#so i should probably also answer that one

[vasito-de-leche]

I love, LOVE your characterization of the Saja Boys, and while I know you’ve only written complete dating hcs for Baby and Abs, I was hoping if it was okay if I could request something with the Saja Boys (separately) where it follows the prompt “you're about to argue but you're so pretty that his brain short circuits”? If you don’t want to write for all of them, then maybe you could do Baby and Abs (separately)?

;KPOP DEMON HUNTERS SAJA BOYS - "Too Pretty"

Saja Boys (separate) x Reader 2.5k words silly, fluff Being a demon's soft spot has its benefits. Who would've thought?

i'm so glad you like the way I write them!! this prompt sounded so fun, I just had to try my hand at it, thank you!

this also served as a way for me to slowly figure out how I'd like to characterize the other members o7 I tried to keep the relationship vague enough to be read as whatever people want, so hope that comes across well enough. also also, dont let these dramatic edgy idols fool you, all drabbles end up being silly and cute

JINU

"Are you even listening, Jinu?"

He is, of course. But he'd rather not, especially when you're getting worked up over nothing; so much for escaping an endless cycle of torture in the underworld, he now has to deal with a brand new mess, pacing behind him like a madman. By now, you've probably noticed the monotonous and non-committal answers he's been giving on loop.

"Uh-huh," Jinu's eyes never stray from the notebook in front of him, attempting to come up with a better verse for an upcoming song. And he knows he's fucked up when he hears you groan, stomping towards him.

"Okay, okay. Maybe I stopped listening abooout ... five or ten minutes ago, who's counting, but--"

Your hand comes into view, fast as lighting, and he can only look as you snatch the notebook away from him. Great, awesome.

There goes the perfect verse in his head. He remains frozen for a moment, the hand holding a pen still hovering over the now empty spot on his desk until your voice reaches him once more.

"If you're not going to listen, at least tell me so I don't waste my time talking to you."

Jinu slouches in his seat, raising both hands to cover his face, before sliding them upwards to slick back his hair in a feeble attempt at regaining his composure. You can't even see him from this angle, his back turned to you, but he still rolls his eyes.

You want to argue? Get it out of your system? Fine, he can give you the fight you want.

In one swift motion, his position changes; now he's straddling the chair, a powerplay he's come to master after bickering with his own band for so long, eyes closed as he prepares to deliver a devastating comeback to rile you up. But when he looks up, the golden glow in his eyes wavers--you're standing so close in front of him, looking down at his seated form with your arms crossed, as if daring him to speak.

He doesn't, and you tilt forwards, hair cascading over him so that the only thing he can focus is your face in this one-sided glaring contest.

Jinu has seen you at your best and your worst, but this is the first time he's found himself at the other end of your undivided attention and anger. It is as intimidating as it is alluring. What are you doing to him? Is this allowed? His neck feels hot, his face feels hot. The room feels like it's on fire, but not the same type of hellfire he's grown used to; it's a different sort of warmth, equal parts shame and pleasure as he takes in the sight. His lips part without him noticing, whispering ever so gently.

"Pretty ..."

"What was that?" Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

"Shitty. I said you look. Shitty. As in, you look like shit. Being angry isn't doing you any favors, you know? You should get some rest, okay. Byeee."

Without giving you any time to react, Jinu fumbles over his words, trips over your furniture and he stumbles out of your apartment in a rush, almost breaking into a sprint for the elevator. It's only when the doors close that he allows himself to breathe in and out, finally noticing the extra passenger inside with him. His bird companion chirps smugly, and Jinu groans into his palms.

"I don't want to talk about it."

ROMANCE

"I didn't mean it like that!"

Romance scoffs at your words, still refusing to leave his room. All the heart shaped decorations seem to mock him as he leans his full weight against the door, easily preventing you from entering no matter how hard you try to rattle the doorknob.

Both of you find yourself at the edge of an argument, and the decision to escalate things lies solely on his hands. He knows this because he can practically hear the affection in your words, even as you whine and tell him to get over himself to talk to you, face to face. That alone is enough to make Romance's chest tighten--no matter how many times he does this, this game of push and pull, you still make sure to chase after him time and time again.

Surely you must be reaching your breaking point; nobody is strong enough to withstand this much heartbreak. Maybe if he tries a little harder, you'll realize that there's nothing good in a future with him.

All he has to do is stay silent and wait for you to leave.

"Then what did you mean?" His voice is whiny, it always is. But you always insist that you love that about him, the way he feels so deeply about everything.

"You really want to argue about something like this?" You're right, you usually are--he's making things difficult when he's not even officially yours. "Well, I don't. So you can call me once you've cooled off."

And just like that, it's quiet; there's no more pressure pushing against him from the other side of the door, no more cutesy nicknames and attempts at coercing him out. Romance's heart drops, and he practically claws his way out, torn between cursing you out for proving him right and leaving, or begging you to take him back and sort everything out as if he hadn't been the one to start this. He's taken only a single step out of the threshold of his sanctuary when your smile greets him--you're leaning casually against the door frame, pretending to inspect your nails.

"So, are you done brooding all by yourself, handsome?"

That playful grin renders Romance speechless; the contrast of your casual attitude against his frenzied panic is impossible to ignore, he's gone through all five stages of grief in under a minute while your trust in him never wavered. Absence truly makes the heart grow fonder because there's a glint in your eyes that tugs at his heartstrings, wild strands of hair that he'd love to twirl in his fingers and kiss ever so gently. Romance knows that you'll let him if he asks for permission, and a knot forms in his throat, face flushed bright pink.

"No." It's all he manages to squeak out before closing the door once more.

"Rommie! Are you mad at me or not?!"

"I don't??? Know??? I need a moment! Just stay there!"

ABBY

"That's the last time I take you anywhere. You can't just pick a fight like that, Abby!" Abby sinks even deeper into the plush cushions of the couch as you continue to scold him, as if his sulking and his silence could single-handedly help him win this argument.

He's already found himself a comfortable spot, but you're still fussing about the living room, throwing your shoes to the side, sending your jacket flying onto the backrest of the sofa, pausing to drink and slamming the glass on the counter a little harder than necessary. Abby knows better than to try and stop you, so he stays put, waiting for his opening.

"What if anyone saw? Did you even think about that? The amount of trouble you'd be in?"

Those are all very good questions that he never bothered to consider; in fact, he still refuses to think about the consequences. There's no point in doing so when you managed to pull him away before he could do any damage to anyone, or to his own reputation as an idol.

"Like they'd even care," Abby huffs, trying to blow a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Just catching a glimpse of us outside is enough to make everyone turn a blind eye, it's almost too easy to work the crowd. One flex of these guns and any broken noses will be totally forgotten."

He makes an attempt to flex said guns, but he finds you looming over him from behind the couch, your grasp on his wrists as steady as death. There is a wild look in your expression, one he can't quite understand, but he finds it impossible to tear his eyes away from you. Getting to play the part of guard dog for you comes as easy as breathing, Abby can't get enough of the little tells that give you away, letting him know that you enjoy his antics--but it never crossed his mind that the tables could be reversed like this.

"Fine, let me put it this way! What if you got in trouble or worse, what if you got hurt? Ever thought of that one? Just because you're an all mighty demon doesn't mean you're--"

"You're hot when you're mad." He blurts out.

"I--What?"

A chance to rectify his mistake is presented to him, and he immediately pivots away from it when you blink your pretty eyes at him in confusion. "I said that you're hot when you're--"

"I heard you the first time, Abby. It's just--were you listening to what I was saying?" Okay, this is his chance to steer the conversation back on track. It's very easy, he just has to--

"If I say no, will you scold me some more?"

"Oh my God. Abby. Nevermind."

MYSTERY

Arguing with you is a rare occurrence.

But so is speaking to you, or engaging in any sort of conversation at all with anyone. This is one of the many perks that came with his role as the cool, mysterious and aloof member of the Saja Boys; anything he didn't feel like addressing could be easily swept under the rug and left ignored for centuries. This had been Mystery's modus operandi for years, and he wasn't planning on changing it any time soon.

You, on the other hand, were the opposite, filling the silence he often sought so desperately, until your voice became background noise in his life, a constant, confusing and somewhat comforting presence that simply followed him around.

Mystery still remembers the first time he deigned himself to reply, something off-handed that didn't matter at all, and yet you clung to his every word and went the extra mile to include him in your one-sided talks. It took a long time for the demon to get used to this, and an even longer time to acknowledge the fact that he enjoys the sound of your laughter, way better than the miserable voices crawling in the back of his mind.

Which is why the claustrophobic and oppressive silence lingering in the room irks him to no end. You're supposed to be talking, not playing hard to get or ignoring him over a stupid argument; the way you brush past him, barely acknowledging his existence as you go about your day is getting under his skin in ways he never knew were possible.

And then, for a fleeting second, you meet his gaze--this moment lasts for an eternity in his eyes, and he opens his mouth to speak, to seize the opportunity and break the ice, but before he can get a single word out, you turn around and begin to scroll through your phone. That's the last straw.

Mystery stands up and forces himself into your peripheral, hands firmly planted on the wall, trapping you in.

For the first time in forever, he wants to scream, to bark, to growl and give you a piece of his mind. But when he sees the way you awkwardly avoid his gaze, fiddling with your hands and standing at your tiptoes, Mystery relents and his frustration is replaced with something else; endearment. You're still wearing his merch, one of the very first shirts the Saja Boys released long ago with his name written on it, you're still attempting to hide from him despite knowing there's nowhere in the world you could go without him finding you.

Slowly, Mystery raises a hand towards you, enjoying your half-hearted attempt at shaking him off, pretending to bite the air near him.

And then he pinches your nose. "Cute."

After that, he leaves. You'll come around when you feel like it.

BABY

"You went too far this time, there was no need to get so personal back there."

"That's the entire point of dissing someone, duh. So, was it good? Did you like it?" Baby kicks his feet, hands cupping his cheeks to make himself look as innocent as possible. "I didn't know I could rhyme that many words with 'cunt' but it was soooo fun! Right, right?"

"Baby!"

Tsk. Guess it's the hard way today. That cute expression quickly turns into a scowl and he makes a bee-line for the fridge, if only to find something to drink and distract himself with.

He blows bubbles into the silly straw, sulking in the kitchen. "What? They got what they deserved. What kind of idiot would challenge me to a rap battle if they can't take the heat? Hellooooo, it's Baby Saja we're talking about."

"But it was a friendly thing, you turned it into a massacre for no reason."

"Heh," he knows he shouldn't, but he snickers to himself anyway. "Guess I did, huh? What, do you wanna have a go in their place?"

This is how Baby likes to play, to earn a reaction and entertain himself if only for a little--but you always know better than to play into his shenanigans. And you also know how to get a message through his thick skull, something that continues to astonish him to this day.

Baby continues to sip away on his drink as you busy yourself, fully believing himself to be the victor of this round. But dread starts to make its presence known deep in his chest as he sees you slowly gathering your things--this isn't how things usually go, you always stay the night at his place to keep him company, watching horrible romcoms, eating snacks and falling asleep at 5 a.m.

So why were you leaving?

"Hey, hey. Woaaah! Are you really going to ditch me because I got a little mean to some rando? That's so unfair." The look you give him is enough for his act to crumble, and Baby groans dramatically before hurrying to your side, tugging onto the hem of your sleeves. "Stay here! Pleeeeeeaase? I'll behave next time!"

It doesn't work; you pinch his cheeks and pull, stretching them like mochi. Your voice is stern, even after you let go. "You're old enough to know that what you have to say is 'sorry,' Baby. But if you want to beg for forgiveness, you'll have to try a little harder than that."

Shit. So much for being unfair, the tone of your voice and that look in your eye are more than enough to get all the thoughts in his mind twisted up--Baby hates when you don't indulge him, but even he has to admit that he loves that stubborn streak in you.

"What? Cat got your tongue? I know you well enough by now, there's no way you have nothing to say."

You never waver, meeting his eyes with the same intensity, running a hand through your hair. Baby's mouth turns into a fine line, followed by a pout. If he says anything right now, he'll most likely end up digging his own grave. You look SUPER hot right now, is that good enough to make up and get you to stay? Something like that would most likely earn him the silent treatment for a week.

"Sssssssorry ..."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it--"

"...for being soooo damn good at my job. Like it's my fault?"

"I'll see you tomorrow Baby."

"Aw, c'mon!"

[thedivinetarot]

Nobody's son, Nobody's Daughter

Does your future spouse feel your energy?

☆ How to chose your pile? 🕯📜🗝🦪

☆ Disclaimer:

This is a general reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't, if you need to know whether they feel it or not DM for in depth reading🤍. This is for people who want a sign or are manifesting their fs. Again, don't hang your whole life on your spouse, they will come in the divine timing.

☆ Note:

I'm back as I promised dears. And I have an important announcement. I started Ko-Fi account and joining is totally free for everybody. If you'd like to support me here is the link, no pressure on donations.

Lots of love💕

Arya

Pile 1 - Garden 🌿

🤍 Do they feel your energy?

Yes but you guys are hidden from each other lol. This person (regardless of their gender) is out there but you can't SEE them and they can't SEE you. I see that there's emotional charge here. Perhaps you two feel the same things in the same time or have the same emotional capacity and emotional maturity. I see distance, you guys have a distance between you and them. This person is far away yet you two are on the same emotional wavelength. This person might either be your age or a little older, perhaps 3-6 years older. They are coming into your life but first you have to finish a karmic cycle or change your location or after deep transformation. Perhaps when you meet them you'll be relocating from your parent's house into another city for work or study. This person might also be someone that you cut off, or blocked or might be someone who is finishing a huge chapter in their life. I see that they are working on their confidence and building healthy emotional regulation. There’s a choice that should be made before you two meet. I see that you two are in your own shell and the world is just "world-ing" around you. There's emotional independence here and both of you seems to not focus on dating or relationships but they feel the same way you feel and your lives are quite in sync with one another. That's what I'm seeing, thank you for reading this🤍 and take care💕.

♡ Placements for you:

Scorpio, Gemini, Virgo, Cancer, Taurus, Dominant planets in moon, neptune, Mercury. Sun or moon in the 8th, 3rd, 6th, 4th, and 2nd house in the chart.

Pile 2 - Girl with candle🕯

🤍 Do they feel your energy?

Short answer yes, but they are someone you know from the past (if youdon’t have anyone in mind then it might be a potential soulmate). I see that there's always an exchange of energy between you and this person. I see that you are focusing on yourself and your own business in the material world but you have a strong etheric cord between you two. Perhaps this person is stalking you energetically, thinking of you. Wishing they could come forward and express their feelings but there’s something stopping them. Perhaps the divine and Perhaps their own circumstances. Now I'm not saying you should run back to them because they are like that. Be more discerning and take care of yourself. If this is a toxic person or emotionally distant one it's not something you want to revisit and relive again. What is interesting is that this person and you have finished a karmic cycle but they can't freaking let go. They are like an energetic parasite that is lurking in the shadows. You keep them up at night and they keep overthinking of "what if" and "what could've been". There’s a distance between you and this person too. This person sees potential but... they know that you'll probably not approve of them again if they come in. I see that you have recovered from your rejection wound. Someone here, either you or them have a rejection wound and you had to recover after this situation with that person. Not gonna lie to you and make things rosy or cute but this person is trying to indulge in the material world to forget about you but the thoughts of you keep slipping in their mind. That's everything I have for you pile 2, take care💕.

♡ Placements for you:

Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn, Pisces, Libra. Dominant planets in Neptune, Venus, Uranus, Saturn. Sun or moon in the 2nd, 6th, 10th, 12th and 7th house in your chart.

Pile 3 - Candles ✨

🤍 Do they feel your energy?

Hey, so... Short answer No, they don't. I'm picking up on two people here. Someone old in their late 20s or middle 30s to early 40s. This person is very mature. Have their own stable job and income. And they are serious about dating OR someone who is very comfortable in the solitude and doesn't want to leave their comfort zone and meet new people. I'm picking up on someone who had their fair share of heartbreak and those experiences made them more resilient and more mature. I see someone who is responsible and structured, not spiritual at all. I don't see any energy exchange happening between you and them. Your lives are not in alignment yet. It might happen if they chose to move from their comfort zone and get to know people. They are so strict I'm picking up on ESTJ, ENTJ, ISTX and even INXJ. Someone in their own world and doesn't leave their comfort zone easily. Now the other person is their complete opposite. I'm picking up on someone who have the most chaotic love life. Your person is in their early to mid 20s, possibly still in college. They are partying hard and lovebombing others harder. This person's life is a MESS rn. I see that they are in a very chaotic state in their life especially toward dating. I see that this person is a serial dater or date multiple people in the same time or one after another because they hate being alone. I see that they are currently in a relationship with someone and they are either being lovebombed/ sexbombed by that perosn lol or they are doing that thing. Anyways, this person's is love life is unstable af. I'm picking up on someone with the MBTI ESFP, ENFP, ISFP, and for a few they might be an EXTP. In both cases you and that person are not aligned energetically yet. Because you have your life and they have their life too.

☆ Placements for you:

Libra, Aries, Taurus, Sagittarius, Cancer, Mars in Aries and Sagittarius. Dominant planets in Mars, Saturn. Sun or moon in the 7th, 1st, 2nd, 9th and 4th house in your chart.

Post date: 25th of June 2025 - Wed.

3 ✅ out of 4

*Feedback is appreciated

[bluukive]

mdni, angst, toji x reader

It was one of those quiet evenings you loved so dearly. The rain beat down gently against the windows, the TV created a low hum in the background, and your older boyfriend was on the couch. A cold can of beer you had so kindly fetched him lay crumpled on the ground, the remainder of its contents dripping onto your newly-purchased rug. 

There was no indication that he saw. Or maybe he did. Maybe he just didn't care. 

But it was okay, right? He’s your boyfriend. Sure, he was a little grimy. He didn’t have a stable job, nor did he provide you with emotional safety and security— something a man of his age should have been able to give. You also argued often, frustrated with the way he never answered your calls. Nor did he ever communicate properly, causing bouts of insecurity and self-doubt to bubble up deep within you until you cried. Only then would Toji attempt to soothe your emotions with half-hearted apologies. 

The sex was good, at least. That’s probably why you stayed. Toji knew how to touch you right, not at all like those useless scrubs you used to hang out with. The ones he saved you from, in his words. Under his hulking body, you could forget about all of those empty nights in your bed, the constant missed calls, and especially the way he never truly looked at you. Not unless he wanted to empty a load inside of you. 

But back to the present.

You sat quietly beside him— as if you were his shadow, waiting to be spoken to and never speaking first. His legs were spread wide whereas yours were tucked neatly underneath you. 

Perhaps… you should break the silence tonight. See where it led you. 

“Do you believe in soulmates, ‘ji?” You murmured in a manner far too sweet than what your boyfriend deserved. He didn’t even look your way when you spoke, merely grunting lowly in response. 

A shrug. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered after a brief beat of silence. “Think I already met mine."

You blinked, a warm feeling beginning to form deep within you. Oh, how your heart soared. You beamed at him, leaning forward until your hand brushed against a bulky knee. He scratched at his softening stomach dismissively. 

He thought of you as his soulmate? 

You were about to respond— lips already parting, heart fluttering, until Toji interrupted in that careless voice of his. 

“She died, though.”

And your smile disappeared, before it could fully bloom like the flowers resting on his dear wife's grave. 

“Oh. Right,” you murmured, daring to let out a strained laugh. “Sorry.”

You should have known better. 

Toji chuckled, like he didn’t take you seriously. That’s when a rushed mumble of ‘I love you’ spilled from your lips, thinking that it’d fix things. What else could you do? 

He patted your knee, as if you were some sort of mutt bringing him back a stick after a round of fetch. There was no reassurance in his touch, no comfort. It felt cold.

“Don’t worry your pretty ‘lil head about it,” was all he said before getting up and heading off to grab himself another beer. 

Your face burned terribly, body prickling with embarrassment. The can on the floor caught your attention once more, your eyes fixed on the way it still soaked the rug below. Your breathing was shallow as you listened to his heavy footsteps walk further away from you.

Too far.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Slow Burn 🔥

Bucky x f!Reader

Allll the tropes - you can never have too much cake, friends! There's only one bed, injured on a mission, friends to lovers...

I am still under the influence of a heatwave 🫣 I also now appear to be writing sex acts I've never written before. It's like an unofficial mini-series 😂

Bucky Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: face-sitting, oral (f receiving).

Alexei was going to pay for this. You weren't sure how just yet, but you'd think of something. Some suitable punishment for accidentally giving you enough explosive to level a whole building rather than just get you in the door.

You dug through your bag until your fingers closed around what you needed. An ancient tub of moisturiser. Picked up in a gas station more than a year ago, a totally unknown brand - probably banned from sale in the US. Probably not containing even a milligram of aloe.

Luckily it still smelled cool and fresh, still looked usable. Behind you, the bathroom door opened.

“How's the shower?”

“About as good as you'd expect.” Bucky grimaced.

You spun around with a wide grin just as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. Your grin disappeared, taking your bravado with it.

“There was me hoping for a huge walk-in with one of those rainfall things,” you muttered.

“Afraid not. I wouldn't even touch anything if I were you.”

Your expression must have said it all because he followed up awfully quickly, “I just mean, like, the walls, not yourse-”

His low voice petered off, the tips of his ears went pink.

“Well, yeah. Obviously,” you scoffed, filling the awkward silence.

The whole place was gross.

You hadn’t planned on a motel.

It was just a quick job - plant the charges, blow the door.

Instead, half the bunker went up in flames.

The burn on your shoulder said enough.

Bucky had dragged you clear of the fire, complaining the whole way to the motel about you not wearing your suit.

“If I’d been wearing my suit, I’d be peeling melted polyester off my skin right now,” you snapped.

He didn’t say another word.

Not until you got to the motel and found, befitting your terrible luck, one full-size bed. Not even a queen.

You passed him as you headed for the bathroom, and you could swear his eyes flicked to your shoulder, just for a second.

You closed the door firmly behind you.

You were friends. Kind of.

There was no need for this to be so… awkward.

You showered fast, following his advice and keeping your hands to yourself, and in the short time you'd been gone, he'd found the spare blanket and lay it on the floor.

“You can't sleep there,” you said before you were even fully back in the room. “It's disgusting. There's probably roaches.”

He didn’t look up. “I���ve slept on worse.”

You hesitated.

“The bed’s not that big,” you muttered. “Just don’t, like, spread out.”

He eyed the bed, then your shoulder.

“You should take that side. You’ll roll onto it otherwise.”

You arched a brow. “Since when are you the burn expert?”

“Since I carried your crispy ass out of a fire.”

You choked on a laugh. “My crispy ass? That’s what we’re calling it?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at you for a second too long, then said, “get in the bed.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then shut it.

You took the side he pointed to and climbed in first, turning onto your side. He followed a second later, back to you, a careful few inches of air between your bodies.

The silence was too quiet. Too full.

He exhaled slowly. “I didn’t mean don’t touch yourself earlier.”

You sniggered in the dark.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

He didn’t reply.

You lay still, hyper-aware of his presence a few inches behind you. His warmth. The shift of the mattress every time he moved.

Eventually, his breathing evened out.

Yours didn’t.

You didn’t know when you drifted off. Only that when you stirred again, it was still dark - just the faintest sliver of morning pushing at the curtains.

You didn’t move, you kept your breathing steady, even as you felt the bed shift slightly behind you.

His arm reached across you, slowly and carefully, for something on the nightstand. He was trying not to wake you. A soft scrape of something plastic. A quiet lid twisting open.

Then the slow slide of your top strap down your arm.

The cream felt cool. Soothing on your angry skin. His fingers worked it into your skin, gentler than they had any right to be.

He was being careful. Methodical.

But he lingered.

His thumb dragged lightly just below the edge of the injury. Too low to be part of the job. Too light to be innocent.

You kept your eyes closed, imagining his hands moving further down. It was all you could do to keep your breath steady, let alone your hips.

And then, as if you weren't already in pieces, you felt him blow lightly over the burn. Your skin cooled and tingled and you couldn't help the sigh of relief that fell from your mouth.

Even to your own ear, it sounded like a broken moan of pleasure.

You clamped your mouth shut, eyes pinching closed with embarrassment.

His hand froze.

You could feel the way his body went still behind you.

“Don’t do that,” he said, voice low. Strained.

You didn't move. “Do what?”

“Make that sound.”

You could’ve died.

He drew in a slow breath, his fingers still resting lightly on your shoulder.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was.” You paused. “But then you started touching me.”

“I shouldn’t have,” he said softly.

“Shouldn't you?”

You rolled onto your back to look at him, the burn smarting against the rough bedsheets.

“I’ve thought about it,” you admitted quietly.

“Fuck. Me too.”

“So,” you said finally, but trailing off into nothing.

“So if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m gonna kiss you.”

You snorted, “no you're not -”

He dipped down quickly and caught your mouth with his.

You gasped, surprised by his boldness, and felt him go still above you. Before he had time to doubt himself, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to pull him down onto you.

He resisted, just a little, and pulled back.

“Your burn,” he muttered against your mouth.

“‘s fine.” You leaned up to kiss him again, but he twisted away from you.

“Not like this,” he said roughly. Then, after a breath, “c’mere.”

He shifted, rolling to his back, hands guiding your hips as he pulled you with him.

You could feel how hard he was beneath you, the restraint in every movement.

“You sure?” you whispered.

He huffed a laugh, one hand skimming your thigh.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been sure since Berlin.”

You sank into his kiss, half sprawled on top of him, your hands buried in his hair, his mouth hot and hungry against yours.

There was a quiet urgency in the way he kissed you - like he’d been holding back for months and now didn’t know how to stop.

The kiss deepened, his hands everywhere and yet careful to avoid hurting you. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard.

He looked at you, really looked at you. His voice dropped.

“How’s is it?”

“Better than in my head,” you smirked. He rolled his eyes and gestured to your shoulder. “It’s fine. It's nothing.”

His fingers brushed down your arm gently. “I want this to be good for you. Easy.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile widening. “Are you saying I’m lazy?”

“No,” he said, leaning in, his mouth just by your ear. “I’m saying I want you above me. Comfortable.”

He lay back slowly, still watching you.

“Sit on my face.”

It wasn’t a question.

You blinked, heat licking up your neck - and not from the burn. “Bucky, I -”

“You don’t have to move. You don’t have to do anything.” His voice dropped, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Let me make you fall apart.”

“This isn’t exactly how I pictured our first time,” you laughed nervously, trying to reach for another kiss.

“No?” he grinned, pulling out of your reach. “Because I’ve definitely pictured it. Just relax, I've got you.”

His hand trailed down your thigh to the back of your knee, pulling your leg further over him. You shifted, your knees bracketing his hips, and sat up, peeling off your thin cami.

His eyes drank you in, dark and focused, but he didn’t reach for you.

“I could just stay right here,” you teased, rolling your hips against him. “Ohh, fuck -” you sighed. “Please, Bucky.”

His hands skimmed up your thighs, slow and steady. “Then lose the rest for me, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip, wriggling out of your underwear as his grip tightened, guiding you higher up his chest.

You hesitated again, your breath shallow and heart pounding. His eyes were locked on yours - not teasing, just openly wanting.

“I’ve never…” you started, then couldn't finish.

“I know,” he said gently. “That’s why I want you to.”

He didn’t rush you. He just waited with all his quiet intensity focused entirely on you.

You moved up his chest slowly, his hands steady on your thighs, guiding. When you reached him, hovering just above his mouth, he looked up at you like you were something sacred.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered.

He lay back expectantly. “Not even a little. I knew you'd look perfect up there. Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you.”

He hooked his hands around your thighs and pulled you down. You reached out to grip the thin wooden headboard to steady yourself.

As his broad tongue dragged a long, slow stripe through your pussy, your thighs clamped around his head, half in shock, half instinct.

“What if I fucking suffocate you?” You asked, horrified.

He rolled his eyes, and in them, you knew he was grinning into you.

“Do your worst, baby,” he said, muffled against you. His voice sent vibrations through your body, he held you a little tighter.

His tongue worked you open with a pressure that had you throwing your head back. By the time he swept it over your clit, your hands had given up clinging to the headboard for dear life, and were palming your breasts, rolling your nipples between your thumb and index finger.

“God, Bucky -” you rolled your hips, willing yourself to look at him.

He reached one hand up to cover yours, you swapped them so that yours covered his, kneading your soft curves.

He moaned into you, the sound enough to make you grind down against his tongue.

You reached behind and wrapped a hand around his thick cock, weeping and aching. He fucked up into your fist, each thrust in time with the flick of his tongue inside you.

When his lips closed around your swollen clit and sucked, your legs shook and your vision went white, his name tumbling from your mouth.

Your grip on his cock tightened as you writhed against his mouth.

Hot, sticky ropes of cum painted your back, your ass - he came hard in your hand, roaring into your cunt.

“Holy fuck,” you breathed, shifting back on unsteady knees.

He pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, making you tremble again.

Still catching your breath, you lifted your hand - slick with his release - and brought your fingers to your lips. Bucky groaned low in his chest, watching as you licked the taste of him from your skin with deliberate, languid strokes.

“Jesus,” he muttered, eyes blazing.

He surged up suddenly, sitting against the headboard and dragging you down with him, hands firm at your hips. You slid easily down the broad plane of his chest, letting your legs fall to either side of his thighs until you were straddling him again, skin sticking to skin.

His mouth found yours in a messy kiss, all hunger, no restraint - tasting himself on your tongue.

You rocked your hips without thinking, still pulsing around the aftershocks, still needing.

“Bucky…” you breathed against his jaw, your voice raw. “I want more.”

His hand slid up your spine and he blew lightly over the warm skin on your shoulder. “Yeah?”

You nodded, pressing your lips to his cheek. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

He stilled, grip tightening just slightly.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he asked, low in your ear. “Gonna need you to say it again.”

You smiled against his skin, grinding your hips against the hard line of him. “Please. I need you inside me. Want you to fill me up.”

A rough sound left his throat.

“God,” he muttered. “Thought you’d never ask.”

When he finally pushed inside you, you knew you’d never need to ask again.

[mayshifting]

That's so true. I'm just going to say more things about the different sentences you said because I want to and some people need to read this.

I.

So the first thing, methods are tools to HELP, not to MAKE you shift. People need to stop saying or IMPLYING you need one to shift. It happens more than people think, even if it's not directly said.

Also, people need to answer the people who ask "which methods..." that the methods are not needed. Shifters are thinking more about the methods than the shift itself.

II.

Caring about what people do in their own DRs is completely stupid. I don't care what people do or don't do in their drs (like you said, except if you kill or hurt people.) And everyone should be the same, because why care about other people's lives? They are not hurting anyone (at least I hope.) So let them live, bro.

II + VI

And judging people because they DON'T script out imperfections is the same as caring about what people do in their DRs and it's the dumbest thing ever. I think imperfections make it more normal, y'know? Yes, we can live in the perfect world everyone wants but, we also need imperfections/problems too.

I'm shifting to MHA, so if there's no problem, heroes don't exist.

Or for someone who shifts in Marvel or another DR which we NEED problems to live what we want to live.

Having a bit of action makes it more fun, more thrilling. So judging people because they don't script out thing, this is low.

If you want to shift to a perfect world without flaws to not have any problems DO IT. You're so right about that. But yeah, don't judge the one who don't.

III.

About Kill DRs, they are genuinely terrifying, because you don't kill here but you CAN kill in another reality? You're just a psychopath who wants to have the right to act on their urge without repercussions. If you can kill in another reality, you can do it here too, and this is not something you can debate on.

V.

I don't have much to say about this one because, yes, shifting is scientific. And like you said it got explained multiple times. For the people who think the opposite, I invite you to do your research, or ask at least someone who knows or has read the scientific evidence what the explanations are. (Don't ask me, I'm still waiting for the motivation to continue reading, I swear.)

Also, shifting has existed since forever. Experiences were made since 1983/and before. People in the past talked about it way before everything, but just they didn't use the term shift.

Because, no, shifting is not called shifting reality. People just started calling it that way. So don't stress if you don't say "I'm shifting." Or anything.

Here, for y'all.

VII.

The over-script or don't script at all. Again, minding other people's lives.

Who cares if they over-script or don't script? Is it going to kill you? To prevent you from shifting? No, so why judging about something so insignificant.

All you want is to force people to do what you think IS the right thing to do. But not everyone works the same

People prefer to over-script to be sure they have everything. And some don't script because it's not necessary and prefer doing other stuff than scripting. You can't just judge or force someone to think like you do or do what you do.

VIII.

The cheating problem, SO MANY people are fighting about this its crazy. For the shifter, you go to ANOTHER reality, even if you have another partner in here doesn't mean you're cheating because you're not dating the person you date here. So if you don't date this person, there's no cheating.

Of course, it's okay to question it. It important. But your feelings are different from one reality to another. And it's important to understand that.

For the PARTNER, please. You're jealous of a person who's not even in your reality.

I can understand why you guys feel like that, but you guys probably do the same or would do the same (if not a shifter.)

Your partner doesn't HAVE to date you in every reality. It doesn't mean they don't love you in this one, they do. But not in another one.

IX.

I have literally nothing to say, just that there's no original reality if we shift every everytime. We just shift in a reality very similar to the other that it's unnoticeable.

X.

This one is angering me. Yes. You. Can. It's nothing religious, it's scientific. There's nothing wrong about that.

If you want to shift but you're religious, go! It's not a sin at all. And if people say otherwise don't listen to them, religion and science are 2 different things. It's sad to see someone want to shift but doesn't do it because of the fear of it being a sin because x said it was.

No, it's not. A lot of religious people shift, so do I.

𝑆𝐻𝐼𝐹𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑃𝐴𝐺𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐴 𝐼𝑀 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝐹𝐴𝐿𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐹𝑂𝑅

i. “you have to use a method” sybau

ii. caring what other people do in their drs (idgaf unless you’re hurting people)

iii. kill drs

iv. “shifting isn’t scientific” there’s so many scientific explanations but ok

v. needing an s/o in every dr

vi. scripting out every imperfection (js a personal thing — i like flaws in my drs as it makes me enjoy the good even more)

vii. judging people who “over-script” or don’t script at all.

viii. thinking it’s cheating if your partner shifts for someone else … (get a grip)

ix. “original reality”

x. “you can’t be religious whilst also being a shifter”

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

hiii i love your no doubt series smmm🥹🥹🥹 and I was wondering if i cld req smth like jenn comes to jakes house when coincidentally yn is also over and wants to get back tgt w jake and then she makes up sm stuff about yn cheating but jake loves yn sosososo much so ofc he didnt believe jenn and started being rly protective of yn and chased jenn away but he was still a lil bit insecure abt it so yn ended up comforting him:) idk if this fits the whole no doubt vibe but i thought it wld be cute to read abt jake being protective of yn

tyyy💗

hiii thank you so much <333 and YES wow we are bringing JENN BACK INTO THE PICTURE !!! long time no see jenn (side eye) (HARD SIDE EYE). i actually love this, i think this fits the no doubt vibe perfectly because it just proves even more how much trust they have in one another...and seeing jake being protective over yn is ATTRACTIVE ‼️‼️‼️

──── NO ROOM FOR DOUBT 💫 ☁️ ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

Buzz. 

Your head lifts from Jake’s chest. 

You’d both sworn tonight would be a quiet night in—phones off, dumplings eaten straight from the takeout box, a couple lazy kisses and half-lidded giggles shared as a random variety show plays on the TV screen. 

The kind of night where time slows down and the only thing that matters is how warm Jake feels under you as you both lie sprawled out on the couch—

Buzz. 

Another long ring. Persistent. 

You sit up. 

Jake groans softly as he sits up once you’re off of him, stretching his arms out and blinking at the ceiling. 

“Are you expecting someone?” you murmur, rubbing your eyes and tilting your head toward the door.

Jake shakes his head, “Nope. Maybe it’s delivery for one of the guys. They’ll probably just leave it at the—“ 

Buzz. 

Buzz. 

Buzzbuzzbuzz. 

The two of you freeze.

Jake’s eyes narrow. You both glance at the door. Then at each other. 

“…Okay, what the hell,” you whisper, a hand grabbing Jake’s thigh and shaking it slightly. 

He pushes off the couch, rubbing the back of his neck and he shuffles over to the little black screen by the entrance. You watch as he taps the intercom to turn on the hallway camera and—

—and freezes. 

“…Babe.” 

“Hmm?” you hum, lying back down and curling up in the warm dent your boyfriend left behind on the couch. 

“It’s Jenn.” 

You sit right back up. 

Because—

What. 

“Jenn?” 

“Jenn,” Jake repeats, turning to look at you, wide-eyed. 

You scramble to your feet and rush over to the screen and—

Yup, there she is—clear as day. Standing just outside the door, arms crossed, shifting on her heels. Her expression unreadable. 

Jake leans toward you, voice low as if afraid she could hear your voices through the door, “…Should we just pretend we’re not home?” 

“Jake,” you deadpan, whispering back frantically, “Seven guys live in this apartment. Statistically, at least one of you guys have to be home.” 

“…Or maybe she’ll go away if we just stay really quiet.” 

You stare at him.

He stares at you. 

Then—

Buzzbuzzbuzzbuzzbuzzzzzzz

“Shit—” Jake whispers, “—she’s not going away.” 

You don’t answer back right away, and Jake’s eyes narrow slightly, “Y/N?” 

“I mean…,”you begin to murmur, eyes still fixed on the screen, watching her, “Aren’t you curious?” 

Jake pulls back in disbelief almost immediately, the look on his face telling you he definitely is not curious, “No? She’s my ex. Not some end credit scene to a movie.” 

You arch a brow, “But…what if I’m curious?” 

Jake looks from the screen to the door. 

Then back at you. 

You’re wearing that sweet smile on your face now and—

Jake knows he’s screwed. 

He sighs. 

“…Do I have to?” 

You shrug dramatically, biting back a smirk, “You want to sleep peacefully tonight, right?” 

Jake groans lowly before he drags his feet toward the door, and opens it just enough. 

Just a crack. Steps out. Closes it gently behind him with a soft click. 

Inside, you hover by the door, holding your breath—still facing the little camera screen, your fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the ends of your hoodie’s sleeves. 

When Jake steps out, he’s greeted by a smile that’s just a little too wide. 

“Jake,” Jenn says smoothly—like this is normal. Like showing up unannounced and spam buzzing your ex is normal. Like it’s just another Tuesday.

“Hey. It’s been a while. I just—can we talk?” 

Jake’s expression doesn’t budge, “Now’s not a good time.” 

Her gaze flickers, just briefly, to the door behind him. She tilts her head, a certain look on her face as her eyes narrow, “Is she here? That girl? You two are still…a thing?” 

His jaw tightens, fists curling inside his hoodie’s pockets. 

Jenn takes his silence as an opportunity.

"Jake, look—" she softens her tone, taking half a step closer.

Jake takes half a step back. 

“I miss you, okay? I’ve been thinking…about us. And about how maybe—maybe I made a mistake.” 

His face remains unreadable. 

Her words come and go, slipping right past him like a speck of dust in air. He’s already tuned her out, his mind halfway back inside with you. He starts to turn towards the door when—

“I know she’s cute and all,” Jenn suddenly says, voice louder now, more persistent, “but you don’t really know her, do you? Trust me. I’ve seen her around. With other people. And I just—I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Jake freezes. And snaps. 

His head whips around toward her so fast she flinches back a half step. 

“Jenn,” Jake says. Voice low and steady. Serious. “Don’t ever talk about her like that.” 

Her smile falters. She blinks. Tries again. 

“I’m just trying to help—“

“No,” Jake cuts her off, eyes narrowing, voice even lower. “You’re trying to make me doubt her.” 

He lets out a brief exhale through his nose before continuing.

“I won’t,” he shakes his head, each word firm—deliberate. “Not for a second.” 

Jenn opens her mouth to respond. 

Jake doesn’t let her. 

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says, voice sharper now. “And I trust her. Completely. So whatever you came here for—“ 

A humorless laugh slips. Then a scoff. 

“—you’ve already lost.” 

Jenn doesn’t say anything else. 

But Jake doesn’t wait around to notice. 

He’s already stepping back inside the apartment, shutting the door behind him with a soft, final click—like ending a chapter he was already done with a long time ago. 

And when he turns around—

He exhales. Shoulders drop. Jaw relaxes. Expression softens. 

Because there you are. 

Curled up on the couch, already looking at him like nothing else in the world matters. 

You open your arms. 

He walks into them like it’s instinct (and it is). 

His arms wrap tight around your waist, face tucked into your neck, voice small and muffled, “You heard the whole thing, didn’t you?” 

“Maybe,” you whisper, fingers already threading through his hair, nails grazing lightly against his scalp. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “She’s not even worth talking about, I just—I hate that she said those things about you.” 

You hum quietly, hand drifting to the back of his neck, “I’m okay, Jake. You stood up for me.” 

“I’ll always stand up for you,” he says immediately, pulling back just enough to look at you. He shifts to sit facing you on the couch, curling his legs under himself. 

His brows furrow, a quiet worry in his eyes, “I just—god, what if  even for a second you thought I believed her?”  

You mirror his position, folding your legs beneath you and face him, cupping his face in both hands—his skin warm under your touch, cheeks tinted pink. 

“Did you?”

“No.” 

But then—

“It scared me though,” he admits. “That she could say something…that she could plant a seed like that. That it could even try to shake how I feel about you. Because it didn’t. But the idea of that? It terrified me.” 

Your eyes soften. You study him—your precious, precious boy who feels everything so deeply. So genuinely. 

And you smile. 

“Jake.” 

And that alone is enough to ground him. 

“I love you. And you love me. That’s it. And there’s no space for her—no room for doubt. Not even a crack.” 

He breath hitches as your thumb traces his cheek, your eyes never leaving his. 

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even blink. 

Just leans forward and kisses you—slow and grateful, pouring all his feelings out to you without words. 

A little shaky, a little desperate, like he’s trying to thank you, breathe you, and feel you all at once. 

You smile against his lips. 

Then, with a teasing lilt, you murmur, “You’re also really hot when you defend my honor.” 

Jake groans into your mouth, pulling back just enough to look at you with wide eyes in love, “Don’t say that.  I’m in a weak, emotionally vulnerable state right now. Anything you say hits ten times harder.” 

You giggle, throwing your arms around his neck as his arms suddenly move to grab you by the waist and pull you into his lap. Your hoodie bunches up as his warm hands find their way under and press against your skin as he holds you there, steady. 

“i’m just saying,” you grin. “Super hot.” 

He rolls his eyes, a small, crooked smile finally forming on his face as he looks at you. All of you. All of his. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead. And then your nose. And then your lips again. 

And as Jake presses one last list against your shoulder, he breathes a whisper only you will ever get to hear. 

“I love you.” 

And he does. So much. 

That not even a shadow of doubt could ever touch that. 

no doubt m. list

tag list pt 1!: @bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @heekolazz @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Secret Secret - Chapter 10

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist |

When Felix had received a call at nearly 4 in the morning, his first instinct had been to ignore it. His hand had reflexively hit the volume down button, silencing the call, and he closed his eyes in hopes of falling back asleep. But then his brain processed exactly who had been calling him, and he got up so quickly his body got tangled in the sheets.

He answered the call as he tried desperately to untangle his leg.

“Chris?” He whispered, trying not to wake up Hyunjin.

“I need your help.”

Those were never good words to hear from his leader and pack alpha. It wasn’t that Chan never needed help, but it wasn’t often he would willingly ask for it, nevertheless this early.

Felix’s nerves were instantly at an all-time high.

“What is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” His alpha reassured, although he sounded tired. “It’s not actually me who needs your help.”

With a sharp tug, Felix let out a loud huff as he finally managed to free his leg. He shuffled to the bathroom as he answered.

“What is it?”

He closed the door as quietly as he could.

“Minho’s going into rut.”

Felix paused at that. Minho’s rut wasn’t as regular as Chan’s, but it normally happened at least every 3 months. His last rut had been in August, meaning this current one was about 2 weeks early. It was unexpected, but considering his own heat had also shown up as a surprise nearly a week ahead of schedule, maybe their pack bond was compensating.

It did make him worry slightly. Seungmin had his heat scheduled for the beginning of next year, but if it came early, the singer might miss their end of year performances.

It was something to think about later.

“Do you want me to get Hannie?” Felix asked, flattening out his hair.

“No, I need you to come down to the lobby. Take the stairs, the elevator is out of commission right now.”

Felix frowned, cracking the bathroom door open to check on Hyunjin. “Okay? Why don’t you want me to get Han first thought? If Minho’s going into rut, he’s going to want him there.”

“Minho’s stuck in the elevator,” Chan sighed.

“Oh.” Felix blinked in surprise.

“Hmm, and he’s not alone.”

-0-0-

Felix hadn’t run down the stairs once he had gotten the full scope of the situation, but he did move faster than he probably should have after just waking up. He was starting to sweat, and he had forgotten scent blockers, so the lobby was already starting to fill up with his cinnamon even before he spotted the firefighters, but then normally sweet spice began to burn as his anxiety rose.

Chan approached him with a grimace. “Felix, it’s okay. Calm down.”

“Are they okay? What did the hotel staff say? Can we get them out?”

“Lixie, breathe,” Chan said, and his own scent began to spread out.

Felix took a deep breath as he was told, closing his eyes at the familiar lavender and pineapple that he was met with. He shook his hands out.

“Sorry, sorry.” His own scent was pulled in.

“They’re both fine, I just talked to Minho,” Chan confirmed, rubbing a hand up and down his arms. It was chilly in the lobby. “The firefighters are working on getting the doors open.”

“What even happened?”

“They think a cable snapped. The safety mechanism kicked in to stop it from hitting the ground, but it jammed the wiring somehow. They’ll have to open the doors manually.”

Felix was glad Chan waited until the firefighters had arrived to call him, because he couldn’t have imagined having to wait over an hour just to be reassured that his friends were alright. Even the 4 minutes it took for them to pry the elevator doors open felt like hell.

He took his unofficial assigned job seriously, being the second person to greet the two figures exiting the elevator, with the head firefighter being the first.

He didn’t even pause at the odd sight that greeted him. You were staring up at him with bleary eyes, the corners tinged purple, and he wrapped his jacket around you as a pretense of keeping you warm, but in reality, he was doing his best to hide your scent under his own. To be fair, Minho’s scent was strong enough to cover both of you at the moment, but he didn’t want to take any risks.

You had trusted him with this secret. He would do his best to make sure you were okay.

Although at the moment, you were most definitely not okay. He almost felt tempted to glare at his hyung, who despite being in the beginning stages of his rut, was far more clear minded than you were.

The firefighters were checking on Minho, but one moved to stop you and Felix as he tried to guide you out of the elevator.

“Are they okay?” he asked in broken English.

Felix was grateful one of them spoke English, because his Japanese was not the best.

“Yeah, just a little tired. I think my other friend might need a little more help.”

He would feel guilty about throwing Minho under the bus another time, but you were starting to lean all of your body weight on him, face seeking out his neck.

Chan met his gaze as he passed, giving him a small nod.

Every hotel they went to had to have a designated heat/rut area for guests who needed a place to ride one out. The managers were more than happy to book a room for Minho for when he was released from the elevator (free of charge they claimed – an apology for the elevator breaking down), but both him and Chan had agreed it would be a good idea to get you into a shower, a change of clothes, and some scent blockers.

It was mostly a precaution to keep your presentation a secret before the managers would be informed on the situation (the fact that none of them had been alerted was both relieving and worrying), but now there was a more pressing need to get you into an isolated room, one where he could check on you properly.

He wasn’t sure what happened in the elevator, but you were in a drop.

Felix had his fair share of experiences with drops, both personally and from his members. Your omega was calling the shots right now, and he needed to make sure you didn’t do anything reckless while you were out of it. Already, he could feel you nosing at the scent gland on his neck.

“Lix,” You whispered, tongue darting out to lick a stripe against his skin.

His breath hitched, heart starting to beat faster. He was thankful that the stairwell was empty, because he didn’t think he had it in you to stop you if you decided to continue. Thankfully though, you simply dropped your head against his shoulder with a soft sigh.

You also started dragging your feet.

“Come one,” He hissed, moving to adjust his grip on you. “Work with me here. It’s just one more floor.”

The two of you were nearing the last few steps when you paused a second to look up at him, blinking slowly.

“Felix?”

He let out a soft hum to show he was listening, reaching out to steady you as you began to tilt forward.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Where’s Minho?”

“He’s okay,” Felix assured you. “Come one, last step.”

“Where are we going?”

“To get you cleaned up,” He said, although he was re-considering the original plan.

The idea had been to get you cleaned up and send you back to your room before your roommate noticed you were gone, but you were likely to be out of it for a little while longer. In all likelihood, you would probably need the rest of the night (or morning, his brain supplied him) to gain some control, at least enough that he could send you back up without worrying about you slipping up in front of someone who didn’t know your secret.

He bit his lip.

“I can get cleaned up in my room,” you slurred, leaning into him again.

Thankfully, they were close to the room Chan had booked.

“I don’t doubt that. But we want to make sure you don’t accidentally reveal your omega status to anybody else,” Felix explained, opening the door.

You didn’t answer, instead letting out a soft hum as he led you into the room.

The room was spacious. It had a large king-sized bed with a soft comforter and extra blankets at the end, a desk in the wall furthest from the door, and in the middle of the room was a couch and a small table over a large fluffy carpet. Two doors were to the immediate right of the entrance, most likely a closet and the bathroom.

It smelt sterile, like most heat/rut rooms did.

You didn’t seem to like that, your nose scrunching up adorably as you entered the room. Felix closed the door behind him, slipping his phone and yours onto the table near the entrance, watching as you stood in one place, eyes blankly staring at the room without seeming to take anything in.

He was close behind you as you began to move towards the couch, suddenly flopping down like a puppet who’s strings got cut. The only sign you were okay was the soft sigh you let out.

Felix settled carefully on the edge of the couch next to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

That made sense. As you moved around to get comfortable, his jacket was thrown off and Felix was hit with your scent for the first time. He closed his eyes as vanilla began to invade his senses, a hint of cinnamon and maple mixing together into the sweetest combination he could imagine. Your feet pushed up against his thigh as you stretched, and Felix grabbed your ankle out of habit, thumb rubbing against your skin.

Your scent grew stronger in pleasure, and he had to swallow down the desire that began to grow in his lower body.

“Lixie,” You whispered, eyes only half open.

“I’m here,” He assured you, pushing out his own scent in hopes of calming your omega. “Get some sleep.”

You mumbled something, eyes finally fluttering closed.

Felix spent way too long watching you as you dozed, something in his chest feeling both heavy and lighter than normal, It wasn’t until the door opened with a click that he finally looked away, carefully quiet as Chan practically dragged Minho into the room, the dancer letting out a growl.

He had spent the better part of 8 years getting to know his packmates in their best and worst moments, and learning to understand their pushing points, so he wasn’t worried when it looked like Minho was seconds away from biting Chan. He simply watched as the eldest flicked Minho in the nose.

“Don’t give me that. I’m not giving you a hand job in the hotel hallways.”

Minho, with his sweaty hair pushed back and flushed cheeks, looked far too appealing for Felix, who was already struggling to maintain calm. The last thing he needed was the rutty alpha stinking up the room and pulling you from your sleep to satisfy his desires, which judging by the red strip of skin on your neck, it wouldn’t be the first time.

He cleared his throat. “You’re not going to be able to do that here either.”

It was only then that Chan noticed you on the couch, and his brows lifted. “What are they still doing here?”

“They’re in drop,” Felix explained, shooting Minho a look.

At least he had the decency to look embarrassed.

“That’s my fault. I might have gone a little overboard when scenting them.”

“You think?”

Chan clapped a hand on Minho’s shoulder to silence whatever reply he had been preparing, steering the alpha towards the bathroom.

“C’mon, you need a shower.”

Felix didn’t mention the obvious lie, knowing it was his leader’s best attempt to keep some decency in the room for your sake, even though you were asleep. He pretended not to notice the lewd noises that could be heard from under the sound of the shower, and he pulled his jacket back over your body to cover up as much of your scent as he could when they exited nearly an hour later.

Both alphas were too exhausted to do more than wish him a goodnight before they fell asleep. Even though he hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep, Felix stayed awake, his omega needing to watch over his pack at their most vulnerable.

He didn’t bother correcting his omega’s thoughts of you being a part of the pack. The mix of scents on your skin and the mark against your neck confirmed that it wasn't only Chan who felt the same. It was almost disappointing you weren’t interested in being courted.

But he wasn’t convinced you were entirely against it.

He respected your choices, but he was also hoping that someday you would change your mind, and he would finally get the chance to bring you in. It could take years, but Felix was willing to be patient. Even if he needed to wait until his career was over and was no longer an excuse. Even if he had to hold secrets from his members until then.

Felix had gotten attached, and he wasn’t willing to give you up without a fight.

-0-0-

If there was ever a reason to thank whoever invented elevators, it was now.

You understood why the hotel would place the heat/rut rooms in the basement (to prevent scents from affecting others), but it unfortunately left you having to jog up multiple different floors of stairs to reach the floor you would be meeting the boys at. You managed to make it the first 2 floors with little trouble, but then you began to grow tired and slowed down enough that you started to think about what you were going to say.

I’m an omega - Straight to the point? Probably not the best.

Maybe an introduction? They already knew who you were, but you hadn’t really talked to any of the remaining members except for Changbin. Should you give them some backstory? Explain how this all started?

You felt almost frustrated by your spur of the moment decision. You wished you at least had a chance to think about this, but you had only given yourself 15 minutes to work with, most of which was spent climbing the stairs. The one thing you were thankful for was the lack of people in the stairwell.

You did pass a couple who nodded politely to you, and there was the sound of a door opening and closing somewhere below you, but you were only two floors away at this point and your anxiety was starting to grow.

You took a moment to breathe, leaning against the railings with a sigh, and you began to notice the sound of footsteps that was growing in volume as it got closer. You frowned.

There was someone running up the stairs.

After leaning farther to get a look below you, you realized that the person running up the stairs was none other than Chan. And then you were left with worry that something had happened.

“Chan?” You called down to him.

He paused, snapping back to look at you in surprise, and a wave of emotions crossed his face before setting on something you could almost describe as relief. You stayed put as he called out for you, watching with confusion as he continued his race up.

Even as he grew closer, you didn’t seem to realize that you were who he was running towards until he was in front of you, chest heaving with the force of his breaths, his forehead pulled taught with the pull of his brows, a hand reaching out to touch your arm with a strong grip, like he was afraid you would run away from him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked you, as if somehow you had made a bad decision.

You blinked. “What?”

“Are you-“ He paused at a buzzing noise from his phone, sticking his hands into his pockets to mute the call before he continued. “I got your text.”

“It wasn’t really meant for you,” Was the first thing you could think of, followed by, “Shouldn’t you be with Minho?”

“He’s fine, Han and Felix can look after him.”

“Oh.”

Chan looked almost exasperated, fingers digging into your arm. “Sweetheart, are you really going to tell them?”

You couldn’t tell whether he was happy or mad, a smear of scent blockers keeping his feeling close to his chest, and you could only stare at him wearily.

“Yes?” His eyes narrowed, and you instinctually took a step back, his grip on your arm dropping. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“What I wanted? Why would you think I wanted that?”

You were starting to grow frustrated. “You’re the one who said I could trust them.”

“And you can! But you’ve been so insistent on keeping the secret, and all of a sudden you want to just … tell them?”

“I don’t want to tell them,” You corrected, as his phone began to buzz again.

Chan ignored it. “Then why are you?”

“Because I can’t stand to see anyone else get hurt.”

“Get hurt? What are you talking about?”

“Jisung!” You yelled, finally raising your voice, only to wince as it began to echo. You took a deep breath. “Felix lied to him because of me. You were forced to lie to Felix because of me, and now Minho is going to have to lie to everyone. Every time your pack lies to keep my secret, someone ends up getting hurt.”

Even with scent blockers on, it didn’t take a genius to tell how you felt. Chan also seemed to know that telling you it wasn’t your fault wouldn’t do much for your guilty consciousness, and you were grateful when he didn’t try to contradict you or push you anymore.

Instead, he just let out a sigh, running his fingers through his bangs.

“Do you really think this is the right time for this?” He finally asked.

“There’s never going to be a right time,” You argued, even if part of you wanted him to talk you out of it. Convince you to do this some other time, give you a moment to think. But you were afraid that if you thought about it too much longer, you might never get the courage to go through with it.

You weren’t a particularly brave person to begin with. You tried to do what you thought was right, tried to be confident and stand up for yourself – but what you wanted didn’t always connect with what who you actually were. The fact that you had made it this far, having to lie everyday and work your way out of all the problems that came up, was insane.

You were thankful when Chan was stepping closer again, because his presence made your worries and thoughts waver.

“I don’t want you to think you need to do this for me,” Chan said. The creases in his face betrayed his calm voice, and you wondered why he was so bothered about this. Was it his guilty consciousness? Did he think you would blame him?

“I’m not doing this for you, Chan.”

“But you’re not doing this for yourself either.”

You were saved by Chan’s phone once again buzzing, and after a pointed stare, he finally pulled it out. He gave the caller id a quick glance before he once again muted it. He looked stressed.

“Is it Minho?” you wondered, but Chan eased your worries with a shake of his head.

“No, it’s my manager. He must have heard the news.”

“Shouldn’t you answer it?”

Chan gave you a look. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“I’m not arguing with you about this,” You told him, moving to make your way up the stairs. “I’m late as it is.”

His footsteps echoed as he followed after you, and it was then that you remembered that the two of you were basically out in the open, considering the out of commission elevators. Anybody could enter the stairwell at any point, and even though the two of you would have heard it, who knows what kind of rumors might start up.

Famous idol and female staff member seen alone in hotel stairwell. You could see the headlines already.

You shuttered at the sight.

“You should go talk with your manager.”

Chan followed after you quietly. It wasn’t until you reached the last step that he finally spoke, pulling your attention away from the dirty floor. “Why did you choose to meet them in Felix’s room?”

You paused. “It was the first one I though of. I wasn’t exactly thinking hard when I made the text.” You turned away from him in thought. “I just … Jisung was crying, and I made a split-second decision. All I knew was that I didn’t want to ever see him cry like that again.”

Chan was staring at you - you could see it from the corner of your eye - but you refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you maintained deep eye contact with a crack in the wall.

“I didn’t want any of you to be upset.”

He moved towards you, and you froze, heart beating wildly in your chest as he neared. Chan paused next to you, eyes heavy with something unspoken, before moving around you towards the door.

“Right. I’ll get going, send you a text when the coast is clear. Head straight to Felix’s room so nobody see’s you.”

“Chan,” You called out before he could leave, and he blinked at you in surprise. “Are you okay?”

You weren’t sure why you asked that. It must have been the lingering guilt – you didn’t want him to think you were mad at him, or resented him for what was your own decision, or, or, or –

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Are you sure?” You wondered, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from opening your mouth to ask, ‘are you mad at me?’ because that felt far too needy.

Chan’s brows pulled down. “I really am fine. I promise.”

And then he was gone, and you could only stare as the door slowly closed behind him, the sound echoing both through the stairwell, and your head.

-0-0-

He wanted to kiss you

Chan was normally good at keeping his instincts under control, but the urge had grown so strong that he forced himself out of the stairwell before he could do something stupid, like kiss you.

Would you let him?, he wondered.

It was something he had thought about before. It was something he thought about often, if he was being honest. When you and Felix first met, after the difficult conversation had ended and you were comfortable enough to actually sit down and talk with Felix. He had felt the urge build up as he watched his omega grow closer to you, could imagine the two of you growing closer in the future.

The urge had disappeared when you had seemed to realize it yourself. He had seen the way you grew quiet, hunching in on yourself like you had forgotten where you were. You had smiled at them despite the way your shoulders remained tense, and when you made an excuse to leave them, it was only to prevent Felix from finding out that he didn’t call you out on your habit of running away.

The urge to kiss you, to keep you close, to make you pack – it haunted him. He would never dream of actually courting you without the approval of his pack, and Felix knew that better than most. And when the omega had started bringing you up to the others to see their reaction, edging at the line you had drawn when it came to your secret, he knew he should have stopped him. But he didn’t.

Because deep down, he needed to know as well.

And it felt like he might actually have a chance as time went on. You trusted him on some level, enough that when you were in trouble, you didn’t hesitate to go to him for help. Even when he just wanted to use your mistaken luggage situation as an excuse to reveal your secret to the pack (it would help to ease the growing tension he could feel between Hyunjin and him), he instead chose to swallow down his wants and do what was right for you.

It made it harder to respect your choices when you made it so easy to fall for you. He wouldn’t find out until later what exactly it is that got you so upset, but somehow he knew that when you were dismissing the Japanese interviewer, it was in their honor. And then finding out that you were there for Han when none of the other members were available, and he found himself thinking about how well you could take care of his pack. That thought was still present in the back of his head when he could scent the faintest traces of your vanilla scent under Minho’s sickly sweet syrup after the two of you had been recovered from the elevator.

And in some instances, he felt almost responsible. He would be angry with Minho later for hiding his pre-rut symptoms from him (“I didn’t want to miss our first tour performance”), but he would also feel slightly annoyed that he missed them himself. The uncomfortable grimaces he brushed off as the eldest dancer overworking himself, the short temper he attributed to the approaching concert.

His biggest warning should have been the way Minho had been increasingly overprotective over Han, to the point of nearly shoving him out of the way to reach the beta when he found out he with in distress. You had texted him that you weren’t sure Han would want the company, but he didn’t know how to tell you that the alpha had already disappeared down the hall.

Part of him also felt guilty for the consequences that his inattentiveness might have caused. All in all, the elevator situation might have had the best possible outcome, but he struggled to fall asleep thinking about the what if’s. For his packmate to corner you on the elevator like that, his overprotective tendencies fired up through is pre-rut … Chan didn’t pin Minho as the violent type, but sometimes you could never be sure.

Minho had a harder time with his instincts. Especially his alpha’s need to keep his pack safe.

Chan was just glad that whatever happened in the elevator hadn’t caused any friction. If anything, it made the part of him that longed to have you in the pack harder to ignore, especially when he had finally seen you resting with your feet pressed to Felix’s thigh’s, the marks on your neck slowly turning a light purple shade.

Omega, his alpha practically sighed, ours.

Not mine – not his. But theirs.

Pack.

The word felt like a punch to the gut.

It was rare for a sub gender to claim someone as part of the pack like that – not when they didn’t have the rest of his pack’s scent, not when there was no claim on you, not when he couldn’t even be honest to the rest of his pack about how he felt.

He didn’t want to admit it, but when Han had shown up at their door asking to be with Minho and a lingering curiosity about you being an omega, he was glad you were opening up. It felt like the first step to making his wishes reality. He had rushed after you to make sure you weren’t experiencing any omega drop side effects, that this was actually something you were doing with a clear head and not just a spur of the moment decision.

But he was glad. He was so happy it felt like his chest was going to burst with the feeling, and so like you had so many times before, he found himself running away from you. Not because he was afraid to let you in, but because he was afraid of pushing you away.

You had made your boundaries very clear.

And if he wanted to kiss you, to scent you until his claim was clear, to bite down and mark you in a way he hadn’t felt since meeting Felix – well, that was something he could keep to himself.

For now.

-0-0-

Taglist: If I missed you or you want to be added/from the tag list, free free to ask. (I have no idea how many people i'm allowed to tag)

@3rachasninja @lilyuwon @brojustfknkillm3 @yukichan67 @mallielovssyou @mintchip17 @iweirdthingsblog @maisyyyyyy @neivivenaj @jc003 @skz-ot8-stay @passionandsuga @ms-flowergirl @kayleefriedchicken @seungmonggg @luvvvash @galaxy4489 @quokkahannie4 @joyofbebbanburg @xxeiraxx @lemonn015 @dazzlingjade @tenshimara @danceonmyheyday @staytinyluv @mamaj-right @dessianna1 @sillyhal @minh0scat @iris-iiridescent @fackeraccount @bumblebeebeebumble @hanniesbubuwife @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @k-pop-luv04 @stopstaring4455 @mbioooo0000 @bby-boo4u @yumuramma @juju-227592 @idiotmaterial @channieismylove @kpetts @headfirstfortoro @iknow-uknow-leeknow @velvetmoonlght @skzlover24 @zayn-210 @iamwritteninyourstars @katsukis1wife @beppybeesnuggets @bbokarismeow @thatgirlangelb

[sicvitaest27]

I’d like to give my two cents on this subject, as an author myself.

Honestly, I consider myself quite a free speaker, and will ask if I have something to ask, just as I’ll comment, when I have something to comment. Also, when I’m done with the story, I’m more than happy to give feedback.

Of course, I understand that one of the beautiful things about writing WIP s is that real time interaction with readers, as the story progresses. But, for me personally, I do find myself waiting for the story to continue, without having the need to input anything. Not because I don’t care about the story, just because I understand what is going on, the direction, and everything else is just explained well, so there’s nothing really prompting me to ask anything, for it would, probably, be spoiler territory.

Now, of course, theories and whatnot are always welcome, but, there’s only so much theories that can be made about a story; and that heavily depends on how vague the story is being written, and don’t even get me started of people guessing and guessing, and then, by so many guesses, finish the story before you even get a chance to conclude it yourself. That’s a totally different can of worms, that I do not want to get myself into at the moment😂

Now, when an author explicitly asks a question to the readers, sure, it is always a welcome thing to answer, but, it should be considered that, unless they have enabled the notifications from a specific blog, chances are, that, if they follow a lot of blogs and people, they simply won’t see it, and for the ones that do, not all of them will feel the urge to respond. Why? I don’t know, that’s just their preference, and the reasonings are their own, and that’s okay. That’s how it is.

I’m relatively close to submitting a story of my own, and honestly, I would love to have interaction with the readers, for them to tell me how did they like the story, the characters, but I understand if they don’t, because, 9 times out of 10, I first, don’t find myself having the need to give constant feedback, and if that’s the case for me, I can’t put different expectations onto others.

But that’s just normal. That’s why you see games on steam, that everyone knows have sold millions, yet have only 300 reviews, or IF s on steam, that have authors on tumblr, and they are writing a second book for their IF, and there’ll still be barely any questions about it, or any theories.

Would I want for the community to be more active? Absolutely, but only because I want people to have a good time, and to feel free to have that good time, without thinking that they’re going to be subjected to whatever. But, if they are still here, following along, then that’s fine too, and that shouldn’t affect the authors, because, I understand that it’s always good to get that engagement, because that tells you that you’re doing something that’s worth doing, worth more than you may initially think, but, as an artist, you should do it because of yourself, first and foremost.

This is not a rant, and this is not a comment made against anyone who feels differently than what I just said; you’re justified in that, and I do feel you, trust me, but, as long as people want to stick around and enjoy your stories, then I say let them! And, if they wish to talk to the brilliant mind behind the story, then by all means, but I don’t see a point in trying to force something to do that. Because, even encouraging can be viewed like that, and I doubt that any of us want that.

So, to conclude this, yes, the community may have gone a tad bit quieter, and the reasons for that are unknown to me, but, should that change? Hopefully, but if not, then hell, it is what it is. There are certainly many factors and reasons that can be taken into account for that, but, what I advocate for, is for people to be comfortable and have a good time. And for authors, to do this because they truly like doing it, and, as Toni Morrison had put it, “If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” That’s how I view my writing. No one’s written this, in this specific setting or this specific way, with these specific characters, and so, I shall write it, and if people like it? That’s just icing on the cake.

Anyhow, to all my fellow authors, I feel you, I truly do, but hey, things change the way they do, but that shouldn’t demotivate you. People will express themselves when they wish to do so, for reasons only they have, and that’s also fine as well. Hopefully, folks will get more comfortable, for the IF community is a lovely community, which offers a safe space for everyone, but, if they just wish to follow along, let them. It’s all you can really do. Cheers to everyone, and love to all🥂🖤

I think a lot of authors have noticed this lately: Likes, comments, reblogs with reviews... everything seems to be getting quieter. Stories go on, chapters come out, but all too often, it's a great silent nothingness that greets them.

Are we at fault, or is it something else? Yet you're there, we can see you raising the view counters on our demos.

I'm not here to lecture or beg for anything. I'd just like to understand, as many other authors do, why ? Because this statement is the result of a growing concern? Depression?among our ranks. To the degree that some of us have come to say: What's the point?

I'd just like to remind you of one thing: a story is alive, yes, but ! It's alive thanks to you, not just to us.

Every word you read, every emotion you feel, every theory you silently formulate: it's all part of the magic of a story, and it needs to be shared. When you share it all, a comment, a reblog with a fews words, even a brief reaction, that's when it really comes together, you're blowing on the story's flame! You fuel it, make it tangible. You give it a life that an author, alone in front of their screen, can't always sustain over time. Believe me, we try... Some are more gifted than others, but I'm all for helping each other.

Because yes, we write out of passion, out of desire, out of need. Yes, we love our worlds. But the impetus, the joy, the motivation, the feeling of really being read, all that is also born from exchange.

So here it is, just a quick note to say that if you like or don't like something, please say so. No need for a big dissertation but there's nothing worse than silence, it's the great reaper of our aspirations and I don't want to let it win.

And to my author friends: you're not alone. 💙

[idyllwave]

aeon & bird & arrow 5

yandere!aeon!phainon x fem!reader x yandere!mydei

taglist

@reapersan @lollipipz

Phainon couldn’t stop staring at you. He memorized the way you smiled, noted the way that your eyes would crinkle when he said something funny. And your laugh… he could listen to it for ages. And he loved the way you talked, he could pick out the way your voice falls over each syllable as you told him about your village, it’s people, and about yourself.

“How about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, silly. Who exactly is Phainon besides a knight in shining armor?”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone cared to ask about himself. He didn’t even know anyone who would even bother to ask, but here you were proving him wrong.

Phainon, of course, wasn’t his true name, but he felt like it was a name that he wanted you to call him by. But he did tell you other things. His home birthplace, how he traveled from one city to another, and how he currently has a small home in Castrum Kremnos … while leaving out the part that he was actually the aeon looking over the place and helping them win the war that was going on right now.

Though, you didn’t seem to mind how secretive he was about some parts of his life. That, or you didn’t notice. What he also didn’t expect was all your questions you would ask about the various places he’s been to which he would happily answer to in kind.

Then there was the pie you made. He couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked for him. And it was so good too. Granted, you could have given him anything and he would still think it tasted amazing.

He honestly wanted to talk with you forever, but … he could already sense someone approaching.

“Y- you!”

Laios. What an interesting fellow. Phainon honestly didn’t think he would come back. Maybe he should have killed him after all. And before he could stand to confront the man, you had beat him to it and stood in front of him instead. Your hands resting on your hips as you flared at Laios.

“Move out of my way.”

“No, you’ve bothered both me and Phainon enough.”

Laios sneered, “how am I not surprised? The moment a man shows you even a bit of kindness you’re already opening your-“

He froze, you both did when that familiar feeling clawed at you both.

“Finish that sentence,” Phainon said as he stood up and ushered you into his arms, one of his hands pressing gently against your head to make you lean against him.

“Well?”

You couldn’t move as your cheek pressed against his chest. Your hands uselessly reaching to grab ahold of his coat as your heart stuttered loud with each beat against your rib cage. What was this feeling? It was even worse than in your shop. Was it coming from Phainon? It had to be-

Laios stumbled back and fell to the ground, “what- what even are you?!”

“Leave and pray you never find out.”

Laios looked at Phainon, then at you before struggling to get up and running away. It was probably the fastest you have ever seen him leave. And as soon as he was out of eyesight, that pressure disappeared and it felt like you could breathe again. And, of course, you had even more questions, not that you could ask as Phainon was still holding you close. His arm was locked tight around your waist as his other hand was running through your hair.

“P- Phainon?”

He hummed.

You hesitated. Were you even allowed to ask? Would he answer? Would you even like the answer he would give you?

“It’s probably best you don’t ask.”

“And even better if you let her go.”

Yet another nuisance Phainon mused.

“Aren’t you supposed to be fighting a war?”

“There was a break. A temporary ceasefire.”

“How convenient.”

Phainon let you go so you could turn, your eyes widening as your smile returned, “Mydei!”

[ingravinoveritas]

"If you had to live one day of your life over and over again, which day would you choose?" / "I mean, probably the day I got married. It was pretty cool."

Except in the rest of his answer, David doesn't specifically mention Georgia. He admits it's an obvious/safe answer of his, and talks about the day itself and being surrounded by friends, but never actually says what should be the most obvious thing of all: How wonderful it was to be marrying the woman he loved, to start their life together, or anything like that. The comment about friends also hits a bit differently when you realize that they went on their "honeymoon" with Jennie Fava and Christian Brassington (a honeymoon that was actually a couples' trip that David left early so he could return to work). As always with David, it's all the things he doesn't say that speak loudest, instead of what he does...

[kings-highway]

Impulsively wrote this middle school friendship AU intro for Ushiten. It would follow a week of them working on a school project together and probably be mostly canon compliant with the change of them meeting in middle school. Theyd play volleyball eventually and maybe Id extend it long enough to see the high school days its unclear. It would include both artist Ushijima and mega anime nerd Tendou and also tw for suicidal thoughts and feelings but no attempts just two deeply, deeply depressed 13 year olds finally meeting someone who gets them. Also Ushijima would have a stammer and an amount of autism that might be lethal before he had any decent self regulation. It would be the return of Adopted Tendou and probably a few other things. Anyway why am I telling you this? Because I have a habit of impulse writing the first 1000 words of something and then forgetting about it so instead I've given it to you. So like. Maybe all this will be nothing idk.

---

It was 9:08 on a Thursday morning when Tendou Satori decided to kill himself.

And then at 11:13 that very same Thursday morning, he’s forced to delay his decision due to a school assigned group project.

Now, normally Tendou would not be so altruistic as to care about whether or not he pulled his weight in a group project or left people hanging. No, the reason why this is an imposition at all is because of how he ends up assigned to a group project. He’s not paired up with the girl he sits beside as she rolls her eyes, they don’t draw straws or count numbers. No, they’re told that everyone can pick a partner to work with for this particular assignment, and then they have to make and colour project board on - you guessed it - a type of animal to then present to the class on.

Tendou, at first, is actually thrilled with this. He simply won’t partner up, and then he’ll be dead, and it will be okay. But when the class is wrapping up and everyone is getting ready for lunch, the teacher is suddenly whistling for him and waving him over like a scheming villain.

He’s not even sure he’s the one she wants at first. He frowns, glancing around and watching the other kids file out of the class, and then looking back to her. She waves him over again.

Her name is Kobayashi, and she’s… fine. Middle school biology is generally just fine.

He stands in front of her, wondering if he’s done something wrong.

“Hey, Satori,” she says, like she’s about to ask for all his gold. “I have a… huge favour to ask you. You don’t have a partner in mind for the animal project, do you?”

He shakes his head.

“Great, good, okay. So… do you think you could do me the favour of asking Wakatoshi to be your partner?”

Tendou frowns, glancing behind him to where the other kid usually sat, but he had already left the class.

“Uh… why?”

She seems to hesitate on this answer for a second, before eventually saying: “Well, it’s just that… you know he doesn’t really talk much, and has a really hard time making friends. And usually I help out by introducing him to someone, but I think he’s begun to notice that nobody ever approaches him on their own, and…”

Tendou stares at her for a moment, then glances behind him and scans over the occupied seats in the class to identify and even number of students. So an even amount of pairs.

We’re probably leftovers, he decides. There’s probably something wrong with this kid the way there’s something wrong with him, and she wanted them stuck together to avoid contaminating the other kids.

“Okay,” he says, because what does it matter to him?

“Oh, you’re the best, thank you,” Kobayashi says, clasping her hands together for a moment before adding: “Okay, I won’t take any more of your time. Go enjoy your lunch.”

Tendou nods slightly, and figures he should probably go find this kid to set up their collaboration. And it’s about then, (11:13) that he realizes if he asks to partner with someone, and then kills himself, that would be super inconsiderate and lame. So he decides he’ll wait until after they present.

But he heads down to the school cafeteria and starts scanning the available seats. It’s interesting that there’s apparently another social loser like him in his very class, and he’d never noticed. He’s fairly certain he can recognize the kid by face, but it still takes him a moment of intensely scanning before he notices him. He’s not exactly sitting alone, which is what surprises him. It looks like the kid is surrounded by friends.

Except for that, as Tendou approaches, he realizes that while he’s sandwiched in between two very loud groups of friends, he’s not actually engaging in either circle, and is instead sitting with his head down, peeling an orange so carefully he’s kept the peel all in one piece.

Tendou has to fight through crowds, then, to get to the other side and worm into the seat across from him and between those two groups. He doesn’t look up.

Tendou clears his throat.

He still doesn’t look up.

So he reached forward, knocking his knuckles against the table to get his attention. This makes him jump, and he looks up in alarm, as if shocked someone had snuck up on him despite being locked in on that orange like it owed him a life debt.

Tendou immediately regrets the rude way of getting his attention, realizing he probably seemed like an asshole, and withdrew his hand quickly to sit on it.

“Uh, hey,” he says. “Ushijima, right?”

He gets a single nod back. Well, Kobayashi had said he was quiet. Tendou wasn’t sure he’d ever heard him speak, actually.

“Well, I’m Tendou - we’re in class together-”

Ushijima is nodding, indicating he does recognize him.

“-uh, and we’ve got that stupid animal project coming up, and I don’t have a partner yet, so I was wondering if you wanted to, like, I dunno, do that together or whatever.”

Ushijima looks at him for long enough that Tendou is beginning to get concerned that he didn’t actually speak any Japanese, and then eventually the blank look turns to a frown.

What, did I offend him? Why is he looking at me like that?

“I mean, unless you already have a partner,” Tendou starts. Ushijima continues to stare at him. “Do… uh… sorry… What's happening? You can say no, dude, that’s fine, I just-”

After a second, Ushijima glances around, as if psyching himself up, before lean towards Tendou and very carefully saying:

“Okay.”

Tendou leans towards him at the same time. “Okay as in… partners?”

Ushijima nods, and then looks back down to his orange. Tendou is fairly certain that that’s the end of the conversation and this project is going to be the most boring partnership on the planet when Ushijima splits the orange in half, and offers half over to him.

“What? Why?” Tendou says, not quite able to stop his tone from coming out distrustfully.

Ushijima doesn’t seem to notice, and instead answers the question:

“You do not have lunch with you.”

It’s not a question of ‘are you hungry’ or ‘did you eat’ or ‘would you like half of this orange I’m holding,’ but rather Ushijima has now decided that since Tendou does not have any, he was going to put food in front of him.

Tendou feels a very heavy, hard beat in his heart, and reaches forward to take the orange.

“Oh. Thanks.”

[thepoliticalvulcan]

I agree with this on the level of harm reduction. It is every voter’s responsibility to be informed and to prudently weigh the consequences of this or that side winning.

On that level when you have absolute ghouls who could come back to power like Pompeo and Huckabee with a nightmare eschatology focused around goading Israel into fulfilling a doomsday prophecy to bring Jesus back, the potential for greater suffering is huge.

And yet this particular form of consequentialism ignores other frameworks and ways of understanding voter behavior and motives. Not to mention it absolves the parties themselves of any responsibility of being in dialogue with their voters.

If the answer to that challenge is that the Democratic Party was in dialogue with its voters and due to the composition of the coalition, what we saw out of the administration, the Biden - Harris campaign, the Harris - Walz campaign, and the convention is their version of threading a needle, okay fine. One I don’t buy it and two even if that was the best they could do to keep the coalition together, I think we need to talk about how blocs function.

Right now the Democratic Party is freaking out over its issues with young men, especially young men without college degrees.

Why is it freaking out? Because they believe that category helped throw the election to Trump via their unwillingness to vote or their willingness to vote for Trump.

Now the party is spending tens of millions to study how to approach young men while many pundits and electeds experiment with changes in affect and policy.

We can debate what it is young men want, whether it’s actually good, and if Democrats trying to pivot to flatter them will be effective or an absolute disaster that alienates more voters than it brings into the tent. But if young men wanted to send a message with their vote (or non-vote) a signal has been received loud and clear and the Democrats are desperately trying to decode that signal and find an actionable message within the noise.

Anti-war motivated voters were not merely ignored, even moderate, patriotic Palestinian American success stories were denied any sort of visible role at the DNC for fear they would do or say something off script.

So by November they had a choice and it was an absolute nightmare of a trolley problem.

Vote Democrat, stay inside the tent, hope to have some small amount of influence but also risk the very real probability that Democratic elites could safely ignore this element of the coalition in perpetuity and threaten them with ostracism and culpability for whatever the prayer warriors inside the JD Vance wing of the GOP wound up doing should they win.

Or don’t.

Vote third party, vote Republican, don’t vote and gamble that the GOP won’t win or that if it did win the notoriously vain Trump would seize upon this influx of new voters, revel in their imagined praise, and temper his love affair with Netanyahu and the “Greater Israel” crowd.

And if it all went to hell anyway then they might be able to tell themselves that they taught Dems their votes cannot be taken for granted if electoral politics survived to 2028. In the long run, MAYBE a chastened Democratic Party would be more amenable to the anti-war crowd, resulting in a grim trade of more lives lost and devastated now for more lives spared in the future.

Such feverish speculation and wishcasting is why I’m increasingly skeptical of trying to project more than a single electoral cycle into the future. Especially since my estimation is that this is the worst of all worlds for “Greater Israel” opponents in the US: not only does the GOP not even remotely care about Muslims, is actively trying to deport the most vocal, and seems content to assist in depopulating Gaza: the Democrats also don’t give a damn because their new love affair is with alienated young men.

But on an emotional level, I get it. The choices were awful, and the so called “good guys” were behaving at peak levels of paternalism and disingenuousness. So why not take a big swing and hope for the best?

I mean, the very predictable reality we are now living in is why, but I also don’t see where anti-war voters had a lot of options besides accept they were being sidelined or demonstrate that they were prepared to use the nuclear option and withhold their votes: the last and final thing any bloc can do in democracy if their inter-election canvassing and persuasion efforts fall short of persuading major stakeholders.

I don’t have it in me to be mad at them for rolling the dice.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.

Palestine is to the alt left as abortion is to the alt right. All other policy is irrelevant as long as you support the important cause.

This is just not how politics should be working. If you want a functioning system, you cannot reduce your entire voting behaviour to a single issue. It's so easy to do, but that's not how the world works and as we have seen time and time again, it causes absolute carnage if the result of a vote becomes determined by a single issue whcih causes people to ignore the actual aims in a party' manifesto

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

max of 📸 and 🪷 please!! your writing is so good

500 for 📸

---

Eddie expects it’s simply something gooey and romantic about it being the new year. About starting 2026 together. Something Eddie might think and struggle to articulate, and then blurt out half-formed when he sees Buck next. With that in mind, he waits to listen to it until he’s back at the station. 

But when he lifts his phone to his ear at 12:41am, a soft smile on his face, it’s not exactly what he’s expecting. 

“Hey, Eddie. Uh… Don’t freak out. I’m on my way to get Chris. He called me. Knew you were working and that New Years Eve is a pretty busy night. I guess something happened at his friend’s and he’s pretty upset. He asked me… Anyway, don’t worry. I’m getting him, I’ll make sure he’s okay, he can crash at my place. Just wanted to keep you updated. Okay. Love you, bye. Oh, and uh, happy New Year’s.” 

Eddie definitely freaks out. He calls Buck back immediately. He knew something would happen at that party. He knew it! Is Chris drunk? Is Chris high? Was he peer pressured? 

“Hey,” Buck answers, whispering. 

“Buck, what happened?” Eddie demands. “Is he okay? Is he intoxicated?”

“Whoa, hey. No. Stone cold sober. He’s fine. He’s good. Just got into an argument and it sounds like two friends sort of ganged up on him. Got kind of heated.” 

“A fight?” Eddie asks.

“No, a verbal disagreement. I swear, he’s fine. He just got worked up and didn’t want to stay. We talked it through. He’s mad at them, but okay.”

Eddie exhales heavily.

“Okay, uh… Well, thank you. Fuck. Thank you for going to get him.”

“Yeah, of course.” 

“What did you do with Penny?” Eddie asks.

“Ah, she slept in the back seat. Hardly knew what was happening.” 

“Thank you,” Eddie says again.

“Seriously, don’t mention it. I’m glad he trusted me, you know?” 

“Of course he does,” Eddie says. But he’s glad Chris thought to call Buck, too. It makes him glad. Of course, Eddie would have figured something out, but it’s nice knowing there was another option - not Eddie’s parents - who Chris could rely on.

“He went right to bed,” Buck says. “I’ll get him to call you in the morning though?”

“Please,” Eddie says. “You’re good with him until then?”

“Totally. I’ll make a big breakfast. Save you some.”

Eddie smiles. “You’re the best.”

He hears Buck hum happily.

“I gotta go to bed, but… Work’s okay?” 

“More vomit than usual, but fine,” Eddie replies.

“Cute.” 

“Go to bed,” Eddie says. “Thanks for rescuing my kid. Love you.” 

“I love you, too.”

---

500 for🪷

---

“Would you like one?” Chris asks stiffly.

“S-sure,” Shannon says. “Thank you.”

She takes the apple fritter gratefully. She’s getting very hungry. Also, something sweet is never bad when you’re freaking the fuck out. 

“Who is the third one for?” She asks after taking a bite.

“My roommate,” Christopher replies.

Shannon looks around the donut shop, as if someone else is going to walk through the door. No one does.

“Your roommate?” She echoes. 

“I’m going to text him to come,” Christopher says. “He should be awake. Uh… Then I’ll call Dad. Maybe.”

“M-maybe call your dad?” Shannon asks. 

She would like him to do that. She would really like to see Eddie. It’s been sixteen years and he probably moved on pretty easily after what she did, asking him to commit then dumping him when he did, but… But she needs something grounding. Something she understands. 

“I need to be sure first,” Christopher says. “I won’t… I won’t make him think… Not if I’m not sure.”

There’s a surprising amount of vitriol in his eyes. Shannon shrinks back in her seat. She’s missing something. 

“What-what do you mean?” Shannon asks. “I mean, if I was, like, a hallucination, Raelynn couldn’t have seen me. I couldn’t eat this fritter.”

“I don’t think you’re a hallucination,” Chris says.

“What, then?” She asks.

“What’s my middle name?” He demands. “What’s my birthday?”

“Adrian,” she says. “September 26th. Do you think I’m… I’m not me?” 

“Anyone could know that,” Chris whispers. 

Well, okay. Sure. But only she was the one doing the birth. 

Shannon frowns. “Okay, could anyone know it was 9:12 in the morning, or that you were exactly nine pounds? Which is rude, for a first baby, by the way. Or could anyone know we chose the middle name Adrian because your aunt was a literal child at the time and cried when she found out we were having a boy because she wanted a niece so bad and we wanted to make her feel better? Could anyone know your army medic father was terrified of cutting your umbilical cord?”

Chris blinks. “That’s a bit more specific, yeah.”

“I’m not lying to you, Christopher,” Shannon promises. “I woke up on the street here. I have nothing. It’s sixteen years in the future and my son who was a little boy a second ago is an adult man. I’m not lying about that.”

“It’s impossible,” he whispers. His mouth pinches at the corners. 

She shrugs. “Clearly not.”

Christopher swallows heavily. He looks down at this phone.

“I’m going to tell him to come get us,” he says, voice cracking over emotion.

“Your dad?” Shannon asks hopefully.

“No, my roommate.”

[boundwithpurple]

hi you don't have to answer this bc i know you get lot of asks. Agree with lot of your posts and not attached to word 'grooming' at all - also experienced incestuous abuse. maybe am misunderstanding. but feel weird about the 'children are smart / know what's happening' thing? don't think can universalize. as a child and even adult i have often NOT known what's happening when people abuse me until long afterward. not just sexual abuse but other things like bullying too. this is disability thing so it also has to do with power structure. But like i have rarely been in situation where abused and understood that it was abuse at the time. i grew up just thinking everything was kind of uncomfortable and confusing but i wasn't allowed to make any choices. i think many children and adults are like this. it wasnt that i saw bad things would happen if i resisted, it truly did not occur to me that resistance was possible, it would have been like dividing by zero to me.

yeah that’s fair! always good to be cautious about universalizing and i admit i probably overstated my case there (post i didn’t expect to extend beyond my blog/the specific context i was discussing at the time, which was lolita and one true experience it expresses which is being really intensely aware of what is happening to you ie the companion post about dolores saying hh raped her explicitly). i was responding to an overgeneralization in the other direction (and thus overcompensating, which is an occasional error) which is the idea that children NEVER know what’s happening is wrong or find it upsetting at the time, which is as equally untrue as the idea they always do. for me, i don’t think i could have named it - it took till adulthood to do that - but i knew i hated it. i was not ever convinced i enjoyed it or wanted it in the way a lot of conversations imagine - that “grooming” is the process of making children think what is happening to them is ok, that any attempt to hide what is happening to them is a result of the creation of that delusion and wholehearted investment in it (and never from calculated self-interest like keeping a family together because, for example, one parent in prison would be economically devastating). that is certainly one story but it just isn’t the only one. but in tossing off a quick tumblr post on my one side i agree i was far too prescriptive, and i apologize if it felt erasing. no one can cover every angle in any one tumblr post but obvs if you are just seeing the one post cross your dash, how should you know. it wasn’t my intention to imply that was any kind of ultimate statement. there are as many stories and truths as their are victims and i’d never want to fail to make space for that.

[prythian-angel-doll]

You Are The Cause of My Euphoria (Azriel x OC fic)

Hi, beautiful peoples. I've written sporadically over the years but my love for ACOTAR and specifically one special bat boy has inspired me to put one of my own works out there. Please enjoy and leave me feedback, it will be a slowburn angsty fic with more to come so please be patient! MWAH

_________________________________________________

Anwyn (On-win) is the younger bastard half-sister of the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She's spent the past four centuries sheltered and hidden in the Day Court, where she would assist her distant family when they saw fit. Now that the war is over, she has been invited to join the Court of Dreams in Velaris. A lifetime of rejection and isolation from her people leave Anwyn confused and unsure. These feelings are only complicated by her friendship with Rhysand's personal spy, Azriel, whomst Anwyn has always kept in the back of her mind. How will she navigate life in a new court, with different customs, whose people are closer to her own brother than she is?

______________________________________________________________

Thump, thump. My heavy luggage crashed against the cobblestone walkway as I exhaled deeply, regretting my decision to winnow in a distance away and walk the rest of the way to my brother and sister-in-law’s new estate. I needed that time to collect my thoughts - what would I say when they opened the doors? Hi, sorry I’ve been hiding away for the past three years, I didn’t want to complicate things for you further, Feyre! It’s so nice to finally meet you! Also, can I see my nephew? Or, I know my birth caused great shame upon my family but I would love to reenter your lives and act like nothing happened! I cringed and decided that neither option was befitting of the bastard princess of the night court and chose to go off the cuff based on whomever answers my knock. “Cauldron, where has the time gone?” I muttered at the ground, bouncing from one foot to the other, as I waited for a response on the other side of the manor door. 

The door swung open with a violent fury, hinges hissing and groaning despite the young age of their construction. The person on the other side of the doorway immediately drew an eyeroll from me. Cassian. He stood leaning against the frame, a wicked smirk plastered on his admittedly handsome and rugged face. “Well, it’s about time you showed up. I was beginning to think that you’d hide away in Helion’s chambers for all of eternity” he said, smirking wider and wider as the seconds droned on. “Funny. I’ve spent just about as much time in his chambers as you have. He should be so lucky to even have a shot at me. Glad to see you as well,” I retort. I kicked at my suitcases, a notion for the large Illyrian to take them inside for me. I had always found Cassian to be an attractive male - tanned, muscled, always ready for a challenge. He’d come and visit the Day Court when Rhys had sent him as my private instructor, teaching me the fighting style of the Illyrians. I wasn’t Illyrian myself - I had no wings, no blood ties to the fighting race of warriors. My mother was not one of them, one of Rhys’s mother’s kind. His mother’s death spawned a heightened fear in my brother and instilled an urgency to make sure I could protect myself should anyone discover my true identity within the Day Court. 

Cassian picked up my belongings in one fell swoop, throwing the trunks over each shoulder without so much as breaking a sweat. I followed him in, drawing in a breath as I entered the foyer. The estate was marvelous. I lived in a luxurious apartment in the Day Court, furnished how I liked and changed when I had even the slightest mood swing. I didn’t quite know how to feel about my brother’s home. This was a home, something I have never had. I could see myself calling this home, eventually. “Nesta and I thought about staying here, but two mated pairs under the same roof would probably reduce this whole block to rubble” Cassian trailed on, not bothering to make sure I was behind him as he continued through the entry hall, striding towards the stairs. I heard from Rhys that Cass and Feyre’s older sister Nesta had joined into a mating bond. Rhys’s icy words for Nesta coincidentally had brought me relief - surely she would be the one to bring his ego down a notch. That’s a perfect match in my book. “I’d love to chat with you about our love lives, Cass, but I would very much like to see Rhysand and Feyre. Where are they?” I said, looking around the hall. It was oddly quiet for a weekday afternoon, though I supposed the duties of High Lord and High Lady of the Court of Dreams required non-stop work and correspondences. Cassian sat the trunks down surprisingly gingerly. Two shadowy figures appeared in the shapes of women; they each collected a trunk and then disappeared once more. Cassian’s lack of reaction told me that these must be servants of a sort, or a cruel prank I’d have to sort out later. He bent his head to the right, motioning towards the long hallway. I peered down the expansive hall - portraits and landscapes adorned the walls in varying sizes and tones. People I knew - Mor, in her ephemeral grace; Amren, a non-chalant muse. “At the end of the hall is the family room - they’re waiting for you” Cassian said, “I’ll come by later on, I’ve got some business in a camp close by”. I nodded a thanks and he strode away and out of the house, no doubt wanting to use his wings to fly into the camp he had to attend to. 

I reached the end of the hallway in what felt like hours. So many images to take in - prized pieces constructed by my sister-in-law. The woman I hid from for two years, a drop in the water compared to the four hundred years in isolation. These past two years stung more, knowing that I couldn’t meet my brother’s mate, couldn’t be a part of their lives directly, continuing to live the same lie everyday. I helped in any way I could before that final battle. I gathered intel, scoured the libraries for any information, negotiated with any court that may have needed extra convincing. My position as an advisor to Helion assisted me with the latter effort. And when it came time to fight, I was there. I went against Rhys’s orders, but I arrived with Helion’s army and blended in amongst the hordes. I fought with all my strength and only informed my brother after the fact - after his resurrection. I shook those thoughts from my mind as I reached the door at the end, the family room. Well, here goes nothing I thought to myself as I wrenched on the door and pushed it open, much like ripping off the bandage you knew deep down you were scared to remove. 

Feyre sat in a settee next to the marbled fireplace on the opposite side of the room; Rhysand positioned next to her, leaning against the armrest. I walked into the room a couple of steps, not quite sure how to begin this reunion and first meeting. My sister-in-law broke the silence quickly, without awkwardness. A true High Lady. “Welcome home, Anwyn. It’s nice to finally meet you after all this time. Rhys has told me so much already” Feyre said, her voice carrying a melody that my ears relaxed at. I smiled - it was earnest, something I didn’t throw to anyone unless I also gave it with a kick in the balls or a punch in the gut. I dipped my head low, attempting to give my High Lady my respects, though it still felt so foreign to be here. “Thank you Feyre. This has been overdue and I have so much to say and tell to you,” I reply, shaking off the inkling of nerves I carried in. I felt more at ease as the seconds passed. “Maybe I should start with some stories about my and Rhysand’s drinking escapades in the Day Court a couple centuries back?” Rhys’s still face finally changed, switching out for a look that balanced between shock and embarrassment. “Anie. Please, let’s not spoil all the fun in one night. You surely have plenty of time to embarrass us all, including yourself. I’m glad to see you arrived in one piece. And, welcome home - this was indeed overdue” he said at last. I rolled my eyes and smirked as I closed the distance to embrace my brother. Centuries of distance and isolation saw that our relationship became strained and contentious at times. Two siblings with different hardships, different customs, different upbringings. Our mutual link proved to be more powerful than our differences and we reconciled with that - our father, the former High Lord of the Night Court, prowled our subconscious and shaped the personalities we formed throughout our long immortal lives. 

Rhysand and his court had sporadically me during my isolation over the creeping four centuries that have passed since I was brought into this world kicking and screaming. Bastard I was branded, the daughter of the High Lord of the Night Court and a handmaiden to the Consort. I will never know the whole truth of my conception. The story told to me countless times was that my father, freshly reeling from Rhys’s mother’s rejection, grew so angry that despite the intact mating bond, sought out my mother and bedded her for a month straight. I knew that my father loved Rhys’s mother - it had completely consumed him from the inside. My mother was a trusted friend of hers, she had confided in my mother many secrets over the years of her servitude. Sometimes I wonder if my mother welcomed him into her bed as a relief to the Illyrian queen - surely it was known that she had little love for the Lord of the Night Court. Thus, 30 years after my brother, I was born unto the world. We shared the same violet blue eyes, but not much else. My snow white hair and winter pale skin juxtaposed Rhysand’s dark complexion. I secretly admired the aura of his complexion, knowing that it must have been drawn from his mother - I would never see that hue on my own skin. 

We spent the next fifteen minutes catching up, making sure I threw in some playful jabs to Rhys and his court while I recounted my time in Helion’s court. Feyre listened with cheerful intent, soaking in all that I had to tell. I knew that we would become close sisters - solidified by her roaring laughter during my monologue about Rhysand stealing one of Helion’s pegasuses for the night. Or perhaps two. Helion came into my apartment in a rage, sending books and goblets crashing against the walls. The shocking bright lights exuding from Helion sent us into a blind frenzy but it couldn’t dull our laughter as we sat cross legged in front of the High Lord’s prized winged mare, which was grazing on the many carrots we had purchased at the market. These were the memories I had clung to during the time my brother was under the mountain, with Amorantha controlling him and so many others I had grown up to know.

 “Where is my nephew? Where is Nyx?” I asked eagerly. As much as I wanted to talk to Rhys and Feyre, I knew that I had eternity to swap stories and exchange information. To see my nephew as an infant, barely walking and babbling incoherently? I would only have a few years at most, given the maturation rate of High Fae. “Oh we’re so glad to see you as well, Wynnie” Rhys chuckled, shaking his head slightly. Surely enough, he had understood this as well. Feyre smiled and looked at him - I only saw pure love and devotion in their shared glance. “He’s upstairs with Azriel. Az has been entertaining him while we get some work done. His own tasks have come up fewer and fewer while we are at a certain level of peace, despite the unrest in Illyria”. Azriel I choked out in my head. Mother watched over me. I had taken many lovers within many courts during my time with Helion and his court - our travels took us to all the varying courts throughout the realm. Many men had the opportunity to share the bed with the bastard princess of the Night Court - though none of them were talented enough for me to keep them in my life. I'd never bedded Azriel. I’ve never engaged in anything with him besides the exchange of polite pleasantries when he would visit the Day Court. Rhysand would send him to me to glean any information which any of the vast libraries could have contained based on what was needed. Azriel spent a deal of time with me, gathering books, learning the weaknesses of the males from other courts - he didn’t ask how I had gathered that specific intel. I never thought of Azriel as anything more than my brother’s errand boy - that was, until that night many years ago. I shook the thought out of mind. Not now. We didn’t see each other for a year afterwards, and only on the occasional trek out to my ward would he grace me with himself. Years passed, and I pushed him out of my mind. A silly crush, very simple. Black and white. The strong and silent Illyrian warrior once blessed my dreams with soothing kisses and longing stares. Sometimes those dreams gave way to other interactions more primal, more seductive and toe curling. 

“I’ll go see him now then, while he’s awake” I said, glancing back towards the door I entered nearly an hour ago at this point. It was certainly not the time for those sorts of devious thoughts. I hadn’t seen Az in almost three years, but I had never seen my young nephew - and now I was growing impatient. Rhysand stood from his leaning position once more, resting his hand on Feyre’s. “Go ahead upstairs. Feyre and I have to finish some paperwork for a restoration project over in the Rainbow - we’ll give you the grand tour of Velaris soon enough. Nyx’s wing is to the of the staircase, at the end of the hallway” Rhys said, never moving a muscle away from his mate. I looked at them both - a portrait of not only love, but of immense power and tact. I would be lying to myself if I didn’t envy my brother. His found mate, his chosen and found family after such loss. Did he still consider me as a part of his family? Surely, if he invited me back here, right? I’m safe now, no more outliers to concern myself with regarding the plots against Rhysand’s life and his circle. “We’ll meet later for dinner. I was thinking we’d go to my favorite restaurant - the food is prepared and spiced to perfection by a wonderful woman” Feyre said. I smiled and crossed my arms “That sounds great to me - I’d love to judge the cuisine of Velaris against the Day Court. Helion would love to see that report”. The inner advisor of me found it hard to turn off my former role - reporter to the High Lord. He would be amused to see such a report cross his desk, though surely he would never concede to Velaris championing the better selection of culinary cuisine. Rhys chuffed a laugh and they winnowed out a minute later after exchanging formalities once more - it would take a week or two more for the familial links to set in, hopefully. 

Taking a deep breath, I climbed the sweeping stairs. By the mother, they really outdid themselves with this mansion. I can practically see my reflection in the floors as well, I uttered internally. I knew the wealth of the Night Court was immense, my own salary provided to me by Rhys was more than enough to allow me a life of pleasure and indulgence should i have chosen it. The river house was a testament to not only the power and intensity of the High Lord and Lady, but to their love and devotion to the city they called home - and would call home for eternity. I reached the end of the hallway once more as I unwrapped myself from my thoughts. I wondered which room was to be mine - where the shadowy women had dropped off my possessions. Unlatching the door softly, I slowly opened the door, peering into the bright lightly colored room. 

Nyx sat in the center of the room. He could hold himself upright in a seated position, and I kicked myself for not being able to be here earlier when he was smaller, more incapable of such feats. He was in the middle of a selection of toys; different shaped animals and rattles and orbs of moving light - all encompassed by meandering and dancing waves of pure shadow. I knew those shadows. They had once cooed around me, I felt their lingering presence many times over the centuries, never fearing them, always wanting to let them in closer. I did not allow them such liberties though. I took one step into the room and then I saw him. I was barely able to pick up on his scent, his presence nearly absent in Nyx’s nursery room. Azriel sat on a rocking chair behind Nyx. His dark short hair tussled haphazardly around, like Nyx may have given it a rapture while they played. His white tunic complemented the golden hue of his skin, only brightened by the sapphire siphons on his heavy gauntlets. He looked up at me, an unreadable expression on his face. What was he thinking of? Will I ever be able to tell? I stood there, half in shock of seeing my own kin on the floor, half in shock of seeing my brother’s trusted spy in here acting as a babysitter. 

“Hello, Anwyn” 

_____________________

End of Chapter One

[jules-ln]

I just wanted to say I completely agree with the conversation you had about Jayce and violence. People have this urge to make him a babygirl, wouldn’t hurt a fly, JUST because in the show he’s shit at fighting.

(IMO, being bad at fighting but choosing to anyway makes you more violent. Vi deciding to defend someone comes from her knowing what it means to get hurt and doing so consciously. Jayce made a Big Fucking Hammer and decided the right answer was to break people’s bones. That is absolutely a desire for violence.)

People who have only seen arcane have this urge to make him helpless and it drives me up the wall. Making him harmless removes so much nuance from the character, both in the game as he’s a scientist who only knows how to communicate through what people expect of him, and the game, where he’s twisted and bent to the will of others through politics. The hammer is a representation of his fall and why it physically disables him.

It is infuriating, and nice to see someone stand up to it. Thank you.

Aw thank you, I don't care about social rules and I'm a very opinionated person, therefore I won't shut up when I have an unpopular opinion even if I know it's controversial lmao

Tbh I think Jayce it's like a personification of "it is tempting, if the only tool you have is a hammer, to treat everything as if it were a nail"

A bit on the nose I know, but then again, Arcane isn't exactly subtle with its subtext lmao

He actually reminds me a bit of Vi, because even in the show its mentioned how she has a tendency of "blocking with her face", meaning, she prioritizes attack over defense, and that says a lot about her character

In Jayce's case, I think he has a very bad case of tunnel vision, he focuses on one thing at the time, and only one thing, and it's not like he's not intelligent, it's simply that when he's holding the hammer, why wouldn't he try to hit things first to solve the problems? Like, no he isn't inherently violent, but his extreme focus makes it so that when he's holding his hammer he has difficulty thinking of another non violent solution

Because that's why Viktor is there for. And that's also why I love JayVik so much lmao

I'm not saying that Jayce is a brute and Viktor is the calm one, I'm saying that Jayce probably only thinks straight forward while Viktor thinks sideways; they're both extremely smart, but approach things in different ways, and that's also why they're so good for each other, because when Jayce it's stuck with something Viktor pulls him out of that and helps him see another perspective, meanwhile Jayce helps focus and direct Viktor instead of letting him drift to the side

So, if Viktor had been there with Jayce to help him with the hammer related activities, he might've been able to tell him to calm down and think about another way to do things

And on the other hand, if Jayce had been with Viktor during the Hexcore experiments, he might've been able to find a way to make things work with the Hexcore without going sideways towards the blood and the shimmer

It's quite literally that the problems with these two only began once they separated lmao

Two volatile components that neutralize each other when mixed together

And I think another example of him having tunnel vision was back in S1A1, when he tried to commit suicide, he was so focused on how things should be, so when things couldn't go that way anymore he was completely lost and couldn't find his way out, that was until Viktor showed him the alternative path

That's also why I think people headcanon Jayce as having bipolar disorder, because his pivot from "it's over" to "we're so back" it's so sudden that it seems like a manic depressive episode; though I personally think he fits more with the rigid thinking of autism, but that might be me projecting since I also have autism lmao (low empathy autistic Jayce headcanon my beloved <3)

But as you can see; Jayce being violent is a very interesting part of his character, so I think instead of asking whether or not Jayce is violent, we should ask why is he violent

Also, violence isn't inherently negative, but rather a neutral thing; violence can be used for positive things

And, I find very ridiculous to think that these characters; that are league of legends characters, don't have any capacity for violence; like, I myself don't play LoL, but my friend does and has tried to drag me into hell, I mean, make me play LoL with her for years now; so I've been watching her playing LoL for a long time and I know what the game is about; and as I said before, fighting and inflicting violence it's baked into the very core of these characters, even Viktor and Ekko are designed to fight

Also, might be an unpopular opinion, but I don't think Jayce is a bad fighter, he just doesn't have a lot of fighting experience, but I mean, in the fight with Vi, for being his first time to fight with a giant hammer, he doesn't do all that bad