#we love dest

[babyjakes]

🚨 WEEWOO

DEEEEST I WAS HOPING YOU'D SHOW UP, take some white button down!andys hehehe 😌💕🫶 idk why but i have soooo many andy pics in the collection, like he might be my most pinned daddy 😌

send me a 🚨 for a chris pic!!

[babyjakes]

oh oh oh evie’s birthday?? 🥺🥺 you know i gotta—

EHEM. *cracks knuckles gets out da catnip*

haaaapppy biiiirthday to youuuuu 🥺🥹🥺🥹

haaaapppy birthday tooo youououuuuu !!! 🤩😍😤

haaaapppyy bioiirthfayyy deeearrrr eeeevvviiiieeeee 😇🫶😇

haaapy biiiirthtjtjthday too youuuouou 😅🤠😎

haaapppy happy birthday sweet evie babie, hope you have the most wonderful birthday ever !!! wow you are six!! getting so big, growing up so fast 🥹 and look at what a nice birthday party dest set up for you!! all your friends here, wishing you happy birthday 🫶 dest please give evie so many scratchies from me!! 🩶

EVERYONE TELL EVIE HAPPY BIRTHDAY 😽🎈

[silverthehedgehogexplained]

Explaining Silver the Hedgehog's Backstory

One of the most confusing subjects in the Sonic fandom is Silver’s backstory, the chronology of Sonic 06 and how it affects the characters. So in this post I’ll go over what we know about Silver’s backstory, its effects on his character, his involvement with Blaze and how the ending of Sonic 06 affects them.

Silver was born 200 years into a devastated future ravaged by the Flames of Disaster Iblis. The sky was always dark and the world was filled with endless wastelands ravaged by constant disasters and hostile Iblis spawn. The people are exhausted and live without hope. Iblis rampages and burns everything in its path. Silver has fought against Iblis for most of his life and tried to find the source of the disaster for just as long but no one could tell him how the world came to ruin.

This backstory informs Silver's character in the following ways:

Silver is a warrior. He is proficient in and enjoys fighting, has very aggressive determined expressions with constant fists and is a noted fighter(Shadow describes him as a fighter in Team Sonic Racing) whose power is respected by Sonic and Shadow. Silver is extremely powerful and capable of defeating small armies of enemies and giant monsters by himself. This stems from his apocalyptic background in the hostile future filled with Iblis minions and disasters such as flame tornadoes that he had to battle constantly. When you surprise him in Generations he is instantly ready to fight and angrily looks around, he comes from a world where all manner of Iblis spawn could attack at any given moment. It is explained in Silver's introduction story on Sonic Channel that Silver fought and struggled for half his lifetime, indicating that Silver fought against Iblis and its forces from a very early age.

Silver is naive, he has a black and white perspective and tackles things bluntly. He expects people to believe and cooperate with him when he says he’s from the future or explains outlandish things about his mission. He is earnest, he has no filter and acts unrefined when talking to people(which in Japanese is signified by his use of the informal "Ore" and "Anta" to address himself and others when he speaks). He sometimes takes things literally, misinterprets things or doesn't get jokes. He can also be unfamiliar with things in Sonic's time period. We don't know how people lived in the apocalyptic future or what they did and didn't have access to but it seems to be very rudimentary, destitute and even militarized as one of the glimpses into Silver's future from Sonic Pict shows him eating calorie bar rations that are described as apple flavored. Related to the above, Silver likely spent the majority of his time fighting.

Silver is also very pragmatic. He has a straight to the point mindset and hates distractions, frivolous details or just things getting in his way. As a survivor there is no room for pointless things for him.

On the flip side of that however, Silver is also wide-eyed. He loves challenges and experiencing fun new things he never had access to and is said to engage in cheerful activities following the historical change of 06.

Silver is incredibly optimistic and hopeful. He was able to fight through the hopeless ruined future world because he had the hope for a blue sky and the determination to keep fighting when everyone else had given into despair.

Most importantly of all however is Silver's deep love and drive for peace and prosperity. Silver is a very empathetic person that cares deeply for the state of the world and people around him. Note the beginning of his story in 06 where he expresses outrage at the state of his future with dark skies, endless wastelands and people that live in despair then contrast that with his later dialogue throughout the series where he expresses love for blue skies, beautiful vistas or just places where people live happily. Something as simple as a desert is beautiful to him simply because there is no destruction and the people are happy. Silver particularly loves and desires to protect smiles and blue skies because he came from a world that is stated to be filled with darkness and despair according to Sonic Team's Sonic Channel stories. Silver fights for peace and prosperity for the world and its people because he has experienced quite literal hellish suffering and devastation.

I also want to emphasize that Blaze isn't part of Silver's backstory and he didn't have her in his life in the apocalyptic future. Sonic Team head Takashi Iizuka confirmed that Silver and Eggman Nega originate from the future while Blaze originates from her dimension and writer Ian Flynn has confirmed that Sonic Rush takes place before Sonic 06 with these answers on his podcast.

"I can't get too much into it because this is kind of internal stuff that has not been clarified publicly but Sonic Rush comes first, the Blaze of 06 is the Blaze of Rush and she doesn't die, she turns into Burning Blaze and warps back to her own dimension and forgets the events of 06."

"I don't know how much I can get into it without being given the official go-ahead, but Blaze is not from Silver's post-apocalyptic future. She is from her own dimension and it's extremely nuancey, but she doesn't really see or interact with Sonic until like the very very end of Silver's campaign. It's...an incredibly narrow loophole but she doesn't necessarily know that it's Sonic they're after. Again I'm sure someone can tear that apart very easily but suffice to say, I believe the intention is that she doesn't know that Silver is targeting Sonic specifically and she has no interaction with him or really anybody else in the main cast for that reason."

Meaning that Silver and Blaze only met shortly before the events of 06 and Silver faced the ruined future on his own before that point.

Things are gonna get a bit complicated here but Blaze only temporarily appearing in the future before being ripped away from Silver actually ties into their Tanabata parallel. In the story of Tanabata, Orihime(the princess) only descends to the world of Hikoboshi(the cow herder) for a short while before they are separated for neglecting their duties. At the end of Silver's story, Silver neglects his duty by refusing to seal Blaze away and so they are separated, only to ever meet again when crossing paths in Sonic's world.

When arriving in Wave Ocean, Blaze notes the world of the past. This is because Blaze seems to actually have amnesia.

According to Ian Flynn, the reason why Blaze was kept away from the cast besides Silver in 06 is as a narrow loophole to keep her from realizing it was Sonic they were after. In a 2012 Q&A for the Sonic Boom convention, Sonic Team Creative Officer Takashi Iizuka stated that the characters in 06 had amnesia and at the end of the Metal Virus arc in IDW we learn that rough inter-dimensional travel can cause amnesia which happens to Sonic when he crashes into Blaze's dimension. Blaze then reawakens Sonic's memories by reminding him of his super form, something that Blaze was kept from in 06.

What happens with Blaze in 06 as I understand it is that at some point prior to the events of the game Blaze was transported to the future where she developed amnesia upon arrival before joining Silver in his war against Iblis. They are deceived by Mephiles into trying to assassinate Sonic before Silver learns the truth and returns to the future to seal Iblis away, he is unable to do so however due to not being a compatible vessel and Blaze seals Iblis and herself away instead. Following the defeat of Solaris and the subsequent historical change, Blaze warps back to her Dimension and forgets the events of 06(according to Ian Flynn).

Silver also warps back to the future and forgets the events of 06 but not his apocalyptic life under the devastation of Iblis, only the events of 06 itself and his original partnership with Blaze which was clarified in his Fast Friends Forever profile that states he can't remember how his future was restored(as in the events of 06). 

So yes, the ending of Sonic 06 doesn't change Silver or Blaze's backstories. Silver is still the apocalyptic warrior from Sonic 06 and Blaze is still the imperial princess from Sonic Rush before and after the events of 06.

The endings of both Silver’s Story and the Last Story of 06 tie into the game’s themes of duty, sacrifice and exchange.

“Do we have to sacrifice something in order to gain something?”

To gain something you have to lose something, to become a hero you must be willing to make sacrifices. Blaze sacrifices herself to save the future and in exchange for the peaceful happy future he always wanted, Silver, alongside everyone else, loses their memories of the events of 06.

But Silver's duty doesn't end there. He continues to protect the peace of the future as new disasters and changes in the timeline occur, and just like with Iblis, Silver will continue fighting them for a peaceful world.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi, i hope you don't get asked this too much, but could you recommend some established relationship fics? canon or au is fine, but not kid fic, if that's possible. Thank you.

Hey. We have an #established relationship tag you can check out. Here are some more to add to the collection...

Where the Cliffs Meet the Sky by springofviolets (M)

Crowley plans a meaningful, romantic anniversary trip to celebrate 1 year of being openly in a relationship with Aziraphale, but things keep going wrong! How will our hero cope? A South Downs Cottage origins story.

One Hundred Days by Lady of Prompts (G)

They should have discussed it more. Wasn’t that what humans did? Spend weeks and months talking about what sort of home they want, what sort of life, dreaming of what moving in together will be like. Making sure their dreams matched up, their expectations. They didn’t buy cottages – in the middle of a forest, no less, half a mile from the nearest village – without considering questions of…of hobbies, and use of space and…and living arrangements. They certainly didn’t take such a step without…defining their relationships. -- Aziraphale only begins to consider the implications of *moving in together* after they've already done it.

Hozier Missed A Trick When He Called It 'Real People' Instead Of 'Joe Bloggs Snogs' by indieninja92 (E)

Months after Armageddoff, Crowley and Aziraphale enjoy a cosy night in. A brief moment of anxiety about a completely invented turn of events sends them off on a rambly, giggling conversation that asks, if they were human, what kinds of humans would they be? Very silly ones, it's safe to say.

Five Times They Weren't Very Sexy and One Time They Aced It by ZehWulf (E)

“Have you ever wondered what it feels like?” Crowley asks while contemplating the dregs at the bottom of his wine glass. He’s aiming for philosophical but fears the faint wheeze at the end of the question might have given him away. “Have I ever wondered what ‘what’ feels like,” Aziraphale asks finally. “Sex,” he says, much louder than intended or reasonable. They both wince.  “Oh, have you never…?” Aziraphale asks with polite disbelief. “You have?” Crowley demands. Look, when you're largely inexperienced sex-favorable asexual ineffables, it takes a bit of practice, a lot of communication, and some bull-headed persistence to get your sex life in commendable working order. Or, five times things got (hilariously) awkward during sex, and one time after they've got it mostly figured out. A companion fic to "Scratching That Itch." (Sex acts, such as they are, tagged per chapter in chapter notes!)

a moment's silence by viperinz (T)

Crowley rubs a hand down his face, sighing. “Then you know that you shouldn’t have done that.” “It was the only choice I had. If you got smitten—” Aziraphale swallows, feeling his back throb in pain. “You would have died right where you stood. I could not allow that.” Crowley’s mouth turns into a thin line, his fury radiating through the room. “So, what? It was better if it was you rather than me that took the hit?” “Yes!” Aziraphale exclaims, sitting up in bed. He winces as his back protests the movement, but he needs Crowley to understand. “You deserve better than what I was able to ever give you, and you need to help Muriel and the Messiah. If I ceased to exist, nothing would change the outcome of stopping all of this.” “No, you don’t get to say that.” Crowley walks up to the bed. “If you think I’ll ever stand to lose you again, then you’re bloody wrong. The outcome would be different because I wouldn’t have you, you daft thing.” After everything is said and done, Aziraphale has to learn to adjust to life on Earth after seven years of being in Heaven. Luckily, Crowley is there to help him heal, and to give him the love that he feels he's lost.

we shall have the world forever for our own by quitequaintrelle (M)

Your new beginning starts here! Lying wholly within the South Downs National Park, the village of Wood’s Bottom is your destination for an idyllic retirement. This quaint hamlet is a short five miles away from the seaside resort of Brighton, with its vibrant array of shopping, culture, and leisure attractions. Boasting stunning landscape views, entirely average weather conditions, welcoming neighbours, and intimate rural charm, Wood’s Bottom is your opportunity to live the exceptionally normal and relaxing lifestyle you’ve always dreamed of. Aziraphale and Crowley have finally found their forever home after successfully ensuring there is still a “forever” to share. Surely they will integrate perfectly well amongst their new neighbours. Surely.

- Mod D

[volturissideslut]

Can you do one with george weasley based on But Daddy I love him by Taylor swift

𝕲𝖊𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊 𝖂𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖑𝖊𝖞

George and ced are two of my fav boys

"Now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned"

Literally. Georges hand clasps at yours desperately as you two bolt down the hallways in fits of giggles. Your faces flush red as you finally make it to his dorm successfully - at least you thought so. Little did you know that professor Snape was well and truly ticked, fed up, and ready to end your antics. He sat at his dest with quil in hand writing a letter home. You and George just lie there in his bed, chattering away, and him roping you into his next silly little scheme

"Screaming "But Daddy I love him!""

Your fathers' response letter didn't tak lone to reach you at all, absolutely at his wit's end, and adamant you leave George in the past and 'grow up'. Back and forth back and forth your letter went, telling him you love George and can't leave him. Ever so the traditionalist, he demands you marry wealth and should look for a partner with better prospects - someone suited for the ministry perhaps. George kisses the back of your neck and you put the letter down.

"I'm having his baby"

But it's summer break now so your forced to go home. Your last year is done and so you don't have the safety of the walls of Hogwarts to protect that spark we call love anymore. You're isolated from George really, ntil one day you blurt out your pregnany. Then your father's song and dance changed, saying you must marry George this instant and not have a baby out of wedlock. You finally see George, but the visit to the burrow is an awkward one with Molly staring at you how she is. Your man just takes you into his arms, glad your back.

"No, I'm not, but you should see your faces"

Georges family are the only people you tell that it was a lie for your freedom, and most of them are relieved, yes. But it ignites something within George, a want he never knew he had, to have you in his own home for him to look after. His business is going well, children loving 'Weasleys Wizard Wheezes', and he uses the money to get you a quaint little flat in London. You help out at the shop sometimes, interviewing for jobs you studied for other times, but little do you know the world grows suspicious.

"I'm telling him to floor it through the fences"

It's not long until your family and the rest of the world found out you told a lie, but with the pre-paid for wedding in a week you were holding out hope that things could still go smoothly. Not so much the case, as your father's and families' recent appearances would suggest. George reaches for a knife from the draw to cut a carrot, the both of you working on dinner together. It's a peaceful bliss, spending time with the one you love. Little chatter fills the air, from him still flirting with you to the both of you testing out awful pick up lines and jokes. He breaks the peace, only for a moment, and asks 'what if we eloped?'

"No, I'm not coming to my senses"

You put down the wooden spoon, and nod with a gentle 'okay'. Words fail you at the moment so you settle for lunging forward into his embrace. Georges arm's wrap around you and pull you tight.

"I know he's crazy but he's the one I want"

First thing in the morning he puts on his suit, and watches longingly as you get all dolled up for him in the mirror. You two get there before it even opens, and by 9:25 on the 18th on March you're legally married. And sure, you'd still have your celebration or 'proper wedding' in a weeks time, but now you were safe to call him yours forever, and nobody could get between that, not a soul. You have a few drinks, and yes it's the morning but you just married so who cares! It's time to celebrate. But them you're right back at home, in your little London flat, George above you and kissing down the nape of your neck. "You ready for some fun, Mrs. Weasley?"

[giggly-squiggily]

Freckle-Dusted Daffodils (Jujitsu Kaisen)**Tickletober2024**

Y'all know I had to write for the girlfriends. Like- it's the law. Anywho- happy Tickletober! :D Today I bring you some NoMaki (Makibara?) cause dang it they're cute and I love them!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @rachi-roo @mystwrites @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart @riisada @sp1racle @happy-trenchcoated-impala @r-ne_lovesu

Maki wasn’t the type to sleep in. Not usually anyway.

She was fairly consistent with her morning workouts- making it a point to get up extra early and hit the fields with her various cursed weapons; coming home around brunch hour with treats for her and Nobara to share. Some days however- she just let herself relax.

Today was one of those mornings.

Nobara let out a near mute sigh of content as she laid her head against Maki’s chest, relishing this rare day off from their usual routine. The room was the perfect temperature of cool but not too cold- the sky outside was cloudy and threatening to rain at any moment. Maki’s heartbeat was white noise; a soothing rhythm that pulled her towards sleep the longer she listened to it.

She didn’t want to sleep though. It was a rare sight, Maki at peace like this. She wanted to drink it in for as long as possible.

Leaning into the pillow, Nobara took in her face, from her long lashes to the way her hair fell against her scarred and freckled shoulders. Maki always had her skin covered- she never knew about them until now. The brunette took one last peek at her girlfriend’s face before reaching out, barely tracing the pattern of brown spots with her nails.

A twitch, a squirm. Nobara felt her lips curl into a grinch like smile.

Oh?

She did it again, just barely touching her as she traced the freckles dusting her scarred skin, feeling her girlfriend stiffen some in her sleep. Despite this, she didn’t look mad or unhappy- the slightest of frowns and Nobara would back off. Instead, she seemed even more relaxed than before.

“What do we have here?” Nobara barely spoke over a breath, biting down giggles as she carried on walking her feathery fingers down the freckled skin of Maki’s arm, tracing constellations against the warm surface. The entire time, Maki remained asleep- only occasionally reacting whenever Nobara got close to her armpits of the skin not covered by her tank top. It was such a warming sight, seeing her so peaceful, and knowing Nobara’s actions- admittedly backed by mischief- were a part of it made the smaller girl happy.

She ran her fingers back to the skin on Maki’s shoulder, debating whether she’d go for her neck or not. It’d end the game, but she just might have an advantage. She was about to do so when-

A hand caught hers, golden eyes opening and staring down her wide brown ones. “Oh, hey honey. Good morning.” Nobara smiled, hoping she didn’t look like a field mouse to Maki’s lioness glare. “You erm- sleep well?”

“....You know, I did.” Maki admitted, making Nobara relax. “I had a dream that I was in a field, and no matter how many times I swatted it away, this daffodil kept tickling me.” Oh no! Nobara tried not to laugh as she was suddenly pulled closer, Maki’s dangerous form looming over her. “So I decided when I woke up, I’m gonna pluck it out of the ground and tickle it. What do you think?”

“Well…erm, can the daffodil make a request?” Nobara squeaked out, giggling more when Maki quirked an eyebrow. “Cahan she have breakfast first?”

The green haired warrior blinked. Then she laughed, the sound low and raspy and doing funny things to Nobara’s insides. “Later.”

“Wait-wai-ahhahahahahhahahahahait!” Nobara let out a shriek as her sides were grabbed, Maki’s fingers flying up and down with merciless intent. “Mahahhahaki! Mahahhahhaki babahhahahahbe pleahhahahahshe-gehahhahahahah!”

“What’s wrong, daffodil? Not happy with the consequences of your actions?” Maki cooed at her, voice sweet compared to the destruction her fingers were bringing upon Nobara’s nerve endings. “Did you not think this through? Or are you just realizing this is what you wanted all along?” She kneaded along the terrible spot against Nobara’s  hip, making her shriek so loudly they were sure somebody would complain. “Admit you wanted this all along and I’ll stop.”

“THAHHAHAT’S NOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHAHIR! AHEHAHAHAHAH MAHAHHHAKI!” The brunette cried, cheeks burning and eyes blurred with mirthful tears. She didn’t have the strength to push her away, so she opted to let her hands kinda flail, slapping at the sheeted bed and pulling at loose strands of Maki’s hair. “OHOHOKAY OOHOHOKAY FIIHIHINE! THIHIHIS IS WHAHAHT I WAHHAHHANTED NOW STAHAHHAP!”

Maki hummed in thought, moving her fingers to Nobara’s belly as she pretended to think about it. The brunette’s screeches died down to relentless giggling, her hands coming up to grab onto Maki’s. “Well…okay. I guess I can forgive you this time.” She finally stopped for good, letting Nobara breathe. “Do that again however and I’ll really make you regret it.”

“Schahahhary.” Nobara giggled out, squeaking when her hips got pinched. Before she could protest, Maki was kissing her, switching gears in her brain and making her melt. When they pulled back, she let out a happy sigh, reaching up and brushing her bangs back from her forehead. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too, you dork.” Maki kissed her again before rolling off her, going towards the bathroom. “Hurry up and get dressed- I promised a daffodil breakfast.”

“Aww, but I just got comfy!” Nobara whined some from her sheets, curling up more with a small pout. “Can I have you for breakfast instead?”

Maki paused, turning back with a raised brow. Nobara let out a witchy cackle before hiding in her blankets, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re too much.”

“You love me!”

“Do you want real breakfast or not?”

“Can it be that new donut place that opened up?”

“If you get your ass out of bed in time, yeah.” Maki smirked as she walked into the bathroom, the sounds of Nobara flailing out of bed making her laugh. 

God, she loved her so much.

Thanks for reading!

[notearsnora]

Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande for the November issue of Vanity Fair.

[saku0115]

So here we go @sonic-fankid-showdown

So at last it's finish, here its the final video

at firt this was gonna be a little comic of dest playing the piano but i started to add, and add and well here we are now....

take this as little of a shitpost and a little of a tribute to this 2 sfs event, in the video there are all the children that took part of the 1 round, so even when dest is the main focus, all the children are there so go find your's i guess.

i have more word in my mind that i cant really express through writing, im just really happy that something as this event exist, i love the kids and the community that has been born from it, this is my love card to this event, have a great day and stay hidrated.

@head---ache

Base on this post; 1 , 2(ok, i didnt base the final scene with this in mind, but its funny that i made the scene got in the blog for ref and find this)

[inklore]

forbidden cravings

premise: stay in your room; that's all you had to do. a simple demand that you planned on following until something goes bump in the night and you're trapped between two monsters.

pairing: vampire!din djarin x reader x vampire!bo-katan kryze

word count: 5k

contents: blood and biting obviously, oral, threats, murder mention, reader is a little clueless, power imbalance, bo is kinda evil but we love her for it, brief mention of piv.

note: this took me way too long to write and by the end of it i was very tired so hopefully someone out there enjoys this lmao. i could possibly see myself writing more within this little world, maybe.

haunted hoedown day five.

You had never noticed how creaky the house was until tonight. Until you were stuck in a dark, dampened room. Your only light coming from the candle at your bedside, the moon, and the flashes of lightening through the windows. The deep red drapes that match the ones that hang around the four poster bed in the middle of the room, that look ancient and eerie, set your already on edge nerves into a frenzy of fight of flight.

You had dusted this room many times. Have been past the threshold and seen it painted in the daylight. 

But never at night. 

You were prohibited from being here past nightfall. 

The master of the house—your boss—had made it clear upon your first interview a year ago that you’d only be needed in the daytime. That staying after nightfall was not something he needed you around for, and it would be of best interest to the house if you departed once the sun set. 

It’s a rule you questioned little. A rule you were fine and happy to obey. 

It wasn’t your job to question it. It wasn’t your place. 

You were the housekeeper, nothing else. Nothing less. Nothing more. 

And you’d never think of going against the lord of the manor, Din Djarin. 

The infamous inventor. 

The mysterious scholar.

The man with whom you’ve slowly bloomed a friendship with while you’ve worked here. The two of you have spent hours in his library with your fingertips, running along old books, relics he’s come across in his travels, and blue prints for inventions he one day wishes to create. 

The pair of you bonding over the love of old words and worlds you wish you could have been a part of. 

Working for him and being in his home—the dark gray spiraling staircases, the arched doorways, the black and red wallpaper that look hundreds of years old and yet look like they’d just been done yesterday—was a joy. 

A better job than working at the mill or getting by on your looks alone to put food on the table. 

You lucked out. Was honored to get the position and even more honored to befriend the destinguishinly handsome Lord Djarin. 

His staff soon became like a second family to you. A home away from home—a much more beautiful and sprawling home than your own, but a home in all senses of the word. 

Not even the curfew could dampen your love or the job. 

The only thorn in your side, the only downfall—negativity—to working for the Lord was his companion, his wife, Lady Kryze. 

While most days, the two of you would rarely cross paths. Her off on travel, or in the west wing of the house that you seldom find yourself in. 

But when appearance’s were known, brief or not, she always had a look of haughtiness about her. Her red hair laying perfectly on her shoulders, and her dresses always form fitting and beautifully cascading to the floor. The neck line plunged lower than what’s usually considered proper—that always made your cheeks heat when you found yourself rudely staring, a smirk on her lips that quickly got washed away with a scornful arch of her brows. 

She had never been rude to you. Had never demanded of you or treated you unkindly the way one would think when you looked at her intimidatingly beautiful face. The power you know she held with just a look, a twitch of a smile, or the flick of her fingers. 

She was the opposite of Lord Djarin. 

The two seeming an odd match for two people destined to be together. 

Your schoolgirl crush on the Lord of the Manor definitely having little to do with your opinion on the fact. 

It had been Lady Kryze who had suggested you stay. Almost demanding it, with the weather outside being too dangerous to travel. The winds whistling through the old bones of the house. The rain coming down like heavy hail. The thunder that you could feel deep in your bones each time it rumbled. 

Lord Djarin had protested on the matter. Said you could wait out the storm but insisted you leave after. 

“Don’t be rude, honey.” Lady Kryze had said. The sentiment, honey, came off more as an insult than as something sweet and tender. The look on the Lord’s face one of strain and frustration. A warning flashed in his eyes before he gave you a tight lipped smile and nodded in agreement. 

And now here you are. Dressed in a nightgown that Lady Kryze had supplied you with. The white fabric feeling almost like satin against your chilled skin, the lack of heat coming from the radiator on the other side of the room making you frown as your breasts made it more than clear how your body was reacting to the draft in the room—to the cold storm outside. 

The loud thump that startles you from outside of your door tears your gaze from the window and elevates your unease when you put your ear to the dark wood and hear nothing but the old house talking in the way one does in storms or settling.

Lord Djarin had ordered you to stay in your room. To lock the door from the inside and try to get some rest. Assuring you that all was alright, the drafts liked to open the doors at night. 

Listening to the plea in his voice that he tried to hide with his endearing smile was enough to convince you not to try it. To listen to his words. To do what had been asked of you without question once again. 

But the thump comes again. This time, sounding closer. Perhaps a glass broke somewhere in the hall. 

Your teeth chew at your bottom lip in worry. 

What if the Lord or Lady needed help? What if they had fallen? The lack of electricity in the house was more than a factor, a reason, for something that could cause a fall. Candlelight only shows so much in these dark halls. 

And while there had been no cry for help. No croak, groan, or indication that someone needs help; you can’t help the way your heart escalates or why you ignore the nerves, making your hand shake as you unlock the door, twist the cold handle, and open it a sliver. 

Your eyes search the vast darkness of the hall within the tiny space you’ve given yourself. The lit candles in the holders on the wall do little to aid in you seeing anything other than small glows of orange light past the railing that lines the hall. 

The words of the Lord push into the back of your mind as you open the door more and poke your head out into the dark space. The strings of lightening outside paint the empty hall in blue light. Streaking against the dark wallpaper hauntingly. 

“Lord Djarin?” Your voice is faint compared to the booming thunder outside. A gulp of air fills your lungs when you get enough bravery to step fully out of your room and speak a little louder, “Lady Kryze?” 

The silence only pushes you forward. 

Has your bare feet cold and weary against the long rug on the hardwood floor. The floorboards creak with each step that you take.

The portraits of unknown people by unknown painters look more intimidating and scary the longer you venture through the hall. The candles shadow their faces in scowls that aren’t normally there in the daylight. 

Your fingers dig into the side of your nightgown, bunching up the fabric as your heart hammers against your ribs. 

Maybe you should go back to your room. Maybe it was nothing. The rooms with open doors were dark and abandoned. The staircases are bare, and the entryway below, when you look over the rail, is completely encased in darkness.

Maybe it had come from the west wing of the house. Maybe it was a branch outside. Your mind isn’t sure. Isn’t thinking about anything other than getting back to your room, engulfing yourself in the bedspread, and trying to ignore every creepy sound that the storm outside aids in the houses off putting nature.

Being here at night was, in fact, something your nerves could not handle, it seemed. 

You sigh. Come to a stop at the last door along the hallway. Your bottom lip sore from your worrying. Whatever the thump was, it’s not something as drastic as your mind had probably come up with, and unless you feel like venturing down the stairs and through the rest of the house, it wasn’t your concern—and the prospect made you shiver knowing some parts of the house didn’t have candles lining the walls. 

But when you turn to head back to your room, your body crashes into another, and the scream you let out rings along with a crack of thunder, filtering the hallway into a horrific sound of chaos and fear. 

“You were told to stay in your room.” 

“Oh my—" your hand flies to your chest. The beat of your heart feels as if it might beat it’s way out of the cavern of your ribs. Your lungs finally fill with the air that had been whooshed out of you when you had collided with the other person once you realized who it was. “Lady Kryze.” 

“I was told you listen to directions well,” her smile is pressed and sure. Humorous in the way her eyes move along your appearance. The relief you felt from it being her soon dying when you remember how see through your nightgown is. Your arms cross over your bare chest. “How misguided.” 

“I-I was just,” you swallow. Try to get your breathing back to normal. Try to stop the pounding in your ears matching up with the rain outside—with the booms of thunder. “I heard a noise.” You manage to get out. The amused raise of her brow makes your body heat up in something akin to embarrassment or a child running to their mother at night because they are scared. 

Lady Kryze hums, “many things go bump in the night around here. It’s an old house.”

“Of course,” you nod. “Yes.” You laugh nervously, breathy, and unsure. Trying to ease the tension that’s growing between the two of you. Worried you might be jobless come morning. “I apologize. I was just worried that you or Lord Djarin may have been hurt.”

“You’re a doctor? Here I thought you were a maid.” Her smile is mocking, unkind. But that’s when you finally take her fully in. With the flashes of lightening through the window at the end of the hall, giving light to the shadows that dance along her face in the candlelight.

She looks…different. 

There's a deep red tint to her lips that’s not usually there. You can’t recall the last time you saw her wear lipstick, let alone that shade. Her hair is darker and more unruly at the bottom than usual. Than the sleek look of perfection it’s always at. Her clothes—her dress—stained a deep red and ripped at the top, standing her paler than normal skin out. 

Your eyes look down to her nails; they’re longer. Stained the same shade as her lips and her dress. 

Somethings not right.

And when your gaze meets hers again, you can see how much darker her eyes look than what you’re used to seeing below that scowl. Bigger. Almost as if her pupils had doubled in size.

Your lack of subtlety seems to give you away when you quickly try to sidestep her and head for your room. 

“Now that I know you’re both fine, I’ll just go back to my room now.” You say softly, give her a forced smile as you try to keep your composure and act as normal as you would if you weren’t scared out of your skin. 

Lady Kryze laughs under her breath. Let’s you step past her and walk one, two, or five steps before there’s a grip at the back of your elbow and your back is being slammed into the wall. The gasp of your lungs deflates from the pressure puffing out against her face with how close she is. 

“Lady Kr-”

“Bo.” She corrects, her eyes wandering down your face, pausing at your lips and the junction where your jaw meets your neck. Swallowing hard before her gaze cascades to your chest, “I always hated the pleasantries Din demanded we go by to fit in with you…humans.” 

“You humans?” You give her a quizicall look, too much going on in your nervous system to comprehend her words. To make sense of them when the fear of the emotion in her eyes reads hunger. 

And when she laughs again, her smile more genuine than any you’ve seen spread across her perfectly proportioned lips before; you see it. See them.

The pointed teeth that have replaced her normal ones. 

The way they gleam off of the orange glow of the candles. The way they make you swallow. Make your chest hurt from the bruising your heart is doing to your ribs from beating so fast. 

What is she?

“I thought you were smart? With the way Din talks about you, I imagined you would have figured it out by now. Especially with how close the two of you have been getting.” The accusation makes your heart stop. A cold fear pricking at your insides that makes your skin feel clammy. 

The raising of her brow makes the feeling worse as you shake your head. Open your mouth to protest on the matter, to not encourage the accusation that there might be something going on with Lord Djarin and you, her husband. 

“Don’t worry,” she smirks. Leans in closer so her lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear as she murmurs, “I like to share.” Your body trembles when her hand leaves your shoulder and her fingers run along the side of your breast. Her pointer skating along your erect nipple, making you gasp softly. “We both do.” 

“Lady Kryze–I,” there’s words meant to come out. Words meant to put an end to whatever this standoff, or showdown, is. You’re lost, you’re captivated, and you’re frightened. But her cheeks and lips brush against yours as she moves herself back so she can look at you; her dark eyes make every syllable on your tongue lay thick and weighted down like sludge. 

There’s a silence that has enough tension to make your body buzz and your brain catch up to put the puzzle pieces together with the information that has always been laid out for you. Things you took as old family traditions you didn’t care to understand. 

The presistant curfew, the eerie darkness that hung over the manor once the sun started to set. The mysterious cases of maids and butlers going missing without a trace. The town just beyond your own’s population dwindling down. Neighbors and friends gone. 

Lady Kryze’s dark eyes, her teeth. 

“You’re the cause of all the disappearances.” It’s not a question because you already know the answer. The slow spread of her lips only solidified the gathered information in your head to fit neatly in a box of truths. “And,” you swallow, hate how your heart aches at the very thought. “Lord Djarin..he–”

“Is much more discrete than I.” She seems to find a silent annoyance in the statement. In the way your body lets out a shaky breath as if you’re relieved. It makes her eye twitch before she’s leaning in again, her lips closer to yours now. Her breath smells of metal. “He doesn’t like to indulge in the bounty we’ve been given. Says it’s not right to eat thy neighbor.” Her tongue runs across her bottom lip, one of her sharp teeth catching on the skin. “I say, why waste such delicious gifts? And delicious they are, especially the ones who beg. The ones who let me play with my food before I eat it.” 

Her laugh makes your body shiver. A reaction she seems to like too much, as her lips skim across yours. The metallic scent of her tongue inhaled by your shaky breaths and swallowed down, leaving your throat dry and your tongue itching to reach out for the source. 

The source of it’s weight, the source of the ache in your jaw with the need to drink. A thirst for what you’re sure is water and not the nourishment that’s so clearly painted Lady Kryze’s lips red and her tongue. Your body willing to use any source of fluid to aid you. 

Not because the metallic linger of her breath sits on your tastebuds like an open invitation. Not because her fingers are still at the side of your breast, your peaked nipple aching to be brushed over by her again. 

“Will you let me play with you?” Her nose brushes yours as her head turns, and her lips just catch the corner of your mouth, a gasp leaving your lips as they move across your cheek and her teeth clip on your jawline. “I know how hard it is for my husband to be near you every day and not sink his teeth into this beautiful neck. You look as good as you’ll taste.” 

A moan racks your ribcage when her hand grips the side of your neck, bending it so the other side is on full display and her lips press to the sensitive flesh. Her tongue coming out to run the tip lightly against you, like she doesn’t dare indulge too much. Like it’s an appetizer to what she really wants. 

A trail of bruising kisses and hungry noises coming from the woman making your chest heave, your fingers daring to come up to her elbow to grip the fabric of her dress as an anchor—or to pull her closer—you're not too sure what your body wants, your senses not matching up with the fear still plaguing your brain. 

“Will you run for me, little rabbit?” You can feel the amusement at her own words with the smirk that’s pressed just below your ear. Your body canting at the derogatory pet name.

Until her next words come out of her mouth in a booming shriek that makes your ears ring and your body recoil from her in defense to protect itself from wrath. 

“Run!”

And you do. 

Not turning back to look to see if she’s chasing you. All the heat once again drained from your body, any pleasure you had been feeling doused out, and brought tears burning at the corners of your eyes. 

The candles on the wall continue to be your guiding light. Even when you step on something that makes you hiss. That tears the skin on the bottom of your foot enough to stutter your sprint. A limp catches in your leg as you try to make haste.

You were foolish for staying here. Foolish for leaving your room. Foolish for not seeing what this house really was or what it’s occupants really were.

Foolish. 

If there had been a spell, you had fallen for it. Like a silly little girl.

The closer you get to your chamber door, the harder your heart beats against your ribs. The harder you try to ignore the sting in your heel. The harder it is for you to breathe. 

The distance only seems to get further and further away from safety the longer you try for it. The longer your eyes strain in the candlelight to not step on something else that could make you completely imobile. Completely at Lady Kryze’s mercy. 

Who you don’t hear behind you. 

Who—upon your better judgment, one would say—you look for as you turn your head towards the path behind you. Your blood running cold when you see that all the candles have completely gone out and you can’t see a thing. 

The flashes of lightening from the windows down below cascading the barest amount of light onto the floor. 

It’s the least of your worries when your body collides with a wall. 

Or what feels like a wall—a strained ache coming to your chest upon the collusion, your body thrown backwards as you groan from the impact your tailbone makes against the hard floor. 

And when your eyes open, you realize it’s not a wall you’ve collided with; it’s Lord Djarin. 

“I told you to stay in your room.” His voice is full of authority and aggravation as he pulls you from the floor. It’s a tone he’s never used on you, a grip on your arm that’s much more cruel than the light touches of fleeting moments spent together. 

“She–Lady Kryze–She.”

“Is insatiable, yes.” There’s a growl that’s completely for his wife’s sake and not your own. But the sound still makes your stomach clench. Your body dragged along the hallway by the hands of the man you’re now realizing is more dangerous than any normal man. 

A monster.

Like his wife.

And yet, you feel safe in his tight grasp. Feel safe with the memories you share with him. Of him. The man you knew before the monster. 

The fear of him never coming. 

The fear only comes back once you’ve reached your room, and he’s pushing you through the door only for your back to collide with something icy that grips your wrist and snakes it’s fingers along the column of your neck to hold you against it.

“Bo.” Lord Djarin’s voice is stern. Angry. 

“Darling.” You can feel the smile that’s wrapped around the word even without seeing Lady Kryze’s face. 

The cold of her body seeping through your night dress and against your skin—a cold that’s not from the fear of what she is rather than what she’s doing. What has stained her lips and tongue and what you wanted so badly to taste just minutes ago. The same deep red clearly stained in the front fabric of your gown that you hadn’t noticed until now.

Until you’re standing in front of Lord Djarin, your night dress more see through and clinging to your body, where it’s damp from blood and straining against your breasts. 

Lady Kryze’s grip tightens on your throat, and it makes a breathless noise fall from your lips. A noise that has Lord Djarin’s eyes honing in on your mouth, moving along to his wife's hand on your throat, before plunging down to your chest. A hard swallow and a deep scowl shot at the woman holding you in her vise. 

“Let her go.”

“We were just having a little fun. Weren’t we?” Her teeth knick your earlobe, and it makes your body contort against her hold. “See,” she smirks. 

“Bo. No.” His tone has finality. Has something that wordlessly lets you know he’s tired of this topic; he’s clearly told her no on before. 

Something inside your stomach lightens up and burns at the thought of Lord Djarin denying his wife the pleasure of making you a meal time and time again. Was it out of respect? Care? Want?

Did she want to sink her teeth into you so badly because of jealousy at the closeness you and her husband had found the longer you worked here? No, she said they like to share. Said she likes to share. 

Was it want then?

The want to do more than end your life by draining you.

“Come on, Din.” The hand at your wrist does a show of crawling with her sharp nails over your midsection and to your hip to start pulling up your night dress. Your thighs quickly come into view as she bunches the fabric further and further up. A shyness takes over you as you wiggle in her grasp as you watch Lord Djarin’s eyes follow the movement with a hungry look. “We all know you want her.” 

Her lips press against your jaw as she murmurs to you, “he never allows himself to indulge in the things he wants. He’s so disciplined. Such a good man. He’d never let it slip that after you leave his library, he bends me over his desk and fucks me the way he wishes he could fuck you.”

An involentary noise that get’s choked out of your throat makes her laugh softly, “tell him he can have you. Tell him you like it.” Your eyes lock with his; his eyes just as dark and monstrous as his wife's now that you’re really looking at them. His lips that deep red—the same red you smelled and craved to taste on her lips. 

Your thighs inwardly press together, causing the pressure between them to ease the slightest, but grow worse when your backside pushes back against Lady Kryze and she lets out a noise that sounds just as lovely as she looks. 

“Look, Din.” A heat comes to your cheeks as the rest of the fabric of your gown is pulled above your hips, showcasing your nakedness to both of them. “There’s no denying she wants you,” her fingers move down to grip your inner thigh. The clear and evident proof of your arousal—that you’re not sure was caused earlier or right now—coats your skin and her fingers. 

“No, she is not-”

“What? Food?” Lady Kryze laughs, “we both know you’d never let me drain her. Nor could you bear to have anything but her essence touch your tongue. But she can be a toy. You can fuck her. We both can.” 

You can see the internal battle he’s fighting with himself—against his wife, against what’s right, against his want. 

And there’s a part of you that understands. That knows this is wrong. That has barely come to terms with what they are—monsters, myths, and scary stories you tell little children at night to get them to go to bed. 

But then the proof of your arousal, of your own want is being toyed with between your thighs as Lady Kryze runs a finger through your wetness. Your hips canting against her hand as she pulls it away just as quick as it was there and holds her finger out to her husband. 

“Taste her.”

His head is about to shake; you can sense it. See it before it happens by the way his fists bunch at his sides. Maybe that's why you finally find your voice, “please.”

And it’s as if those are the words he’s been waiting for you to say since the day you’ve met. Since you’ve started working for him. The speed at which he’s against your front and his lips are wrapped around the finger that has gathered the wetness from your pussy makes you feel woozy. 

Makes you sway on your feet and loosen in Lady Kryze’s hold. Her nails dig into your flesh as she holds you tighter, keeping you upright for her husband. 

Whose finger is under your chin, mouth daringly close to yours as he murmurs, “are you certain?”

Do you want this?

Do you want all it entails if you let this continue?

His dark eyes speak; let you know that he’ll stop this. That while you might be weak in comparison to who they truly are, you have a say, and he’ll do whatever you wish. 

A wise woman would heed the warning that’s in the brow he raises. Thats in the descent of his finger down your chin and to your jugular. Your heartbeat thudding against the pad of his finger. His tongue comes out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes cast to your neck and then up to his wife. 

Who's giving him a smile you can’t see but can feel in the way her body shifts, pulling your thighs apart easily. Lord Djarin needs no more confirmation for either of you as he falls to his knees, a rough hand cupping the back of your thigh to lift and bring it up and over his shoulder. 

Your back arching, and a gasp rakes through your body when you feel the bite of teeth against your inner thigh. Feel the sting of punctured skin, the pull of something inside that’s making your eyes flutter, and the pressure in your lower belly thumping at the same speed as your heart. 

When your eyes shift down, when he’s stopped, when you feel like you could either pass out or come from just this, you see blood—your blood—staining his lips and tongue. See his eyes go even darker, black, and void of any human attributes. Making him look entirely like a monster that’s hungry, starved. 

And you’ve completely offered yourself up for the taking. 

There’s a deep moan coming from Lord Djarin as his fingers and tongue clean his mouth. It’s obscene as much as it is beautiful to watch. Your arousal only grows worse at the sight. 

“How does she taste?” 

“Exqusite.” He murmurs against your skin, his tongue running over the marks he’s just left in your thigh, working it’s way up to the apex of your thigh. Your legs shake the closer he gets to your pussy. 

A cry burns your lungs when you feel him dive into you without any warning. His tongue licking through your wetness, his nose pressing against your clit. The tip of it creates a slow grind that only intensifies when you cant your hips up. When you thrust against the air, his tongue slips inside of you, pushing it further inside. Your fingers dig into the sides of your dress as you try not to completely collapse against either of them. 

The pleasure coursing through your body makes that easier said than done. 

Lady Kryze is humming against your cheek, her hand coming down to slow the movement of your hips. “Take your time, little rabbit.” She trails kisses and soft bites over and under your jaw to your earlobe, where she lets the tip of her tongue run against it. “Because once you’ve come, you’re mine to play with.” 

[luvashli]

Synopsis -> you are pulled into a mysterious mansion where seven men are bound by a dark pact. As you navigates their secrets, desires, and emotional turmoil, you must decide whether to break free or embrace your dangerous connection with them all, uncovering love and sacrifice along the way.

17 -> The Second Truth

The air in the mansion crackled with nervous energy. The boys had grown quieter since the night of the kisses, each of them waiting for something to happen. But the pact wasn’t done with you yet.

Days passed, and the mansion remained as heavy and foreboding as ever. It was as if the house itself was watching, waiting. Then, one evening, everything changed.

The group had gathered in the main hall. You’d insisted they all be there—if you were in this together, then together was the only way forward. The old book that had become your lifeline sat open on the table, its pages illuminated by the flickering candlelight. You had spent hours reading it, searching for reassurance that the seven kisses had worked.

But then Jungwon’s voice broke the silence. “There’s more.”

His tone was grim, and every head turned toward him. He was holding another book, its leather cover cracked with age. His hand trembled slightly as he flipped it open and placed it beside yours.

“What do you mean, there’s more?” Jake asked, his voice sharp.

Jungwon’s jaw tightened. “The seven kisses… they weren’t the end. They were only the first step.”

Your stomach dropped, and the room felt suddenly colder.

“Then what’s next?” Sunoo asked, his voice trembling.

Jungwon hesitated before answering. “The pact still demands a sacrifice,” he said finally, his eyes meeting yours. “It always has. The only way to truly break it is… for Y/n to die.”

“No.” The word came from Jay, his voice hard and unyielding. “No. We’re not doing that.”

“It gets worse,” Jungwon continued, ignoring the protests. “The pact tests us. If the love between us is real, Y/n will… come back.”

“And if it’s not?” Sunghoon asked, his tone laced with fear.

“Then the curse becomes eternal,” Jungwon said, his voice barely audible. “And she doesn’t come back.”

The words hung in the air, suffocating and unbearable.

“No,” Jake said again, his voice rising. “There has to be another way. We’ve already done everything—why isn’t it enough?”

“It was never about doing enough,” Jungwon said bitterly. “The pact feeds on love, on trust. It wants us to prove it. And this is how.”

“That’s insane,” Ni-ki snapped. “We’re supposed to just… kill her? And hope it brings her back?”

Jungwon looked at him, his expression heavy with guilt. “If we don’t, the pact will never break. It will destroy her anyway, and us along with her.”

You couldn’t breathe. The room felt like it was spinning, the weight of their words crushing you.

“Y/n…” Heeseung’s voice broke through the chaos. He knelt in front of you, his hands gently taking yours. His touch was warm, grounding you even as your world fell apart. “We don’t have to do this. We can find another way. We will find another way.”

You shook your head, your throat too tight to speak.

“This is madness,” Jay said, pacing the room. “There’s no guarantee she’ll come back. What if the pact is lying? What if this is just another way to destroy us?”

“But what if it’s not?” Sunoo asked quietly. All eyes turned to him. He was trembling, his arms wrapped around himself, but his voice was steady. “What if it’s telling the truth? What if this is the only way to save her?”

“We can’t risk it,” Jake said firmly.

“And we can’t do nothing,” Sunghoon countered. “The pact is killing her slowly, and you know it. She’s tied to it now. If we don’t do this, she’ll die anyway—and this place will destroy us too.”

The room erupted into arguments, voices overlapping in a chaotic cacophony. You sat frozen in the middle of it all, their words swirling around you like a storm.

Finally, you stood, your voice cutting through the noise. “Enough!”

The room fell silent, all eyes on you.

“I won’t let you all destroy yourselves over this,” you said, your voice steady despite the fear gripping your heart. “If this is the only way to break the pact, then… I’ll do it.”

“No!” Heeseung said immediately, his voice breaking.

“Y/n, you can’t—” Jake started, but you cut him off.

“This isn’t just about me,” you said firmly. “It’s about all of us. The pact is already killing me. If this is the only way to stop it, then I’m willing to take that chance.”

Tears filled Sunoo’s eyes. “But what if it doesn’t work?” he whispered.

You looked at him, your heart breaking at the pain in his voice. “Then at least I’ll know I tried. At least I’ll know I didn’t let it win.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crackling of the candles.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Jungwon said quietly. “If… if this is what you’ve decided, then we’ll stand by you. All of us.”

You looked around the room, at the faces of the boys who had somehow become your family. Their expressions were a mix of fear, anger, and heartbreak, but beneath it all, you saw something else: love.

It gave you hope.

“Then let’s do this,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “Together.”

The mansion no longer felt like the same place. The weight of the revelation hung in every room, every hallway, pressing down on all of you. The tension between the boys had shifted, no longer fractured but united in one painful truth: you had chosen the sacrifice, and none of them could bear it.

At breakfast, the silence was unbearable. Jake, who normally filled the room with his easy smile and playful teasing, sat with his head in his hands. Sunoo, who always made it a point to sit next to you, kept glancing at you, his expression a mix of worry and heartbreak.

“You’re not eating,” Sunghoon said quietly, breaking the silence. His sharp eyes were fixed on your untouched plate.

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, your voice flat.

Heeseung set his fork down and leaned forward, his tone gentle but firm. “Y/n, we need to talk about this.”

“We already did,” you said, looking away.

“No, we didn’t,” Jungwon said, his voice low. “You decided, and we just—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. “We can’t just let this happen.”

“You think I want this?” you snapped, your voice trembling. “You think this is easy for me?”

“We know it’s not,” Jay said, his voice steady but strained. “But there has to be another way.”

“There isn’t,” you said, standing abruptly. The chair scraped loudly against the floor, and the sound echoed in the heavy silence.

Sunoo stood too, his voice trembling. “Why does it have to be you? Why can’t we—why can’t we find another way to end this?”

You turned to him, tears welling in your eyes. “Because this is my choice, Sunoo. This is our fight, but I’m the one who has to end it. If we don’t, the pact will destroy us all.”

“You don’t even know if it’ll work,” Ni-ki said, his voice sharper than usual. He wasn’t looking at you, his hands clenched into fists. “What if we lose you, and nothing changes?”

“I’m trusting that it will work,” you said, your voice breaking. “And I need you all to trust me too.”

The words hung in the air like a plea, but they didn’t bring the relief you’d hoped for.

That night, the mansion was silent, the kind of quiet that felt like it was holding its breath. You sat by the fire in the study, staring into the flames. The warmth didn��t reach you.

The boys filtered in one by one, drawn to the same space. No one spoke at first, the unspoken tension building with each passing second.

Finally, Jake sat down beside you, his knee brushing yours. “You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly.

You didn’t respond, but the tears that slid down your cheeks spoke for you.

Jake reached for your hand, his touch gentle. “You think this is the only way, but we can figure something else out. We always do.”

“It’s not about figuring something out,” you whispered. “It’s about trust.”

Jay knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. “Y/n, we trust you. We do. But we can’t lose you. I can’t—” His voice broke, and he looked away.

Heeseung, leaning against the wall, crossed the room in two long strides and crouched beside Jay. “Y/n,” he said softly, “I know you think this is the right thing to do, but you’re asking us to stand by and watch you—” He stopped, his voice tight with emotion. “It’s not fair. Not to you. Not to us.”

“It’s not about fair,” you said, your voice cracking. “It’s about breaking the pact. It’s about saving all of us. If you love me—if we love each other—then this is the only way to prove it.”

“Don’t say that,” Sunoo said, his voice trembling as he sat on the arm of your chair. “Don’t say we have to prove our love for you. We already do. Every day.”

You turned to him, your heart aching at the tears in his eyes. “And I love you. All of you. That’s why I have to do this.”

Ni-ki, who had been pacing the room, stopped abruptly. “This isn’t love,” he said, his voice low and angry. “Love isn’t letting you throw your life away for some curse.”

“This is love,” you said, standing. “Love is sacrifice. Love is trust. And right now, I need you all to trust me.”

Sunghoon moved closer, his expression unreadable. “And what about your trust?” he asked. “You’re asking us to believe in you, but you’re not believing in us. You’re not giving us a chance to find another way.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you looked at him. “Because I don’t think there is another way,” you said. “I’ve read every book in this mansion, tried to find every loophole. This is the only way to break the pact. And if you can’t trust me to do this, then maybe—” Your voice broke, and you turned away, covering your face with your hands.

“Maybe what?” Jungwon asked, his voice soft but firm.

“Maybe the pact is right,” you said, barely above a whisper. “Maybe our love isn’t strong enough.”

The room fell silent.

Heeseung was the first to move, stepping forward and pulling you into his arms. “Don’t say that,” he murmured, his voice shaking. “Don’t ever say that.”

One by one, the others joined, surrounding you in a circle of warmth and comfort.

“We trust you,” Jake said finally, his voice steady despite the tears in his eyes. “Even if it kills us to let you do this, we trust you.”

“And we’ll prove it,” Sunoo added, his voice trembling. “We’ll prove it to the pact, to you, to whoever’s listening. We’ll bring you back.”

You nodded, your face buried in Heeseung’s chest. “And I’ll come back,” you whispered. “I promise.”

But as the firelight flickered across their faces, you couldn’t help but wonder if promises were enough to hold back the darkness.

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@d-dilemma @laylasbunbunny @b3tt7boop @parkjjongswifey

[babyjakes]

TRICK OR TREAT 👹😇

cool guy andy answers the door, unfortunately he’s handing out erasers instead of candy bc his stinky wife laurie said it’ll be better for the kids than all that sugar 😒😒

[babyjakes]

I JUST LOVE THESE SO MUCH OMGOMGOMG 🥺💗🫶 hehe what’re those fun looking toys in mr. levinson’s basket??? 😏 also the socks for lloyd took me out— his ankles are so slutty you’re so right 😭 and look at my sweet little jakey 🥰 he does indeed love his got gf (me ofc 😌)

happy valentine's day!!! let's talk about what gifts we'd put in whose gift baskets 🤭🤭 i'll go first 💌

s/o to @comfortcap + @youngadulhood for giving ideas for a few of these hehe

[strangelittlestories]

“Where are we going?” asked Khalida, attempting to adjust her denim jacket to hide the worst of the scorch marks.

Cassandra took a moment to answer. She tucked her domino mask into the pocket of her combats, then cast her eyes around and upwards. Satisfied they were not being observed, the ducked out of the alley and merged with the flow of pedestrians.

“To see someone I used to know.” the hero replied, quietly. “An old friend?” Khalida’s voice rang out with enthusiasm. She lowered her voice in response to Cassandra’s pointed look. “Dang, I love the whole ‘visiting an old friend for help’ thing. Always a juicy dynamic.”

“Not exactly a friend.” she looked up and down the street, eyes flicking up and down. “Not anymore.”

“An old enemy? That’s even juicier? Are they, y’know, your very *best* enemy?”

Cassandra sighed.

“They’re an old … something.”

“Ah, a classic ‘it’s complicated’ type situation. Very nice. Love a tangled backstory.”

“It’s not a backstory, kid. It’s my life.”

“I mean, yeah. Sure. But also: you’re a hero! So, to *you* it’s your life. But to us fans, it’s kinda also backstory.”

Cassandra could practically hear the girl adding tags to her mental blog post. There were exclamation points.

“You realise you have powers now, right? You gonna start thinking of your own life as backstory?”

“Are you kidding me, I’ve already started my entry on HeroWiki!” she produced her burner phone and triumphantly showed a draft on the screen. “Wait, is the person we’re seeing on Hiki?”

“I hate that portmanteau. Sounds too much like ‘hickey’” Cassandra finally spotted what she was looking for and started steering the two of them towards a particular sewer grate.  “But … yes. She’ll be on there. Search for Troubleshooter.”

“Oh dip.” Khalida looked up with open mouth. “She’s on the anti-hero section.”

“She wasn’t always.” Cassandra reached into her seemingly endless pockets and handed Khalida a high vis vest. “Now put this on, so no-one will ask questions about us dropping into the sewers…”

---

Troubleshooter’s sewer lair was surprisingly dry and homey. It smelled of lemon and baking soda, making Khalida think someone had been making cakes (though there was no sign of sweet treats among the utilitarian fittings).

“You bringing trouble to my door again, Cass?” Troubleshooter was squaring up to Cassandra; both were bristling with tension.

“Well, trouble is your business, Shoots.”

“It used to be.” Troubleshooter’s hand was on the sidearm holstered beneath her armpit. “But folks got … snippy about the solutions I offered.”

“Thought you’d be thrilled for me to admit I couldn’t handle this on my own.” Careless of the implied threat, Cassandra leaned in to speak softly in Troubleshooter’s ear. “I need you.”

Troubleshooter looked up at Cassandra and bit her lip. Slowly, fingers unwrapped themselves from the weapon.

“Why didn’t they like your solutions?” Two sets of eyes snapped over to look at Khalida; they’d nearly forgotten she was there. “You’re a prognosticator, right? Like Cassandra. You should be, like, the *most* helpful kinda hero.”

“I’m not a prophet. Not like this one.” Troubleshooter tutted. “It’s more … extremely limited universal knowledge osmosis.”

“Huh?”

“I see a problem. I know the most efficient way to solve it. Step-by-step. Like God’s instruction manual.”

“That’s amazing!”

“Not when the problem people bring you is a *person*. They get pretty antsy when you tell them the best solution is a bullet.”

“Oh.” Khalida gulped and looked nervously between the two of them. “Um, Cassandra, did you bring me here to…”

“No, kid.” Cassandra ran a hand through her hair. Suddenly she looked tired. “Here’s the situation, Shoots: I had a prophecy. End of days type stuff. Told me to be in a place to find a person. The place was full of bad-tempered hired muscle. The person was Khalida here. The visions since then are confused, but they all call her the same thing: ‘Reality Ender’. So here’s the problem I put before you: how do we help her *not* destroy reality?”

“You know you might not like the answer.”

“But we’ve still gotta ask.”

“Fine.”

Troubleshooter’s eyes went blurry. It was as if they were vibrating, flickering suddenly through a thousand upon a thousand realities, like searching for a station on an old radio. Just as suddenly as it started, her gaze blinked back into the present.

“Huh.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good result.”

“No. But it’s not a bad one, either.”

“Explain.”

“Let me put it this way: you hear ‘Reality Ender’ and your mind goes to ‘end of *existence*’. Makes sense - matches your prophecy. But that’s not her *power*.”

“So what is it?”

“Oh, it’s still ‘Reality Ender’. But … not ‘reality’ as in ‘existence’. It’s ‘reality’ as in ‘real versus fiction’. As in, ‘possible versus impossible’.”

“...I don’t get it?” Khalida’s voice was small and lost.

“I think the best way to put your deal would be … you’re a Potential Manipulator.”

“Um…that sounds a little problematic. Like, very cancel-able. Could we go with, I dunno, Possibility Manipulator?”

“Honey, trust me, being cancelled is the least of your worries…”

---

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[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c3. preview

simon riley x original character.

abstract: Simon here, I saw Jude again, she's still going on about her theories, whatever. it's not even funny anymore and she has some weird secret I want to find out… still, she's a fucking menace to society. idk what's wrong with her probably got dropped on her head on purpose as a kid. don't blame the parents.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs.

song to listen to when reading this: The Fruits, Paris Paloma.

In the end, she did hear back from Price. An email. 'Scherzi!' She shouted out loud in her apartment. She sat down on the couch and Jinx hopped on with her, sniffing her laptop. An email from the captain, an invitation to a briefing, to discuss the situation. Tomorrow after your last session at 5pm. 'No vabbe, me fa parià…' she mumbled and wrote back that she would be there.

'So, I wanted to update you on your patient. We spoke with him and three other soldiers about joining us to the next mission in Al-Jareena next week but he refused. Well…' he stopped, rubbing his beard in clear distress. 'He got up and came up to me saying his injury is not fully healed and he will not be able to get deployed. So I told him we needed him and he started to get nervous and left the room in a hurry.' She listened without intervening. 'I know you have an appointment with him one day before we leave. I was wondering if you could let me know if you find out something about this, he's required to leave with us, otherwise we'll have to report him. His doctors cleared him.' He showed her a piece of paper, sliding it across the table.

'Too risky.' It was Simon that spoke. He was British, his voice was deep. He had been debating on intervening in the meeting from the moment Price asked him to be present. He asked him cause he trusted him, and valued his opinion. Jude could have been informed and educated with her little theories and stories, but she didn't know how things worked in the army. This wasn't Cluedo. She had the same attitude when she walked in the room, maybe a bit less stiff. He took his time exploring her. Her pretty green eyes, her nose, her neck. She wore a blouse this time, with grey trousers. She still had those shiny high boots. She had her hair up, a blonde ponytail. He looked at her jaw. She had a mole on her cheek. He shook her hand, he could smell her deodorant. Her skin was warm, soft. He liked talking to her. Her voice still sounded weird, he couldn't pick up a particular accent. He understood she would't let it go.

'I think you're waisting an opportunity.'

'I think you're thinking too much about it.'

I think I want to brake your neck. She was mad now, he could see her, he could feel it. They weren't listening. She stood up and thanked the two for inviting her to the meeting, she assured them she would keep them updated. Her smile was fake, she still wanted to be polite even thought she thought they were both fucking stupid. Ghost didn't feel guilty for going so hard on her, he looked at her leave while she was trying to hide her anger. He said what he really thought, that was what he had been trained to do. 'What's her deal?' he asked the captain on his way out. 'Jude?' the man looked up, then shook his head.

notes: translation: 'Scherzi!', you're joking! 'No vabbe, me fa parià' Naples dialect for 'you're making me laugh'.

notes: Saturday or Sunday for full chapter, when do you want it?? replies and reblogs are highly appreciated!!!

love, mare.

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[canirove]

Friends, lovers… and an orange | Chapter 6

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"I'm seriously moving to the North Pole."

"What?" Jourdan laughed.

"I'm sure paparazzis would not find me there."

"Don't underestimate them."

"I just... How did they find us in Paris? How did they know?"

"It was fashion week, there were photographers everywhere."

"Urgh" Adele grunted, sinking a bit lower on the sofa.

The day after the Dior photoshoot, she had woken up to her and Mason all over the internet. A paparazzi had caught them during their walk and then while having lunch, and there were what felt like hundreds of articles talking about it, most of them saying the same: that things were ok between them after she had been seen getting cosy with Nico at that party. 

"You do look like an actual couple, tho. Again."

"Jourdan... Not you, please. I already have enough with my mum, Toni, and our brothers. You should see our family group chat, I had to silence it."

"That bad it is?" she chuckled.

"Worse. They keep saying that they believe we are just friends as we tell them, but that if something else is happening or will happen, we have their support."

"That's cute."

"That's... I don't know what it is. But nothing is happening."

"I disagree, Adele. Because something is happening: you and Mason are getting closer. You may not be dating or falling in love, but you are slowly becoming the type of friends everyone expected you to be since you were born."

"Yeah... I guess. I just wish they would leave us alone for five minutes."

And after those Paris photos, it looked like they had finally left them alone. Each day there were less photographers outside Adele's house and less often, and people online had also relaxed. Though it probably was just because there was a new scandal surrounding the royal family. Either way, she was glad her mundane life was back. Kind of. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Mum, please, stop!" Luca complained.

"I'm sorry. It's just that I've missed you so much!" Elizabeth said.

"I know. But if you keep squeezing me like that, you will miss me forever."

"Luca! Don't say that!" she scolded him. 

"Sorry” he said, trying to shrug. “But please let me go. I'm sure dad also wants a hug."

"I'm fine" he chuckled.

"Addie?"

"Mase just arrived, gotta go open the door for him. Sorry" she smiled.

"Yes! Run to your boyfriend instead of helping your dying little brother!" 

"Whatever" Adele said, rolling her eyes. 

That year they had decided to spend the holidays all together in Switzerland, having some proper white Christmas as when they were kids. And, of course, the Mounts were joining them. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"If I hit Luca in the back of his head with a snowball... What do I get in return?"

"Another one?" Adele laughed. It was Christmas Eve, and they were going back to the resort where they were staying after having lunch in town.

"Boring" Mason said, rolling his eyes. 

"Sorry for being realistic" she shrugged.

"What the fuck!" Luca screamed. "Who hit me?"

"Your sister!" Mason said, pointing at Adele.

"What? It was... Fuck!" she complained. "Luca! That hurt!"

"So did mine!" he replied.

"I think they are having a snowball fight without us" Adele's dad said. "Should we join them?"

"Darling..." Elizabeth started. But it was too late. Everyone was already throwing snowballs, screaming and laughing. 

"Mase, no. No!" Adele laughed while trying to run away from him.

"Come here, Addie!"

"No!" she laughed again, running as fast as she could without slipping.

"Oh, you've made such a big mistake, Miss Turlington."

"Shit" she whispered when she realized she had run into a dead end. "Mase, please... I didn't mean to hit you in the face, I'm sorry."

"I made a living out of it, you know?"

"I know, and I'm very sorry."

"It's too late for that now" Mason smirked.

"But that snowball is huge! Mine fitted in my hand, and that one is bigger than your head!"

"I have a small head."

"You do" she snorted. "Wait, I'm sorry. Mase... Mason."

"Too late, Adele. Time to face your destiny" he said, lifting the big ball and throwing it against her. Throwing it... And missing.

"Oh my God" she laughed. "That was so bad! You hit the wall!"

"Addie..."

"You better not have that bad aim with everything."

"Addie... Adele!" Mason said, quickly grabbing her by the arm and pulling her against him.

"Holy shit" she whispered after a big chunk of snow fell where she had been standing just a moment ago. 

"That was close."

"So close" she said, suddenly realising how close she was to Mason. To his face. From that distance, she was able to perfectly count the freckles on his nose.

"We should join the others." Four, five, six... "Addie, did you hear me?" Ten, eleven... "Adele!" Mason chuckled.

"Damn it" she said under her breath, losing count. 

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, just... Just a bit chilly. We should go back."

"Are you sure you are ok? You looked... Distracted."

"It was the shock of the snow falling, nothing else."

"Ok..."

"Hey, what are you two doing there?" Luca said behind them. "Making out?"

"You are so funny" Adele said, rolling her eyes.

"I mean, you are hugging and way too close to each other. If I was a pap and saw you like that, that's what I would think" he shrugged.

"And you would be wrong" Adele said, letting go of Mason. She hadn't realized she had her arms around him. "Not let's go, I'm getting cold."

"Then ask Mason to keep hugging you" Luca smirked.

"Fuck you" she said while walking away, trying not to think too much about what had just happened, or what she had felt.

[heatwave-mallorca]

Wicked Stars Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande on Love, Defying Rumors, and Flying High

“We needed real connection,” Erivo says of their friendship, which bloomed just as Grande needed it most: “Tabloids have been trying to destroy me since I was 19.”

A Broadway show based on the novel of the same name by Gregory Maguire, Wicked is a musical prequel to The Wizard of Oz that imagines Elphaba and Glinda as frenemies before Dorothy dropped out of the sky.

It premiered in October 2003 and dazzled audiences thanks to a stunning score by Stephen Schwartz and indelible performances by Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth. After two decades in development hell, director Jon M.

Chu has delivered a film adaptation that’s so confident in its zaniness, so assured in its world-building, and so defiantly big-budget that it sweeps you away like a house in a tornado.

The performances are captivating across the board, but the story rests on Elphaba’s and Glinda’s shoulders.

Fortunately they’re portrayed by Erivo, who’s got an Emmy, a Tony, and a Grammy, and Grande, a pop sensation with two Grammys and nine Billboard Hot 100 number one hits.

“I’ve always said that Wicked was the love story between two girls,” says Chenoweth.

“The three things that I love about it are what I look for in all kinds of art that I do, which is love, forgiveness, and friendship.

That’s what Ariana and Cynthia both have, and that’s why they’re going to be a power couple.”

In the original Oz story, the witches are polar opposites.

Wicked posits that they’re more alike than they appear—much like Grande and Erivo, who crack up when the latter arrives and they discover they’re dressed in similar outfits.

Grande has on a pink Khaite sweater, jeans from Agolde, and Tabis from Maison Margiela.

Erivo is wearing Marni jeans, a blue J.Crew oversized cardigan over a Lunya top, and Bottega green sandals. Both have glasses on as well. “We do this every time,” Grande says.

see the full news on https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/story/wicked-ariana-grande-cynthia-erivo-cover