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Graphics credits: @kwanisms!!

[deepdarkindigo]

°☆ INTRO POST ☆°

Oz • He/Him • Adult

Main F/O: John Silver [Treasure Planet]

Other F/O(s):

Chef Saltbaker [Cuphead]

(LIST IS SUBJECT TO UPDATE)

Tag List:

#♡ aesthetics ♡ - random things that remind me of my ships

#◇ friends beloved ◇ - art and posts reblogged from other selfshippers

#♤ imagine that ♤ - imagine posts written by me/other selfshippers

♧ spicy ♧ - posts that are not suitable for work

#□ relatable □ - things that don't exactly fit the other tags but I wanted to reblog here anyway

#☆ ursa & lepus - John Silver/OC

#☆ salt in the sugar bowl ☆ - Chef Saltbaker/OC

DNI:

Bigots

(steer away if you are transphobic, racist, ableist, sexist, homophobic)

Minors/Persons Under 18

(I will assume you are one if I can't see your age indicated anywhere on your blog)

Proshippers

(includes people who ship minors/adults or family/family)

Yumes who Ship with Silver

(I am not comfortable sharing him at this time; he's pretty special to me)

Donation Requests

(I have no money to donate, and I don't want to take any chances with potential scams)

$5 CUSTOM KANDI COMMISSIONS

Other Info:

This is a sideblog, so I may follow you on my main account. If you see a blog in your followers list that has the word 'indigo' in it, that is very likely me.

I usually put posts and reblogs on a queue, but I tend to immediately reblog art I see.

I am AuDHD so it might take me a moment to reply, please don't take that to mean I'm ignoring you.

I am probably not going to be comfortable sharing Silver for a good long while as, believe it or not, this is a ship that's been brewing for twenty something years. Yes, he's been in my heart for that long now, even if I didn't recognize it or post about it in all that time. Now, there have been and will be others, but this is just to say he's the most special to me.

(Silver's 'official F/O status' date: 05.02.2025)

dividers by @enchanthings/other userboxes credited in alt text

[violentdeliiights]

harry styles masterlist

[masterlist directory]

♤ - series/multiple parts

♧ - angst

♡ - fluff

♢ - smut

one shots:

don’t be a stranger - in which famous!harry and y/n weren’t always strangers - inspired by phoebe bridgers’ scott street ♧

just too soft for all of it - in which y/n is stand-offish but famous!harry doesn’t care - inspired by taylor swift’s sweet nothing ♡

put my name at the top of your list - in which y/n just wants uni!harry to care about her - inspired by taylor swift’s the last time ♧

i did one thing right - in which influencer!yn and tattooasrtist!harry are navigating a new relationship and y/n’s fame - inspired by taylor swift’s call it what you want ♡

you made a mess of me - in which famous!harry and y/n have broken up - inspired by taylor swift’s hits different ♧

[enhaeil]

MASTERLIST/NAVIGATION!

🌸- suggestive, 🐩 - fluff, 🎀 - smut ,

🗯 - angst, 👚 - crack

ABOUT ME/RULES!

ENHYPEN ♧

bf heeseung drabble 🌸🐩

let me love you - heeseung 🐩🗯

you gon fall in love - heeseung 🌸

everyday - heeseung 🌸

dominant bf jay 🌸🐩

heeseung with chubby reader 🐩🌸

best you ever had - heeseung 🐩👚🎀

neglected husband jay 🌸🐩

dad! jay 🐩

paint this house - jay drabble 🌸🐩

we're so different - jay drabble🐩🗯

spoiling husband jay 🎀🐩

taking off your wedding ring - jay 🗯🐩

postpartum depression w jay 🐩🗯🌸

divine masculine energy w jay 🎀🐩

un-thinkable - jay 🐩🌸🗯

giving you the best that i got - jay 🐩

situationship!niki

clubbing w enha!ot7 🌸👚

enhypen on christmas 🐩

enhypen at a cookout 🐩👚

lovesick enha 🌸🐩

enhypen when their s/o gets braids 🐩👚

enhypen garter toss! 🌸🐩

sensual moments w enha 🌸🐩

enhypen thought: "i love u" during sex

ZEROBASEONE ♡

matching items (ot8) 🐩

TOMORROW X TOGETHER ♤

"i can tell he wanna F-" soobin 🌸

RIIZE ♧

makeup sex w riize ot7 🌸

stripper!reader x sohee 🌸

NCT ◇

nothing to see here...

OTHER GROUPS !

nothing to see here...

[luckydraww]

Ashes

Fracture - Chapter 1

<<previous | M.List | Next>> Navi | intro i | intro ii | | Y/N intro

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

Pairing: ot8 x Reader Word Count: 5.6k Chapter Warnings: PTSD, Survivor's Guilt, Mentions of character death, Verbal Harassment, Isolation, Panic, Dissociation, Emotional Supression, Self-Doubt, Unreliable Narrator (trauma informed). Synopsis: You navigate the newly-found discomfort that comes with being an outsider, haunted by trauma and loss. Tensions start rise as fresh wounds are poked at.

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

The next morning…

The bed underneath your hands is far too stiff. Devoid of blankets, with only a flimsy cover, it feels just as apathetic as the facility. You miss the feeling of a proper bed, or a proper room. One unbothered by the constant checks from medical staff and the incessant scribbling of the scribes that pop in and out without warning.

The overpowering smell of medicinal herbs and tinctures sting your nose, as you stare at the bag the healer left on the table in your room. There’s several packets in it, consisting of different blends they think might help your insomnia. You hate the taste. You hate how they cloud your mind. How they make memories of the fallen slip away through your fingers like sand.

A quick glance around the room reveals nothing new, it’s the same dull room you’ve been staying in for the past two weeks. At least it has some decor, unlike the isolation room you were originally placed in when you were found. A flower vase sits on the table side bed, holding a handful of little blue flowers with yellow centers. They’d be gorgeous, if they weren’t already half wilted. A petal detaches, driftung pitifully to the table. 

A knock at the door. Your eyes snap up and away from the bag to it, only to see the doorknob already turning. You tense up, hands twitching as you instinctively reach for your dagger—only to remember it’s not on your person. You twist and reach for the small vase instead, only to freeze when you recognize the voice that greets you.

“Planning on using that against your Wing Leader of all people?” 

You finally glance over to see your Wing Leader, Hongjoong. His expression is relatively neutral as he glances you over, though his eyes seem to pierce your soul. It’s like he’s logging every little reaction you make in his mind for future reference. 

“Get up, grab your bag. I trust the healer already went over your discharges with you.” He says, hand still on the doorknob. It’s not a question. 

He doesn’t wait for you to get up, already turning on his heel to leave the room. You quickly get up, reaching for the bag full of herbal mixes and slinging it across your back as you follow him out into the hallway. The mage lights in the room slowly dim, and you find yourself falling in step behind him as he heads towards— wherever it is you’re going.

“You’re being reassigned to Squad 3. The paperwork was finished yesterday but medical wanted you to stay one more night before discharge. The items that the recovery team were able to find have been sent to your new room already, though I’d double check to see if anything’s missing. Your room will be on the second floor with the other cadets in your new squad. You haven’t been cleared for much past basic training exercises, and Dàn is still grounded until she’s cleared—“

He cuts himself off when you let out a scoff. Dàn has to be cleared for flight maneuvers? Since when did they get to decide what you do or don’t do with your own dragon?

“Is there something wrong, cadet?”

“No sir.” Comes your quick reply, rolling off your tongue before you can make things worse.

Hongjoong stops and stares at you for a moment, before continuing down the hall and out the door towards the bridge that connects the healers quadrant to the rider quadrant across the canyon. His entire demeanor is distant. This is the wingleader in his element. Cold. Efficient.

There’s only a second of silence before he comments.

“The tension in your shoulders would suggest otherwise.” He comments, as you step into the hallway. Add on observant.

The hallway has small windows that line the walls, letting you look out and down to the valley below. The thud of Hongjoong’s footfalls ahead of you keep you moving forward, though your eyes are trained to the distance below. It’s sunny outside, and the valley below is relatively green and lush. Normally, you’d be able to appreciate the beauty, the serenity the valley and its view can bring. However, today is not the day. 

Instead, a swirling of a chaotic mess of apprehension, anger, loneliness, and grief eat away at your stomach. You miss your squad mates, but you can’t get the visions of that day out of your head. A stray flower growing off the cliff side—yellow and vibrant— seems to taunt you. 

“Can you think any louder, little one? I almost didn’t hear you.” Comes a snarky, slightly irritated comment from Dàn.

“You decide to comment on that after being basically MIA for the past three days?” You counter. 

“I had matters to attend to.” Comes her cryptic reply.

The cool, pearlescent bond between you and Dàn had felt stifled the past few days. Where the bond typically felt like clear, silvery-blue water, it instead was a dried up creek. A trickle instead of a steady stream.

“Right.” You think at her bitterly, hoping to portray even a fraction of your hurt and anger.

“It was not a slight against you.” She growls in your head, her own irritation reverbing in your skull. “I am simply covering my bases. You were safe.”

You cut the connection off, not wanting to hear her lecture for today. She could likely crash through your barriers if she pleased, though it seems today she’s more lenient than normal. You can feel her hovering at the edges of your mind, before her presence ultimately fades to the normal hum. 

“— and he’ll be the room to your left. I expect to see you on the mat later today. I’ll ensure you have a sparring opponent, since you were likely left off the roster today dud to your stay in the infirmary.” Hongjoong’s voice grabs your attention again. He looks at you expectantly, awaiting a reply. You must’ve missed something—not that you’re willing to admit.

You nod, trying to be as believable as you can be, as he leads you to the dorm rooms for second years and up.

“This one’s yours. If there’s any issues, bring it up with your squad leader. Also,“ he reaches into his pocket, handing you a patch. “Swap out your signet patch for now.”

You turn the patch over to look at it, noticing it’s the same compass design he wears on his own jacket. You furrow your brows, glancing at him silently in question.

“Your signet has been escalated to tier three. Classified.” He explains smoothly.

As you open your mouth to ask why, he holds a hand up and shakes his head.

“I also believe that keeping you off of training is poor judgment from the medical staff, seeing as you’ve already been off training for the past two weeks, so you are going to sparring today. I have a meeting to get to with the other leadership, though, but I trust you’ll find the training room just fine considering you’re a second year. Just make sure you swap out the patches. I expect to see you after lunch, on the mats.” He says, before whipping around and heading towards the exit. The thuds of his boots against the floors fades away slowly as he strides away, leaving you with more questions than answers. 

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

Your new room is bare. Functional, but lifeless.

It has the basic furniture, a desk, chair, bed, armoire, and bedside table. A small mage light sits on the bedside table. The walls are bare, save for the standard issue clock seen in every cadet’s room.

The bed is simple, but notably the blankets have changed. The color is different, navy instead of black. A small, inconsequential change, but it unsettles you nonetheless. They may have just run out of the black blankets when they were assigning you a new room, but you already miss your old blankets. On the bed are several standard issue sets of folded leisure wear.

You turn your attention to the armoire, opening its creaky wooden doors to peer inside. Several sets of your flight leathers sit inside, though you note that the squad patch on all your uniforms has been replaced with a different number. You feel dizziness take hold as you stare at the flame with a “III” embroidered inside, instead of the “I” you’ve known the past two years. 

The floor spins. It’s somehow too loud, too quiet, too fast and slow at the same time as your breathing picks up. 

Laughter. Smiles. Celebration. Tears. Pain. Anguish.

Memories of your fallen squad mates threaten to overwhelm you in the moment, and your spiral is only relieved when you realize you’re digging your nails into your palms.

“Little one.” Comes Dàn’s concerned voice in your head. Her constant presence seems to flood you momentarily, as her vigilance pokes at the edges of your mental walls.

You let out a shaky breath, glancing down at your hands. In. Out. In. Out. You take a moment to try and calm your breathing, before glancing down at the patch still in your hands. You still need to put it on your uniforms.

Except, you can’t get them out your head. You try your best to block it out, shoving it deep down, but it somehow comes back stronger. Your chest feels heavy as a creeping sensation of dread and fear climbs up, threatening to choke you, rob you of your voice.

“Little One.” Comes Dàn’s voice again, much sterner than earlier. “your breath stutters. Focus.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the shimmery silvery-blue thread that connects you and Dàn. It’s hard, and you find yourself fighting off the memories and echoes of your old squad’s final moments.

“You’re reacting to shadows, not steel. You are spiraling. Anchor yourself.”

“We were fine, Dàn. I—we were laughing. I looked straight at them. They looked at me like—like I wasn’t—“ You respond, but Dàn cuts you off again.

“They were compromised. That is not your fault.”

“But—“

“No. They were taken by something vile. You cannot mourn what they were in the end— cannot let it haunt you. Not when it wasn’t truly them.”

You feel a lump rise in your throat, as you clench your jaw in an attempt to ground yourself. You feel pitiful, losing out over ghosts of all things. A rider reduced to a coward in seconds, simply because of a patch.

“Lean on me. Endure. Remembering the dead keeps them here. Let them rest, little one. Do not let the darkness drag you down to join them. You can worry about the useless patch later.”

You exhale, shakily backing up to sit on the edge of the bed, sinking into the soft mattress. Your hands grip the signet patch in your hands harshly, but your breathing evens slightly. After a few moments, the worst of the feeling ebbs, leaving you tired but slightly more composed. Dàn goes back to being silent, though her presence is still felt.

“You should get some rest. Lunch hour is soon, and afterwards you’re expected on the mat for sparring. Don’t let your emotions cloud your abilities.”

You nod, putting the patch down on the pile of folded clothes on the edge of the bed, before moving it all onto the bedside table. You pull back the blanket, sliding in under it and yanking it up close to your chest. You lay your head down for a quick nap, unsure if sleep will bring peace—or ghosts of familiar faces.

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

The waking world calls you back far sooner than you’d like.

For a fleeting moment, it’s blissful. Then reality comes crashing back down. The sheets are navy, not black. There’s no little carving on the headboard. Not yours.

You take the opportunity to shove your heart into a little box before it can overtake you. You are not weak, you remind yourself.

Blankets fall off the bed as it dips under your weight when you shift to sit up. You could care less, as you get up and stretch the ache in your neck and back. Must’ve slept awkwardly.

You reach for the armoire. Your hand pauses to hover over the handle, frozen in hesitation. Then, gripping it with more force than necessary, you open the door to snatch the first set of leathers within reach.

Your eyes catch the silver stars — second year. An open eye, encircled by a starburst. Your old signet patch, tier two. Vague enough to hide what you actually see. Above those two— A winged emblem with a two emblazoned on it, your name and rank nestled right under it. Cdt. L/N Y/N, Second Wing. Finally, a flame for your sections Except it’s wrong. You stare at it, as if glaring might burn away the “III” and bring back what’s supposed to be there. It doesn’t.

Throwing the leathers on your bed, you reach for the new signet patch sitting on the bedside table. The patch is a simple compass, though its meaning implies—to most cadets at least—that you’re likely far more dangerous than you seem. A frown graces your face as you start to pick at your old patch, ripping the stitching off to remove it. Your movements are a bit agitated, though from what you can’t tell. Once the final piece of string is pulled and discarded, you press the patch against the leather, trying not to think about its implications. Changed. Watched. Dangerous.

Once you deem it passable, you throw the old patch onto your table, and start to shrug on the uniform. You give yourself a cursory glance, ensuring it’s on properly, before reaching into the bag of things the recovery team had found. After a moment of rustling, your hand finally meets steel—your daggers. You pull them free, the cool weight grounding you. Familiar. Steady. You slide them into their sheaths. 

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

Finally feeling somewhat ready, you reach for the door and head out the room to the food hall. The walk there, the hallways are relatively devoid of people aside from the occasional cadet passing by. It gives you a moment to mentally prepare.

Reaching the door, your hand rests against the smooth wood as you steady yourself. Here goes nothing.

Opening the door, you’re met with the sounds of a busy hall. Cadets chattering, sharing meals, memories. The sound of something clatters to the floor, followed by a high pitched laugh. It’s overwhelming—but not nearly as much as the crisscrossing filaments you see between everyone. They shimmer with every color under the sun, creating an intricate spiderweb over the entire room. 

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you will the colorful threads to dim. The faintest of outlines of them linger on the edges of your vision, but it’s much less overwhelming now.

You turn your attention to the side of the room, picking up one of the trays as you round the corner. The food line up seems lackluster today, you end up grabbing one of the dry turkey sandwiches. A cup of water finds itself onto your tray, along with a mush medley of vegetables. 

Your feet steer you to the table you used to share with your squadmates on instinct. The lack of people sitting there wrenches something in you painfully. This is wrong. There’s no laughter or life here. The table is too clean and untouched. There’s no messy crumbs, or spilled water. No papers flung haphazardly to the side by your squad leader.

And yet? You still sit. Almost in denial, like you expect one of them to pop up and say it was all a joke. A hand on your shoulder, a tray dropping loudly next to you. Anything. Where are they? Why aren’t they here yet? 

A lump forms in your throat as you stare down at your food. You’re suddenly not hungry, if you ever were. The sandwich, normally unappetizing, looks downright sickening. Your eyes sting, and you can’t stop your vision from blurring as unshed tears gather. Biting your tongue, you reach to at least take a sip of the water. The cup is paper and flimsy, while the contents are borderline metallic. The taste has you setting the cup down again, unwilling to take another sip. Hands grip it tightly, and you feel it crush in your hand, water overflowing. It drips down your hands and fingers, onto the table, but all you can think of is the memory it evokes. Blood. Warm, and horribly sticky. Bile rises in your throat, but you push it back down. Just an hour. You didn’t need to eat anyways.

That’s what you tell yourself, but every minute feels like an eternity. You feel like you’re stuck in a bubble, wanting to scream. Even if you did—no one would hear. Or care. 

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

Lunch was more performative than anything. You managed a bite of your sandwich, but it makes you feel queasy. The table drank more of your water than you did, the liquid having seeped into the wood and floor underneath. Most of your tray ended up in the trash.

Gathering your things, which really isn’t much, you get up to head to the training room. As you exit the lunch hall, a handful of cadets stand hovering just outside. Mostly first years in squad 2, their faces and names evade you. A glance at them reveals that they’re staring straight back at you. One of them leans in to another, whispering something in their ear, causing a gasp to escape as the first year glances back at you. Ignorong them, you hurry past them without a second glance.

Entering the training room, you notice most of the second years in squad two and three are already there. Your eyes dart over the groups, letting the threads flood back into your vision for a moment. The vividness of your new squad’s threads hit you hard. Vibrant reds and yellows, blues and greens. It’s almost intimidating, how closely knit they are. Their threads weave together in a complex net, overlapping and shifting constantly. Squad two’s on the other side of the room look dull in comparison.

You stand awkwardly by the entrance, unsure if you should approach—until a a head looks up and away from the group at you. Warm brown eyes meet yours, and a smile breaks out across his face. Yunho. Your new Squad Leader.

“Over here!” He calls, beckoning you over. “We’re about to start.”

You square your shoulders and walk over before the anxiety can say otherwise. The rest of the group parts to let your through, though most of them already look less than pleased by your arrival. 

One of them eyes you up and down—as if searching for something. A taller cadet, next to him smiles at you, but the smile is more taunting than welcoming. 

Yunho pats a hand on your shoulder, and attempts to pull you closer to look at the list in his hands. You stiffen, sidestepping away to create space again. The man seems utterly unbothered by the cold shoulder, and just angles the paper for you to see.

“Today you’ll be paired up with Jongho—“ he starts, but a scoff cuts him off.

“No. I want to go against her. Me and Jongho can switch.”

Yunho looks up from the paper, smile faltering for a second. You can practically see his mind rapidly sorting through thoughts as he shakes his head at the cadet.

“No. I was asked to pair her against Jongho, Woo.”

The cadet—who’s name clicks as Wooyoung—crosses his arms.

“By who? Because last I checked, you’re the one that makes the spar matchups. Professor could give less of a shit about second years pairing.”

Yunho shakes his head again.

“No. That’s final. If we have time after matches, maybe, but-“

“Good,” Wooyoung interjects, his eyes finding yours, “Jongho, you better kick her ass.”

The cadet he looks at as he says that��Jongho— shrugs. He looks utterly unbothered. Either he doesn’t care what Wooyoung thinks, or had that much faith in his abilities.

Yunho turns to you again, and claps his hands together. 

“So— Y/N, correct? This is Squad Three. I’m the Squad Leader, so if you have any questions or concerns feel free to bring them up to me!” He starts, beaming.

As he introduces the squad, you can’t help but feel a bit removed. He refers to each member so warmly, the threads between them practically hum with unspoken devotion. When it comes to you, however, there’s nothing. No bond. No thread. The way he refers to the squad as separate from you rubs you the wrong way. Like his personality is directly at odds with how he truly feels. The Squad. No welcome. No acknowledgement that he’s your squad leader now.

“Anyways, this is Jongho, he’ll be your sparring partner for today.” 

You glance at the cadet Yunho gestures to again. His expression is neutral, but he regards you with mild curiosity. His eyes dart down to your patches, where his eyes linger. Likely the flame patch marking your new squad number. That is, until you realize he’s staring at the signet patch. The compass. Unknown. Dangerous. His face for the briefest of moments looks wary, before it’s back to unreadable.

“If you need me, I’ll be sparring with San. Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung glances back to his squad leader.

“You’ll be sparring with Mingi. No funnny business like last time. Understood?” Yunho asks.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, but mumbles out the faintest “yes sir”.

“Good. Yeosang, you’ll be on standby babysitting. We’ll rotate out whoever finishes their spars first.”

The quiet one in the back—who’s been staring at you this entire time— nods. You assume that’s Yeosang, based on his and Yunho’s reaction.  As your gaze shifts back to Yunho, you do a double take. A single stripe falls just below Yeosang’s name plate. 

Executive officer. 

You didn’t realize this squad had one.

When your eyes wander back up to his face, he has the faintest smirk on his face, but it quickly dissipates.

“Right. We all know the rules. Pick a mat, and get started.“

The squad disperses, picking mats and laughing while you’re left standing awkwardly next to Jongho. He waits for everyone else to pick mats, before zeroing in on a open one. He nods his head towards it silently, indicating where to go.

Getting into position comes easily. You’ve drilled these hundreds of times before. The room sounds die down as you all wait for the start call. Trying to gauge the man before you, you’re only met with the same unreadable expression. 

“Start!” Yeosang calls out.

The sound of the other scuffles starting echoes through the room. Squeaks of shoes against the floor, sounds of cadets dodging and weaving. Yet, Jongho doesn’t move immediately. He meets your eyes for a moment, dark brown, unreadable. Then it sharpens into something more. Focus. There’s no arrogance. No taunts, no feints. Just calm, unshakeable readiness. Healthy caution.

It rattles you more than if he had underestimated you.

You take the first move, finally breaking the eye contact. Where you’re good, he’s great. His moves are clean. Efficient. He’s infuriatingly composed, and moves as if he can almost see your thought process. He parries every move, counters every strike. There’s no hesitation, just calculation and unwavering determination. 

It only takes one wrong move—one wrong misstep. Your legs are swept out from underneath you, and you’re face-first on the mat below. His hand is square in the middle of your back, the rest of him pinning your lower half down.

You tap the mat, indicating you yield, cheeks burning with humiliation. First day with the squad, and you’re barely holding your own. 

”Good form.” He offers hesitantly, before he’s leaning back. 

You nod, your voice stuck in your throat. You’ve never been beat that fast. You don’t think you’ve seen any other cadet tap out at that speed for that matter. You don’t offer a thanks, your pride too wounded already. Sitting up, and taking a breath, you rub where you got kicked on the leg.

“Guess surviving doesn’t always mean you know how to fight.” A voice rings out across the room, drawing everyone’s attention. 

Wooyoung.

He’s standing off to the side of his mat, arms crossed. His hair is messy, the tie holding it back seemingly having snapped during his own spar with Mingi. He tilts his head, as a smile spread across his face, but there’s something darker to it. Something sharp. Suspicious. 

“Cat got your tongue? Or are you always this quiet? Is that why you lost your squad? Because you don’t know how to make proper call outs on the field?” He goads, smile widening.

He makes his way over to your mat before Yeosang can stop him. He gets into fighting stance, eyeing you. There’s a dangerous sparkle in his eye.

“Or maybe you were too much of a coward to step in and save them?” He adds on. His smile is twisted as he sees you get into your own stance across from him.

Your pulse quickens, but not in fear. It’s anger. You’ll be damned if you let some pompous asshole of a cadet say you didn’t try. You’ll cry about it later. Right now? You need to get your frustration out.

The match starts before Yeosang can step in and stop you two. It’s less a spar and more an outlet for both of you.

Wooyoung moves like he’s intentionally trying to trip you up. Feints designed to frustrate more than gain an edge. Punches that are a bit too hard for a friendly spar. He’s grappling you, trying to throw you off balance. Every hit he lands that makes you flinch just makes him smile more, like he’s proving a point.

“You move pretty well for a someone who ran from the scene.” He quips during a close exchange.

Anger and sadness flood your being, and you find yourself pulling punches less and less. Your hits are more by emotion than proper technique. 

“Careful Y/N, losing your cool?” He smirks, ducking under one of your swings to make a lunge at your lower half. 

You manage to side step for a moment, reel yourself in, and defend. He knocks you off balance momentarily, but you plant your foot when it lands. Managing to kick him off and away, you re-center yourself. With a few well timed hits, you back him up towards the edge of the mat.

A grapple, a twist to his arm. He’s slightly off balance and on the defensive—he’s not smiling now.

Then, you feel it.

Heat.

You glance down to see his hand is glowing red. In the moment you falter, he beaks free, grabbing for you with the hand.

“Cheap.” You spit out, dodging to the side. His momentum sends him sailing forward to the other end of the map.

“Maybe,” he says, grinning again. “Or maybe I don’t buy the whole survivor act.“ 

He’s not even trying to conceal his signet use anymore, when he lunges at you again. Heat kicks up your side as a hand connects to your armor. A char mark is left, and the smell of burnt leather hits your nostrils.

The world shifts. 

Mirror images of yourself and Wooyoung appear everywhere. The floor tilts yet stays still. The walls and mat warp constantly. It’s sickening—like floating and falling all at once. 

Wooyoung stumbles, caught off guard by the sudden change.

Yeosang stands amid the mess, completely unbothered by the constant warping and shifting.

“That’s enough.” growls a voice, low and firm.

A moment later, the world turns back to normal. For a beat, no one moves. 

“You know well what you did wrong, Wooyoung. Me and you are talking after this.” Yeosang says firmly, his eyes icily staring down the cadet. 

Wooyoung scoffs and turns away. He mutters something under his breath, before stalking back to the mat where he originally was with Mingi.

You don’t move or say anything—just glance down silently at your armor. A very clear hand-shaped scorch mark is apparent, a charred divot where his hand connected to you for a moment. It’s still warm.

Yeosang watches you a second longer than necessary, before turning away.

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

The rest of the training is much less intense, though you do still catch Wooyoung occasionally glare at you across the room.

Following the match against him, you notice you’re slower. Sloppier even. Every mistake you make, you fixate on. 

If you were faster, could you have stopped your squad from destroying itself? If you were stronger, could you have fought off the first one to be infected? 

“Their deaths were not caused by you.” A voice in your head cuts in.

You ignore Dàn, feeling too lost in your head to listen to reason. Your next strike to Yunho—that’s right. You’re in your last soar of the day—misses again. 

Yunho furrows his eyebrows, confused at how you miss that easy of an opening. 

Your next move is a little too slow, and he parries it effortlessly.

He stops moving all together, sighing.

“I think that’s enough for today. You’re still recovering.” He says, backing off.

You lower your hands in confusion. 

“You’re not completely off medical restrictions yet. You’ve had enough. I’m calling it.” He repeats.

You blink for a moment, mind blank, before straightening yourself up. Nodding stiffly, you look around the room. Everyone’s stopped to stare at you, like you’re some kind of show. 

Weakness gets you singled out—and you’ve just been dismissed. 

Yunho hums, before pointing at a bench near the exit.

“You can stay over there until the block is over. Maybe observing will help.” He says. 

There’s no outright malice in his words, but they still sting. Observe. As in—watch and learn because you’re doing horribly. Watch and learn how to actually fight. Watch and learn how to actually protect yourself, so you can protect us.

You can’t tell if those thoughts are your own being projected—or if they’re plausibly what’s going on in his head. Either way, you defeatedly sit yourself down.

The bench is worn smooth, and creaks under your weight. You watch half-heartedly as the others spar. Without you in the mix, everyone gets an even turn. Six squad mates. Three duos. You’re the outlier.

They all work so well together. Each member seems to understand the other in a way you could never hope to comprehend. And then there’s you. A piece in a machine that never belonged. You’ve already gotten one of them in trouble with his executive officer—maybe you are the problem. Who’s to say you didn’t do something to piss Wooyoung off?

Creak.

Someone else sits next to you.

The scent hits you first. Green tea, sandalwood, and soemthing clean. Almost floral. A quiet kind of calm. You don’t glance over.

Not until the voice speaks up, at least

“Is there a reason you’re not sparring with the others, cadet?” 

The voice is smooth. Warm, measured. One that doesn’t need to be raised to be heard.

Seonghwa.

You tense up. Not out of fear, or wariness—but because it’s him. His presence right now isn’t loud, or brash, or energetic. It’s off putting because it’s the opposite. Calm. Composed. It’s the presence of someone who’s reading you better than you could ever read him.

“I was dismissed. Squad Leader cited medical reasons.” You reply.

He glances at the mats, humming softly. 

You chance a glance at him finally. He’s alert, but relaxed. The mentality of someone always ready to step in, but not high-strung. 

“I saw. However—you’re not injured. So, I’m asking again. Why aren’t you sparring with the others, cadet?” 

“I think… that I shouldn’t be over there. I make things worse.” You say softly.

“Worse? You think your presence makes things worse?”

You don’t respond—but you don’t need to. Your silence is far more telling than any words could be.

Seongwha sits still, watching as San throws Wooyoung to the floor with a loud whoop.

“The squad has been through everything together. Been together since parapet—“ he starts

Dread hits you in your stomach. You know. You had that too. 

“What you see between them—“ he gestures broadly to the area they’re all in, “wasn’t built overnight. Failure, mistakes, loss—it’s what bound them together. You won’t match that overnight, or anytime soon.” 

There’s no softness to his voice, but there’s no malice either. Just unwavering conviction.

“I’m not here to coddle you,” he continues, “but I also won’t stand by and watch you be useless to the squad because you’re feeling blue. You’re a rider, not infantry. If you’re unfit to spar? Say so. If you are, act like it."

His words are unapologetic. Direct. They sting, but they’re necessary. 

You meet his eyes finally. For a brief second, you see it: Caution. Not unkindness—but a leaders wariness, tempered by experience. He doesn’t explicitly trust you, especially not with the squad he originates from—but he’s willing to give you the chance. The briefest look of relief crosses his face, though you think you may be searching for something that isn't actually there.

“I’ll be back on the mats tomorrow. Ready.” You say.

He nods his head, accepting it, before standing.

“Good. Tomorrow? Act like someone who deserves a place here.”

He walks off to speak to your squad leader without another word. Like he had only stopped to tie his shoe, or fit in a quick stretch. 

You’re alone again—but you don’t feel as invisible. Even if the burdens still weigh on your shoulders.

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

luckydraww © 2025 - all rights reserved to luckydraww. Do not steal, plagiarize, or translate any of my work without prior permission.

Taglist: @euphoricem

[sillyheheguy]

•°~† Brothers †~°•

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♡ Fluff ~ The fluff in the relationships. Comfort and lovey dovey things.

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[focaluvr]

・❥・ MASTERLIST

♤: oneshots || ♡: drabbles || ♢: headcanons || ♧: imagines ||

☀: fluff || ☁: hurt/comfort || ☂: angst ||

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ MONDSTADT

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[captain-joongz]

♧ Heart of Darkness (series masterlist) - coming soon!

Pairing: OT8 x reader Genre: ??? Summary: ??? Status: TBA

◇ spy!woosanhwa life-changing foursome (s)

♡ Deserve you

Pairing: brother-in-law!Seonghwa x f!reader Genre: smut, darker themes Summary: Marrying into the Park family was already a curse in on itself, but the cherry on top comes when on your wedding night the clock strucks midnight and there's the wrong brother knocking on your honeymoon suite door. But being a mindless pawn in his game of revenge might not be the worst when he buys it out with pleasure beyond your comprehension.

♧ Wonderful nothing (Deserve you pt.2)

Pairing: brother-in-law!Seonghwa x f!reader Genre: smut, darker themes Summary: Months later, still reeling from your experience on your wedding night, you try to go on about your life as best as possible, but Seonghwa seems to be a little too damn adamant on messing with your life. Between juggling your husband's inappropriate behaviour and suspicions, and dodging your family's over-bearing questioning, could the edge the two of you keep dancing on be getting a little blurry?

♤ In the summer silence (Deserve you pt.3)

Pairing: brother-in-law!Seonghwa x f!reader Genre: smut, darker themes Summary: TBA

◇ photographer!Hwa and his bestie trying nude photography (s)

♤ Heroes

Pairing: business owner!Hongjoong x f!reader Genre: angst, post forced break-up Summary: Hongjoong attempts to navigate a posh party after his whole life has fallen apart, while what he wants the most is standing only a few metres away from him. It doesn't help that he knows you want him too.

♧ marking up subby!Joong's thighs (s)

♡ dressmaker!Hongjoong obsessed with his roommate (s)

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♡ pervy neighbour San watching you masturbate (s)

◇ Tits out

Pairing: best friend!Wooyoung x f!reader Genre: bffs to lovers, fluff, smut, uni au Summary: When talking to your best friend about your nipple piercing during movie night backfires in the most spectacular way possible and Seonghwa's new couch gets caught in the crossfire.

♡ Jongho as an easily jealous boyfriend (s)

[novakmiyc]

Okay- y'all wanted the singing voice claims so here

> note that these obviously wouldn't be 100% accurate and are just as close as I can get to how I imagine their singing voices being

♤ Charli (Bassist) - Holly Minto, Crawlers

♡ Nicki (Lead Singer, guitarist)- Hayley Williams, Paramore

◇ Dale (Rapper, Drummer)- Tyler Joseph, twenty øne piløts

♧ Blake (Lead Guitarist)- Kellin Quinn, Sleeping With Sirens

[shortestcake]

Navigation | Arcane m.list

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[kookiekult]

"ᴹᵉˡᵃⁿᶜʰᵒˡʸ ᵍᶦʳˡ

ᴬ ᵖᵘʳᵖˡᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᶦⁿᵏ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ

ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗʸ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵒˡᵈ

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ᴹʸ ᵍᵒᵈ, ᵃ ʷᵒᵐᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉʰᵒˡᵈ. "

- C.L

Hi!

My names chrissy ♡

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[withrafayel]

jen. 25. she/her. intj-a. ♡ ⤷ following from @jeonqkooks-main holy trinity — rafayel, caleb, sylus.

all rights reserved © withrafayel. reposting, translating and/or modifying in any way is not permitted. minors dni.

updated: june 5, 2025 · latest: waves (zayne)

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♡ = fluff  ·  ♤ = angst  ·  ♧ = smut

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XAVIER.

ZAYNE.

⤷ waves ( ♤ ) ·  0.6k

RAFAYEL.

SYLUS.

CALEB.

[sweetly-sicken]

A Lamb In Wolves Clothing Chapter 1 WIP

Chapter 1

"No one knows what is on the other side of a playing card." - Jose Hernandez

♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆

As Law stood at the entrance of the Donquixote Pirates' Hideout, the bombs strapped to his body. He clenched his fists, trying to push down the numbness and rage that consumed him. Not long ago he was enjoying a festival with his family in the beautiful White City Of Flevance. But now everything had changed. His family was gone, his home destroyed, and all he had left was anger and a desperate need for revenge.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door, his heart pounding in his chest. The door creaked open revealing a tall, menacing figure standing before him. " What do you want, kid?" the pirate asked, eyeing the bombs strapped to Law's body warily.

Law's voice was steady as he spoke, " Let me join your crew." "I want to destroy everything that i see, Towns, people, even cities. I want to destroy them all." "I grew up in the White City - Flevance, It won't be long before i die, I'd like to cause as much destruction as i can before i do."

As the menacing figure laughed a cruel laugh, a shiver ran down the spine of the newcomer. The figure spoke with a chilling tone, "Welcome to the Family. Names Donquixote Doflamingo."

As Law is taken in, he finally gets to see the weird and colorful "Family" that he has joined. To say the least, these pirates are a sight to behold with their vibrant and outlandish outfits, and their even weirder personalities. As Diamante and Trebol were trying to intimidate Law, their attention was suddenly diverted by the unexpected interruption of Baby 5 and Buffalo. The two subordinates burst into the room, yelling in excitement, "Cora-san and Lamb-chan are back!"

Diamante and Trebol turned back to Law with raised eyebrows, their expressions unreadable. Slowly, they began to shed some light on the identities of the newcomers. "The tall man is Corazon," Diamante started, his voice low and ominous. "He is the younger brother of our leader, the heart seat of our organization. and he hates kids"

"And the little lady with the lamb mask is the Joker seat," Trebol added, a sneer playing on his lips. "She is Doflamingo's and Cora's personal bodyguard." She is a mysterious figure, with no one knowing what she looks like or even what she sounds like. Lamb-chan is known for her exceptional fighting skills and unwavering loyalty to Doflamingo and Corazon.

Law knew that he had to tread carefully around these two powerful individuals, as they were not to be underestimated. With Corazon and Lamb back in the picture, the stakes had been raised, and Law would need to be on guard as he navigated the dangerous world of the underground organization.

Law's eyes followed Corazon as he started to walk up, exuding an air of confidence and authority. But what he didn't expect was for Corazon to suddenly slip and fall right next to him.

Surprised, Law couldn't believe that this clumsy moment came from a top officer of the organization. Even Baby 5 and Buffalo couldn't contain their laughter at the sight of their usually composed comrade on the ground.

But in a surprising turn of events, Corazon quickly got up and with a swift motion flung both Baby 5 and Buffalo across the room, displaying strength and agility that caught everyone off guard. As he set his sights on Law, the room fell silent, realizing that there was more to Corazon than meets the eye.

In that moment, Law could see the determination and power in Corazon's eyes, and he knew that underestimating him would be a grave mistake. As Corazon stood before him, a force to be reckoned with, Law felt a sense of admiration and respect for the man who had just proven that appearances can be deceiving.

As Corazon's strong grip tightened around Law's head, Law felt a rush of panic and confusion. Before he could react, he found himself hurtling through the air towards the scattered scrap piles that littered the outskirts of the town.

Law tumbled through the air, his body contorted and disoriented. The wind rushed past him, carrying the faint scent of rust and decay. As he crashed into the pile of twisted metal and broken machinery, pain shot through his body, but he forced himself to push through the agony.

With a groan, Law forced himself to stand, shaking off the dizziness and disorientation that threatened to consume him. He looked around, taking in the desolate landscape of rusted metal and discarded debris. The sun was setting in the distance, casting a crimson glow over the eerily quiet scene.

With a groan, Law forced himself to stand, shaking off the dizziness and disorientation that threatened to consume him. He looked around, taking in the desolate landscape of rusted metal and discarded debris. The sun was setting in the distance, casting a crimson glow over the eerily quiet scene.

" What's wrong with him...? He's Insane!" "I'll kill him" thought Law.

♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧

This is a WIP for my new fanfiction! This is my first time writing but I'm having quite a bit of fun writing this. Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Let me know if you like it! ♡

[luckydraww]

Fracture | M.List Back to the Table. ← (Navi)

Status: Ongoing Started: 5/2/25 Last Update: 5/5/25 (Prologue posted)

"Pressure. Apply it to all the right points, and it can make or break you."

Ateez - ot8 x reader

Fourth Wing inspired AU

genre warnings: Angst, Loss, Grief, Slowburn, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Dark fantasy, Trauma Recovery, Reluctant Alliance, Fluff, Violence, specific warnings in chapters

Synopsis: Following the devastating loss of her squadron, Y/N is transferred to the Iron Squad of her year, Squad 3, in hopes that their close knit bond would help her cope and return to being one of the top riders of the section. Met with varying levels of suspicion to downright hostile behavior, she’s left to navigate the maze of grief along with adjusting to a new squad and schedule alone.

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════ intro i | intro ii | reader intro ══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════ Prologue - The Eighth Night Chapter 1 - Ashes Chapter 2 - 5/30/25 Chapter 3 - In progress

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

luckydraww © 2025 - all rights reserved to luckydraww. Do not steal, plagiarize, or translate any of my work without prior permission.

[sillyheheguy]

•°~* Arcana Twilight *~°•

•°~* The Sorcerers *~°•

Sirus only

Alpheratz only

Spica only

Arcturus only

Vega only

Pollux only

•°~* Keys *~°•

♡ Fluff ~ The fluff in the relationships. Comfort and lovey dovey things.

♤ Smut/Spicy ~ Not always explicit... Probably though.

◇ Silly ~ Jokes. Nonsensical.

♧ Angst ~ Anything depressing and sad.

! Thoughts/Deep Dive ~ Anything that analyses the characters.

•°~* All Headcannons *~°•

Forgotten Deals !

↑ (What was the sorcerer's deal with their constellation)

Pillow Forts ♡◇

↑ (Making a pillow fort with them)

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[glitchedoutnoms]

♧◇♡♤ Welcome to Glitched Out Noms! ♤♡◇♧

× - × - × - × - × - × - × - ×

You may call me Caine if you do so wish. It is not my real name, but the name of my persona used to represent this blog.

Here's a little introduction for those who are new. I am an artist in both the 2D and 3D realms, but I'll only be posting my 2D content for now. I've been a part of Tumblr for quite some time but only recently decided to create this secret blog seperate from my main. I'm not well known, but if you know who I am, no you don't.

× - × - × - × - × - × - × - ×

My custom tags for easy navigation:

(Note: I will also be using a variety of commonly used tags all across Tumblr, but these ones listed are for specifically my content.)

- All of my personal art: #Glitched-Scrapbook

- My chatting and rambling: #Caine's-Rambles-GON

- Non vore related content/general stuff: #Out-Of-Bounds-Noms

- Vore tag: #Glitchy-Noms

- Stuffing tag: #Fully-Glitched

- Reblogs: #Renommed

- Inflation #Nom-error-has-ocurred

- I have several OC tags i'll be using and when I post art of them I'll update this list! Also when reblogging or using my character, please use these tags for said OC!

#Tsubuki-GON-OC (Prey)

#Caine-GON-OC (Pred)

- Fandom specific tags:

#Glitch ØFF (That one spooky video game called ØFF)

#Stardew-Noms (For the Stªrdew Vªlley lovers out there including myself)

(Will be updated when fandom content is posted)

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What content you may find here:

Mostly Soft vore

Some hard vore

Stuffing

Air, water, or slime inflation

G/T - Half sized vore

OC art and the occaisional fandom art

Reposts of my favorite content. This is both a place for me to archive posts I want to look back on, and to share my own.

Some mild eructophilia

General SFW vore and belly kink related content.

There may be occaisional mpreg or nbpreg I will reblog here, but I most likely won't make content of it myself unless requested.

× - × - × - × - × - × - × - ×

What content you may NOT find here:

Same Sized vore. (Not against it, just not my cup of tea.)

IRL vore pictures or audio. (Don't have anything against it, just again not my cup of tea.)

NSFW content. (While my blog is not meant for minors, there won't be any explicit content.)

Anything including characters that are minors themselves, including aged up characters. No Pedos allowed! =(

I have Emetophobia, so no content including it will be allowed here. Please do not ask me things that include it!

Bursting

Genitalia vore/unbirthing. Again, we are SFW here.

× - × - × - × - × - × - × - ×

DO NOT INTERACT IF:

You are explicitly a sexually NSFW blog. I am ace and just generally find it uncomfortable. I am okay with other forms of NSFW blogs. (Gore, kink related vore, etc.) Or like, if you have a vore blog but it shows genitals and such, i don't mind that.

You are a pedo. Nope. Not here. Go away.

You are Homophobic, transphobic, racist, or anything similar. This is a comfort blog and a safe space for all! Hate of any kind will not be tolerated.

× - × - × - × - × - × - × - ×