#to go back and reflect on all i have ever loved

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

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“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha. 

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason. 

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn. 

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me. 

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed. 

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say. 

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road. 

Typical. 

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute. 

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck. 

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby. 

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea. 

How much would it cost him if I stayed around? 

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous. 

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing. 

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air. 

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side. 

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod. 

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming. 

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home. 

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates. 

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars. 

He’s so cocky. 

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye. 

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car. 

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?” 

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm. 

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”  

Fuck. 

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe. 

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks. 

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide. 

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away. 

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me. 

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides. 

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?” 

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink. 

Uh oh. 

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is. 

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris. 

It had to be at least two grand. 

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers. 

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket. 

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time. 

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air. 

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill. 

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him. 

And it makes it so hard to look away. 

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces. 

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.” 

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks. 

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me. 

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck. 

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points. 

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.  

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me. 

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek. 

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.” 

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more. 

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side. 

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference. 

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser. 

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—” 

“Hey!” 

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me. 

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off. 

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer. 

The fuck? 

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement. 

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder. 

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even. 

“Kiss me.” 

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. 

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips. 

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known. 

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder. 

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut. 

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that. 

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him. 

“1—GO!” 

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed. 

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth. 

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine. 

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough. 

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck. 

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him. 

Why did that feel so… good? 

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line. 

Had we really been kissing that long? 

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more. 

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?” 

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down. 

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing. 

“C’MON!!!” 

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been—

Oh fuck.

He was holding back. 

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease. 

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation. 

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over. 

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges. 

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in. 

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard. 

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road. 

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare. 

Oh.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh. 

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact. 

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach. 

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones. 

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.” 

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me. 

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me. 

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance. 

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back. 

“Over here. Now.” 

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console. 

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—” 

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer. 

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine. 

“Why?” 

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse. 

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him. 

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?” 

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra. 

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes. 

Fuck. I can’t take this. 

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin. 

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.” 

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me. 

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins. 

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded. 

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.” 

Oh my god. 

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves. 

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch. 

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me. 

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still. 

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water. 

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge. 

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist. 

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.” 

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck—are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself. 

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck. 

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him. 

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear. 

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt. 

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again. 

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length. 

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—” 

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him. 

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.  

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken. 

“I–it’s, I—” 

What the fuck was I saying? 

Everything feels so light, so impossible. 

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan. 

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips. 

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations. 

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?” 

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement. 

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria. 

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions. 

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me. 

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants. 

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit. 

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum. 

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea. 

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more. 

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap. 

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks. 

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out. 

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear. 

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?” 

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.” 

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts. 

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…” 

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?” 

[curmemini]

And if it means any thing, the every day american isn't too happy about it either. JD Vance and his family visited Vermont to go skiing today (the day after the above show) and was greeted with waves of Ukraine flags and anti-Russia sentiment. I know multiple resorts refused to serve him - I am not sure if they did get to ski.

More, the 25-year-old snow reporter for Sugarbush included a long pro-democracy message before her report on the weather conditions. At the risk of expanding the post terribly, her message read:

Mar 1st, 2025, 6:49 AM: Today of all days, I would like to reflect on what Sugarbush means to me. This mountain has brought me endless days of joy, adventure, challenges, new experiences, beauty, community, and peace. I’ve found that nothing cures a racing mind quite like skiing through the trees and stopping to take a deep breath of that fresh forest air. The world around us might be a scary place, but these little moments of tranquility, moments I’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy as a direct result of my employment here, give me, and I’d guess you, too, a sense of strength and stability.

This fresh forest air, is, more specifically fresh National Forest air. Sugarbush operates on 1745 acres of the Green Mountain National Forest. Right now, National Forest lands and National Parks are under direct attack by the current Administration, who is swiftly terminating the positions of dedicated employees who devote their lives to protecting the land we love, and to protecting us while we are enjoying that land.

This Administration also neglects to address the danger, or even the existence of, climate change, the biggest threat to the future of our industry, and the skiing we all so much enjoy here. Burlington, VT is one of the fastest-warming cities in the country, and Vermont is the 9th fastest-warming state. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association (NOAA), a resource I use every day for snow reporting, is crucial in monitoring extreme weather events and informing public safety measures, and is also experiencing widespread layoffs and defunding at the hands of the Administration.

Sugarbush would not be Sugarbush without our wonderful community. Employees and patrons alike, we are made up of some of the most kind hearted, hardworking people I have ever met. Our community is rich with folks of all different orientations, ethnicities, and walks of life, who all contribute to make this place what it is. They all love Sugarbush because it is a place where they can come to move their bodies, to connect with the land, to challenge themselves, to build character, to nourish their souls with the gift of skiing.

Many of these people are part of the LGBTQI+ community. Many (well, that’s a stretch, we all know this is an incredibly white-washed industry) are people of color. Half are women. Many are veterans or adaptive skiers who, through Vermont Adaptive, are able to access snow sports in part thanks to federal grants through the Department of Veterans Affairs, which is also facing devastating cuts. Many of our beloved employees moved across the world through an exchange program on the J1 visa to help this resort run, and they are not US citizens. ALL of these groups are being targeted, undervalued, and disrespected by the current Administration.

The beauty of National Forest land, is that anyone and everyone is welcome to enjoy it. Anyone and everyone can buy a lift ticket. I also imagine it is incredibly difficult, and likely impossible, to say “No” to the Secret Service. I hope that, instead of faulting Sugarbush management or employees for “allowing this to happen”, you can direct your anger to the source — the Administration that, in my oh-so-humble opinion, is threatening our democracy, our livelihoods, our land.

I want to reiterate how much I admire and respect my fellow employees and managers — they work so hard to make this place operate, to keep you coming back and enjoying it and making lifelong memories. Many of them may feel the same way that I do, but their hands are tied, and for good reason. They have families to support, they have benefits and health insurance to receive, they face far greater and more binding pressure from Corporate. I am in a privileged position here, in that I work only seasonally, I do not rely on this job for health insurance or benefits, and hey, waking up at 4:30 AM isn’t exactly sustainable. Therefore, I am using my relative “platform” as snow reporter, to be disruptive — I don’t have a whole lot to lose. We are living in a really scary and really serious time. What we do or don’t do, matters. This whole shpiel probably won’t change a whole lot, and I can only assume that I will be fired, but at least this will do even just a smidge more than just shutting up and being a sheep.

I am really scared for our future. Acting like nothing is happening here feels way scarier than losing my job. I want to have kids one day, and I want to teach them to ski. The policies and ideals of the current Administration, however, are not conducive to either of these things, because, at least how things look now, I’d never be able to afford a good life for a child anyway, and snow will be a thing of Vermont history. So please, for the sake of our future shredders: Be Better Here. It has truly been a pleasure writing your morning snow reports — I hope this one sticks with you. With love, peace, and hope, Lucy Welch

My point in adding this is that for every brazen display by the executive branch, more and more people are emboldened to speak out. More and more people realize what they truly value.

We will see the day that fascism ends. We will see a free Ukraine.

So this was a pre-planned (and likely paid for by the Kremlin) show: to invite Zelenskyy, scold him like a kindergartener in front of the press, present him with an unreasonable "deal" - an ultimatum - knowing full well he will refuse it (as anyone in this position would). And then tell the world: "Look, our mighty Orange King could've ended this horrible war in a day, but this poorly-dressed, warmongering, ungrateful twat just doesn't want peace! It's not our fault, we did what we could!"

The show is so cheap, so transparent, yet still effective for so many brainless people.

[a-hermit-pining]

A Reflection of Him

AN: Plot bunny bunny comes to life! Warning- I bawled my eyes writing this.

Pairing: Sylus x fem reader

Genre: fluff and so much comfort

Summary: "Is that not the best thing to wish for? That the people you care for were loved, even before you came into their life?"

(I do not own these characters)

"Happy Father's Day, Dada!" Raul shrieks, launching himself into Sylus' lap.

Your husband barely has time to react before he’s tackled—first by the dogs, then by Mephisto, and finally by the twins, who have long since lost any fear of rebuke. Not after witnessing their fearsome boss being carried out of the delivery room at the mere sight of birth.

A flurry of limbs, paws, and claws moves before your eyes, a chaotic mess of yips, shrieks, and laughter. And your heart blooms at the sight.

Some pluck love like petals. Some treasure it like pearls. And some...some deserve to be smothered by it.

Then, your eldest walks in.

She stands beside you, clutching your hand, trepidation flickering in her eyes. For a moment, she is once again the little girl you let go of at the kindergarten gates.

With a gentle pat on her head, you smile, then lovingly shove her into the crowd of limbs.

He had hit his head when he first found himself on your couch. He didn’t remember much...just funny colors, static noises... Probably a concussion.

How embarrassing.

Sylus lay there, eyes rolling back as he groaned at the thrumming pain in his skull.

"Say aaa," a small voice rang in his ear before something plastic was shoved into his mouth.

Squinting his eyes open, he found a pair of familiar eyes staring back at him.

Yours, only on a smaller, plumper face.

"You have a fever," the little voice chirped, inspecting the plastic thermometer now thoroughly drenched in his saliva. "200 degrees. Don't worry, I’ll make you better." Small hands patted his head with absolute confidence.

"Lilia!" You scooped your daughter up with a sigh. "Didn't I put you to bed already?"

"But the doctor says it’s serious," Sylus croaked dramatically. "Who will treat me now?"

"Rein in your horses, mister. Lay down and do not strain yourself," you scolded, shooting him a glare as you set down the glass of water you'd gone to fetch.

"Come, Lilia. Time for bed. Playtime is over." You carried your daughter toward her room, but not before she twisted around to make the most ridiculous faces at Sylus over your shoulder.

That was how he met her.

Your daughter, who, at age four, was the only doctor bold enough to diagnose him with a 200-degree fever.

"He was a… we were in college. It was all so new… we were from the same town," you say, staring at the hazy photos of your college dorm.

"It was easier to tackle Linkon with him. And then he was gone... he couldn't bear it. People weren’t kind to him. He…" You sigh, clutching the photo tighter. "He is no more. You don’t have to seek anyone for vengeance or revenge. But if you ever hurt Lilia, I will kill you."

And Sylus knows, that is the truth.

You would kill him.

But for the first time, he does not wish for it. Not if it means leaving you alone. Not if it means becoming nothing more than a painful photograph in your hands.

"She is all I have, and I am all she has," you murmur, looking up at him. The house stands still, the only sound the slow, rhythmic tick of the clock.

Sylus flips through the album, stopping at a photo where you cradle an infant in your arms.

"I’m glad," he says finally, voice quiet. "Whoever he was, he left you with Lilia. I’m glad you were loved. And that Lilia grew up being loved by you."

He exhales, eyes lingering on the photo.

"Is that not the best thing to wish for? That the people you care for were loved, even before you came into their life?" He smiles taking your hand in his, next to a mountain of toys that Lilia had insisted on showing to him before leaving for school.

Luke and Kieran sit on tiny chairs, sipping water from plastic cups. Seated beside them is the esteemed council of plushies.

"Mr. Luke, do you like the tea?" Lilia beams, dressed in a princess gown and tiara.

Luke nods, his mask off, before turning to his twin, only to find Kieran’s face covered in stickers.

"Yes, Princess Lilia," Kieran says solemnly. "The tea is excellent. You should serve this to Boss once he returns."

It is simply delightful to witness the head of Onichynus joining the council of plushies for an exquisite tea party.

Makes for an excellent photo, too, one they manage to sneak in with Mephisto’s help.

Lilia grins, "Yes! We must! And I will ask, mommy and Mephisto to join. We can have a ball."

"Boss!" Lilia tugs at Sylus' sleeve as he carefully straightens her bow.

"Hm?" he hums, though his heart is beating wildly. Just a few rooms away, you were waiting for him, ready to walk down the aisle.

"Do you want me to sneak photos of Mommy?" Lilia asks, her eyes glimmering with mischief. "Am I not your best woman? I should do it, right?"

Standing tall on the stool, his best man is doing an excellent job of keeping his nerves in check.

Sylus exhales a laugh, shaking his head. "How much did your mother bribe you to sneak a photo of me to her?"

Distantly, he makes a note to have a word with the twins, after the wedding. They were definitely behind this. He and you had worked way too hard to get Lilia to stop calling him Boss, only for it to come right back at the worst possible time.

The room stills when your daughter hands him the papers.

You quietly pull Raul into your lap as Sylus takes them, his hands trembling.

"Happy Father's Day," your daughter says, standing before him as he reads frantically.

"People say we're both equally stubborn," she continues, her voice steady but thick with emotion. She clutches his hand. "That we're both sore losers. That we both love anything shiny..."

Sylus looks up at her, his tears unrelenting, just like hers.

"But they don’t know," she says, voice breaking, "that all of this comes from you. From the years, the months, the weeks, the days, the hours, the minutes, down to the very seconds, you have spent looking after me."

She swallows.

"It’s because... how could I not want to be like you?"

Sylus' breath catches.

"From four to sixteen, you've been here for so long... and I don’t want to call you Sylus. I want to call you Dad. I want you to be my dad"

Beside them, you sniff quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of Raul’s head as he watches, wide-eyed and troubled by the sight of both his sister and his Dada in tears.

"Will you be my dad?" she asks, sinking to her knees.

And Sylus, your husband, your love—falls.

He pulls her into his arms, holding her as if letting go would break the world.

"A thousand times over," he whispers. "In every lifetime, in every form. I hope to have you as my daughter."

Tags

@perla-drg, @codedove, @crazy-ink-artist, @desiree-archive @softiepeachess @otome-addictionproblem

[starredblood]

FADE INTO YOU

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: you live in a small secluded town in jeju where nothing ever happens until a girl with a face made of stone moved in. however, her disillusion about life makes your strange relationship with her complicated—further conflicting each others lives.

wc. 6.2k

warnings: situationship to ???, angst, little bit of fluff and comfort, use of alcohol and cigarettes, brief mentions of sexual intimacy, reader is very melancholic

(masterlist)

Living in a place that people dream of visiting is gloomier than you imagined it would be. Beautiful green scenery, pale blue skies, and waves crashing—it was paradise. The people, they were quieter and much more at peace with life than in the bustling cities back in the mainland. Unlike the corporate driven lifestyle you were surrounded with back in Seoul, it felt like time permanently stopped here in Jeju. You didn’t have to rush anything, especially living in a small tucked away town right beside the seashore.

The problem back in Seoul was that you were dissatisfied with your direction in life. But that ache in your chest still seeped into your new life here in Jeju. So, you think it’s not a location problem—it’s a you problem. There’s something wrong with you.

And you need something to get you going. Like now.

It might’ve been late afternoon by the time you heard several hard knocks coming from your bedroom. You let out irritated groans by the nonstop banging, still not intending to be awake at this hour in the day. To prevent the noise blaring through your eardrums you grab your unused pillow and press it to your face so your head could be sandwiched in between pillows.

But you heard a stern, equally as irritated muffle on the other end. “Hey? Are you awake?” you hear your older sister whine.

Her knocking was relentless and you knew she wasn’t going to stop until you reveal yourself from hibernating in your dark and depressed bedroom. “Coming.” you croak out.

You rub your eyes and lazily place your feet on the ground. It took all of your strength to get off your bed and walk over to your door. Stumbling in the process, you finally reach for the doorknob.

Your sister stood there with her arms crossed and forming a look of disgust at your current state. “Count Orlok, you live in a place with the most beautiful views maybe try opening your curtains.”

She comes inside your room and yanks open the dark curtains. Your eyes squint trying to adjust your irises to the blaring summer sunlight. The light gray sand behind your room made your room shine brighter thanks to the reflection of the sun bouncing off of the sand.

“What do you want? I don’t work today.” you ask her, watching peevishly as she picks up your dirty laundry off the ground—a habit of hers.

“Mom and dad are coming later tonight.” she explains and starts rummaging through your closet.

“You could’ve just sent me this over text instead of barging in here.” you retort, watching as she picked out clothes for you to wear. This is what your sister does, she loves control. And you just let her because you don’t want to move back to your parents.

“I came here because if I sent a text I knew you’d ignore it. You have to get ready now.” she says strictly. She sighs in disappointment when you let out another tired whine and flop on top of your bed. “Seriously are you depressed or something?”

“What? No—would you quit asking that?” you stammer and reach to hug your pillow, nuzzling into it and flutter your eyes closed. “I’m just…bored.”

“Bored?” she scoffs mockingly. “You’re the one that didn’t want to keep living with mom and dad. If you want to go back to by all means go. But if you’re staying then get ready.”

She tosses the clothes she wants you to wear straight to your face. When she storms out your room you began to incant quiet curses at her.

You used to have a great relationship with your family because you did everything they wanted you to do to the tea. It got ruined the moment you decided to navigate your own decisions about how you want to live life. Although you know dropping out of college and living with your sister isn’t the most ideal pathway, it was better than what you dealt with back home. But your parents don’t get it. They didn’t see the constant cries for help, instead they saw the dropping grades.

It didn’t help that your sister replaced you as their new golden child. She is a small business owner in Jeju and owns a house with her fiancée. And you’re staying in the room that is technically meant for their future baby—in the works.

“So, how’s your sister behaving?” your dad asks your sister about you. The only thing you could do was silently roll your eyes and keep eating.

Tonight the dining table was packed—even your sister’s fiancée was here who is known to be a workaholic. And of course, your parents couldn’t help themselves by trying to embarrass you the moment dinner was served.

“All she does is stay in her room.” she replies shaking her head while cutting her steak. “Whenever we want to have a meal all together she just prefers eating in her room.”

“Now, sweetie,” you mom sighs giving you a disapproving look. “why don’t you want to eat with them? It’s the least you could do after taking up one of their rooms.”

“And it’s their future baby’s room.” your dad adds with a mocking laugh.

“It’s fine, sir,” your sister’s fiancée claims calmly. “we aren’t in a rush to kick anyone out.”

You don’t wish to acknowledge them and continue to play with your food. There was a time where they used to praise you for your intelligence and grit. But ever since you gave up, you’ve become numb to their backhanded comments and criticism.

Yet deep down you know they’re right. When your sister finally has her baby you can’t live with them anymore so you need to start thinking about your future now or it’ll be too late. But it’s already late.

“You’re too kind, boy.” your mom says to the fiancée, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Maybe what she needs is a good man like you. Do you have any single, good men in your family that will be interested in my lazy daughter?”

“Mom.” you say to her warningly, throwing her a stern expression. You hear the fiancée chortle.

“What?” she asks innocently. “If you aren’t going to college then your future as an independent woman is over. You’ll need to find a man with a well established job if you want to live a good life. We’re all just looking out for you, honey.”

Exhaling a long dramatic sigh, you push your seat back and get up. You couldn’t stand it anymore—their never ending berating. When you walk away you hear all of them call out your name and telling you to come back down to eat. But you aren’t hungry, you’re tired. Tired of filling the space.

When you go up to your room you change out of the clothing your sister picked out for you and opt in for a lightweight sweater and sweats. You sneak back down the stairs and exit the house without being heard from your family, who you can hear still talking at the dining table.

The walk from the house to seashore was brief. It was nothing but you, your thoughts and the sound of waves crashing tonight because you don’t intend to go back until late in the night. And your family won’t get worried, they know that this is your way of throwing a tantrum.

Once you sat down on the soft part of the sand, you press your knees up to your chest then rest your chin on top of your kneecaps and stare at the salty water. This was your new favorite pastime. You used to have such a short attention span until coming here to Jeju. Everything about Jeju was slow and peaceful which is just what your tired body needs after putting yourself through twenty years of academic stress.

Unaware of how long you’ve been sitting in the sand and staring at the ocean, a silhouette emerges from the shadows. There is only one other person who would deliberately keep to themselves and use the beach as a form of refuge.

In routinely fashion, Sae-byeok approaches your lonely figure and sits down next to you without uttering a single word. Her long limbs stretch out in the sand and she also maintains her eyes on the ocean.

Your relationship with Kang Sae-byeok (if you couldn’t even call it that) was blurry. In the few months you’ve known her, it was easy to be around her. You never felt pressured to talk or to fake niceties with her. However, Sae-byeok’s guardedness and intimidation was ultimately the reason the two of you never got close. It’s hard to even consider the stoic girl a friend. And you think she’s fine with that.

Ever since she’s moved in this small town in Jeju, you felt a tad bit less lonely sharing the comfort of knowing there’s another girl your age living close by. But you still have so many questions to ask her. What do you do for a living to afford to live in one of the nicest house alone? Where are your parents? Are they wealthy? You don’t have a single clue about her and she wants to keep it that way.

And all Sae-byeok knows about you is that you don’t have a single clue about anything anymore—you just exist to fill the space. Or at least, that’s the way you explained your life to her.

The salty aroma, the sound of the waves sloshing and the cool breeze was enough to lull you to sleep. While slowly shutting your eyes, you almost forgot Sae-byeok’s silent presence was still there. Sleep was overtaking your body.

“What’re you doing here?” you hear her low hoarse ask you. You’re in a place where she speaks in full sentences now.

“Hiding.” you reply softly and open your eyes to look at her beautiful face. It was entrancing how the moonlight reflected onto her best features.

Her eyes start moving to stare down at her feet and she nods. “From?” she adds quietly.

“My parents. They’re here to visit my sister and her fiancée for the weekend.” you sigh.

When she glances up to face you, there is no longer the hesitation to avoid peering into your eyes like she did months ago. You know your strange bond with Sae-byeok is a little bizarre but you find her guarded presence a little comforting too.

“They aren’t here to see you?” she questions, her tone flat as usual but you paid attention to the way her eyebrows quirked for a second.

You hum in thought before shrugging. “I don’t know. They haven’t been happy with me recently.”

Maybe that little flicker in her eyes was pity because it made your heart clench. She must think about you like they do.

After you go back to observe the darkly illuminated ocean, you felt a warm hand softly grab the back of your head. You didn’t have time to react before feeling a soft pair of lips gently press yours.

This wasn’t going to be one of those typical nights of silence, that you’re sure of. Tonight is a rare moment in time where Sae-byeok is yearning for the affection of another and you’re always the one chosen to fill that void in her heart. But like everything Sae-byeok does, it’s a fleeting moment of affection that vanishes when morning comes.

And tonight, you weren’t having her push and pull antics after that disaster dinner with your family. You don’t initially react to the kiss and stiffly remain in the same position. The feeling lingered for a brief second before Sae-byeok pulled away. Her usual sharp gaze went completely soft as she slowly drew back after staring at your face centimeters close.

“Did I…?” she trails off unsurely.

You hesitate. “I feel like I don’t know you—“

“I told you that it’s better for us if you don’t know anything.” she sighs, sounding insecure and starts drawing shapes in the sand. “It’s easier this way.”

“…For you maybe.” you murmur quiet enough for her not to hear. You don’t need any more uncertainties in your life.

This was something new you both did—share stolen kisses. And if you’re both feeling extra lonely, then it would lead to something much deeper and vulnerable but that only occurred twice. Although it feels nice to be with her in the moment, you didn’t want her just for a brief period.

Without saying anything else, you feel her body shifting and the sound of shoes crunching on sand. You didn’t glance back at her when she started walking away. This was something she did when you tried getting close to her—she runs away.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

The salty air stung your face as you rode your bike to the boutique. At first, the smell was burning your nostrils but like everything in life, the feeling subsides. By the time you make it to the shop, your skin is hot by the sun glaring underneath you and your legs sore from pedaling fast. You were a few minutes late.

Once you’re in front of the boutique, you stop pedaling and hop off your bike. You didn’t see your sister this morning but you’re crossing your fingers she’s running errands instead of working. She already gave you a warning a few days ago about your tardiness and you don’t want to face her wrath again.

When you roll your bike to the back of the store you heard two familiar voices that shouldn’t coincide in the same vicinity. You hold your breath when you turn the corner and duck your head low.

You don’t know why Sae-byeok was here. She was leaning against the wall next to your coworker Ji-yeong, sharing a cigarette and giggling amongst each other like drunken friends. But when they spotted you coming around the corner, they mellowed out. You pretend not to see them, turn up the music in your headphones and quickly rest your bike against the wall.

A strange feeling in your stomach brews seeing them together like that. You were never seen with Sae-byeok in broad daylight—all of your interactions were hidden underneath the moonlight. It was a conflict feeling but then again, you don’t know a thing about her. So, you should stop setting yourself up to get hurt for no good reason.

Throughout your shift, you try to interact with international tourists as best as you can while suggesting an item of clothing. It was hard to force a customer service smile when you could see the two girls from the corner of your eyes, chatting by the counter.

You force your mind to think you’re upset that Ji-yeong is making you do all the customer service work while she does nothing. But deep down, you might be jealous. You thought you had something special with Sae-byeok…she doesn’t even smile that widely with you.

After finishing helping the customers as best as you can with the language barrier, you hide in the corner of the store arranging a rack that didn’t need to be fixed. But you couldn’t go anywhere else in this small shop without looking at Ji-yeong and Sae-byeok, so this was the only spot where you couldn’t see them.

“What’re you doing here?” a voice asks demandingly. You jump and snap your eyes to look at your sister, whose arms were crossed. “Well?”

“Cleaning.” you reply with a straight face. Of course she isn’t buying it. “What do you want me to do? It’s practically empty here right now besides those two tourist still in the store.”

She rolls her eyes and fixates her eyes on something ahead. “Hey, isn’t that your friend? The weird quiet one with, Ji?”

“Shut up.” you hiss.

She blinks like she was studying your anxious demeanor until she heard the sound of the door ring. “Look, go help them—they look rich.”

After another thirty minutes, Sae-byeok finally left the shop without uttering a word to you. To be fair, you were just helping customers but she didn’t look at you either. You try to swallow back the pain of rejection.

“I’m going on break.” you mutter to Ji-yeong who was ringing a customer at the counter. She curtly nods, barely any acknowledgment to your being as well.

Outside the boutique your sister bought an expensive bench painted white to match the rest of the shops exterior. You like to sit outside it for your break and observe the passerby’s. This town is much busier than your small, boring one. It’s filled with tourists, bikers, photographers and clumsy kids.

Five minutes into your break you feel someone sit beside you.

“You’re ignoring me now?” Sae-byeok mutters, shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie.

You barely look at her before shaking your head. “What did you want me to do? Jump in joy?”

She snorts and starts observing the crowd walking up and down the sidewalk too. “Ji-yeong invited me to this party—you should come.”

You fight back the urge to ask her about Ji-yeong and their history together. “I’m alright.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment to think. “Just come.” she says much quieter. You give her a skeptical look. She sighs at it. “It’s just in case I’m lonely there. I already said I’d go.”

“So, I’m just going to be there to fill the space?” you question, your voice shaking slightly by hurt. “No thanks.” you whisper.

“I didn’t mean it like that—I’m sorry.” she deadpans so you don’t believe she is.

You shake your head one last time and throw on your headphones. Since you only have a few minutes left to your break and you don’t want her to ruin it, you turn your body away to face her. It felt childish but you didn’t want her to see the pained expression on your face.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

You press your back to the wall, drinking out of your plastic red cup awkwardly as you watch a crowd of people dance up against each other—the lights flickering with color like a kaleidoscope in the ceiling.

It never dawned on you that you would ever be at a party on the mansion located in the hills of Jeju. For most residents here, their life goal is to be invited to a mansion party in this island. To get their small taste of the Great Gatsby. Although this wasn’t nowhere near as luxurious, it was still a big place with high ceilings, marble columns, and illegal drugs. Everything a rich person party needs and it made you feel out of place. They definitely party different—but most of the people here look like people your age so how different can they be?

You arrived to this party all alone. Sae-byeok wasn’t responding to your texts so for the first thirty minutes, you just took sips from your alcoholic beverage and walked around the mansion like it was a museum. It basically was a museum seeing as there were large intricate paintings and portraits carefully hung on the walls.

When you made it to the second floor, you started to get lost and after minutes of trying to find your way down the stairs you end up in an open space that looked like a smaller living room. A group of people occupied this space and turned to look at you when you froze by the entrance.

“Hey! Come over—don’t be shy!” a drunken voice slurs when you turned your back to walk away.

You quietly wince—without much of a choice you drag yourself over to them. A few kept their glazed eyes on you, others were too busy brewing an alcohol beverage that looked strong enough to make someone pass out. The person who called you over pats to the last empty seat next to them. It was a girl, short hair and multiple facial piercings.

“Now we have a full house!” she cheers once you sat down but no one acknowledged it, or least ignored her.

You peer at anything but the group of people chatting amongst each other. It was awkward being the only person not engaging in small talk so you keep taking swigs out of your drink. Now, you have to figure out how to slip out of this room without anyone noticing.

“Smoke?” the girl next to you asks, offering an already lit up cigarette to you.

You hesitantly stare at it. Since your dad was a heavy smoker, you were always intrigued by it. Screw it, you think, what else do I have to lose? You already lost everything.

When you nod, she holds the cigarette for you as you inhale the toxic smoke. Of course, you began choking up on the smoke and start coughing it out, your mouth and nostrils blowing out the grey smoke like a train engine. The girl laughs and starts patting your back.

“First time?” she asks, laughing and you only respond with a beet red face. “You didn’t inhale right. Breathe it in a little bit more deeper so it actually goes to your lungs.” she says and observes you as you try again. This time you didn’t choke up. “There you go.”

You never got her name but she offered you the strange alcohol concoction some dudes that looked blacked out drunk made. And with your mind already buzzing, you just took the cup and began drinking it. By the time you finished it, you were too afraid to move out of this couch with your head already spinning. It didn’t help that the people gathered around were blasting their own music and hopping on the seats like a bouncy castle—it only made you even more dizzy. But you couldn’t help but drunkenly giggle along side the girl next to you when one of the guys fell backwards on the couch.

She offers you another puff from her cigarette and you take it. When you place it between your teeth you see someone snatch it from your mouth. You peer up and see a hazy vision of the girl who led you to this party in the first place.

“There you fucking are. I was calling you.” she snarls, but her voice seeps of worry. You didn’t catch it however, your mind was too buzzed to properly catch her subtle cues. “Are you drunk?”

“I’m so tired…” you slur, resting your head in her lap. “All the time.”

Sae-byeok sighs and rakes her fingers through your hair, watching as you start lulling to sleep on her lap. But you couldn’t fall asleep just yet. The thought of dragging you out of this party and to your house already is making her body tired.

Sae-byeok knows better than you just drop you off home, knowing how hot headed your sister can be. She’s seen the way she barks order at you in her boutique. But it made her nervous bringing you to her house to spend the night. Ever since she bought the house with the prize money, she never allowed anyone in—she always thought the first people who would step in would be Cheol and her mom. But that’s what she gets for bringing more people into her life.

She crinkles her nose in disgust as she holds up your hair while your face was stuck in the toilet bowl, throwing up all the alcohol in your system. Once you’re done hacking like your life depended on it, you groan in pain and press your body on the tile wall of Sae-byeok’s bathroom—still unable to grasp that you’re actually in her house. But your mind is still loopy you couldn’t think about it too hard unless you wanted to throw up again.

You could feel the weight of her stare on your sad sprawled figure as you recollect yourself. “I’m not that drunk. Just dizzy.” you grumble at her, hugging your sore stomach.

“Whatever you say.” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Stay here—I’ll bring you a change of clothes.”

After several minutes go by, she reappears with her worn out sweats and a band tee shirt. Her posture slumps when she sees you burying your crying face on your propped up knees. “Hey, why are you crying?” she asks in a softer tone, kneeling down to be at your level.

But you didn’t reply and maybe it wasn’t appropriate for her to ask you in your drunken state. So, she lifts you off the bathroom floor and guides you to her bedroom. When you lay on her bed, eyes already half lidded trying to fight back sleep, she chews on the inside of her cheek to think. You still have to change but you’re in a worn out state to physically be able to do it. It wouldn’t be weird for her to undress you and put on your clothes for you right? She’s seen you without any clothes twice before.

You don’t react when she starts pulling up your shirt, exposing your upper body to the cool air nipping your skin. And after she’s done putting on her sweats on you, you’re already asleep. She stares at your face, your mouth parted open slightly and cheeks tinted red from the alcohol. But she couldn’t help but worry about the tear marks across your face that didn’t dry up yet.

Once Sae-byeok finished doing her short nighttime routine she rolls next to you on her bed. She naturally spoons you, wrapping one of her arms around your waist and nestles her head into the crook of your neck. After inhaling the fresh scent of perfume and cigarettes on you she could feel her own sober self lull to slumber.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

Head throbbing and limbs weak. That’s the first thing you felt when your eyes began to naturally flutter open. It took sometime to assess the place you woke up in and how you even got here in the first place. Your heart sunk when you remembered the hazy details. The sheer embarrassment of it all made you slam your face in the pillow and let out a groggily groan.

You are pathetic and an idiot. Sae-byeok saw the weakest form of you and you might never live it down. But surely you couldn’t have been that embarrassing? It’s not like you blacked out.

But now, you were afraid to leave the room feeling like you already trespassed enough. But Sae-byeok had to be somewhere in the house, she wouldn’t have left you here all by yourself you hope.

When you toss aside the sheets you gasp seeing the unfamiliar set of oversized clothes on your body. You’re conflicted whether to feel special or embarrassed with the fact she let you wear her clothes.

Sae-byeok’s room is…sad. She has no decorations that mark this room as hers except for her belongings mindlessly left on top of her night stand—her keys, wallet, and cigarette pack. It gets even stranger when you carefully step outside—the floor and walls were empty canvases.

You heard plates and silverware’s cluttering as you walked across the hallway. Naturally, you stiffen up and hug your body feeling exposed when you realized Ji-yeong was cooking something up in the kitchen and Sae-byeok leaning across the island counter, sipping from her mug. But only Ji-yeong turned to acknowledge you.

“Hey.” she greets casually. “I’m making breakfast, you want some? It’s not the best but probably will help if you eat something. Sae told me you got absolutely shitfaced last night—same here.” she snorts.

Your cheeks blaze up. When you glance over at Sae-byeok, your heart gets heavy seeing her act as if you were invisible to her. Did you piss her off last night thanks to your drunken stupor?

Feeling exposed and conflicted, you let out a low, “No, thank you.”

“Are you sure?” Ji-yeong asks. “I don’t mind making another plate.”

You softly shake your throbbing head. “I’m just…going home.”

She doesn’t argue with you, only purses her lips and nods. You look at Sae-byeok again, still nothing. So you awkwardly shuffle back to her room to gather your things. You hope all your belongings are here anyways.

When you find your clothes folded by the edge of Sae-byeok’s drawer you press them to your chest and smell the stench of alcohol and cigarettes on them. You peer down and contemplate changing or walking away with the clothes you have on. That’s when the door creaks open behind you.

“Why aren’t you going to eat?” is the first thing she says to you. She leans her body against the door, keeping you trapped here as she hardens her gaze on you.

“I just want to go home.” you mutter in defeat, feeling small underneath her stare. “I’ll eat there.”

“Fine.” she exhales. “And…why were you crying last night?”

You swallow thickly. “I didn’t know I was…”

“You do.” she says coolly. “You weren’t that drunk by the time we got home. We both know that.”

You know that last night, you cried about everything in your life. The fact that you completely disappointed your parents for good, your sister sees you as a nuisance in her home, and you can never have Sae-byeok the way you want her. And you let it spiral a little out of control last night. But she isn’t with you and she isn’t your friend, so she doesn’t need to know.

“My head is too foggy right now. Just let me go please.” you croak out. She still doesn’t move out of the way. “Do you want me to give you your clothes back?”

Her posture slouches in defeat. “No. But can we just…just meet me later tonight at our spot, okay? We should probably talk.”

You don’t say anything. Actually, you didn’t much all day leading up to the night you met up with Sae-byeok. Because the moment you got home, all you did was stay locked up in your room with a throbbing headache and anticipating the night. You kept replaying the last thing she said to you in your head over and over trying to figure out what possibly would she want to talk about with you.

When midnight rolled around you threw on your black jacket and tossed the hoodie over your head, carrying Sae-byeok’s clothes with you as you snuck out the house.

Once you made it to your designated spot at the seashore, she was already there. She also had a hoodie thrown over her head but you knew it was her furiously typing on her phone. You took a deep breath before heading to sit next to her. As you sat down, you saw her face contort with frustration thanks to her phone softly illuminating over her face. She turns it off when she sees you silently waiting for her.

“Thanks.” she grumbles when you pass over her clothes and rests them on her lap.

“So,” you began airily. “why did you want to meet?”

She presses her lips together and pulls her knees to her chest in a guarded position that made you more nervous. “I just wanted to tell you that it was great having you around…before you I was pretty lonely—in general…And you’re sort of the first person I’ve ever been intimate with. But I realize how unhappy we both are and I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for.”

For the first time, she finds herself struggling to look over her shoulder to see your face. You shut your eyes to stop your eyes from filling with tears and prepare yourself to listen to the rest of her explanation. Even if it left an achy feeling in your heart.

“I’m—broken, okay?” Sae-byeok trembles. “I can’t make you happy. Not when I can’t make myself happy.”

You start sniffling. It was so obvious, wasn’t it? You always thought that things would never work out with someone as closed off and cold as Sae-byeok but hearing her say it out loud stung more than the past thoughts. But she was right, neither of you were in the right state of mind. It still pissed you off though.

“Fuck you.” you whisper at her, your tone rough but heartbroken. All those stolen kisses and rare nights spent tangled underneath the sheets were turning into bittersweet memories in real time.

Just as you cursed at her, the waves came hurling down twice as big than they normally do. You gasp when the cold salty water soaked your pants. The two of you start scrambling backwards and the contact of the water. Sae-byeok stares at you wide eyed as you mumbled multiple curses while frowning down at your drenched pants.

After the fleeting cursing, you whip your hear up at the sky and see the full moon shining brightly underneath you.

“I—I’m going I can’t—“

“No. Please.” Sae-byeok silently begs, firmly wrapping her hand around your wrist to prevent you from moving. This was the first time you heard her speak in such a vulnerable tone. She walks around you to fully face you, breath hitching but looking deeply into your eyes. “If I ever get my shit together…do you think we could give this a chance maybe?”

You shake your head. “Sae-byeok, I can’t predict the future.”

“Okay but just—“

“What about me?!” you retort back louder than you expect to sound. She immediately closes her mouth, eyes rounding. “Have you ever thought about how I feel? About my life? Do you even care at all? Sae-byeok…I’m so lonely and confused! Did you know I dropped out of law school?” you ask pressing your finger to her chest causing her to stumble backwards without saying a word. “No, you didn’t! And you never cared to ask about why my parents never thought to see me because—I disappointed them! So…So that’s why I moved in with my sister because I couldn’t stand the ridicules anymore but she is losing patience with me by the day so I bet it’s only a matter of time before she kicks me out. But…you made me feel seen. I thought what we had was sacred and special—and I held onto the hope that maybe one day you’d realize that too. But you don’t really want me—you like the idea or probably because you’re even more lonely than I am that you’re desperate for affection.”

By the time you finished talking, she already dropped your hand. You didn’t dare to face her when your eyes were swimming with tears and your body shaken up from the cold and heartbreak. And when you finally turned around to walk away, deep down you wished that she would stop you and fight for you. But if she doesn’t have any fight left in her, then that was a sign enough for you to leave.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

Sae-byeok began watching you from afar. The morning bike rides you took to your sister’s boutique, when you sat outside your porch and staring down at the ground in deep thought, and the nights you laid on the beach. She left you completely alone.

As the days gone by she wondered if she’d ever get the pieces of herself back together. But the nightmares never really leave, no matter how much money the world can offer—the horrors she endured and witnessed never got better like she hoped.

After the bus ride back from Cheol’s foster home, she checks the calendar on her phone. In just two months, if things go smoothly, she’ll finally reunite with her mother and she can finally get back her small family together.

When those two months turned into one month, Sae-byeok started to notice you weren’t around anymore. She knows how much you like secluding yourself in your room, but Ji-yeong hasn’t heard from you and she hasn’t seen you on your routinely biking ride in the mornings. One night, she waited by the seashore hoping you’d appear but obviously you never showed up. She felt stupid for even trying to hope.

She broke your heart—you had every right to disappear from her life. But you aren’t physically around.

So, the night before she had to go pick up her mother from the airport she decided to take matters into her own hand.

Her sweaty hands knock on the door to your sister’s house. After a few minutes someone finally answers and it was your sister. The first thing she noticed was her slightly round protruding belly.

“Oh, it’s you.” she hums sounding disappointed and leans against the door frame. “Is there something you need?”

Sae-byeok inhales deeply first. “Is she here?”

Your sister stares at her blankly before an uneasy expression started to form. “She didn’t tell you?” she asks and Sae-byeok remains frozen in place with her heart hammering out of her chest. “She went back to live with our parents to study law again. Left like…two months ago?”

“Oh.” she says lowly, trying not to make her face look readable. “Thanks.”

Your sister raises a brow, feeling skeptical of her odd appearance. But she just watches as she slumps in posture whilst slowly dragging her feet out of her property before closing the door behind her.

Sae-byeok chokes back tears and recalls the events of the last time you two spoken. It hits her—you never promised her anything. Of course you left without a trace.

Now she can only ever wonder, if she told you that night she wanted to be with you, would you have stayed?

🏷️: @tyresedidujsfart @yourstalkergirlfriend @yenyu1s @we1rdth0ughts @asappywriter @lilylamps @am4lv0da @everly-summers-solace @peelover25 @saebyeokbliss @noaanotfound @jumpedthenfell-13 @tlouloser @lyzem @thisuserisxnangel @knfthxv @laurenkenss @ninistranaut @stellssxo @bitchybananaflower @gummyoonji @marfe816 @knvschau @monroesturnns

[tobiasdrake]

hello. odd question: if you were given the choice, what sort of post buu sequel would you personally want to see? you don't have to write a whole story or anything, just, what kind of story would you want to see told if it were up to you? in terms of basic premise, tone, or "gimmick" if you'd like to see one.

Probably unpopular opinion but my ideal vision of a post-Buu Dragon Ball sequel would be to retire Goku and Vegeta after the Buu arc for good. Goku's story ended very satisfyingly with the Cell arc and I don't think Vegeta could ever go out on a higher note than what Buu gave him. I think Dragon Ball has a lot of potential for future storytelling beyond Buu but if we're working from scratch then these two characters, specifically, I'm ready to be done with.

What Dragon Ball needs to give it that shot in the arm is to have the courage to do what it wanted to do post-Cell: to start over and reinvent itself.

I do understand why that fell apart with Gohan. Gohan doesn't like martial arts. He never has. He enjoys it as an activity he can do with the people he loves, but he isn't a martial artist at heart. He has no drive for it as a hobby; His only relationship with it is as a necessary evil he sometimes has to engage in to protect his loved ones.

That's not a spark that can drive a Dragon Ball protagonist down a road of self-discovery and personal improvement through a deep, personal relationship with the art. And all the attempts to make Gohan relevant again just amount to giving him free power-ups and browbeating him into doing things that, on a fundamental level, he just hates doing.

Gohan doesn't want to be a Dragon Ball main character. He has never wanted that, and we shouldn't force him to. It's better for him and better for the story to just move along.

So where does that leave us?

I think the Buu arc gave us all the tools we need to reinvent Dragon Ball already. I think the characters who have the most potential in telling new Dragon Ball stories are the ones the franchise kinda just... wants to sweep aside. It's Goten, Trunks, and Marron. Pan and Bra. And our new green god Dende. The next generation of Dragon Ball heroes.

It's Goten and Trunks looking at their fathers' backs and knowing that these are the mountains that they are meant to climb. To become more than Goku and Vegeta ever were. And questioning if that's even what they want for themselves. What is their relationship to the art, independent of their fathers? Independent of each other?

Who even are they to each other? Are they to be a reflection of their fathers? Are they to be their fathers' mirror opposites? Or are they to be something else, something independent of their fathers, something only they can identify?

And what does the art mean to them personally? When it stops being "I'm doing this because my family does it," what is it to them? Is it even what they want or, like Gohan, do their destinies lie down another road?

Who is Marron? Who will she grow up to be? What does the art mean to her? In this world of Saiyans and Namekians, what are the limitations that her humanity imposes on her? And how can she break those limits and become something super?

These are the questions that I think could fuel a really interesting sequel series. I think the key to Dragon Ball's artistic future is in allowing someone else to go on a martial arts journey of their own, so we can watch them grow from a wide-eyed child to a wizened master as we once watched Goku.

[calebghostin]

glitz 'n glamour . gojo satoru

Life as an actress wasn’t easy, that was easy to say. Although, You wouldn’t trade it for the world. Especially when your co-worker Satoru was pretty easy on the eyes. 

Just a rom-com, a cheesy-holiday Netflix original, doomed to failure, but a secure paycheck. 

Your agent directed you into a practice building for a chemistry read. Heels tapping, you entered the meeting-room, a large oval table taking up most of the space and bright, charming white hair taking up your eyes. 

“Ah! Thank you for joining us. This is Satoru Gojo, who will be playing Luka.”

The director states and you have to physically take your eyes off Satoru to smile back at the man. 

“Ah, Yes. thank you for having me. Nice to meet you both.”

You smile politely while glancing back to Satoru who smirks at you and pulls up his shades to reveal the brightest blue orbs you’ve ever seen. 

No wonder he books these gigs so easily, you think. 

Sitting down across from Satoru you glance at the early script and cringe. Some of these lines were, well, romantic. Definitely. 

Coughing, you start. 

・・・・・

You exhaled deeply, heels clacking over a few yards away from the very previously tense meeting room.

All was well your cola jolted and paused on its descent down the vending machine into your yearning hands. Half of it just awkwardly inching over the threshold. You sighed and placed your head on the cool glass, until you noticed bright crystalline eyes in the glass' reflection, staring at you curiously.

“Ah! Mr. Gojo, I didn’t see you there…”

You started, turning around to face him. Now that he was standing, you could take his height in as he towered over you, eyes peering down curiously. 

“All good, I didn’t say anythin’ anyways. And call me Satoru! We’ll be working together now, yeah?”

He replies joyfully. 

“Oh, okay. Um, yeah, best of luck to us, I suppose?” 

“Guess so. You didn’t like the script either?”

He asks and you can’t help but sigh. 

“I guess. The audition read was so different,”

You step to the side and notice his eyes glance to the titled red can in the machine. “It’s like they totally changed it, or something!” 

“Mhm, I thought so too. Is that your… trapped cola?” 

“Yes. Unfortunately.” 

“Well, I suppose it would be very ‘Luka’ of me to help… right?”

He smiles and steps forward, one hand above the machine, the other perched near the heat of your waist around the side of the machine. 

Your breath hitches, realising how close and just how beautiful he was. The sharp and loud shakes of the machine snaps you out of your daze. 

The soft clunk of the cola being the only sound to fill the space, until Satoru says. 

“Well, I suppose this is the part you give me the cola for helping?” He says. 

Is he joking? All he did was move it with graceful elegance and he just expects to take your cola? 

“Um, I paid for it!” You straighten up, letting him know you are serious. 

“Well, being a big shot-actress, can’t you lend a poor fan a cola?”

He says while taking the cola and turning to leave. Humming to himself.

Waving the cola in the air, he cries out in a sing-song: “Love the stuff you do, can’t wait to film with you!” 

How on earth are you going to survive filming with him? 

・・・・・

“...Lights, camera… action! We have exclusive news that stars Gojo Satoru and everyone's favourite hot-shot actress will be starring in Netflix’s new rom-com “Snowed In”, hitting the service this Christmas! Take a look at these behind-the-scenes photos!”

The TV hums out through the hotel room you lodge in peacefully, worn-out from the long shoot that went relatively well. The photos splayed on the screen of the news show Satoru giving you a cup of coffee after a scene, and a steamy-kiss on the set. You roll your eyes, of course this is what they care about. Your thought is interrupted by your phone’s silent buzz. 

Satoru: Wow, we look great in those photos.

You reply with 'You’re watching too?' and receive a few smiley faces and thumbs up in affirmation.

Great minds think alike, but you can’t help but wonder if he truly enjoyed the kiss, regardless of the on-screen nature. Whether it was the crisp white-wine or city getting to you, your fingers riskily type out: Was it a good kiss? 

'Oh my God. Why did I DO that?' Your thoughts spiral, worst-case scenario he might leave the movie because of your stupid drunk- 

Satoru: Yeah, for sure. Cus I was kissin’ :D of course it’ll be good. 

Oh.

You roll your eyes. What did you expect? That he, Satoru Gojo, would be serious or even seriously-flirtatious for even a second? Throwing your phone across the room, you walked to bed. 

Hotel beds rock. A sharp knock straightens you awake out of your drunken sleepiness. Another knock, then another, and another. 

“C-coming!” You cry out, quickly tying your hair and throwing on a robe, you open the door to be met with - Satoru?

He pants, clearly out of breath… shirt crumpled, thrown on.. rushing clearly.

“You didn’t read my other text.”

He says, quietly looking at you. 

“What? No, it was a stupid question and I was going to bed and I-” 

“Read it. Please.” He nods in the direction of your room. 

“O-okay…” You enter back inside the hotel room. Very confused until you open the screen and  a notification reads: 

Satoru: Joking, you’re the best co-worker I’ve had the pleasure of kissing. Or woman, or anyone for that matter. They put me in the same hotel? Mind if I come over?

Then 3 minutes later: 

Satoru: That was inappropriate. Sorry. 

Again, 

Satoru: Please don’t ignore me, we’ve still got lots to do together - I don’t want you to be mad. 

Oh.

He thought you were brushing him off, you, brushing off Gojo Satoru! Of all people! You remembered how good the kiss for the films final scene was and took one last courage-swish of your complimentary champagne before quickly heading over to the doorway. 

Seeing you stride forward quickly, Satoru braced for the worst. 

“Listen y-” 

His stammered apology was quickly cut off by you smashing your lips against him, hot breaths fanning against each other as you moved against him. 

“Don’t be sorry you idiot, come inside.”

You whispered, pulling him into the room, unaware of the soft camera “click!” from down the hotel hallway. 

[homuraakemis]

Honestly, every single one of Jinx's accusations against Vi is so hypocritical:

1) "I thought, maybe you could love me like you used to, even though I'm different".

She accuses Vi of not loving/accepting her as she is. This is already an absurd expectation, because first, Vi has no obligation to "accept her as she is" when she is doing all the horrible things that she does, and second, Vi actually does love her despite all her mistakes, it's Jinx herself who refuses Vi's offer to leave and start anew.

But it's also a completely hypocritical accusation: she wants Vi to accept her as she is, but she doesn't accept Vi as she is. Vi is a person who is not willing to murder innocents and also someone who cares about Caitlyn. But Jinx doesn't accept that about her sister. She wants Vi to change for her, she wants Vi to become a murderer and kill Caitlyn to prove her love for her, and when Vi refuses, she rejects Vi. So Jinx herself doesn't accept Vi as she is.

2) "Poisoning our air"

This is incredibly hypocritical coming from a person who spent years helping to poison the people of Zaun with shimmer, a drug that devastated Zaun. Vi and Caitlyn's use of the Grey at least was targeted against the chem-barons (the very people that were poisoning Zaun with Shimmer and that Jinx spent years helping), and the Grey is also not shown to be lethal. Silco spreading shimmer, on the other hand, was not targeted. He didn't sell shimmer in a controlled manner for its healing properties, he sold it in a widespread manner, getting people addicted, debilitated, and turning them into monsters that attack other people. And Jinx helped Silco do it. What she did is much worse than what Vi did, but apparently it's ok for Jinx to poison her own people.** (And that's not even mentioning all the other bad things against Zaun that Jinx helped happen by working with Silco, like the child slave labor, the killing of the Firelights and all other of Silco's crimes)

3) "Wish I was seeing things when you decided to throw in with the Piltie goons who murdered mom and dad"

Again, so hypocritical. Yes, Vi joined the enforcers. But she joined a team with an enforcer that she trusted (Caitlyn), and she didn't join anyone directly responsible for their parent's deaths. Jinx, on the other hand, actually joined the man directly responsible for the deaths of their adoptive family.** Not to mention that Jinx's actions are the main reason Vi joined the enforcers in the first place.

**By the way, I know that Jinx was a kid when she was taken in by Silco. But as an adult, we never see Jinx express remorse for working with him. On the contrary, we see her grieve him, smell his jacket and only ever think fondly of him, never criticizing him for his role in destroying Zaun. And while she was a kid when she was taken in, she continues helping him as an adult, she continues doing it even after Vi comes back and tries to help her, and it's also implied that Ekko tried to help her in the past and she refused (or if he didn't try, she still could have tried to ask for his help, she had somewhere else to go other than staying with Silco). She could have left Silco as an adult but didn't. As Ekko said, she works for Silco not because she needs to, but because she wants to, and she constantly seeks Silco's validation. So while I can understand that Jinx was a vulnerable kid that was manipulated by Silco, I still think that if she's going to make these accusations against Vi without ever self-reflecting about her own role in helping Silco oppress Zaun, then it's fair to call out her hypocrisy.

4) "Wake up, sis. I'm a hero. I busted half of Zaun out of Stillwater while you were passed out in the bottom of a mug."

First of all, it's incredibly insensitive for her to throw Stillwater in Vi's face, considering that she knows Vi spent 7 years there, and it's really cruel to mock Vi for being "passed out in the bottom of a mug" considering that part of the reason Vi has been spiraling and drinking were Jinx's own actions. Jinx is part of the reason why Vi has been getting wasted like this.

But it's also hypocritical, because she is accusing Vi of doing nothing while Zaun is suffering, even though Jinx herself was also doing nothing. She was hiding with Isha and would not have helped anyone if Isha hadn't been taken. Not to mention that her own terrorist attacks are the very reason Zaun is being occupied, and Vi helped Zaun way more than Jinx ever did.

(Tbh, I find it frustrating that Vi never got to properly answer to Jinx's accusations or point out Jinx's hypocrisy. I get that for most of the show, Vi is never really in a good state of mind to actually answer to these accusations, especially because Vi is usually busy blaming herself for everything. So I'm not saying it's bad writing that Vi never properly defended herself against these accusations. But it's still very frustrating)

[xmads-omensx]

Epilogue

Word Count: 1,664

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

CW: fluff, swearing, mentions of fake dating, mentions of harassment, mentions of not feeling good enough, self-doubt

I know I got sappy about this in the finale, but it's just hit me now that this is the end of the series!

Again, big thank you to everyone who read, liked, commented and reblogged, I loved hearing your thoughts.

Maybe we will see these two again, who knows?

For now, however, their story has been told and I have loved every second. I hope you all did too!

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @bloody-spades @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @amelia-acero @thisbicc @dominuslunae @enemiestolovershoe @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @cheyyyyr @littlebear423 @dsireland86 @missduffsblog @overmydeadbodysblog @dominuslunae @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm @museonfilm @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @kissestomyomens @flowery-mess

The sky above us was dark. Only the stars offered us any light.

It was quiet, peaceful, calm, safe.

It was perfect.

I could hear crickets in the grass around us, offering a break in the silence.

Our phones were off. We didn’t need any distractions.

The silence offered us more time to enjoy eachother, even though we weren’t touching eachother.

Over the last few months, Noah and I were closer than ever. Since we finally confessed how we felt about eachother, it felt as if there was this unbreakable bond between the two of us.

It was like he was my oxygen and I needed him to breathe.

It was like he was the one making my heart beat, pumping my blood around my body.

His hand crept across the grass beneath us and brushed against mine, linking our pinkie fingers together.

I turned my head to look at him.

“Hmm?” I hummed in question.

“Nothin’” He began. “Just love you.” He whispered.

I smiled at him. It felt wrong to speak within the silence, but his words felt so right.

As opposed to responding, I shuffled closer to him and burrowed myself into his side, making myself comfortable in his warmth.

“Stop wiggling and let me hold you.” He whispered with a laugh.

I placed a kiss on his hoodie-covered chest. “Sorry, I’m just cold.” I laughed.

“Wanna go back home?” He asked, pulling back to look at me.

“No.”  I replied in a whisper. “Here is perfect.”

He smiled.

It was perfect.

The wind was soft and gentle, making Noah’s short hair softly blow.

It was nice like this.

“Baby?” He started.

“Yeah bub?” I asked in reply.

“When did you realise that you were in love with me?” He asked.

The question hit my heart hard, shooting back memories of the night I left his house without a word.

“Do we have to talk about that?” I asked, pleading with him to change the subject.

“Baby it’s just a question.” He reasoned.

“I know, but we haven’t talked about that night in so long.” I reminded him.

“Oh.” He replied, catching on to which night I was referring to.

A slightly uncomfortable silence fell between the two of us as we both replayed that night in our minds.

We both had very different reflections of that night.

Both of us spent it wondering how the other felt, but since Stephen told Noah some twisted lie, he never felt the same about it.

It was hard for Noah to separate what Stephen said from how he had felt that night.

“That night was when I first said that I loved you.” I began in a quiet voice before continuing. “But I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you long before that.”

“Oh?” Noah asked, his interest piqued at my statement.

“Yeah.” I replied, more confident in what I was saying. “I think I’ve loved you since I met you partly.”

“Only partly?” He asked.

“I think I could sense that something was there, but I wasn’t sure what.” I explained. “Like I could tell you were special, but I wasn’t sure why.”

“Hmm.” He replied, clearly pondering what I had said.

We fell back into a comfortable silence, entwined in each other’s limbs, gazing at the sky above us.

“How about you?” I asked.

“Hmm?” he mumbled in response.

“How long have you known that you love me?” I pushed.

“Since the day that I met you.” He replied with a smile, his eyes filled with love.

“Really?” I asked, genuinely shocked by his answer.

“Since the moment you walked into Michael’s birthday party, I knew you were the one for me.” He said simply, his eyes reflecting the stars above, creating intoxicating constellations in his deep, chocolate brown eyes.

We lay like that for a while, just staring into each other’s eyes as memories of our friendship flashed across our minds like a movie.

“Noah…” I began in a whisper.

“Yeah?” He replied in a similarly quiet whisper.

“I’m sorry.” I admitted.

“For what?” He asked, seeming genuinely confused as to what I could be apologising for.

I took a breath, trying to steel my nerves as I tried to condense my thoughts.

“Everything.” I began just loud enough to be audible.

“Baby yo-“ He began before I interrupted him.

“No listen. I hurt you and you didn’t deserve it. I toyed with your feelings, I used you, I fucked up our friendship. I feel bad because you’re my everything but I treated you like you meant nothing. All the shit that happened between us, was my fault. That stupid arrangement was all my fault. Not yours. I put us in that position.” I said, getting increasingly angry with myself as I went on.

Noah’s large hands enveloped themselves around my own, drawing me from my thoughts.

“Stop.” He whispered. “I used you too.”

“No-“ I began, before he interrupted me this time.

“I did. I used you because I liked the fact that I got to have you, despite it not being real. Plus you scared off Grace. I haven’t heard from her since that party.” He continued.

That made me smile.

“I used you too and there’s no escaping that. I blamed you for shit you didn’t deserve. Saying that you wanted to be with Stephen? T  hat was a low blow and I’m so disgusted with myself for even thinking that.” He practically gagged saying Stephen’s name, and I didn’t blame him one bit. Stephen was a vile creature. However, hearing his say that he was disgusted with himself upset me.

“It’s okay, you apologised like a million times already.” I giggled.

“Stop laughing, I know, I mean it stop.” He laughed, playfully attempting to cover my mouth.

We continued our playful wrestling for a few more moments before retreating back to cuddling into each other’s arms. I sighed contently, Noah kissed the top of my head.

“I hate to bring up the Satan spawn.” Noah began, with a sigh, rubbing my back lazily as he spoke.

I instantly knew who he was referring to.

“Go on.” I playfully rolled my eyes, making him laugh. God I loved his laugh.

“What happened with him?” He asked.

“Well, A complaint was filed by Wendy, his assistant, for harassment. Apparently, he had been doing it to other employees too.” I said with a sigh. “Gabi and Ashley backed the claim. I think the entire department did actually. Myself included of course.”

Noah tensed as the conversation continued. Something had awoken in his brain.

Stephen was still a sore spot for Noah, especially after what happened at the restaurant. He had been left with a lot of doubt in his beautiful mind, but it had been slowly dissipating over the last few months.

“I’m sorry.” He said in a small, soft voice.

“Why?” I asked, genuinely confused by his apology.

“I feel like I failed you.” He began, his entire demeanour shifting as he spoke. “I wasn’t there for you enough to stop him sooner. He should’ve been fired a while ago. I don’t know, it just feels like there’s more I could’ve done to help you instead of just picking you up from work.”

My heart broke at his admission. I hated it when he spoke like this, like he wasn’t good enough.

“Noah, his behaviour is not on you, there was nothing that you could’ve done to prevent this okay?” I tried to assure him, placing a hand on his bicep and squeezing lightly in an effort to provide him with some comfort.

“Still, I’m sorry.” He mumbled, offering a weak smile in an attempt to convince me, failing miserably. I placed a loving kiss on his cheek, making his smile widen as a blush crept onto his face.

“Jesse literally punched him, there’s literally nothing else that you could’ve done.” I said with a laugh, trying to diffuse the tension.

“I should’ve punched him.” Noah mumbled, burying his face into my neck as he spoke. His stubble tickled my neck, making me erupt in laughter.

“You would’ve killed him, and you would be in jail and I would never see you again.” I giggled.

“Who says I’d get caught?” His god-awful attempt at an ominous voice made me laugh.

He pulled me in close to his chest.

“Idiot.” I laughed under my breath, his own laugh shaking me as I rested my head over his chest.

I could hear his heart beating loudly in his ribcage, slowly overtaking my thoughts as I listened to the steady beating.

We lay like that for even longer. The stars above us shone even brighter than before as the night wore on.

His heartbeat had become the only thing that I could hear now besides the crickets and the gentle breeze against the rustling foliage around us.

If I could, I would stay like this forever, in his arms.

It felt safe, warm, real.

It felt… right. Like I belonged in between his arms.

He held me tightly as if I could slip away from him at any moment. But I wouldn’t, and he knew that. We were both in it for the long hall. Until we’re old and grey. Until we can barely do anything other than look into each other’s eyes and admire the stars above us.

There was no denying it, Noah was the love of my life.

He was my home.

And I was his.

When we were together, everything made sense. It was like that moment when you finally finish a rubix cube that you’ve been trying to solve for months, maybe even years, but when you click those final pieces together, everything just feels whole. Like it was finally were it was supposed to be. It felt right.

Lying in the grass under the night sky like this, we fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Perfectly entwined with one another. Perfectly stuck together.

Just perfect.

[melosgirl]

Could you please do something with a wnba!reader meeting lamelos family for the first time?

his family ~ lamelo ball

you and your boyfriend, lamelo, are both on break from basketball, so he thought now would be the perfect time for you to meet his family.

you had met lonzo earlier in the year when he played against melo, and gelo when he performed, but you had never met the rest of his family. you knew zo and gelo liked you, but you were nervous that his dad and tina might not feel the same way.

“ma, you ready?” melo calls from across your apartment. you rub your sweaty palms against your jeans. “yeah, one sec,” you reply shakily. your bedroom door swings open, and melo slides in, his eyebrows furrowed. “you okay?” he asks softly, sliding his arm around your shoulder as you sit at your vanity. “yeah, i’m just worried they won’t like me,” your voice breaks halfway through your sentence.

“don’t worry about it, baby,” he reassures, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “they know how happy you make me, so they’ll definitely like you.” you smile, the knot in your stomach loosening. “okay, let’s go.” you slide a LaFrance hoodie over your head and place a peck on melo’s lips.

as you two drive, your leg bounces up and down in the passenger seat. melo notices and places his hand gently on your thigh. “don’t worry, baby,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your skin.

when you pull into the long driveway, your nerves spike again. melo walks around the car and opens your door, then slides his arm around your waist and leads you up to the front door. as soon as you step inside, lavar greets you. “hey! you’re y/n, right? i watched your game yesterday!” he smiles, pulling you into a tight hug. “hi lavar,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“y/n!” lonzo calls, rushing toward you. he daps you up and hugs you lightly. melo does the same, and then zo leads the two of you upstairs. “tina is up here,” he says, motioning for you to follow. you walk into a cozy room where tina is sitting, scrolling on her phone.

“hey,” melo says as he hugs his mom tightly. she kisses his cheek lightly. “hi tina!” you greet her, your nerves making your voice a little high-pitched.

“hi y/n,” tina smiles warmly, pulling you into a hug. “you’re so pretty,” you say, surprised at how genuine it sounds. as you pull away, she laughs.

“thank you, so are you. melo likes to talk about you every time he visits us,” tina says, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

you blush, glancing at melo, who is now blushing too. “tina!” he protests.

“i’m just telling the truth,” she defends, raising her hands in mock surrender.

melo wraps his arm around your waist again as you head back downstairs. “hm, you talk about me a lot?” you ask, giggling softly.

“maybe,” he says, his cheeks turning a shade of pink.

you smile, feeling the warmth of his family’s welcome slowly ease your nerves.

as you all sit down in the living room, the conversation flows easily. lavar talks about basketball, and lonzo chimes in with stories from the court. gelo, ever the entertainer, cracks jokes that make everyone laugh once he shows up. it’s nice, comfortable, like you’ve always been a part of the family. your nerves slowly fade away, replaced with the warmth of the moment.

after a while, tina stands up and says, “who wants some dessert?” everyone cheers in unison, and you’re handed a plate of homemade cookies that tina baked. they’re soft, sweet, and comforting, a perfect reflection of how her family makes you feel.

“these are amazing,” you say, taking another bite. tina beams at the compliment, and melo nudges you playfully.

“see? i told you they’d love you,” he whispers, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

you smile at him, your heart swelling. “i’m starting to see that,” you reply.

as the evening goes on, you feel more at home. laughter fills the room, and the chatter never seems to stop. melo’s family is easy to talk to, and before you know it, hours have passed, and it’s time to leave.

as you stand to head out, tina pulls you into one last hug. “it was so great having you here, y/n. don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“i won’t,” you promise, your voice sincere. “thanks for everything.”

melo grabs your hand as you both head out the door. as you walk back to the car, he squeezes your hand, his face lit up with a smile.

“so… how’d it go?” he asks, his voice full of teasing curiosity.

you laugh, shaking your head. “it went great, actually. they’re amazing.”

he looks at you, eyes sparkling with affection. “i knew they would be. but i’m glad you see it too.”

as you both drive off into the night, the hum of the car engine feels soothing. you lean back in your seat, glancing at melo, and for the first time all evening, you feel completely at ease. the nerves you had earlier are long gone, replaced with the certainty that you’ve just gained a whole new family, one you’re excited to be a part of.

“i’m happy, melo,” you say quietly, your heart full of warmth.

“me too, ma,” he replies, giving your hand another squeeze. “me too.”

and as the car drives through the city lights, you know this is just the beginning of something beautiful.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Ace - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: so uh, this was written for this request. But um. I really struggle with my own asexuality when it comes to telling people so like, I also wrote this for me. I’m sorry for the angst, I’m um, not having the best time emotionally as of late so I thought I’d write it out

Also, ✨it’s my birthday✨ so here’s my birthday gift to you all

CW: angst, fear, anxiety, Reader is very worried, nausea, Reader is a bunny!mutant, Reader is ftm trans implied, binder mention, major miscommunication, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, Logan has emotions and I make him feel them, Logan is fairly mature in this, break ups, crying, Reader calls themselves a freak, good communication, Logan loves Reader, some cheesy moments, ‘I love you’s, Reader is called buns and handsome by Logan, happy ending

1139 words

You’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror for far too long, but you can’t seem to look away. Maybe if you just look a little longer, you’ll get it. But nothing changes. Your body is just… there.

Soft fluffy ears. Twitchy nose. Eyes. Mouth. Neck. Shoulders. Just… same as ever.

You can hear Logan moving about in the apartment and it finally pulls your gaze slowly away from the mirror. It takes you a long moment, but you pull your towel around you, stepping away from the reflective glass.

You sit on the edge of the tub, staring at the floor instead. You feel… not gross, per se. But your stomach is churning and your heart is in your throat.

This is it.

You’ve put off saying anything for almost a month now. Deflecting and making excuses at every possible turn. But now you have no more left. Nowhere left to run.

You think about saying it. ‘Logan, I’m not really into sex.’ ‘Logan, I’m ace.’ ‘Logan, I’m sorry.’

You curl into yourself, trying to keep down your stomach. Nausea rises in your throat, bile pooling at the back of your mouth.

You want to run. You want to scream. You want to cry. Who’s ever heard of a rabbit who doesn’t like sex? And yet, that’s what you are. A silly, cowardly rabbit who for all the world just does not like sex.

You give yourself one moment to feel the depth of your fear before swallowing it back. Your hands are shaky, but you finish drying off. You get dressed; slipping on your binder for extra protection. It feels like a shield. Keeping you from crumbling to pieces. Keeping you from bolting.

Logan looks up from the sofa as you leave the bathroom. His brow furrows, clearly smelling the fear pouring off you, but he doesn’t say anything. He lets you come to him. Waits until you’re seated on the couch before quietly asking, “Everything alright?”

You almost throw up. Right then and there. Your hands are shaking again and grab onto your ears and pinch them tight to distract you. To do something to keep from spilling your insides on the floor.

You just nod as an answer, swallowing back your nausea yet again. You summon up all your strength. All the courage in your cowardly body.

You don’t look at him, though. That’s too much. You just whisper, “I need to talk to you.”

He straightens, but stays silent. Letting you speak.

“I—“ Your courage fails you. You curl into yourself, drawing your legs up to your chest. You press your forehead to your knees and desperately fight back the sting in your eyes.

Movement. A weight next to you on the couch. Logan’s warm hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. His voice quietly reaching through your panic. “It’s okay.”

But there’s a tremble to his voice. A crack in his solid foundation. It’s like a punch to the chest. What if he knows? What if he knows and thinks you’re… you’re…

His other hand envelopes yours, squeezing gently. “I get it,” he murmurs. “You’ve been stressed and I haven’t been there and…”

You blink and look up at him, vision watery. Slowly, you nod, unsure where he’s going.

Logan swallows and looks down. He looks so… vulnerable. So small for such a big man. It makes your chest ache in an entirely new way.

“Perhaps this is for the best.” It’s the most unconvincing thing you’ve ever heard him say. He seems to struggle with it too, like he knows how dumb it sounds.

And then the words click in your head. Tears well up all over again. “Are… Are you… breaking up with me?”

Logan lifts his head, brow furrowing. “I— What?”

“You’re… You’re breaking up with me.” It’s a thousand times worse than your heart shattering. Your entire being feels like it’s splintering. Tearing and distorting into miniscule shards of pain and hurt and grief. “I’m— I’m a freak and you’re— you’re—“

A sob wrenches from your chest. Shaking your body and spilling snot and tears down your face. You curl tighter into yourself, numbness slowly spiraling from your chest.

“A…” Logan stops. His hand pushes under your chin, forcing your head up so you look at him. “Buns, what were you gonna tell me? Before, what were you trying to say?”

His voice is so firm, so rushed and rough, you can’t do anything but answer. Through your tears, the words spill out. Tripping from your mouth in a sudden rush. All your fear from earlier seems trivial in the devastating face of a breakup.

“I’m asexual. I don’t like sex. I can’t do it— It’s— It’s gross and weird and— and I don’t want it! No matter how hard I try! I can’t do it, not even for you.”

You catch the briefest glimpse of pure relief on his face before his arms are around you, crushing you in a hug. You don’t question it. You bury yourself in his arms, pressing as close to him as you can physically be.

“Fuck,” he mutters, emotion trembling in his voice. “I thought you were breaking up with me. I thought—“

Clarity slowly dawns on you, causing a new wave of tears. “No! No, I wouldn’t—! I can’t—! I love you!”

He pulls back, cradling your face in his hands. Gently stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. There’s relief and adoration and… tears… shining in his eyes. “I love you too. All of you. Exactly as you are. If no sex means I get to keep you, hell, I’d cut off my own dick!”

That pulls a choked laugh from you. You nuzzle into his hands, slowly pulling your shattered pieces back together. “You… You don’t care I’m ace?”

“Of course I care.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I care because it’s you. What I don’t care about is having sex. Feels damn good, but you’re more important than that.”

You melt. Turn into nothing but a floppy puddle of fluff and frayed nerves in his arms. Relief exhausts you, making you lean against him for support. “I love you,” you murmur.

He idly strokes one of your ears, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, handsome. My handsome bunny boy.”

You snuggle against him, slowly letting the panic and stress and numbness ease from your chest. You can breathe again, and you take slow deep breaths. “I wouldn’t ever leave you,” you mumble.

You feel Logan relax. His arms wrapping tighter around you. Can feel his smile against your skin as he kisses your head again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know.

You’re safe with him. Safe and loved and wanted. Asexuality and all. And that’s more than you ever thought you’d have.

[suometar]

coming into your inbox again to discuss djo’s music/delete ya. Has anyone else noticed the ties between delete ya and chateau (which honestly makes delete ya even MORE heartbreaking since chateau is obvs about the beginning of his relationship with his ex vs delete ya is the aftermath). We have the reference to joe and his head injury in both (very steve coded of him lol) eg. Chateau: “I could feel the pain Of my head, seeing stars” vs delete ya: “And now I'm back on your couch, frozen peas to my head” and then the intro “oh my god” from chateau which plays in the background of delete ya at the end 😭😭😭 also thank you for pointing out the similar sounds of the police in delete ya. I love it even more since you’ve pointed that out and can’t believe I missed it before 

You're welcome! May I also point out the riff in the start of the song that is direct nudge to Prince (that was confirmed by Joe) and the very Taylor Swift -ish type melody of "The blame complex in me, me, me" that repeats in "One heart could beat for the two of us, two of us, two of us, oh-oh-oh".

There's so much of this goodness in it it's unreal. Like, this album is going to make me respect him so much as a songwriter and a lyricist. I know I've already said those earlier but they bear repeating.

Oh god YES! You're absolutely right about Chateau. I actually had thought about the same thing, though not consciously until now. And it makes total sense. 😭😭😭

Looking back and listening to his other songs there are also references to difficulties in a relationship, like in 'Go For It'. He talks about a lot of things, how a relationship starts to erode, communication breaks, misunderstandings etc etc. It also has the line "One week, And four years". Considering Decide was released in 2022 that would fit the timeline of their relationship as well. And then they broke up somewhere around 2022-2023. And the song ends with a line "It's a harder thing to do than to say (So don't say a thing)" Does it then mean leaving without explaining or not saying a thing and just trying to keep the relationship going? Who knows.

In 'Fool' he sings about being a fool for someone else. I think it's not really about him being the cute kind of fool who makes his gf laugh but the kind of fool who believes everything that's being said to him even though he knows that he's been lied to and even knows what are the tell tale signs of the lies. Because when you love someone you choose to believe the best of the person you love. Or you choose to stay with them even though it's not fully equal relationship 😭😭😭

"There's a person behind those eyes, That's not right

Any crack is a sign of lies, That's not cool (Not cool)

Everybody needs a Fool, I'll be your Fool"

Oh and what about then 'Gap Tooth Smile'? Of course I'm not entirely sure if all the lyrics are right but the version recorded in Australia is quite clear and you can hear them. Even though he's said that it's about loving your girlfriend in general - it also has a sad ending with "God, I count my blessings from the one-eyed dove". Two doves of course is a reference to lovers. And here too he says that the love was one-sided and despite that he counts his blessings over it, even though it lasted just a while

I'm not saying that those songs necessarily are about the relationship, but from the themes of The Crux it seems clear that he's been very reflective of his own life in his lyrics even before. And that it hasn't always been easy - like no single relationship ever is. But yeah the songs from Crux clearly point that out despite him only now being open about it being his most personal album.

Like, this album has so much heartache in it and it already tears me apart.

Feel free to come and ramble about Djo here anytime :)

[novaursa]

The Golden Court (voyage of life)

- Summary: You were taken from the royal court by your father when you were a child. Now you return as a woman grown from exile. A woman that ignites fires in her wake.

- Pairing: Jason Lannister/trag!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: Adult themes will progress more and more as chapters go on. This fic is pure filth and I make no apologies for it. You have been warned.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: the pyre

- Tag(s): @idenyimimdenial @scarletdfox @princesstiti14

The corridors of Casterly Rock were quieter now, the revelry of the Great Hall fading behind you, leaving only the distant hum of celebration in its wake. The halls were bathed in the dim glow of torchlight, the golden lion banners fluttering lightly as an evening draft swept through the fortress.

Jason walked at your side, his hand firm on your waist, his thumb idly stroking against your hip through the fine silk of your gown, while Tyland moved slightly ahead, ever composed, ever the one to ensure their path was clear.

The weight of the night still lingered, though Jason’s smirk had not yet faded.

“Do you think they understand yet?” he murmured, his voice carrying that same rich amusement he always bore when he was particularly pleased with himself.

Tyland did not glance back as he replied. “The lords of the Westerlands? Of course not. They’re still reeling from the lions in the cages, let alone the fact that you paraded a dragon princess through their halls.”

Jason chuckled, unbothered. “Then let them reel. Let them whisper. Let them weep to the gods that abandoned them. It changes nothing.”

You let out a soft huff of amusement, tilting your head slightly. “The Faith will not stay quiet.”

Tyland, ever the pragmatist, nodded. “They will plot. But they won’t act—at least, not yet. Not while the memory of today’s spectacle still lingers, not while Daemon remains so very present.” He paused before adding, “They’ll wait until the tides turn. And they always do.”

Jason’s grip tightened ever so slightly, his green eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Then we make sure the tides never turn against us.”

Tyland turned to his twin. “You think ruling is that simple?”

Jason grinned, wicked and self-assured. “I think it is whatever we make it. The realm will call this unnatural, a curse, an insult to the gods—but they will bend. They always do.”

Tyland did not argue, because Jason was right.

As the doors to your shared chambers opened before you, the warmth of the room enveloped you all—the glow of candlelight reflecting off the polished stone, the great bed draped in crimson and furs, the scent of spiced wine and smoldering embers curling in the air.

Jason was the first to move, his hands already reaching for the clasps of his tunic, the rich fabric falling away with practiced ease. He turned toward you, his eyes taking in the way your silk gown still clung to you, how the candlelight flickered against the pale expanse of your skin. “Come, my love. I believe we’ve worn these fine clothes long enough.”

Tyland, more controlled but no less certain, stepped closer, his fingers catching the delicate fastenings at your back, undoing them with slow, measured precision.

Jason, already bare from the waist up, smirked as he watched. “Careful, brother. Take too long, and I might think you’re hesitating.”

Tyland merely arched a brow, his fingers never faltering. “Unlike you, as always, I enjoy patience.”

Jason laughed.

You exhaled as the fabric slid from your shoulders, pooling at your feet, leaving only the warmth of their gazes against your skin.

Jason stepped forward, his hands brushing over your waist, up along your ribs, his touch both familiar and possessive. “I do love watching you like this, you know. Stripped of gold, stripped of the weight of the realm—just you. Just us.”

Tyland, now rid of his own formal attire, let his fingers trail down your arm, his green eyes flickering between you and Jason, quiet but filled with intent. “The realm will never see us like this.”

Jason hummed, dragging his lips along your collarbone. “That is their loss.”

You smirked, tilting your head slightly, your hands brushing over the planes of Jason’s chest before turning toward Tyland, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “And what shall we do with this stolen moment, before the world claws at our door again?”

Jason grinned, pulling you flush against him, his lips hovering just over yours. “Oh, I can think of a few things.”

The chamber was heavy with warmth, the flickering flame reflecting off the gilded adornments that framed the vast, canopied bed. The silken sheets, dyed a deep Lannister crimson, pooled beneath you, the luxurious furs brushing against your skin, trapping the lingering heat of the night’s feast.

Jason, always the first to indulge, had already begun his worship, his broad hands mapping your body with a familiar, possessive reverence, his mouth trailing the slow, deliberate path of a man who had waited long enough. His breath was hot against your skin, his movements fluid, languid, teasing—not to prolong, but to revel in the anticipation.

His hair, still slightly tousled from the evening’s festivities, tickled against your throat as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your collarbone, his fingers pressing against the dips and curves of your waist, mapping them with memorized certainty.

“You’re always so eager for us, little dragon,” Jason murmured against your skin, his lips curling into a wicked smirk as he settled himself over you, his weight a familiar anchor, his green eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker.

Tyland, always the quieter presence, lingered at your side, his touch featherlight in contrast to Jason’s bolder claim. His eyes, so alike Jason’s but always more calculating, more measured, flickered down toward where Jason moved against you. He watched—not as a bystander, but as a man who knew he would follow soon enough.

And yet—there was something more beneath his gaze tonight. Something only you could recognize.

His fingers, skimming over your arm, felt more attentive, his touch careful, his presence deliberate.

A silent caution. A message, given without words.

Jason, of course, was too caught in his indulgence to notice the unspoken exchange between you and his twin.

But you felt it.

The quiet way Tyland’s hand settled against your thigh, grounding you just slightly, a subtle but unmistakable restraint, as if ensuring Jason’s usual fervor did not grow into something unchecked. The pressure of his palm, the slight shift in his grip, was not controlling—only mindful.

You met his gaze then, and the corner of Tyland’s lips twitched, just slightly.

A shared secret.

A question between you, left unspoken: How long before Jason realizes?

Would it be one moon? Or longer?

Jason, oblivious to the silent conversation unfolding above him, only smirked against your skin, dragging his lips lower as he drank in every sound you made beneath him.

“I do love the way you tremble for me, sweet one,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Tell me, is it me you need, or my brother? Or shall we decide for you?”

Tyland, ever composed, merely sighed, his fingers brushing back a strand of your hair as he leaned closer, his breath fanning against your temple. “She’s already made her choice tonight, Jason. Do try not to ruin it.”

Jason laughed, the sound low, rich, and utterly self-assured. “Ruin it? No, no, my dear brother. I intend to make it unforgettable.”

And he did.

His rhythm was as it always was—on the cusp between pleasure and pain, his usual hunger unchecked as he pulled every ounce of reaction from you, as he claimed, as he reminded. The pressure of his body, the heat of him, the way his hands gripped and possessed—all of it was familiar, all-consuming, a reminder of what he was to you.

What you were to him.

Tyland, who had waited patiently, who had watched with that same calculating gaze, finally stirred when Jason’s pace grew near its peak, when the inevitable release began to unwind.

His hand pressed against Jason’s shoulder, a silent command that few could ever issue to him. “Move.”

Jason, still lost in the haze of his pleasure, huffed out a breath, his smirk faltering as he finally stilled, rolling onto his side with an exasperated sigh. “You are so bloody commanding, Tyland.”

Tyland merely arched a brow, his green eyes flickering toward you. “And you are too indulgent. She is still ours, Jason. Let me remind her.”

Jason laughed, breathless and sated, watching as his twin took his place.

Tyland’s hands were more precise, more deliberate, but his control was the most telling difference.

Because unlike Jason—Tyland was careful.

You felt it in the way his grip never grew too tight, in the way his rhythm remained measured, in the way his touch never left bruises.

He tempered you. He protected you.

Even now, when Jason watched with amusement, his gaze flickering between the two of you, completely unaware of what Tyland truly ensured.

And you met Tyland’s gaze again, your fingers curling against his shoulder as he moved against you, as he kissed you, as he held you like something more precious than a conquest.

And in that moment, the secret between you both was sealed.

Jason, still sprawled on his side, watching the two of you with lazy satisfaction, let out a deep chuckle, oblivious. “You know, little dragon, I do believe you prefer my brother’s patience more than you let on.”

Tyland, lips ghosting over your throat, chuckled softly, but said nothing.

You simply smirked. Because one moon would pass. Maybe two. And then Jason would finally realize the truth.

The great halls of Casterly Rock were in an uproar of movement and preparation, the sheer weight of Jason’s demands sending the castle into a frenzy that had not been seen in decades. Servants scrambled through the corridors, arms burdened with trunks of fine silks, chests of Lannister gold, and an endless stream of provisions for a journey across the sea. The courtyards bustled with activity, banners unfurling in the salt-kissed wind as wagons were loaded with supplies to be transported to Lannisport, where their fleet waited.

And at the heart of the storm, standing atop the high balcony that overlooked the madness below, was Jason Lannister, draped in the sheer confidence of a man who was both the cause of chaos and its master.

You stood beside him, a vision of silver and fire against his crimson and gold, watching as he barked orders down to the servants with an air of indulgence, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Jason’s grip on your waist was firm, possessive, his thumb idly stroking against your hip as though he were far more invested in the feel of you beneath his hands than the actual preparations unfolding beneath him.

A frazzled-looking steward, his forehead glistening with sweat, wrung his hands as he looked up at his lord with barely concealed distress.

“My Lord,” the man stammered, bowing deeply, “we have packed the finest Dornish wines as per your request, but the ship’s capacity—”

Jason waved a hand lazily, entirely uninterested. “Yes, yes, more than enough room. And my personal collection of Arbor reds?”

The steward nodded hastily. “Already secured in the ship’s hold, my Lord. Along with—”

“Good, good. And the furs? The ones I personally selected?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Jason smirked, turning his attention back to you, his hand trailing along your back with a languid, almost idle pleasure as he surveyed your expression. “See, my love? Everything is as it should be. We shall not suffer even a moment’s discomfort.”

You arched a brow, watching as another pair of servants struggled beneath the weight of a chest that no doubt contained more of Jason’s ‘essentials.’ “Tell me, my lion, are we traveling to Essos or laying siege to it?”

Jason laughed, his green eyes dancing with amusement. “A siege is a tempting idea, but alas, I am feeling generous. I only intend to conquer a bed, not a city.”

His grin widened, his hands roving lower, pressing a slow, teasing kiss against the side of your throat.

The steward, still standing there, looked anywhere but at the scene unfolding before him.

You exhaled, amusement flickering in your gaze as you tilted your head slightly, letting Jason indulge in his usual public displays.

The steward, growing red-faced, cleared his throat. “There is also the matter of security, my Lord. With your absence from the Rock, some of the bannermen are unsettled. They—”

Jason groaned, pulling back just enough to roll his eyes. “Tyland will deal with that. That is why I have him. I refuse to be burdened with such dull matters while we prepare for something far more enjoyable.”

You chuckled. “And what of Tyland? Where is he now?”

Jason let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing his thumb against your lower back. “Drowning in paperwork, no doubt. I gave him full control over the more mind-numbing aspects of our journey—permits, chartering the ships, ensuring we have the necessary documentation to avoid Essosi tariffs. All quite dreadful.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “And you do not think he resents you for it?”

Jason grinned, unapologetic. “Of course he does. But that is what makes us a perfect pair—he does what I refuse to do, and I make sure he never forgets how much he enjoys it.”

A shout from below momentarily stole Jason’s attention.

The servants, having struggled beneath their burden, had finally lost their grip on one of the chests—its heavy lid bursting open upon impact, revealing an obscene collection of silken robes, perfumes, and gold-threaded garments spilling onto the stone.

Jason let out a mock gasp. “My robes! My beloved finery!”

The servants frantically scrambled to gather the items, their panic evident.

Jason sighed, shaking his head as if they had personally offended him. “I do believe we must bring along additional help. If they cannot even carry a chest without collapsing, how will they handle the pressures of the open sea?”

The steward, still desperately trying to maintain order, bowed quickly. “I will see to it, my Lord. At once.”

Jason nodded approvingly, though he was already more focused on you than anything else.

His fingers traced slow, idle circles against your waist, his lips finding the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Tell me, my love, are you looking forward to this voyage as much as I am? To the nights at sea, the taste of wine on our lips, the rocking of the ship beneath us?”

You hummed, turning slightly to face him fully. “I imagine I will enjoy it more than the poor servants you’ve condemned to carry your excesses.”

Jason laughed, deep and unrepentant. “Oh, my dear, they should be honored. They serve a union that will be remembered in legend.”

Tyland, having finally returned from his administrative duties, entered just in time to hear Jason’s last remark.

His brow arched as he took in the scene—servants in disarray, Jason draped over you in his usual possessive manner, and you looking entirely too amused. “I take it everything is going according to plan?”

Jason grinned, entirely too pleased with himself. “Better than that, brother. We are on the precipice of something marvelous.”

Tyland sighed, exasperated but unsurprised. “Then I assume all that is left is for me to ensure we actually depart without the Rock collapsing in our absence.”

Jason smirked. “See, my love? This is why I keep him.”

Tyland shook his head but said nothing.

You simply smiled, watching as the final chaos unfolded before you, knowing that soon, Casterly Rock would be behind you, and a new adventure awaited.

The salt-heavy winds of Lannisport curled through the air, tugging at the banners that lined the docks, the lions of House Lannister rippling like fire against the sky. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting amber hues across the sea, turning the rolling waves into a shimmering field of gold and copper. The ships that had been prepared for the voyage stood tall, their sails taut against the rising breeze, the sigils of House Lannister and House Targaryen displayed side by side upon the mast.

The port was a frenzy of movement, with sailors securing the last of the cargo, ropes being pulled taut, and servants hurrying back and forth with final provisions. The hum of anticipation vibrated through the crowd, nobles and commonfolk alike having gathered to witness the departure of the newly wed rulers.

But above them all, above the clamor of the city, there was a shadow that never ceased moving.

Haelle.

Your dragon soared in wide, agitated circles above the docks, her massive form cutting against the sky like a blade of shadow and gold. The great beast did not like ships, did not like the sea, did not like anything that smelled of water and salt. She would fly ahead, of course, to claim her own space, but her agitation was evident.

Jason, standing beside you, smirked up at her with amusement. “I must say, she looks positively murderous.”

Tyland, ever more composed, focused his gaze, flickering between you and your dragon with something more akin to patience than anything else. “I suspect she’ll make peace with it once we’re far enough from land.”

Jason laughed, adjusting the cuffs of his fine tunic. “Unlike the rest of us, you mean? Because I, dear brother, have no intention of making peace with being surrounded by endless water.”

You sighed, your silver hair catching in the wind as you turned away from them, your gaze settling upon the one figure who had remained motionless amidst all the movement.

Daemon.

Your father stood near the edge of the docks, his dark cloak whipping behind him, his hands clasped behind his back, his dark violet gaze trained on the ship that would soon carry you away. He had said little since arriving, though that was hardly unusual.

But this was different. Even without words, you knew what this moment meant.

Your steps were slow, deliberate, as you closed the distance between you, coming to stand before him, the sea rolling gently behind him, the wind catching in his silver hair.

For a moment, Daemon said nothing.

Then, finally—he exhaled.

His sharp eyes, so much like your own, flickered down to meet your gaze. “Are you ready?”

The question was not a simple one. It was not about the voyage. Not truly. It was about everything.

The choice. The union. The path you had chosen, the chaos it had birthed, the enemies it had stirred from their long-dormant slumber.

And yet—your answer was clear.

You lifted your chin, your voice steady. “Of course.”

Daemon huffed a quiet breath, something between amusement and resignation. His hands, scarred from years of war, years of wielding Dark Sister, years of ruling over the Stepstones in blood, reached for your shoulders, his grip firm, grounding. “Then go. And do not look back.”

You hesitated, just briefly, before tilting your head slightly. “Will you join us? Soon?”

Daemon’s lips curled into something like a smirk, though there was no true amusement in it. “Not yet.”

He released you, his gaze flickering toward the waves for a moment before returning to you. “Viserys needs me in King’s Landing. With you off across the sea, I suspect the Faith and the Hightowers will try to rip the throne apart while he is too weak to stop them. Someone has to remain behind to ensure they don’t succeed.”

You studied him, the way his words were harsh, but his eyes softer.

You nodded, slowly. “Then I will see you when the tides change.”

Daemon smirked again, but this time, it felt more like a promise than a dismissal. “Perhaps.”

Jason, having grown impatient, finally strode forward, his boots clanking against the wooden docks as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him with that same easy arrogance that had defined him since the day you met. “Father-in-law, I would say I’ll miss you, but I fear I’ll be far too preoccupied with my wife to think of much else.”

Daemon’s expression did not change. “Let’s hope your preoccupations don’t get you killed.”

Jason laughed, utterly unbothered.

Tyland, ever the diplomat, bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. “We will send word as soon as we arrive.”

Daemon barely nodded.

Then—without another word, he stepped back, turning away, already walking toward his own waiting ship.

The farewell had been brief. But that was how Daemon had always been.

No sentimentality. No unnecessary parting words. Only purpose.

Jason let out a breath, watching as Daemon’s cloak billowed behind him. “Gods, he really is dramatic.”

You smirked. “It runs in the family.”

Jason grinned, pressing a quick, teasing kiss against your temple as he led you toward the ship.

Tyland, ever composed, was the last to board, his gaze lingering on the docks for just a moment longer before he stepped onto the deck.

The moment the gangplank was raised, the sails unfurled, and the ropes released, the ship began to glide forward, cutting through the waves, carrying you away from Westeros, away from Lannisport, away from the familiar.

Haelle, still circling above, let out a piercing shriek before banking hard to the east, flying ahead toward the unknown.

The wind tugged at your hair, the salt settling on your skin, the sea stretching endlessly before you.

And behind you—Daemon stood alone on the docks, watching as the sails faded into the horizon.

The ship swayed with the slow rhythm of the open water, the deep blue of the Narrow Sea stretching infinitely in every direction, the horizon an endless meeting of sky and waves. The winds had been kind thus far, carrying them swiftly away from Westeros, away from the stone and gold of Casterly Rock, away from the weight of crowns and expectations.

It had been weeks at sea now, and the once-thrumming energy of departure had softened into routine. The crew moved about their duties with practiced ease, the crash of waves against the hull a constant backdrop to life aboard the ship. The salt air clung to everything, sinking into clothes, hair, and skin alike, though none of it particularly bothered you.

Not when Jason and Tyland had found far more pleasurable ways to pass the time.

The cabin that had been prepared for you was vast by any sailor’s standard, far more lavish than any ordinary lord or lady would be granted aboard a ship. The walls were lined with polished mahogany, the furniture carved and adorned with Lannister gold. A large four-poster bed dominated the space, draped in deep red silks, its presence wholly unnecessary, yet utterly fitting for the three of you.

And now—Jason, Tyland, and you lounged there in the midday sun, basking in the slow lull of the ship, utterly unbothered.

Jason was stretched across the bed, his bare chest gleaming in the candlelight, a goblet of wine in one hand, the other lazily trailing along your thigh, utterly at ease. His hair was slightly damp from the earlier heat, tousled and wild, his usual smirk tugging at his lips as he idly toyed with you.

Tyland, ever more composed, sat beside you both, his expression unreadable as he reviewed a parchment he had retrieved from the captain earlier that morning.

Jason tilted his head slightly, watching his twin with amusement. “Gods, Tyland, even at sea, you insist on playing the part of the dutiful lord.”

Tyland did not immediately respond, his green eyes flicking over the document before he set it aside. “Unlike you, Jason, I do not take pleasure in knowing that Westeros is likely burning in our absence.”

Jason laughed, full-bodied and rich, utterly unrepentant. “Oh, come now, brother. You must admit, it’s rather poetic, isn’t it? We wed the Rogue Prince’s daughter, we humiliate the Faith, we defy every expectation—and then, before the dust even settles, we sail away, leaving them all to wallow in their own misery.”

You huffed, shifting slightly beneath him, his touch never faltering as his fingers skimmed against your bare skin, absent yet possessive. “You speak as if we did not set that fire ourselves.”

Jason grinned. “Oh, we did. And I do not regret it for a moment.” He lifted his goblet, swirling the deep red liquid before taking a slow sip. “Think of it, my love—by now, the Hightowers are scrambling to regain what little control they had. The Faith is no doubt wailing to the heavens, calling us an abomination. And dear Viserys—” he laughed, shaking his head, “I imagine my father-in-law is the only thing keeping him from keeling over entirely.”

Tyland sighed, setting the parchment aside and leaning back against the headboard. “You take too much joy in this.”

Jason smirked, his fingers tightening slightly against your thigh, his voice dropping into something lower, richer. “And you take too little.”

Tyland’s brow arched slightly, his expression unreadable. “And when we return? What then? Do you truly believe the realm will simply accept this?”

Jason shrugged, utterly unbothered. “What choice do they have? We will return with even more power than before, our union solidified, our claim undeniable. By then, the realm will have no choice but to bow.”

You tilted your head, watching Jason with quiet amusement. “And if they do not?”

Jason grinned, sharp and wicked. “Then we make them.”

Tyland exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. “It is exhausting being your brother.”

Jason laughed again, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your jaw. “And yet, you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Tyland, after a moment, merely sighed. “Unfortunately.”

You smirked, letting your fingers trail against Jason’s chest, watching as his amusement deepened.

The ship continued its steady course, carrying you all further away from Westeros, further into the unknown.

But in this moment, wrapped in gold and fire, surrounded by nothing but the open sea—none of it mattered.

The air was thick with salt, the steady lull of the sea a never-ending rhythm beneath your feet, the ship cutting through the endless blue with unwavering purpose. The wind whispered against your skin, teasing strands of silver hair free from their bindings, catching against the open collar of your gown, its edges billowing slightly against your thighs.

And Jason—Jason was behind you.

His hands were firm on your waist, his breath hot against your ear, his body a solid, unyielding presence pressed against yours as he pinned you against the railing of the ship.

His fingers dug into the curve of your hip, possessive, indulgent, the weight of him pressing you against the wooden banister as his lips found the hollow of your throat, his pace steady, deliberate, knowing.

You could feel the grin against your skin, the satisfaction in every movement, in the way he filled you, in the way he relished in the gasp that left your lips as he rolled his hips deeper. “Gods, my love, do you feel that? The open air, the taste of salt on your lips? I do believe this is my new favorite way to pass the time.”

You exhaled sharply, gripping the smooth, weather-worn railing, your fingers curling against the wood as his pace quickened, hard and consuming.

Jason’s laugh was low, dark, and filled with utter delight. “No escape now, sweet one. Not when there is nothing but the endless sea before you.”

You opened your mouth to retort—only for Jason’s next movement to steal your breath, leaving you trembling beneath him.

His fingers trailed down your thigh, teasing, taunting, reveling in the way your body responded to him so effortlessly.

“Beautiful,” Jason murmured against your ear, his teeth grazing the delicate skin of your neck. “Like a goddess carved from fire and fury. No man could stand against you. No man but me.”

A gasp left your lips, your body trembling as his rhythm turned harder, faster, more demanding.

Jason grinned, pleased.

And then—a sudden noise.

A startled yelp.

And suddenly—a blur of motion at the edge of your vision.

Jason stilled just slightly, his body still pressed against yours, his hands still firm on your waist.

You turned your head just enough to see it.

One of the sailors, wide-eyed and utterly horrified, stood a few feet away, clearly having stumbled upon something he had no business seeing.

The poor fool froze in place, mouth agape, his body caught somewhere between panic and utter disbelief.

Jason’s grin widened into something utterly wicked.

The sailor—pale and visibly trembling—took a single step back.

And that was his undoing.

His heel caught against the coiled rope near the mast, sending him flailing backward with a sharp, startled cry.

And then—he was gone.

The splash echoed against the hull, the water swallowing him whole in an instant.

Jason laughed—loud, unrestrained, utterly delighted. “Oh, that is spectacular. Gods, I think I love this voyage.”

You sighed, still pinned against the railing, your breath coming in shallow pants, your body still trembling from the sudden interruption. “Jason—”

Jason huffed, shaking his head, smirking as he finally—finally—released you, though he made no move to pull away entirely.

“Oh, don’t worry, my love. The sea is vast, but not cruel. He will either find his way back or he will not. Either way, what a sight.”

Tyland’s voice, dry and unimpressed, rang from behind you. “Jason.”

Jason tilted his head back just enough to glance over his shoulder, utterly unbothered.

Tyland, who had clearly arrived just in time to witness the entire debacle, sighed. “Would it kill you to take anything seriously?”

Jason grinned, placing a slow, deliberate kiss against the back of your neck. “Why would I ever do that? The gods have gifted me with endless entertainment, and I mean to enjoy it.”

Tyland, ever the rational one, pinched the bridge of his nose before exhaling.

Then a sudden gust of wind, a massive shadow passing over the deck.

You glanced up just as Haelle’s wings stretched wide overhead, her massive body dipping low over the ship.

She let go.

The sailor, drenched and visibly in shock, fell from the sky, landing unceremoniously onto the wooden deck with a wet thud, coughing up seawater.

The crew gasped.

Haelle, clearly unimpressed with this entire ordeal, let out a loud, irritated snort before banking hard, returning to her place in the sky.

Jason let out a delighted chuckle, watching as the poor man tried to regain his bearings. “See? The sea is kind. Or rather, our wife’s dragon is.”

Tyland sighed again, long-suffering.

The sailor, still sputtering, stared up at Jason with sheer horror.

Jason offered him a wide, utterly pleased grin. “Might I suggest keeping your eyes on your duties rather than on my wife? It will save you the trouble of nearly drowning again.”

The sailor did not answer.

He simply scrambled to his feet, still dripping, and hurried away from the scene as quickly as possible.

Jason shook his head in amusement, his hands returning to your waist, his fingers teasing against your skin. “Now, my love, where were we?”

Tyland, expression unreadable, turned on his heel and walked away.

You sighed, but could not help the smirk that tugged at your lips.

This voyage would be the death of someone.

Whether it be Jason, the crew, or your patience—only time would tell.

The Narrow Sea stretched still endlessly before you, its deep blue waters rolling with a quiet, almost eerie calm. The sky was clear, the wind steady, and for the first time since your departure from Westeros, there was no storm of politics, no roars of dragons, no cries of alarm—just the steady rhythm of the waves, the creak of the ship, and the occasional cry of seabirds that ventured too far from shore.

It was almost peaceful.

Which meant, of course—something was bound to happen.

The theme of this journey had been chaos, indulgence, and spectacle, and today would prove no different.

Jason was lounging at the stern of the ship, his hair wind-tousled, his tunic only half-laced, his usual smirk present as he tossed a dagger idly between his hands, clearly bored.

Tyland, having grown tired of Jason’s antics, had buried himself in yet another stack of parchments inside their quarters, leaving you with your more restless husband, who was a man in need of constant entertainment.

You stood beside him, leaning against the railing, watching the vast emptiness of the sea, your fingers absently tracing patterns into the polished wood.

Jason let out a dramatic sigh, stretching out like a lion lazing beneath the sun. “Tell me, my love, do you think we are cursed to an existence of monotony now?”

You arched a brow, glancing at him. “After everything that has occurred on this voyage? You call this monotony?”

Jason huffed, tossing the dagger into the air once more before catching it effortlessly. “The last excitement involved a sailor nearly drowning because he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. And while that was entertaining, I find myself growing restless.”

You smirked. “Would you rather another storm? A kraken? Perhaps a mutiny?”

Jason grinned, his green eyes gleaming. “Oh, a kraken would be wonderful. Do you suppose Haelle would enjoy such a challenge?”

Before you could retort, a sudden cry rang out from the crow’s nest above. “Something in the water! To the port side!”

Immediately, the deck came alive, sailors scrambling to peer over the edge, murmurs of confusion rising among the crew.

You and Jason exchanged glances before moving toward the railing, peering down at the deep blue depths below.

Soon—you saw it. The water was not empty.

A dark shape—large, shifting, unnatural—moved beneath the waves, its form just barely visible beneath the sunlit surface.

Jason let out a low whistle, leaning further over the railing. “Well, well, what have we here?”

The crew began to murmur, some stepping back, muttering prayers to the gods, others gripping weapons they knew would be useless against whatever lurked below.

It moved abruptly.

The thing beneath the water was fast, far faster than anything natural, its shadow shifting and growing, moving alongside the ship in long, unbroken streaks.

A few of the men let out shouts of alarm, others gripped the ropes of the mast as though bracing for something.

A massive tail, sleek and ridged like the spine of some forgotten beast, broke the surface of the water for just a moment before vanishing again.

Jason grinned, utterly delighted. “Oh, now that is something.”

The crew, however, was not amused.

“A sea serpent,” one of the older sailors muttered, his face pale. “A beast of the deep. We’re doomed.”

Jason laughed, shaking his head. “Doomed? My dear man, we are not doomed. We are blessed with spectacle!”

The sailor did not look convinced.

Tyland, having finally been drawn from his quiet administrative duties, emerged onto the deck, taking one look at the gathered men, then at you and Jason, before sighing. “Why is there shouting?”

Jason motioned toward the water. “We have a guest.”

Tyland followed his gaze—and for the first time in a very long time, his usually unreadable expression faltered. “That… is not normal.”

“No, no it is not, dear brother.”

The water churned, the ship rocking slightly as the dark shape shifted again, circling beneath them.

You felt the wind change, your dragon above letting out a harsh, irritated cry.

Then—a head broke the surface.

It was not like any sea creature you had ever seen before.

Sleek, black, its scales smooth like polished onyx, its long, serpentine form curving as it lifted just enough to break the surface, revealing gleaming, slitted eyes that shimmered with eerie intelligence.

The crew collectively took a step back.

Jason, however, leaned forward, grinning.

“It’s watching us,” he murmured.

And it was.

The beast hovered just beneath the surface, its gaze locked onto the ship, unblinking, unmoving.

And then—it spoke. Not in words. Not in a language of men. But in sound—a deep, guttural clicking, a vibration that rolled through the air like the hum of an ancient force, something older than the sea itself.

The ship shuddered, the waves rippling outward.

Jason exhaled, shaking his head. “Gods, I love the sea.”

Tyland sighed.

You merely smirked.

This voyage, it seemed, would never be quiet.

The beast lingered beneath the waves, its massive, serpentine form gliding just below the surface, its black eyes still locked onto the ship. There was something unnatural about it, something that made even the most seasoned sailors whisper prayers to the gods they barely remembered.

The water around the ship began to shift, the gentle rolling waves turning into something more unpredictable, more restless. The sea was alive with movement, the ship rocking just slightly, enough to unsettle those who did not have Jason’s unwavering arrogance.

Suddenly—Haelle let out a scream.

The sound tore through the sky, sharp, piercing, the kind of cry that made lesser creatures scatter in terror.

A moment later, her massive form blotted out the sun.

The crew stumbled back, some of the men dropping to their knees, others gripping onto the mast for balance as her wings sent powerful gusts through the ship, rattling the rigging, knocking loose barrels across the deck.

Jason, of course, was delighted.

He laughed, loud and full-bodied, gripping the railing to steady himself as he watched your dragon descend. “Oh, now this is a proper spectacle.”

Tyland, ever composed, took one look at the chaos around him, exhaled slowly, and began to brush at the dust that had settled onto his attire. “Of course, it is.”

The crew was not as composed.

One of the younger sailors let out a panicked shout, scrambling back toward the rigging as the shadow of Haelle’s massive wings spread across the deck.

Another stumbled toward the helm, hands gripping the wheel with white-knuckled desperation.

“The ship won’t hold against them both!” one of the men cried. “The gods have cursed us! We will drown!”

Jason rolled his eyes, utterly unbothered. “Oh, stop your wailing. The gods had nothing to do with this. My wife, however, has everything to do with it.”

You tilted your head, watching Haelle with quiet amusement.

Your dragon was not pleased.

Her golden-streaked wings flapped once, twice, sending powerful bursts of wind rolling across the deck, making the wood groan, the ship tilt slightly.

The serpent in the water let out another guttural clicking noise, coiling its long form beneath the ship, its head tilting slightly upward, watching.

Jason grinned, leaning closer, utterly fascinated. “It isn’t running. It’s testing her.”

You nodded. “And it’s going to regret it.”

As if on cue, Haelle dove.

Her wings snapped shut, her body moving like an arrow straight toward the sea, her talons outstretched.

The crew screamed.

Tyland, not even bothering to look up from smoothing out the creases in his tunic, sighed. “Jason, do try not to get knocked overboard. I would rather not fish you out of the water.”

Jason grinned. “Oh, Tyland, what little faith you have in me.”

The impact was violent.

Haelle’s talons struck the water with devastating force, sending a massive wave crashing against the ship, drenching half the deck, sending barrels rolling, knocking one unfortunate sailor flat onto his back.

The serpent recoiled, its sleek black body twisting away, its eyes no longer curious but wary.

Haelle let out another warning shriek, her massive wings spreading again, her body rising into the sky once more.

Jason laughed, utterly enraptured.

The crew, however, was less amused.

“She’s going to sink us!” one of the men cried.

Tyland shook his head, plucking a damp cloth from the table near the cabin doors and methodically dabbing at the bit of seawater that had splashed onto his sleeve. “If we were going to sink, it would have happened already,” he said flatly.

Jason, still grinning, gestured toward the serpent, which had now fully uncoiled itself, turning sharply, disappearing beneath the waves. “See? Even beasts of the deep know when to cut their losses.”

The crew did not seem comforted.

The ship rocked slightly from the aftershock of Haelle’s assault, the last waves rippling outward, fading into the vast sea once more.

Jason sighed, shaking his head in amusement. “Well, my love, I must say, your dragon never fails to make an impression.”

You smirked, watching as Haelle banked upward, circling the ship once before flying ahead, her presence still looming, but now satisfied. “She does not like sharing.”

Jason chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you against him with that same easy arrogance. “Neither do I.”

Tyland, watching the two of you with mild exasperation, finally set down his now-damp cloth, satisfied that he was at least moderately presentable again. “Are we quite done with theatrics for the day? Or should I expect another divine spectacle before nightfall?”

Jason grinned, glancing at you. “What do you think, my love? Shall we find another way to pass the time?”

You smirked, tilting your head slightly. “I suppose we shall see what the sea brings next.”

Jason laughed, delighted.

And the crew—well, they prayed the sea brought nothing at all.

The ship swayed with the steady rhythm of the open sea, the scent of salt and polished wood thick in the air, the sound of waves lapping against the hull a familiar backdrop to the slow passage of time. It had been another week at sea, and while Jason found himself restless, constantly seeking out amusement in the form of indulgence or spectacle, Tyland remained as he always was—focused, composed, and frustratingly diligent.

You found him, as expected, in the small study adjacent to your quarters, seated behind an ornately carved desk, hunched over a spread of parchments. A quill rested between his fingers, poised over the inkpot, his expression unreadable as he scanned over what you could only assume to be trade agreements, ledgers, or some other mind-numbingly dull matter.

Tyland never truly left his duties behind.

Even here, with nothing but the vast sea stretching for miles in every direction, he still found ways to busy himself with the affairs of governance.

You, however, had no intention of allowing that to continue.

The soft click of the door shutting behind you did not pull his gaze away from his work, though you knew he was aware of your presence.

“If you’ve come to scold me for ignoring Jason’s latest antics, I assure you, I am quite content in my ignorance.” His voice was smooth, measured, though there was the faintest trace of amusement beneath it.

You smirked, stepping forward, your fingers trailing lightly along the edge of the desk. “No scolding. Just observation. You have hardly moved from this desk in two days.”

Tyland sighed quietly, setting his quill down, finally glancing up at you. His green eyes flickered with something unreadable, something deeper, but he only exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Someone needs to ensure we do not return to complete financial ruin.”

You arched a brow, leaning closer, resting your hands on the desk as you peered at him. “Tyland. We are on a ship. Sailing across the sea. Do you truly think anyone cares about ledgers and tariffs in this moment?”

He huffed a soft breath, running a hand over his face, tilting his head back slightly. “I care. Because Jason certainly does not.”

You smiled and moved.

With practiced ease, you slipped around the side of the desk, your hands trailing along the polished wood before settling onto the armrests of his chair.

Tyland did not stop you.

He did not even protest when you eased yourself into his lap, your thighs bracketing his, your weight settling against him in a way that made his posture tense—just slightly.

His hands hesitated, hovering just over your waist, as if debating whether to place them there or push you away.

But you knew he would do neither.

Instead, his green eyes locked onto your violet ones, his breath steady but measured, calculating.

“And what exactly do you think you are doing?” His voice was calm, but you could hear the shift beneath it, the careful restraint.

You smirked, tilting your head, your fingers trailing down his chest, slowly, deliberately. “Something far more interesting than paperwork.”

Tyland’s lips twitched, just slightly, though he still tried to feign exasperation. “You do realize these agreements are important? Unlike your other husband, I prefer to ensure our ventures are not solely driven by indulgence and arrogance.”

You hummed, leaning closer, pressing your lips just beneath his jaw, your breath warm against his skin. “And yet, despite all that diligence, you have not stopped me.”

Tyland exhaled slowly, his hands finally settling on your waist, his grip firm, grounding. “You are impossible.”

You grinned, pressing your lips fully against his.

Tyland did not resist.

He kissed you back, slow at first, controlled, his fingers tightening against your hips. But when you shifted against him, rolling your body just enough to elicit a quiet sound from the back of his throat, that control began to waver.

His hands roamed lower, his lips parting against yours, his breath turning deeper, more uneven.

The papers—the ones he had been so meticulously reviewing just moments ago—were forgotten.

With a single, fluid motion, you reached back, shoving them aside, sending loose parchments scattering across the desk.

Tyland let out a sharp breath against your lips, half amusement, half exasperation. “You will be the death of me.”

You smiled. “Lucky you.”

And then—his restraint snapped.

His hands found purchase along your thighs, pulling you flush against him, his lips pressing harder against yours, demanding, hungry.

Your fingers worked at the clasps of his tunic, loosening them, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the fine fabric as you pulled it open, exposing him to your touch.

His own movements were less hurried, more precise, methodical in the way he untied the bindings of your attire, slipping the fabric from your shoulders, baring more of you to the cool sea air that drifted through the open window.

The rhythm of the waves matched the slow, deliberate movements between you, the tension building with every touch, every breath, every whispered sigh.

And when he finally pressed into you, when your bodies finally joined, he let out a low, reverent sound, his grip tightening against your waist as he pulled you down fully against him.

You gasped, your hands bracing against his shoulders, your body arching into his, the sensation sending a shudder through you both.

Tyland’s breath was heavy, uneven, but his pace was steady, controlled, unwavering in its thoroughness.

Unlike Jason, who was wild, untamed, lost in the fever of indulgence—Tyland was precise, deliberate, every movement meant to pull you deeper, to make you feel him completely.

You took what he gave, matched him, reveled in the way his composure began to slip further, his breathing turning rougher, his grip growing more desperate.

The ship swayed, the papers forgotten, the world outside ceasing to exist.

Here—in this moment, it was only you and him.

Only the feeling of his hands on your body, the warmth of his skin, the sound of your shared breaths filling the quiet study.

And when pleasure finally took you both, when your body trembled against his, when his own release followed in a deep, shuddering exhale—he held you there, his arms wrapped firmly around you, grounding you in the aftermath.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then—Tyland sighed. “Jason will be unbearable when he finds out about this.”

You laughed, breathless, pressing a kiss against his temple. “Then let’s not tell him.”

Tyland huffed. But he did not disagree.

[fr0g7yyo]

TELENEO MY BELOVEDS!!!

Ok I’m just a yapper and wanted to talk about them I’ll not lie to myself. (All of what Im about to say is basically the explanation of my last post about them, the meme of Neo getting flushed about holding hands and Tele just chill while thinking the biggest atrocities a human can think of……..)

Ok so we all know Neo went to war and blah blah blah right? Ok

All he ever knew was to take things, conquer them and all of this using his power, his strength, his force. He’s a brute, he’s used to being the one on the top. He always gets what he wants.

Now, this reflects to everything in his life, right? If he wants sexual pleasure he would just “hey, where is one of those captives we got from troy?” Get it?

He was born to go to war, he was teach to kill, to fight, to be a soldier who’ll slay all of his enemies by the sec he saw them. He wasn’t teach how to love.

So, what he’s supposed to do once he finds himself loving someone? Absolutely lost in this new emotion where he doesn’t want to hurt him, where he wants him to want him back. But he doesn’t know how, all he knows is how to hurt people, to take what he wants even if the other person doesn’t want that too.

Now, he is going through all the teaching of how to love and care for the ones that are dear to him, he doesn’t know how to act when he’s with Telemachus, he doesn’t know know what to say, he doesn’t know anything!! So when he’s faced with simple love demonstrations that actually shows how he feels he just go CRAZY!!

Like, who would have thought that holding hands as a way to show that u like to be near the guy u’re in love is such a big demonstration for someone who never actually really wanted to be affectionate to no one before 😃?!

Neo is just a big messy guy who don’t know how to act near his crush so he covers his feelings by acting as he hates everyone and everything.

Basically? This:

Telemachus: *flirts with Neo*

Neoptolemus (on the outside): “acts tough and say something like “you should be careful with who u’re messing with, prince.”

Also Neoptolemus (on the inside): HE JUST FLIRTED WITH MEIAHDKAHDKSDJSJ BYE WAIT CALM THE FUCK DOWN PYRRHUS EVERYTHING IS OK. DOES THIS MEAN I HAVE A CHANCE??? OMFGODS APHRODITE I SWEAR I’LL DO EVERYTHING U WANT IF U MAKE THIS BOY MINE.

He just want to keep his appearance as long as he learns how to love properly<3 He does know how to be such a BEAST in intimacy tho, if Telemachus asks anything he’ll just do it honestly-

Telemachus is just a horny bastard to be honest lmao😭

[weekend-whip]

Ninjago Fic Rec Week: Day 7

Prompts: Gen / Team Fics! (IIIIITS THE GRAND FINALEEEEEE)

lloyd garmadon makes kai smith cry on his birthday- Has been recc'ed a couple times but *I* just read it and now *I* have to rec it too! The brotherly dynamic between the two already has me by the throat, but then both of their perspectives on birthdays just really helps drive the point home!! So pleased to have this fic shown to me!

Aftermaths: Lloyd and Kai post-MotO and oof they both go through it emotionally

Visionary- A fic jam-PACKED with introspective and dynamics with the main six, consisting of Lloyd getting a glimpse of what the other's went through prior to becoming ninja (and other hardships), while the other five use their experiences to help Lloyd move forward with his own troubles. That's...literally the barest I can break this fic down into, but there's soooo many emotions and moments and perspective and AAAAAA

An Endless Light: Made ME weep, man. WEEP I SAY. An immortal Lloyd just loves his family, man. AND GODDD THE ENDINGGGGG

the L-word: FIVE TIMES THE NINJA TELL LLOYD THEY LOVE HIM (and the one time he says it back) THE FOUND FAMILY VIBES ARE STRONG WITH THIS ONE!!! PLATONIC USAGES OF I LOVE YOU *throws flowers petals* LET THE PEOPLE LOVE OUT LOUD!!

The Sun Rises Every Single Night: TIME TRAVEL FIC of Lloyd contending with holy crap how much things have CHANGED but also, despite everything, he is still himself. Kind of a character study, but all entertaining and wholesome ;w;

Time Marches On: A fic that is lamentably not finished, but the chapter that IS there is a wonderful reflection by Wu on how his students have changed (I like time-reflective fics, I suppose) punctuated with a heart-wrenching conversation with Lloyd, which is something I will always love to see~ (but pls if for nothing else the Wu+Lloyd convo is so GOOD *rolls around*)

Thank You, For Giving Me Wings: Or, Five Times the Ninja accidentally called Wu 'Dad' (and the one time one of them didn't on purpose). Oh look, another time-reflective piece about Wu and the Ninja, but this time by me! And could be finished if the Nya chapter didn't give me such a writer's block on how to phrase what I want to saaaay *wails* Anywaaaay, lot of Wu and lots of family emotions and lots of the ninja being vulnerable and soft in their "father's" presence ;w;)/

Some Burn Hot, Some Burn Cold: A story about Lloyd, Elemental Powers, and the effects both those things can have on the ninja's emotions. Everyone's got a role to play in this one, though the parts with Cole and Lloyd hit me the hardest, man. Also may or may not have been my inspiration for Elemental Outbursts ;P

All I Want For Christmas is You: If I had a nickel for every time I recc'ed a Christmas fic in the middle of July, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's (about to) happen twice (aka Lloyd experiences Christmas for the first time and attempts to hide that fact and the ninja simply love him very very very much in the process).

All I'm Asking For- And last but most certainly not least, my other very favorite Ninjago fic ever, the masterpiece that inspired me to get back into writing to begin with ;w;

Kind of a (Christmas-y) AU the diverts from MotO but doesn't necessarily contradict it either, my mere meager description just cannot do it the justice it deserves! Everyone gets some form of closure after all these years of fighting to just be okay, even if for a little while, all sprinkled with marvelous character moments and interactions and holiday shenanigans that are guaranteed to warm your heart at one point or another. A great pick me up to dive back into year round regardless (as I do)

(this fic is technically and obviously about everyone, but the way it starts and ends with Cole's perspective on his team............ *bursts into tears* something about it just feels so perfectly right in a way I still can't manage to explain. But know I hold this fic so very near and dear to my heart and you should too <3)

And that is it! Woot, didn't think I'd make it every day, but turns out I read a lot more than I think! Shoutout to @21st-century-ninja for putting this all together!!

[triglycercule]

thanks to amazing mutual's most recent fic,,,, i've had an epiphany ✨✨✨ i'm a fake mttpoly fan i dont think they'd ever love each other ✨✨ OK WELL MAYBE NOT FAKE i just dont think they'd ever fall in love

maybe its tooootally just me being unaware but i see no way how they could ever come to LOVE eachother. in anyway shape or form. is it too early for me to properly string together my thoughts perhaps but EVEN AFTER YEARS OF BEING TOGETHER i dont see how they could find something to truly LOVE in the other 2. like,,,, killer's got his whole. uhhh. emotionally repressed thing. and dust and horror have their own prejudices against the other 2. even if theyre given time to settle their differences and come to terms (somewhat) with their own issues and the other two's personalities/history that bother them i still just dont think theres any potential for....... love?????? am i understandable

the closest thing i could see is maybe care?? attachment??? maybe these are the same words some would use to describe love itself but in the context of the trio i feel like its different. i cant explain myself that well here but i could see them finding rational reasons to appreciate the others and then eventually that turns into genuine care. but not love,,,,, never love for them,,,,,

[transmechanicus]

Blankie time we share body warmth and the bad dreams bounce back and crash into a wall and die <3

Blankie time💙🖤