to hear your response.

You place your hands over his, and Harumasa stills, your touch a soothing balm. He lets out a breath. “Let’s get out of here. You need to get your injuries looked at.”

For the rest of the time until you leave the Hollow, Harumasa clings persistently to your side, refusing to move a step unless you have as well. You would call his pace leisurely if not for the tense way he holds his body, poised for threats from any direction. You’re half-tempted to ask if he would feel more at ease holding your hand, but you have a feeling he would never let you go again if you did.

Harumasa doesn’t relax even when you’re back at your workplace, where he escorts you directly to the infirmary and paces outside the entire time, causing the nurse’s eyebrows to crease in irritation at the sound of his rapid footsteps.

“I’m fine,” you announce the second you step out of the infirmary. “Okay? The nurse said I had no major injuries, though I’m not supposed to be on the field for a week. And I have to do a few more check-ins.” 

It’s only at your words that Harumasa finally relaxes. “This is probably the first sick day you’re going to take,” Harumasa says, but his teasing doesn’t quite match his eyes, which keep roaming your body for stray injuries which the nurse might have missed.

In the office, you’re immediately assailed by Yanagi, Miyabi, and Soukaku, who fuss over your bruises, the bandages peeking under your clothes, and the patches on your face.

“I’m glad you two are okay! I was so worried when I heard what happened. I know you’re capable, but you shouldn’t be so reckless,” Yanagi scolds lightly. 

“Take the time to rest and recover completely,” Miyabi says. “Section Six needs you, and we can’t function well if you’re not around.” 

“Take these snacks! They’re tasty, and they’ll help you feel better!” Soukaku says earnestly, shoving an armful of packaged chips at you.

It’s been a long time since anyone has worried over you like this. It’s a little embarrassing how everyone’s attention is focused solely on you, and you can’t keep a small smile from creeping onto your face. “Everyone… I promise I’m fine! You don’t have to fuss over me like this.” 

“Don’t forget to go back for your checkup,” Yanagi interjects. “All right? I don’t want to see you on the field until you’re cleared. And you, Harumasa! You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“Yanagi is right,” Miyabi says. “Maybe you should get a check-up as well.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Harumasa says, holding his hands out placatingly. “My injuries aren’t as bad as theirs. In fact, I’ll be a good partner and take care of them, promise.”

“That’s a first,” you interject, “Since when you were so excited about doing work?”

“I’m only excited when you’re involved,” he says, and you don’t know what to say to that.

The rest of the day passes by pleasantly once Section Six is satisfied that you’re doing well, though they keep making excuses to stop by your desk and leave you drinks from the vending machine or little treats. You fill your time with paperwork and organizing files, and when those are done, crafting paper stars at your desk.

“What are you gonna wish for when you have a hundred stars?” Soukaku says, sprawling across your desk and picking up a strip of paper to fold with clumsy, childish joy. 

“I’m actually not going to wish for anything. I’m going to give my wish to someone else.” 

“What? You can do that? Then I wanna give wishes to you and Nagi and Miyabi and Harumasa!” 

“Thank you, Soukaku.” 

“Who’re you going to give your wish to?” Soukaku asks as you hand her more origami paper strips. 

“Hm…” You survey the star you’ve just finished folding. “It’s for someone important. It’s a little embarrassing to talk about it out loud, though.”

“Why? I think whoever it is will be happy that you’re thinking about them!” 

“Do you think so?” 

“Yeah!” Soukaku says. “I would be happy if you gave me a wish!”

“Then should I make you a hundred paper stars, Soukaku?”

“Really? Yay!” 

By the end of the work shift, you’ve finally filled your glass jar with the necessary number of stars. You should feel happy, but what you didn’t tell Soukaku is that you wonder if it’s too presumptuous to give this to Harumasa. After all, you still remember what it’s like to be rejected by people who were supposed to love you and take care of you.

You cradle the jar in your hands, the product of all your meticulous work over the past two weeks. It’s heavy with the weight of your feelings and your ridiculous wish.

“Hey, partner.” Harumasa’s sudden voice makes you stiffen and whirl around, keeping the jar hidden behind your back. 

“Harumasa.” You take a breath. There’s no point in being embarrassed. “Do you have time right now?” 

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow. “What a coincidence. I was just about to ask you that, too.” 

“I assume we’re both free, then. Come over to my place,” you tell him bluntly. 

“Your place?”

“Yes.”

Harumasa tilts his head like an inquisitive bird, considering. “Sure, but I didn’t realize you were that excited to see me after work.”

“Oh, don’t get full of yourself.”

The two of you are back to your usual banter, but it’s devoid of its usual lightness. The events from the Hollow still linger over you, and Harumasa sucks in a breath before giving a casual smile. You respond with a roll of your eyes, but it feels wooden, everything unsaid thickening the air like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm. 

The journey back to your apartment is peaceful. You take the train, watching the familiar strips of buildings and city lights streaking past, soft smudges against the glowing sun, sinking like a pat of butter in a red, syrupy sky. 

You live in a relatively nice building, the salary from your job affording you a lobby as well as a doorman and a fast elevator. At your apartment door, you fumble with your keys, fingers heavy and clumsy as you’re aware of Harumasa’s presence behind you, waiting.

The door clicks open and you step into your apartment, a one bedroom, one bathroom affair with sturdy, comfortable furniture, books and knick-knacks lining the shelves of the joint living room and kitchen. More books are stacked precariously on the single table you use for both work and meals, situated in the center. 

You slip off your shoes and into your house slippers, offering a pair to Harumasa, who after putting them on promptly walks over to one of the shelves in the living room and pokes at a little Bangboo statue. There’s a whole forest of them lining the shelf, all in different outfits and poses.

“I didn’t realize you were such a fan. Hey, do you get the public security ones to help you cross the street?”

“Don’t touch it. It’s a collectible and I’m trying to get the last one in the series,” you say crisply. “And of course I do. It makes the ones patrolling the streets happy to help.”

“Wait, really?”

“They’re adorable, Harumasa. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“It’s not a bad thing! I just think you have a surprisingly cute side, that’s all.”

“Thanks,” you say, trying to keep your face schooled in a neutral expression, before gesturing to the table in the living room. “Take a seat. I’ll make some tea.”

You brew a pot of bitter green tea, taking out a plate of crumbly packaged cookies to snack on. They’re the least sweet snack you have in the house which Harumasa would be happy to eat.

For a few minutes, there’s only the clink of your cups and the crunch of cookies, a pleasant way to spend your time after work. Neither of you talk, the food giving you an excuse not to. It’s ridiculous how such a small gift could make you feel so nervous. You need to do it now. Otherwise, what would the point be of inviting him over?

You run your finger along the rim of your teacup, pressing hard enough to feel the edge of smooth porcelain dig into skin. “There’s something I want to give to you.” 

“A present? For me?” 

“Don’t get too excited. It’s nothing fancy,” you say, before standing to retrieve the jar of stars, which you had shoved into your work bag.

You hold it behind your back until you’re in front of Harumasa, at which point you place the jar on the table and slide it over to him.

A hundred stars for one wish. You explain the story to him as Harumasa cups his hands around the jar, peering intently as if he could see the hours you spent painstakingly crafting each individual star. 

“I know it’s a little silly,” you say quietly. “But I want whatever you wish for to come true, no matter what.” 

Harumasa’s eyes when he looks at you are just like stars, warm, bright gold, that you would trust to guide you no matter what path you tread.

“I want you to be happy,” you say, the words falling from your mouth like a wish of your own. 

“Happy, huh?” Harumasa closes his eyes briefly, stars winking out of existence. 

“I’m sorry if that’s presumptuous. You don’t have take this gift if you don’t want–”

“Whoa! This is mine now. You can’t have it back now that you’ve given it to me. It’s just… there are some things about my illness I haven’t told you.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you say.

“I want to tell you, though. People with Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome don’t typically live long lives. The illness is terminal. The oldest-recorded person lived only to be 26.” Harumasa says it matter-of-factly, the numbers rolling out of him like he’s simply reciting information from a medical brochure. “In late stages, the body breaks down. And if someone with Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome is in a Hollow when their body breaks down, then they’ll turn into an Ethereal.”

This is the knowledge Harumasa has been carrying with him all this time and hiding from everyone in Section Six. It must have weighed him down like stones, knowing that if things take a turn for the worse in a mission within the Hollow, he’ll become one of the monsters you and Section Six have to put down. How long has he carried this by himself?

No matter how you try to hide your feelings, Harumasa knows how to read you just as much as you know how to read him, because he raises a hand and lazily waves it through the air. “Don’t look so worried. It doesn’t bother me that much.”

“I’m your partner. Of course I’m going to be worried about you,” you say quietly. “I told you, didn’t I? I want you to be happy.”

Harumasa gazes down at the table, away from you and the jar of stars in front of him. “You are, huh? Can I trust you with something else, then?”

“What is it?”

“If anything happens to me,” he says, “and I turn into an Ethereal, you have to promise that you’ll kill me.”

There’s no other answer for you, not when he looks at you like that. “I promise. I won’t let anyone else do it.”

“Then I’m all yours, partner.”

“But…” You reach for Harumasa’s hand across the table, slowly and reverentially sliding your fingers under his, feeling the press of each callous on his slender fingers. These beautiful hands, which you have saved and which have saved you again and again. “I gave you a wish, you know? So you can have anything you want.”

“Eh? Didn’t I tell you what I wanted?”

“It doesn’t count,” you persist. “If it helps, I’ll tell you what I want.”

“All right, what is it?”

“I want you to live forever.”

“That’s way too long,” Harumasa protests.

“Then live for a hundred years at the very least,” you say. “I wanted you to be happy for a long, long time. I made you a hundred stars, so each star is worth one year of happiness.”

It’s ridiculous, you know. It’s not pragmatic at all. And maybe it’s cruel, too, to ask Harumasa something like this. But if he’s going to be selfish, then you’re going to be just as selfish. 

“A hundred years? Then you need to live that long, too.” Harumasa shifts his hand and hooks your pinky lightly with his own. “It’s not fair if I have to live that long without you. That’s going to be my wish.”

“Then I’ll make it come true,” you say. “I told you, didn’t I? We’re partners. Where you go, I’ll go.”

In the window across from you, ink-blue shadows flood the world. The sun had set while the two of you were talking, and the city lights wink like scattered gemstones across dark velvet.

“If you talk like that, then I’m not going to want to leave,” he says quietly. “You make me want to act selfishly.”

“Then act selfishly. I’ll forgive you.”

He lets out a sigh, squeezing your pinky. “You’re not fair at all.”

“Good,” you say archly. “Stay the night, Harumasa.”

Harumasa stills at your words, and you can feel the faint tremor of his hand. “I have nightmares. It’s not going to be a good time for you.”

“That’s all right,” you say. “I’ll take care of you.”

It’s easy having Harumasa in your apartment, where he fits seamlessly into your normal routine, the same way he does at work. You lend him towels, and baggy pajamas, and then the two of you take turns using the bathroom. You order cheap takeout from a local restaurant, which you eat in front of the glow of your television, watching the news. As you wash up the dishes, Harumasa perches on the counter, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes or smile. 

Harumasa, framed in the soft glow of kitchen lights like a halo behind him, hair askew, wrinkling his borrowed clothes, makes your heart ache. It would be nice to have him around like this, all the time. You’ve forgotten the warmth of having someone in your home until now.

You should bring out the futon you keep for guests, but you don’t mention it, and Harumasa doesn’t ask. So he follows you to your bedroom, knees bumping against the side of the metal frame as you pull out an extra pillow for him. 

Harumasa dutifully takes out his rows of medicine, orange bottles lined up your nightstand, brightly colored pills falling down his throat with each sip of water from the glass you’ve brought him. He folds his golden headband neatly next to the bottles, and finally places the jar of stars to stand guard over everything. It makes you feel ticklish that he wants to keep your gift so close.

Your bed is too small for two people, but neither of you complain as your legs tangle together, Harumasa resting his forehead against yours. In the dark, you grope for his hand, entangling your fingers with his, where they belong.

“Good night, partner,” he whispers. He’s so close his breath tickles your face.

“Good night.”

“It’s too late to turn back now,” he murmurs, but you can’t tell if he’s saying it to you or himself.

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t,” you say, tracing nonsensical letters on his back with the fingertips of your free hand, a message he can’t read.

“I know. I guess we’re stuck together.”

“I told you. We’re partners. I’m yours forever,” you say.

Harumasa squeezes your hand. “And I’m yours, so let’s take good care of each other.”

If you strain your head, you can see a faint strip of moonlight from your parted curtains illuminating your nightstand where a hundred paper stars glow. Like a promise, a wish, of a hundred years of happiness.

[mtcloudsworld]

𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | +18, mdni, oral (p receiving), messy, black!fem intended BUT it can be anybody, pudgy!reader, thick!reader, chubby!reader, put that pussy to sleep, pet names: love, baby, I did edit it, but in case of any errors, ignore it :)

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 | this was originally intended for Red hood but it could honestly be anybody you have in mind. I hope everyone is doing well. Stay safe, remember to drink lots of water and eat. Like, comment and reblog. Enjoy lovebugs!! 🦠🩷

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

"Mm, you taste so good, love." Laid up underneath him in your white babydoll. Dressed in lingerie, and wrapped in lace and mesh like a present on Christmas day─ it revealed the most sacred parts of your voluptuous physique. Exposed to his body heat, he warms you up like a fireplace as his hands adventure towards your hips. Bracing yourself to the contact of his mouth, it sends shivers down your spine when you feel his tongue lick long stripes up your center. You whined lowly, clinging to the stuffed animal that was on your bed. You bury your face into the plush teddy to muffle your moans. For the sake of those who are sleep, you didn't want to disturb anyone's slumber with your raunchy sounds─ your boyfriend didn't really give a damn but he proceeded to eat you out sloppily anyways.

Careless that he was making a mess, your juices dripped on the side of his face─ enjoying the very meal he missed out on for almost a week. He was relentless, hungry and quenching of thirst, for a taste of you. Popping, smacking sounds filled the room as he latched his mouth to your lower lips. The vibrations sending a tickle to your clit. His hands gripped around the fat of your ass to press you further down. You squealed in surprise. Shooting up in your kneeling position, you looked down at your boyfriend slithering his tongue between your folds. You nearly clenched your legs closed at the weird sensation of his tongue entering your leaking hole and instead of running away from him, you practically sat yourself on his (your) heavenly throne.

"Mmph, baby." He grunts in approval, eyes nearly going cross eyed at how your chunky thighs veiled his head. Loving how you were suffocating him with the very thing he would kill for. It was warm and tight, sticky, lewd and soft. The wetness of your arousal soaked around your inner thighs as he devoured your sweet center. You gripped at the sheets, clenched your eyes shut as you started to rock back and forth. Your breathing grows heavy as you begin to ride his mouth at a moderate speed. Heart eyes rolling and head lulling back, your lips part at the wave of fulfillment overwhelming you.

"Oh, baby, m'gon cum." You moaned, voice quivering a little. He hums in acknowledgement, tapping your thigh for you to quicken your pace. He starts to make out with your cunt, sucking and flicking at your clit till your movement was still. There was a silence that had fallen over the room. Your chest rises and falls once your upper body has met the mattress with a tired huff. Moaning softly, his tongue licks up the mess he had made, your juices dripping along his chin, he sucks you off the rest of the way. Giving your pussy one last kiss, he moves from under you. Turning to grab the towel that was on the floor, he glances over you about to wipe your thighs when he hears soft grunting sounds escape from your lips. He chuckles, realizing he put your ass into a deep slumber.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[milkoomi]

⋆˚࿔ a new canvas means a new you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

a mini series on the art of becoming a better you

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

chapter four — THE ART OF SELF RESPECT

when you live a life where you don’t respect yourself, your boundaries, your health, your mind, your emotions; just anything about you, you’ll end up living a life where you’re walked all over, where people take advantage of you, where you’ll find no successes or achievements— you live a life feeling lost and feeling empty, feeling like your mission in life is to be meaningless. we’re taught to respect others, but we’re never taught to respect ourselves. we, as individuals, need to have the highest level of respect for one person. that person being us.

ᥫ᭡. where to start

decenter men

i was talking about this the other night with my best friend, but way too many people (women, men, trans women/men, literally anyone) center their lives around men. the patriarchy has stolen so many people’s individuality, stripping them of finding their own personality, their own interests, opinions, hobbies, etc. and that is one of the main reasons people don’t have any self respect. decenter men.

a man should not, and never define who you are as a person. a man should never make you feel like you are undeserving of your own successes. a man should never make you feel any less than what you truly are! men should never be a source of validation for you as a person. it doesn’t matter if you’re a man yourself (cis or trans), it doesn’t matter if you’re a woman (cis or trans), and it doesn’t matter if you’re nonbinary/gender-nonconforming; you should never ever— and i mean ever— center your ideals, thoughts, opinions, hobbies, interests, and your entire self and life around a man.

too many people are so focused on men and what men think about them. and let me just give you some food for thought: when have you ever done something solely for yourself without the back thought of a man’s approval? i’ll admit, back in high school i spent all four years thinking about men and seeking validation from a man. from my freshman year all up until my senior year i was in back to back relationships because i couldn’t even fathom the thought of being without a man. and you know what that did for me? it made me miserable, it made me more insecure, and it made me put myself into situations that the person who i am now would be insanely repulsed by because what the fuck was i thinking? majority of my teenage years were spent centering my life around men, and i was miserable.

now, at my current age at this point in my life, i am so unbelievably lucky to be engaged to the man of my dreams, but! i remember when my partner and i first started dating, my therapist asked about 5-6 months into my relationship, “do you feel like you depend on him for your happiness?” and it made me think, “oh my god, what if i am? what if all the anxieties i have about my relationship are because i rely too much on him for my own happiness?” while my relationship with him is the healthiest, happiest, and most healing relationship i’ve ever been in, i had to learn to be okay with being by myself; with being in the company of my own, without him, because i can’t depend on him for company or happiness or peace— i have to depend on myself for those things, and he’s just my wonderful partner that i get to enjoy and experience life with. he’s not my entire life. he’s only a part of it.

you have to learn to be happy and to find peace with being by yourself. your whole life can’t be surrounding the idea of a man.

here are a couple posts that i’ve found to be really helpful with how to decenter men:

“decentering men and recentering yourself” by @honeytonedhottie

“how to decenter men” by @femmefatalevibe

stop seeking validation from others

not only do people seek validation from men, they seek validation from literally anyone. parents, teachers, bosses, friends, classmates, colleagues; people are looking from validation from all the wrong sources. you, yourself, should be the only person you seek validation from. you should be setting your own standard from yourself.

again, looking for validation from any outside source only makes you lose yourself more and more in the process. you forget all about what you want and need from yourself because you’re so focused on what other people need and want from you. validate yourself, affirm yourself, just be there for yourself. you don’t need anyone or anything else telling you that you’re doing something right. you’ll know what’s right for you because you should know yourself better than anyone else!

set boundaries

chapter three was all about learning how to say no and how to set boundaries, so i highly recommend going back to that chapter and reviewing it since i go more in-depth on that topic!

setting boundaries for yourself is one of the best things to do to regain your self respect. knowing what exactly you want from yourself and from others and setting that line will not only protect your happiness and peace, but it will also show an immense amount of respect that you have for yourself to others who may think that they don’t have to respect you.

ᥫ᭡. self respect as a whole

respecting yourself means respecting your peace, your privacy, your thoughts, your opinions, your emotions; you as a person. it protects you from things and people that could potentially harm you, whether it’s physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually.

protect your peace. protect your happiness. protect your mind and your body. when you disrespect yourself by partaking in an overuse of harmful substances, having unprotected sex with someone you don’t even have a genuine connection to, or accepting behaviors from someone who’s constantly hurting you or betraying your trust you become a doormat for people to walk all over you in life.

i have known too many people, myself included, who disrespected themselves and faced one too many hardships in life. it makes us miserable and that misery turns into so many mental health issues that can sometimes cause too much harm that it makes it 100 times more difficult to recover.

self respect doesn’t have to be hard. you can always start small by just taking care of yourself! this has been a recurring theme in this series, but here i am to say it again: prioritize yourself! respect that you have needs and wants and do things for yourself that make you feel good and that benefit you. self care is vital, and respecting the fact that your own health needs to be in check is a wonderful first step towards gaining more self respect.

you have to show up for yourself, you have to immerse yourself in activities/hobbies/media that’s actually good for you— not what you think is good for you, you have to be kind to yourself, and you have to love yourself, babes. seriously, self respect can be a really simple thing at the end of the day and it can come so easily to you if you just let it be. don’t make your life harder by disrespecting yourself.

ᥫ᭡. final notes

we’re nearing the end of this mini series! chapter five will be the final chapter! i’m so thankful that this series has been shown so much love so far and i hope that it’s been able to help you guys as much as it helped me! i know i’ve been writing all of these, but something about creating content like this really motivates me to keep moving forward with my own self improvement journey.

i hope you guys always know i’m with you every step of the way in this journey. you never have to walk it alone, trust me! i know i always talk about being there for yourself, but other people (who are genuinely worth it, of course) can be there for you too! we’ve all got the same goal: to better ourselves. it’s going to be a difficult and long journey, but we’ll make it together!

with lots of love, juno 🌷

[schlatt-love-bot]

yuck! part 1.5 - schlatt x reader

So, as I went to begin writing part 2 of Yuck!, I realized I had written a whole one-shot about being friends with benefits with Schlatt and literally included zero smut…it’s unacceptable. Here’s a little smut to hold you all over before I continue and complete part 2 :) 

NOTE: For the purpose of this part, the reader is female and goes by she/her. I know in the original part I left it rather gender neutral…I just haven’t really written much smut that’s not from a feminine perspective, it’s what I’m most comfortable with! Hope you enjoy :) 

IF YOU ARE A MINOR, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! NSFW CONTENT!

The car ride to the cabin was tensely silent. You could tell by Schlatt’s lack of small talk as you drove through the mountain scenery that he was truly thinking hard about something—what exactly, though, you weren’t sure of. You had your hand lazily placed on the center console, and every so often Schlatt would take one hand off the wheel and give it a light pat, signalling to you that he was okay, just deep in his own thoughts. Bored, you began to look him up and down, thinking about all of the things you could get yourself into once you had gotten to the secluded cabin. As your gears got to turning…why did you have to wait that long to get things started? 

You reached your hand over the console and into his space, your fingers lightly grazing up and down his thigh, ever so slowly making your way towards his groin. You saw his eyes begin to widen, never leaving the road, though, as a rosy blush began to creep from his ears across the rest of his face. 

“Woah, what’s this bright idea, toots? I’m drivin’ ‘ere…need to concentrate…” He grumbled, feeling as you began to put more pressure on his semi-hardened member, causing you to giggle at his flustered state. 

“Mmm, well we’re getting really close to the cabin…and I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands off you, Schlatt…” You said coyly, gazing up towards him with hunger in your eyes. He scoffed, continuing his steady watching of the road in front of him.

“Yeah, yeah…sweetheart, the more impatient you’re gonna be…the worse off it’ll be for you later…” His voice became strained the longer you kept your fingers on his now-hardened member, groaning at your touch. Giggling, you looked up, seeing the cabin slowly coming into view. 

“Fine, fine…you’re lucky we’re close to the cabin, otherwise I would’ve sucked you off while you were driving…” Your voice trailed off, as you sat back in your seat, looking out the window. You heard him sigh as he continued to drive, leaving you in a bit of confusion. What was this attitude for? He normally would never decline your advances, especially when it was in a…risqué location. 

Pulling out front, Schlatt put his car into park, not saying a word as he unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed his phone, and made his way out of the car and to the trunk, where you had kept your bags. Stepping out of the car yourself, the cool winter air nipped at your skin, leaving you with more goosebumps than Schlatt had been giving your lately, walking to the trunk to grab your own bag when it was snatched out from your hands. 

“Hey!”

”Listen, toots…you may have been a brat on the way up ‘ere…but you’re lucky I’m still a gentleman. Not lettin’ you carry this in there, let’s get inside…” He grumbled, throwing your bag over his shoulder as he picked up his own, heading towards the door of the cabin. You sighed, quietly following behind, following him into the cabin. It was still rather cold inside, the wood fire stove not being on yet caused the inside of the cabin to feel closer in temperature to the winter weather outside. You gently placed a hand on Schlatt’s shoulder, walking in front of him to grab your bag. 

“Here…let me take these to our rooms…do you mind startin’ up the heater? It’s cold in here…” You voice trembled slightly due to the chill you were feeling, as Schlatt handed you the bags. 

“No problem…don’t need sweetcheeks to get frost bitten, right?” He chuckled, heading over to the wood stove to see how much firewood was there, and how much he would need to add to kindle the fire. You retreated up the stairs to find two separate bedrooms–even though the two of you were frequently sleeping with one another, you still slept in separate beds, unless the fun times tuckered you both out so much that you felt the need to sleep immediately. Those softer moments, waking up in Schlatt’s arms after a long, tireless night were the moments you found yourself craving, needing his touch in softer, more loving moments, rather than just the sexual ones. You sighed, opting to give Schlatt the larger room, placing his bag down on his bed as you made your way across the hall to put your bag down in your own room. Peering over the banister, you could see a dim flame coming from the heater, realizing he was able to start the fire quickly. Heading back to the entryway, you took your heavy winter coat off, feeling the semi-cool air beginning to prick at your skin as the room hadn’t gotten all the way warm yet. Walking closer, you watched him as he began shoving more firewood in, the flames ever so slowly becoming larger. 

“Nice work, big guy…” Your voice trailed off as you reclined on the couch, eyes watching him like a hawk. He slowly turned to face you, shrugging his own jacket off his shoulders as he eyed you up and down, immediately spotting your lack of a bra through such a tight shirt. 

“Toots…what the fuck are you doin’...” His voice got darker, deeper with lust as he placed his jacket down on the couch beside you, towering over top of you. Arching your back, you began to play coy, needing his touch after a long, desperate car ride. 

“Mmm, don’t know what you’re talking about…” His hands quickly latched to your hips, swiftly picking you up and placing you down on top of his lap as he sat on the couch in front of the fire. 

“You…you know exactly what you’re doin’...such a little brat…teasin’ the whole ride here, sittin’ here looking all perfect with that tight top on…” His words grumbled in your ear as his hands snaked their way up your sides and under your breasts, squeezing lightly. You let out a small yelp of pleasure, causing Schlatt to smile, knowing you were about to become undone with pleasure. 

“Name…name me one good reason why I should fuck you right now, sweetheart. You’ve been playin’ real dirty…really teasin’ me, testin’ me, here..” He growled, nipping at your earlobe as his hands began to massage your chest through your shirt, making you groan—you needed his touch on your bare skin, not like this. 

“Mmm, please…I’ve been as good as I could be…need to feel your touch…” You groaned, pressing yourself lower into his lap, snaking your own hands behind his neck and to his hair, giving him a light tug. He smirked at your neediness, feeling you begin to melt into putty in his hands.

“Use your words, darlin’...tell me…” 

“Fuck…need your hands…on my skin…all over…please…” You panted, through your hooded eyes you could see Schlatt’s shiteating grin begin to widen. He tugged at the hem of your shirt, slowly peeling it off your now-sweaty body, due to a combination of need for him and the intense heat of the fire besides you both. Leaning down, you connected your lips to his, swiping your tongue across his bottom lip before slipping it in as he began to laugh at your state. He gripped at your bare back, soaking in the moment.

“Look at you…at these. Perfect. Fuckin’ perfect..” He growled, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses and bites down your jawline and neck to your breasts, peppering the surrounding sensitive skin with sloppy wet kisses before looking up at you once again. 

“Words, princess…” 

“Mmm, fuck…Schlatt…please…” You groaned, head thrown back in pleasure.

“Please, what…? Words…” He ordered, hovering above your peaked nipples. 

“Mm, suck them, please….pleasure…needed…” You managed to get out before pulling his hair with one hand, forcing a connection between his mouth and your breast. He began going to town, lightly tugging on your fleshy mounds with his teeth, feeling the warmth between your legs beginning to grow in his lap. 

“Shit!! So…so fucking good…” You moaned, fingers tightening your grip on his flowing locks. You felt him hum against your breast, sending chills up your spine. 

“What now, toots?” He panted, looking down at the marks he’s now left painted all over your chest. Your groan spoke of levels of dissatisfaction, missing the warmth he was providing your body.

“Fuck…shit…need you…need you in me…” You begged, grabbing at his wrist to force his hand to your waistband. He snapped his hand back, laughing at how badly you needed his touch. 

“Now, now…you know better…nice and slow, toots..” He said, ever so slowly unbuttoning your jeans before beginning to peel them off of you. You lifted yourself as needed, connecting your own mouth to his neck to pepper him with kisses and hickies as he worked to unclothe you. He growled, pulling at your hair to separate you from his neck. 

“Nu-uh, you know better, princess…no touching, no kissing unless I say so. Got it?” He said, not giving you a chance to respond before his fingers began sliding around your slick folds, laughing as he felt how wet and pathetic you already were for him. 

“So wet already, hmm? How long have you been this needy for me?” He groaned in your ear, sounds of his fingers in your slick filling the air around you.

“Fuck…since…since we were at the apartment…talkin’ about coming here…” You groaned, burying your head in his neck. He let out a laugh, realizing just how long you were waiting for this.

“Mmm, maybe you were more patient than I thought, toots…” His fingers finally connect to your sensitive clit, causing your mouth to pour out a string of obscenities. He smiled at the sight, knowing just how close to fully coming you were. He drew soft, quick circles on the sensitive nub while leaving your neck with more kisses and bites, truly putting your senses to work overtime. 

“Schlatt..fuck! Feels….so..so good…let me cum?” You whined, managing to ask for permission before your release. It was something that the two of you had eventually added to your ‘friends with benefits’ contract a year ago, when Schlatt was growing frustrated with the amount of times you’d come without him. 

“Wait…wait a little longer. Can’t be coming without me…” He groaned, bringing his fingers to his lips to get a taste of your juices he had oh so missed. Your eyes never left his as he sucked his fingers dry, finally taking his hands down to his lap to undo his jeans, sliding them down slightly until his already-hardened member slapped up at his stomach. You let out a groan of desire, licking your lips before looking back at him. 

“Stroke me off, princess. I need to…need to get as close as you are…” He ordered, taking your hand and placing it on his shaft, hissing at the sudden connection. You hungrily nodded your head, stroking your hand up and down, using your fingertips to slide his precum down the rest of his shaft like lube to quicken your pace. Feeling your fingers on the redden tip of his dick made him hiss once more, throwing his head back. 

“Shit, (Y/N)...don’t know how you do this so well…so good…” He moaned, hands tugging at your hair. You knew the quicker you got him to his edge, the sooner he would fuck the living daylights out of you, and with that, you quickened your strokes. Once he began to buck his hips involuntarily towards your hand, he grabbed your wrist, signalling you to stop. Without a word, he lifted your hips, gently placing yourself back on top of him, lining his tip up with your entrance. 

“Words…use your words…” He growled, making eye contact with you, hungrier than he has ever been. 

“Fuck me! Fuck the shit out of me..” You groaned, as he began to sink your hips down on his length before you finished your sentence. Your moans came out together, as you began to arch your back as you bounced on his lap, his hands tightly grasping at your hips. 

“So good…such a good girl…bouncin’ on my cock like the little slut you are…” He groaned, bucking his hips up as he used his hands to forcibly bounce you even harder down on him. Your overwhelmed senses became too much, unable to voice your pleasure in cohesive statements. 

“Shit…shit..Schlatt…gonna…cum…” You managed to get out, fingers once again laced in his hair, tugging in ecstasy. 

“Hold tight, princess…not yet…” He said, snaking a hand back down to your folds to play with your clit once again. You moaned at the touch, totally losing control of all your senses. Seeing how completely at his mercy you were, his edge was coming near. 

“Come with me, toots….cum…” He groaned, his last few bucks getting sloppy as he felt his cock twitch within you, seed spilling into your pussy. Feeling full, the pressure finally tore open through your body, moaning like you never had before as your juices began to flow around his cock, spilling onto his thighs. Despite hitting your highs together, he still bounced you up and down for a few more moments on his lap, before disconnecting you from him, still sitting on your lap as he placed his forehead on yours. 

“You did so good, princess. So needy…” He managed to say, still catching his breathe. You mumbled, still unable to find your words.

“Thank you….thank you..” You meekly said, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. After a few moments of recollecting yourselves, you gave him a knowing look. 

“So…what other part of the cabin should we break in, now…?” 

“Mmm, you tease…I like that idea…let’s figure it out…” He growled, snaking your legs around his waist, heading for the spacious kitchen bar with a large window view of the woods outside your cabin. This was going to be a nice, long trip…

[aventurineswife]

Omg so I have been SCOURING the entire internet for a fic where Aventurine and reader are dancing together (with Aven leading the dance) at a fancy event (a bit like black swan and acheron in the one animated short) and I have not found a single one 😔 It’s just been on my mind so much recently and I’d love to see it written out. Bonus points if he’s wearing the suit from the Final Victor light cone.

You’re an amazing writer and patience breeds success so please take your time and make sure to stay hydrated!

A Dance With The Devil

Summary: At an opulent event, the air is thick with intrigue, and the spotlight falls on you and Aventurine. As the music begins, he takes the lead in an intimate dance, his presence overwhelming yet captivating. The atmosphere is charged with unspoken tension as you’re drawn into his world of elegance, calculated moves, and dangerous charm. In a moment of sensual elegance, your every move is mirrored by him, and the dance becomes a game of its own—a game that may leave you questioning who is really in control.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sensual Dance, Romance, Ship Tease, Power Dynamics, Slow Burn.

Warnings: Sensual themes, Flirtation, Light teasing, Possible manipulation hints.

A/N: 🧍‍♀️I'm not good at describing dances and uh outfits most of the time but I tried my best describing the Final Victor outfit even tho I can't tell the colours properly 💀 also thank you for your kind words, I hope you enjoy this!! 🤧💖🫶

The grand hall was alive with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses, yet all eyes seemed to be drawn to the centerpiece of the evening: a lavish ballroom where the finest of the elite gathered in their best attire. The chandeliers above flickered with an ethereal glow, casting soft shadows over the polished floor. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and expensive cologne, and the atmosphere teemed with an unspoken tension—one that was both thrilling and dangerous.

Aventurine stood in the corner, his presence enough to command attention. His attire tonight was nothing short of breathtaking—his teal-colored dress shirt was immaculate, paired with a diagonal striped black-and-white/gray tie that accented the sharp lines of his suit jacket. Gold accents glittered in the dim light, tracing the edges of his jacket’s lapels and outlining intricate patterns that added an air of regality. Black gloves graced his hands, and his eyes—those unwavering eyes—roamed the room, scanning, assessing, always playing the game.

But it was you he saw.

You, standing by the edge of the crowd, nervously adjusting your attire. There was a certain pull to you, something that made his smile curve slightly—dangerously so—as he pushed himself off the wall and moved towards you, his footsteps steady and purposeful.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice smooth, almost a whisper, but commanding nonetheless.

You looked at him, surprised, then caught the glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. A gamble—he always liked to push boundaries. The gentle touch of his fingers against your arm as he guided you to the floor was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

He led you to the center, the spotlight now on both of you. His movements were effortless, calculated—he knew the steps without having to think about them. His hand was warm, encircling your waist with a precision that spoke of experience, while his other hand gently grasped your own, guiding it to his shoulder.

Aventurine’s eyes locked onto yours, his lips curving in a slight smile. "You seem out of place here," he mused, his voice a velvet thread in the tense silence of the room. "This world of pretense, it’s not for everyone."

You hesitated, but his steady presence made you feel as though the weight of the world was momentarily lifted. "And what makes you so certain I don’t belong?"

"Because you’re not playing the game." He swirled you gracefully, his fingers brushing against the curve of your back. You followed his lead effortlessly, your steps in sync, though his hold on you was firm—intentional. Every move, every subtle adjustment he made in his grip, seemed deliberate. He wasn’t just leading the dance; he was guiding you through a maze of temptation.

The rhythm of the music was slow, sensual, every beat punctuated by the close proximity between you. His body was a constant presence, so near yet never too forward, his touch light but possessive. His chest brushed against yours as you turned, the heat from his body seeping into yours.

"You play by a different set of rules," Aventurine said softly, his lips mere inches from your ear. His breath was warm, teasing the sensitive skin there. His voice was low, almost inaudible over the music, but it sent a thrill down your spine.

Your gaze flickered to his hand at your waist, feeling the steady pressure of his touch, his thumb moving in soft circles over the fabric of your attire. His gloved hand, resting on your back, slid up, almost imperceptibly, as if claiming you. It wasn’t the kind of dance you expected, nor the kind of connection you’d imagined. There was an unspoken invitation in his movements, a pull that was irresistible, yet layered with danger.

You found yourself pressed closer to him as the dance continued, his body a constant heat against yours. The rhythm quickened, and so did the tension. His movements became even more intimate, calculated with a precision that left no room for escape. Your heart raced—part fear, part exhilaration—as his hand slid down to the small of your back, his fingers just grazing the edge of your spine.

Aventurine’s smirk widened, as if he knew exactly what effect he was having on you. His eyes never left your face. "You feel it too, don’t you? The game." He pulled you in closer, so close you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your own.

In that moment, everything was suspended. The world faded away, leaving only the two of you—entangled in a dance that was both a test and a temptation. Every step, every shift, was a challenge, a calculated move in a game you didn’t fully understand, but one you were now unwilling to escape.

"You could walk away," he murmured, his breath warm against your lips, "but where’s the fun in that?"

The music reached its crescendo, and for a brief moment, you were lost in the dance, caught in his orbit. The thrill of the gamble was intoxicating, and as you danced with Aventurine, you realized that you were no longer just a player in his game—you were part of it.

And neither of you were willing to lose.

[hearts4hughes]

black - bsf!rafe cameron x fem!reader

(listen to black by pearl jam for the full experience)

warnings: pure yearning and desperate longing ; substance use ; angst angst angst

a/n: can you tell that i love yearning!pathetic!bsf!rafe? because i do and it consumes my thoughts.

he stalked you from across the room, his jaw clenched and his chest burnt with a green flame. every breath came out harsher than the one before.

you stood across the room, your white dress swaying as you moved your hips to the music. your perfectly manicured fingers clasped behind the blonde’s neck as you both danced. he leaned forward, bending over just enough to whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

rafe heard your precious giggles from his spot and he swallowed harshly, looking down at the glass in his hands. he swore he never felt pain like htis— the pain of seeing his best friend, his girl, flirting with some nobody at his party. someone could’ve stabbed him and he would’ve felt less pain than this.

that boy doesn’t deserve you. he doesn’t know how to treat you well, not like rafe does. you’re an empty canvas, an untouched piece of clay, the goddamn essence of pure in every sense of the word— something only rafe can trust himself to protect, everyone else was a potential threat.

his fingers tightened around the glass, the knuckles of his free hand whitening as he fought the urge to crush it. his eyes never left you, though— how could they? you were his center of gravity, the one constant in a world that never stopped spinning. but tonight, you felt farther away than ever.

he couldn’t stop the thoughts that crashed over him like violent waves, each one dragging him further under. did you laugh like that when he cracked a joke? did your eyes light up the same way when it was his arms around you, his voice low in your ear?

you weren’t his. not really. not in the way he wanted, not in the way he craved. that was the problem. he had been a coward for too long, hiding behind the mask of your best friend because it was safe because he thought it was enough. but it wasn’t— not when you looked at someone else the way he wished you’d look at him.

he hated how he noticed everything about you. how you tapped your fingers to the beat of the music when you were lost in thought; how you always tilted your head just slightly when you were teasing him; how your lips curved into the smallest, most beautiful smile when he called you his girl, even if he only said it as a joke. he noticed it all.

god, he wanted to pull you away from the blonde, to grab your wrist, and drag you outside where it was quiet. he wanted to press you against the wall, to tell you how he felt, to confess everything. confess how he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you, how you were his, whether you realized it or not.

but he stayed rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the fear of ruining what you had. what if you didn’t feel the same? how could you love a disaster like him? what if he lost you completely? the thought alone made his stomach churn.

rafe downed the rest of his drink in one bitter gulp, the burn almost distracting him from how his body ached. he stood up suddenly, grabbing the packet of white powder from his back pocket. the very same powder that preoccupied his vicious thoughts for a while. this kept him sane.

but as he went to leave the room, your eyes met his. it was as if time stopped as you both gazed at each other. you gave him a weak smile, almost as if you could sense his pain. he returned the smile, giving you a wink before leaving the room. the second he looked away, his face dropped. he entered an empty room, poured the powder into thin lines, rolled up a $100 bill, and let the substance fill his nose. he wiped away the drop of blood that followed, smiling in contentment as his thoughts were silenced.

and yet, even as the numbness crept in, the ache of you lingered like an unbearable weightt he couldn’t shake. you were his comfort and his torment, the dream he’d never wake from, and the wound that refused to heal. no matter how much he tried to quiet his mind, you were always there, tattooed in black into his every thought, every breath, every broken piece of him. you weren’t his, not really, but god, you would always be the only thing he ever truly wanted.

[fantasylandloser]

bsf!clark kent

“It’s just a little..” Clark circles around you, displeasure set in his jaw. “..short.” He finishes. “There’s gonna be all kinds of creeps out there.” When you shrug and twirl in your tiny skirt Clarks stern gaze sets on you, expectantly. 

“Why would that matter if I have my big, strong bff forever there to protect me?”

His eyes roll. “You don’t have to say forever if you say bff.” He corrects. 

You tilt your head, rolling your eyes as well. “Don’t correct me .” You point your finger into his chest. “Or else.” It’s the least threatening experience of his life.

Your finger is in his hand a moment later and he pretends to take a bite. You try not to giggle at the gesture. You fail. You’d been ignoring your crush on Clark for months on end even though you knew he felt the same way, but something about the tension set off by the feelings you didn’t talk about made you giddy.

“Well if you really want to walk out the house looking like that, then let's go. We’re already late.” Clark’s effort is valiant not to ogle your ass in that tiny skirt. Fighting between his irritation and desire he chose to remain neutral the remainder of the night.

***

Clarks resolve lasted all of twenty minutes. You’d been catcalled at least five times and one guy even had the audacity to try and grab your ass. That’s how he ended up pinned to the wall. You were next. 

First he shoved his jacket off his broad shoulders and on to yours, still ever so gentle, even though his jaw was tense and his gaze wouldn’t find yours then he led you through the crowd. 

“If you listened to me then-” You hear from behind you.

“Then everything would be boring all the time.”You quip before he could finish. Clark wonders why you’ve been trying to upset him all night. He goes to lecture you, when you’re called away by some girls you know. 

“You know she walks all over you because you let her man.” Pete tells Clark after observing the situation. His friend is seriously whipped. 

“She doesn’t walk all over me.” Clark gruffs. 

Pete smacks his lips. “Tell her to do one thing, and I bet she won’t do it. You need to establish serious boundaries with her. Or better yet just get your girl, so y’all don’t have to do this weird dance you’ve been doing.” 

Clark wishes he could tune out Pete’s yapping. “She’s not my girl.”

“She could be.”’

*****

Clark huffs at the sight of you dancing on a table. You’re not drunk, you’ve only had one drink and yet you still manage to make yourself the center of attention. He can count three guys getting entirely too close to you. He’s already inching forward when one is reaching out to grab you, the possessive edge he’s been feeling all night taking over completely. 

“Get down.” Not a request, but he could see you were about to treat it like it was one. Before you get a chance to open your mouth he has you thrown over his shoulder. And you erupt into a fit of giggles. You can’t help it because that’s all you wanted from him anyway. A reaction. 

“Why’re you acting like this?” He asks once he puts you down and you realize he’s taken you to the bathroom. 

“I just wanted your attention, Clark.” Your tone soft as you try to swallow the smirk that wants to make its way to your face. 

Clark grips your jaw, so gently, you note, “Why didn’t you just ask for it?” His eyes boring into yours. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” You smile when he laughs, his fangs poking .

“You’re trouble.” You don’t get time to respond before his lips are on yours in a desperate kiss. 

*****

guys I'm trying to knock the rust off so don't hate too much

[atangledfate]

Lanolin was rather focused on trying to get a signal to call back to the command center when she was approached from behind. She didn't really acknowledge them as she had far bigger issues to deal with. Like dealing with this gun incursion, and finding Jewel. She thought if she called her maybe she could reach her phone? Though she guessed Clutch took her phone away. She just needed to know if she was ok but, she also couldn't waste anymore time and had to get back to the Command Center. Yet Twist's voice finally got her attention and she turned around to face him directly.

" Yes, I'm Acting Director of Restoration. With so many people off base... i was put in command. "

she explained without saying to much more then that.

" I'll be honest... I don't right trust GUN right now further then i can throw the lot of them. But... If you can get these people to safety, or even some more of our staff allowed in. I'd be grateful... tell me what you need "

=============================================

Jewel was still quite dazed from her injury, and her carapace was cracked on her head slightly from the impact to it. She was shocked to see the two ruffin's but then she recalled she did come here to let them out. She recalled Clutch saying they'd been caught and were just expendable and thus he had no intention of saving them. But then the cave in, her head--- had Charm been there? oh chaos where was he!

She didn't have time to think about it as the Skunks dove for her and she tried to fly away but, between her throbbing head and blurred vision she didn't get very far. With one of the boys grabbing her leg and dragging her down! She was held fast, but shockingly didn't fight back. She was tired, hurting, and her head was spinning. The less she moved the better she felt and where did she even have to go? she just went limp in there arms and looked rather dejected and defeated.

But there was always more then one way to win a battle

" ... you two haven't thought this through have you? "

She said in a soft tone as speaking caused her head to throb more

" ... Or rather i doubt you know the situation. How about... you set me down so my head stops spinning and--- we just talk this out? i won't run i promise... both because i can't do to my injury, and because isn't anywhere to go... plus i'm no fighter, so you have nothing to worry about... "

"Alright, after I go talk to the commander I'll see where I can help if she declines my offer to at least get civilians moved to a hospital." Twist figured he'd talk to the commander before going off and seeing what he could do. The lemur making his way over, though raised a brow seeing the tenrec dash off. Hopefully she had more respect for the law than that Sonic character.

Twist then walked up to Lanolin. "Excuse me, I was told you were a commander. The names Twist, I'm Tangles father. Noticed your medical staff is a bit understaffed. I used to work for G.U.N and still got some contacts. If ya want I can make a few calls, at least get all the civilians green lit to be taken out of the base and to a hospital."

===========================================================

Rough and Tumble reacted on the instincts there as both their guts told them something was about to go down, and good thing too as they managed to prevent Jewel from being squished under a ton of rubble and metal. That said when she finally came too the two skunk brothers were in the middle of finishing a tunnel in the floor, only stopping when they heard the beetle speak. Then there was a pause for a moment.

"Grab her!" Rough would suddenly shout when prompted both him and Tumble to make a grab for Jewel. Despite the blue skunk being the faster of the two the larger skunk moved surprisingly fast for someone of his size. Seemed like their plan was to sneak out without getting noticed, though clearly that was out the window so the next best plan was a hostage.

[sleepynoons]

ooc!mydei x afab!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: oral (giving) + deepthroating, god kink + religious themes, brief master/lord kink, praise kink (giving), exhibitionism, mentions of blood/violence/conflict, edging (???)

notes: uh. i don't really have a good defense. i saw this fanart of mydei, saw his happy trail, and blanked out. i know it's 2025 and i strongly urge people to stop centering men in their lives, but, uh, well. uh. yeah. you call him a god. anyway, he's gonna be ooc, character- and lore-wise, bc i have no fucking clue what hoyoverse is going to do to him. anyway, love yourself, i do not actually have a god kink and am not religious at all in fact lolz, but yeah, enjoy my first drabble of 2025 LMFAO

IT DOESN'T take much to satisfy you. but this – your throat constricted around mydei’s cock, jaw slack and aching, nose nestled into his happy trail – is better than anything you could ever ask for.

you could care less about the cold tile underneath your bruised knees and shins. you don’t even waver at the sounds of people coming and going. all that matters is you’re full, and with another weak inhale through your nose, you feel your mind unravel a little more at the heady scent of mydei’s sweat and natural musk.

with a moan around his length, you glance up to gauge mydei’s reaction. except there isn’t one. in all his regality and majesty, he knows how to maintain stoicism and indifference, with an air of superiority. in front of others, he can’t look weak or swayed. what he does offer, though, is a slow blink, and you catch a glint of satisfaction in the glowing red and flickering gold in his irises.

if you could, you would croon in delight. but alas, you can’t respond with more than a swallow around his cock, and you concentrate on maneuvering your tongue around it, laving over throbbing veins and warming spots that you haven’t tasted in a moment’s time.

as a result, spit coats your chin and dribbles down onto the floor, dripping onto the cold tile along with the wetness that streams down the insides of your thighs. you’d really like to touch yourself, alleviate yourself of the emptiness below, but mydei has yet to give you his permission and you do not dare to defy him even in his silence. 

as a way to distract your greedy hands, then, you rest your palms on his knees that are spread out on his throne and which cage your shuddering frame to him. had it not been for his affirmative gaze, you wouldn’t have known you were pleasuring him because his legs are grounded and still. and it’s true – it’s unimaginable that something could shake his body, honed through decades of fighting and battle to lunge and leap after spartan enemies and to withstand and hold against even the bloodiest of onslaughts. of course, then, that your pleasuring could barely affect him.

but you don’t wish to weaken mydei, to make him shuddering and trembling through your touch. your sole goal is to please him and make him feel good. after all, he doesn’t need to feel like he’s in heaven when he’s already ruling over his own paradise.

you’d argue that your devotion to him is stronger than his to his people. while that would ensue an interminable debate between the two of you, you know in your heart that you’re right.

but that train of thought is for another time, and your clouded mind can’t really muster a coherent argument as of now. so, you nuzzle your face deeper into his skin, basking in the warmth of his body and the slight pokes of his hair against your upper lip, and stretch yourself even more to accommodate his cock.

all you’d like to do is lose yourself completely, and only mydei can do that to you. he is your lord, master, god, and as someone so pious and loyal, nothing is more satisfying to you than praising and fully devoting yourself to him.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

What do you think is the nature of the relationship between Tyler Perry and Meghan? Friends or just business? I thought it was weird he didn’t appear in the teaser for her new show. He still might be in it, who knows. What are your thoughts?

Just business.

Tyler Perry is someone who’s very much of the mindset that “black people lift each other up because if we don’t do it, no one else will.” This will upset some people, but that mindset is really fair and very accurate about American society.

From what we’ve heard about how he came “into” the Sussexes’ space, it’s via Oprah. Meghan fretted to Oprah, Oprah fretted to Tyler, and Tyler - with “if we don’t help each other no one will help” mindset - offered to help. The Sussexes accepted.

And while Meghan couldn’t read a room if her life depended on it, she can absolutely read a person. I think once they were here and living in Tyler’s world, Meghan read Tyler Perry so perfectly that she knew exactly how to exploit his compassion for her situation to her own personal advantage insofar as racism, race-based criticism, and harassment.

I do think Tyler Perry wised up to her game sometime in 2022-2023 because he’s distanced from Meghan. Yes, he appeared in Netflix and yes, she was at the Paley Center thing, but I’m betting he recorded for Netflix before he wised up and I’m betting Meghan just threw money at the Paley Center and Tyler didn’t actually have a say in Paley taking her check.

So I guess this is a long roundabout way of saying I don’t believe they were ever friends and this is/was all business.

There are a lot of rumors about Meghan and Tyler, though. YMMV on the accuracy or credibility.

Meghan allegedly pushed one of Tyler Perry's staff into the pool during an argument.

Sussex fight at Tyler Perry's house where Meghan told Harry he'd never be bigger or better than his brother if he didn't do what she said. Tyler Perry overheard and it immediately chilled his friendship with Meghan.

Meghan will be sued by Tyler Perry over alleged treatment of staff.

Tyler Perry has never met and does not know Meghan and Harry. His connection to them is through Oprah, who was using them for money and the interview.

When Meghan and Harry first moved to the US, they stayed in a cottage on Oprah's estate before moving into Tyler Perry's home, which Oprah brokered for them.

Tyler Perry being Lili's godfather was allegedly a peace offering and a bribe to keep him from speaking the truth about what happened at his home.

Lili's christening on 3/3 was allegedly to solidify and permanentize relationship with Tyler Perry.

Meghan to allegedly call in favors with Tyler Perry as Lili's godfather to protect her/them during fallout in divorce or public reckoning.

Meghan to use Tyler Perry to push Lili into acting

Meghan allegedly has gossip/dirt on Tyler Perry that could end his career or result in scandal, discovered while snooping and used this to blackmail him into being Lili's godfather.

Tyler Perry allegedly walked out of Lili’s christening when he discovered it wasn’t real and isn’t really her godfather.

Lili’s christening pics will never be released because neither Tyler Perry nor Harry are in them and she isn’t wearing the BRF’s christening gown.

Sussexes working with Tyler Perry on new content deal/upcoming projects.

Tyler Perry allegedly pays for Lili’s super-expensive private preschool.

Tyler Perry allegedly put up the money for someone to hack Kate’s medical records.

Meghan’s connection to P. Diddy and his freakout parties is allegedly through Tyler Perry and they are both freaking out.

I know this is rotten of me to say. But I don’t think Meghan knows true friendship anymore. Most of her relationships these days seem based on quid pro quo or they’re very superficial - look at how she approached friendship with Kate. She went into meeting her with an expectation of “I’m here, I’m your new bestie, I’m all you need” and when Kate rejected that, well, it turned into a dumpster fire.

[inawickedlittletown]

Meet Cute - Bucktommy one-shot

Summary: Buck and Tommy get asked to explain how they met when they run into the person behind the instagram, meet cutes LA. (Inspired by meetcutesnyc) Words: 1.3k Read on Ao3

-

They were just walking down the street, Buck a little more preoccupied with figuring out if they were headed in the right direction to where they were supposed to be meeting up with Maddie and Chim. He should have listened to Tommy and agreed on taking an Uber. Parking had been a bit of a nightmare, but it was nice enough out that he didn’t mind the walk, assuming they found the restaurant soon. 

So, he didn’t even notice the guy with the camera. Then again, in LA there were always guys — and girls — with cameras. He’d responded to enough calls to do with influencers doing something stupid for clout. 

It was Tommy that stopped first when the guy with the camera called out to them. “Hey, excuse me.” 

“Yeah?” Tommy asked. “Can we help you?” 

Buck had to backtrack a couple of paces, but he fitted his shoulder against Tommy’s and looked at the guy curiously. 

“You guys are a couple right?” 

Buck felt Tommy stiffen a little. He reached and grabbed for his hand, gave it a squeeze. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

The guy was young, probably early twenties. His hair was a little floppy on his forehead and his glasses hid brown eyes. Despite having approached them of his own volition, he looked a little nervous. It made Buck relax a little. 

“I’m Max. I uh, there’s this thing I do. Meet Cutes LA. You probably haven’t seen it but I post primarily on insta, but I’m on TikTok as well. I film real couples out in the wild and ask them to tell me how they met and got together. Would you guys be willing to tell me your story?” 

Buck shared a glance with Tommy and shrugged.

“I guess that’s alright,” Tommy said. 

Max brightened. “Cool. Alright. I like to get permission first, but I want it to look like I just approached you randomly, it’s my whole aesthetic. So if you could go back a few feet and start walking past me and then stop when I call you over?” 

“Is this going to take long?” Buck asked. “We have somewhere to be—”

“It won’t. Ten minutes tops. I promise.” 

Tommy nudged him. “Come on, Evan, don’t you like being the center of attention.” 

“Shut up,” Buck said. “You realize that no one’s going to believe how we met.” 

So they walked a bit back and then when Max had his camera up and had given them a thumbs up, they started walking forward again just like they had before.  

“Excuse me! I have a question for you.” 

“Alright,” Tommy said. 

“How did you two meet?” Max asked. 

Buck shared a look with Tommy. 

“We could have met a good six or seven times before we actually met. Actually, we share an ex. He took my spot at the firestation he still works at. We have so many mutual friends. But we still met in an unbelievable way. You tell it, Evan,” Tommy said. 

“He’s a firefighter pilot,” Buck offered. “Best pilot in the LAFD.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. 

“I’m also a firefighter,” Buck continued, “My Captain and his wife went on a cruise and there was a hurricane and pirates. Anyway, to keep things uncomplicated, we had to go rescue them and one of my coworkers who used to work with Tommy, called Tommy to fly us out into the hurricane.”

“Just like that,” Max said. “You just answered that call and said sure.” 

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I owed Howie, but it was also the right thing to do. I mean, that’s kind of the job. Helping people.”

“Anyway, we flew out and he landed the helicopter on a capsized cruise ship. I thought he was so cool.” 

Tommy smiled at him. “I thought he was really cute…I also thought he was straight.” 

“I thought I was straight too,” Buck admitted. “Didn’t understand why I wanted to see him again after that night.” 

From behind the camera, Max’s eyebrows had shot up, it was clear that he hadn’t expected the story they were telling. No one ever really did. 

“So how did you get together?”

“He kissed me,” Buck said and he would never forget that kiss, surprising as it had been. 

That kiss had opened his eyes, it had changed everything for him. Looking at Tommy, he could tell that Tommy was remembering too. Tommy had taken a huge risk. 

“After the rescue?” Max asked. 

“A few weeks later. Evan has a bit of a possessive edge to him.” 

Buck glared at him. “I do not. I was misguided and upset because you were giving Eddie all of your attention.” 

“Who’s Eddie?” 

“My best friend who was monopolizing all of his time.” 

“So you maimed him,” Tommy said. 

Max’s eyes widened and he mouthed, ‘maimed’. 

“His ankle was fine two days later,” Buck countered. “I, uh, went to play basketball with them and—”

“And he hates basketball,” Tommy said. “Anyway, I went over to clear the air and I just took a chance. I thought he was mad I was taking up Eddie’s time. I didn’t realize it was my attention that he wanted all along.” 

“And I discovered that I’ve been a chaotic bisexual this whole time,” Buck said. “I had no idea why I was acting so insane and then he kissed me and it all made sense.” 

They shared another smile and Buck was tempted to lean over and kiss him, didn’t know if Tommy would appreciate that especially since they were being filmed and it would be posted somewhere for people to see it. 

“Wow. So, how long ago was that?” Max asked. 

“A little over two years,” Buck said. 

“So, you’ve been together ever since?” 

Buck shook his head. He didn’t like thinking about that period of time. The months of heartbreak and longing. The amount of baking he’d accomplished and how even that had stopped working after a while. 

 “There was a small blip of time, but we worked it out. Stronger than ever,” Tommy said and then he pulled away from Buck a little. “So strong that, there’s actually a question I’ve been wanting to ask. Now seems as good as any time.”

Buck froze. Tommy pulled his hand away and Buck watched Tommy kneel. Max let out an excited squeal and he was still filming as Tommy took a little box out of his pocket. Buck only had eyes for him, for his big hands that fumbled the box nervously.  

“Evan Buckley, I love you more than I could ever hope to express. I never once thought that I could find the person I’d want forever with, but I met you probably at the exact time that it was meant to happen, at a time when we were both ready for each other. And now, I think we’re ready for a different step. Do you want to take that step with me? Would you marry me?” 

Buck nodded eagerly. “Yes. Yes. Yes, of course.” 

A ring was slipped onto his finger and then Tommy’s lips were on his and several people were cheering, Max perhaps louder than anyone else. 

-

A few days later, Buck got a DM from @meetcutesla 

Meetcutesla: Hey. It’s Max. I’m going to be posting your meet cute story tomorrow. I just wanted to double check that you’re okay with me including the proposal. 

Buck touched the ring on his finger. It still felt, if he was being honest, foreign on his finger. But he loved it. 

Buckley118: Still good with that. Takes some of the pressure off of telling everyone ourselves. 

Meetcutesla: lmao. You guys are the best, I better get an invite to that wedding. 

What Buck was not expecting was for the video to blow up, not that he or Tommy really cared or minded. Buck for his part liked watching it, seeing their love displayed for the world.

[stone-stars]

[ID: A five page comic, centered on Aryox as he has a dream of Melora's future as a goddess. ID in alt text, and full description under the cut.]

@operationslipperypuppet hi alli.

higher than you'd think, apparently! um.... happy hoglidays, merry crickmas, i don't think i've laughed harder than when i saw the little message pop up that said my giftee was you, and i'm sorry for lying to you for a month.

this gift is in two parts. this comic, and the accompanying fic, which i've posted here! i hope you enjoy both, i'm really glad i got to make something about our guys. thank you for being a wonderful friend <3

for the @naddpodgifting exchange!

[ID: A five page comic, centered on Aryox as he has a dream of Melora's future as a goddess. Everything is drawn in bright colored outlines against a black background.

First page. Aryox (in light blue) opens his eyes slowly. Mist cuts across the top of the page behind the panels. The bottom half of the page is frameless, and shows Aryox standing at the base of steps leading up to a large temple, with mist swirling around it. Green vines wrap around the temple, with everything else being drawn in Aryox's blue.

Next page. Aryox walks up the steps of the temple, his hand briefly resting on one of its columns next to a green vine, then snaps his fingers and summons a light which he raises above his head, parting the mist. He stares into the distance, where within the mist a pale green light shines back. Grinning, he remarks "towards the light, then. Morbid." The next sequence shows Aryox walking through the temple, the edges of each panel just the columns of the temple itself. By the second, faint speech bubbles appear in the background. One is unreadable and yellow, and then in the third, as Aryox steps off-panel behind the column, a green text box faintly says "i'm sorry". Aryox stops and turns, saying "hello." Then a yellow (for Telaine) speech bubble appears isolated, reading "So THAT'S how little WE mean to YOU?" Aryox looks shocked, then looks away as his light extinguishes, looking hurt and guilty, and turns away. He marches forward as a green speech bubble (for Melora) echoes behind him: "how could you…"

The entire next page shows Aryox walking, then running through the mist, with speech bubbles and words echoing all around him. They start more spaced out, but by the end of the page crowd and overwhelm him. First, he walks with purpose. A text box in his blue shows that he's thinking "It's alright." The words he hears as he walks forward are: "(Melora) Aryox, don't do this, PLEASE." "(Telaine) I have nothing to say to you" "(Melora) I can't let you--" A closeup of his face is shown, just the bottom half, with his mouth set in a frown. His own voice, in the style of the other echoes, reads "I'm sorry Mel." Then, he starts walking quicker. Behind him is Telaine's speech bubble yelling "If you want my heart, you can do what [scribbled out] did and break it yourself". He walks through Lumi saying "She seems to have inherited Aryox's penchant for cold, calculating actions. They don't make for the best parents. At times, they don't make for the best friends." Melora says "Aryox". Next there are more of Aryox's thoughts: "if I betray them…", followed by a drawing of Telaine (in yellow) and Melora (in green) laughing together, "I have a reason." A speech bubble in gray offsets this, reading "[illegible], I pray to your indifference." Telaine says "Aryox al-- broke our-- pact and--" Finally, Aryox runs through a mass of speech bubbles. One panel overlayed on top of them is a closeup of his eye, staring forward. His thought cuts through them too-- "It's for their sake. For the future. Because I saw--" The speech bubbles are overlapping, and cutting each other off. They are: "(Aryox) --ell Telaine --'m sorry" "(Telaine) That is why I think [illegible]'s indifference is WRONG" "(gray/Mira) Saved --ed, but at the cost of betraying" "(Telaine) Aryo--" "(Callie, teal) I don't think even he was on his own side." "(Aryox) I know. I had to. If there had been any other way, I would've…" "(Melora) --about the world, I needy you, Aryox." "(Melora) I am not neutral. I protect the--" "(gray) May [illegible]'s indifference protect me." The last speech bubble is just behind Aryox as he runs-- Melora's voice begging "please."

The first half of the next page is entirely taken up by a drawing of a statue of Melora, in slightly faded green. She stands in a column of light, stepping forward, smiling softly with one hand extended towards the viewer. She's looking down, towards whoever is looking at her. Green vines wrap around her, and she carries a green branch in her other hand with yellow, blue, and green flowers on it. Below the statue, a tiny Aryox stands across from it, on top of the border of the next panel, as he says "Mel?" Aryox stares up at her in shock.

The last page shows Aryox staring up at Melora from the front, his ears drooping and text bubbles echoing behind him. They are mostly illegible but some words can be made out: "(Aryox) Mel" "(Telaine) Goddess" "(Melora) I need you, Aryox" "(gray) Melora's indifference" Melora is shown laughing, with the panel fracturing into ice below her and cracks running through the vision of her as Aryox things "no." He is then shown stepping forward raising a hand towards Melora, ice crumbling away from the border of the frame, with Melora's statue still standing across from him. Text echoes behind him: "(Aryox) I know. I'm sorry. If there had been any other--" "(Telaine) Melora's indifference is WRONG" "(gray) Melora, I pray ---ence" "(Telaine) THAT'S how-----tle WE--- YOU" "(Melora) Please." "(Aryox) If I betray them, I have a reason." The ice is cracking below them, too, as Aryox thinks "not you." Mist begins to swirl into the page, and very faintly in the background Aryox's name in light green begins to appear. Aryox reaches up towards Melora, then stares up at her with a frown, putting his hand on her cheek. It is small against her face, and mist cuts across the corner of the panel. It is cut off in the corner by Melora yelling "Aryox!", the tail of this speech bubble parting the mist on the page. The speech bubble leads to Melora in the only colored panel of the comic-- Melora and Telaine leaning over Aryox from his Pov, with his hand on Melora's cheek, bigger against it than the statue's. Melora frowns as she speaks, and Telaine smiles softly, her eyebrows furrowed.

The discord DMs after read: discord dms between me (stonestars) and alli from november. I say "I'm hoping. What are the chances one of us gets the other since we both put the eladrin." Alli responds "possibly high"]

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 16: I Am Broken

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; dehumanization; beginnings of an anxiety attack, though it's not labeled as such; some negative self-talk (13)

Author's Note: Ok... one more then we'll get into 13 starting to spill the beans. She'll be ok - Simon's there now! I think I'm going to pause on 13's story for a bit, though. I've got things brewing about other OCs so I'm gonna get started on their stories uwu <3

When I open my eyes again... my head is still on Simon's lap. I adjust carefully so I can look up at him. His eyes are closed and his head is resting on the back of the couch.

"Simon," I call to him softly. "Hey," I say a bit louder and poke the center of his chest.

His lashes flutter and he opens his eyes. With a groan, he tilts his head to look down at me.

"What's wrong?" he asks in a voice rough with sleep.

"The way you're sleeping, mostly. C'mon. We should both go to bed."

As I sit up Simon's hand snakes around my waist, but over his blanket.

"No," he mumbles, "stay here."

What the hell is he on about? Damn, he needs more sleep.

"Simon," I call to him louder. "Wake up."

I reach out and gently poke his cheek through his mask. His eyes open wide at the contact and his breathing gets heavier. Slowly, with a shocked expression of my own, I slowly pull my hand away from his face.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to... freak you out. You ok?" I ask with a gentle voice.

"Fine," he says, shaking his head then letting out a heavy sigh. "Just not used to people touching my face."

"Right. Fair enough," I agree then get up from the couch to make my way to my room.

The smell of pancakes cooking wakes me in the morning. As I roll to get out of bed, though, I nearly roll on to Selene. She yawns at my sudden intrusion then gets up to stretch.

"Good morning to you too." I smile at her then run my hand over her back and up her tail, causing a small chirp to leave her. "I smell pancakes... but do you think your dad is making more bacon too?"

She blinks slowly at me in response and I give her a quiet laugh then truly make my way out of bed. When I reach the kitchen I pause in the archway for a moment.

Johnny's here. Making breakfast. And Simon's nowhere to be seen.

"Lass! Good morning! Simon had to run to grab a few things to make sure all five of us would be fed properly today," he chuckles then yawns. "I knew he'd call me over early so I showed up a few hours early. Hope you don't mind?"

"Not my house," I shrug and step up to the counter I continue to sit on while Simon cooks.

"Isn't it?" Johnny asks with a smile as his focus returns to the pancakes.

Unsure what he means by that, I hop on the counter and change the subject.

"So... what are the other two like?"

"Other two? Oh, you mean Cap and Kyle? Cap's a bit of a, uh," he leans towards me, like he's sharing a secret, "workaholic. I'll have to make some strong coffee all day to make sure he stays awake," he chuckles then straightens. "Kyle is a secret trouble maker, but he's a sweet heart. Would adopt and love all the kittens in the world, if given the chance, I think."

"What do you mean 'secret trouble maker'?" I push with an eyebrow raised.

"He's not as open about his chaotic nature as I am," Johnny says with a wink.

I nod, accepting his answer and glance around the kitchen. The kitchen feels... weird... without Simon here.

"Missing him?" Johnny asks suddenly with his eyes on the pancakes but a knowing smile on his face.

"Who?"

"Your alpha. Who else?" he asks with a laugh.

"My... hm. Well, is he, though? We haven't really... discussed any of that," I admit with a slight frown.

"You knew who I meant, though." He's got this smug look on his face, like he's just outwitted someone.

"Johnny, besides you, Simon's the only person I've actually met in the area," I remind him flatly.

Johnny's smug looks falters.

"True. Didn't think about that. I wanna go back to what you said, though. Haven't discussed what?"

"Him officially being my alpha and all that. I tried to initiate the conversation last night but I mentioned-"

My mouth snaps shut, remembering Simon's reaction to how Salvation handled the heats of the omegas they care for.

"I mentioned some things about Salvation and heats, but he... didn't take it well. Sliced his finger and just seemed so angry," I explain with a frown. "After we cleaned up the cut and I banaged it, he told me that all three of you would be here today. That all of you would listen to my story."

He stays silent for a while, removing pancakes from the pan and adding new batter.

"I won't ask for specifics. I'm sure I'll hear about it at some point, but, lass." He turns to me fully. The expression on his face reminds me of a puppy. "We're here for you. All of us - me, Cap, Kyle, and epsecially Simon. And there will be more on that list when you're ready."

Part of me wants to argue, but the rest of me just can't deny the adorable face he's making. So I sigh and nod my head.

"I appreciate it. I don't understand why that needs to be said, but I do appreciate it," I tell him softly and pick at the hem of the shirt of Simon's that I wore to bed last night.

"What's wrong, 13?" Simon says from the front door.

I can't see him and I can't smell him, but that was definitely his voice. Johnny smiles at me and nods in that direction so I slide off the counter and make my way to the front door.

There's multiple grocery bags hanging off of both of Simon's arms and I have to supress a laugh at the sight of him.

"What's wrong?" he asks again, voice serious.

"Nothing. Was just talking to Johnny. Let me take a few bags," I insist as I reach for his left arm.

"It'll put me off balance. I've got it," he says as he pulls his arm away. "Thank you, though," he adds like it's an after thought.

Then he shoos me to the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen. When he's done putting away the groceries, he joins me.

"Why did you think something was wrong?" I ask immediately from underneath the blanket he let me use last night.

"I could smell your distress," he says simply as he motions for me to come closer.

Confused, I slide closer and lay on my back with my head on his lap.

"You could... smell- I wasn't distressed, though." I frown up at him as his hand begins smoothing my hair back.

"You can't smell anything. Can you?" he asks softly.

"I can smell the pancakes just fine."

"I mean others' scents. You can't smell others. At least not well."

I consider what he's asking. It took being right up to him or wearing his clothes for me to know what he smelled like. Cinnamon and cedar, I can smell it now. But I don't know what Johnny smells like. And I couldn't tell him what anyone else smells like either.

"13," he calls to me and gently turns my head so I look directly at him. "What's going through your head?"

"I'm broken," I say softly. "I always knew I was, but... you're right. I can't smell anyone. I can only smell you if I'm close, like right now, or wearing something that you give me. I don't know what Johnny smells like-"

"Take a deep breath. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Do it with me," he instructs and begins doing so.

My eyes prick with tears but I follow his lead. When my eyes no longer hurt and my chest doesn't feel like there's cement in it, he speaks again.

"You're not broken, sweetheart. You've just been through things; a lot of things, I'm sure. Those things have not been kind to you. But I'm here to help you now. I'm here," he assures me, his hand still gently gliding over my hair. "Why you don't take a nap while we wait for the others? I'll stay right here with you, if you want."

His offer is tempting, but doesn't he have things he needs to do before Kyle and 'Cap' arrive?

"I think I'd rather shower then just... exist on the couch for a while. Until they get here. Selene can keep me company when I come back out."

Simon studies me for a moment and lets out a heavy breath.

"Alright, but if I detect even a hint of your distress, I'm either kicking down whichever door or coming back out here and-"

"Are you about to threaten me, the distressed omega?" I ask with a small smile.

"Yes," he nods. "I'm threatening you with being held and comforted."

Oh. That's... a different feeling. Set that aside for later, though...

For now I just get up, leaving the balnket on the couch, and make my way back to my room to gather clothes. I catch a glimpse of Johnny in the kitchen on my way through the house. He looks... so sad, but his focus is on the pancakes.

What I went through when I was with Salvation... was it really that bad?

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks @tessakate @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @nerdyphantomtheorist @gazsluckyhat @peanutismynickname @jeanzoriley-cod