#'+ and you're somewhere different. on a different planet.'

[tprings-hair]

what happened on tarsus iv?

this is my attempt at creating a definitive list of information on what kirk experienced on tarsus iv for fic writers and other fans who want to know wtf is up with kirk's backstory.

(I have a longer, more general post on tos kirk's backstory here.)

"Kodos the Executioner, summary. Governor of Tarsus Four twenty Earth years ago. Invoked martial law. Slaughtered fifty percent of population Earth colony, that planet. Burned body found when Earth forces arrived. No positive identification. Case closed."

let's start with this quote from spock, detailing the information he found on their ship's computer.

first of all: at its core, this episode is tos's take on the nazis who escaped capture. adolf eichmann was only found in 1960, and would certainly have been in the public memory as a high profile nazi who managed to make a new life under an assumed name. he was not the only one to have escaped capture, and I don't think I need to explain which conspiracy theory the circumstances of kodos's faked death call to mind.

this episode was an exploration of what form cruelty and authoritarianism might take in star trek's universe, with a huge amount of influence from shakespeare's work. the two together make up this central dilemma: is it kodos? might kirk be condemning an innocent man? if it is kodos, does kirk have the right to act as judge, jury, and executioner? is it possible for someone who carried out terrible acts to live a new life somewhere else, and not have the violence follow?

SPOCK: According to our library banks, it started on the Earth colony of Tarsus IV, when the food supply was attacked by an exotic fungus and largely destroyed. There were over eight thousand colonists and virtually no food. And that was when Governor Kodos seized full power and declared emergency martial law.

MCCOY: I've heard of it.

SPOCK: You may not have heard it all. Kodos began to separate the colonists. Some would live, be rationed whatever food was left. The remainder would be immediately put to death. Apparently he had his own theories of eugenics.

MCCOY: Unfortunately, he wasn't the first.

SPOCK: Perhaps not. But he was certainly among the most ruthless, to decide arbitrarily who would survive and who would not, using his own personal standards, and then to implement his decision without mercy. Children watching their parents die. Whole families destroyed. Over four thousand people. They died quickly, without pain, but they died. Relief arrived, but too late to prevent the executions. And Kodos? There never was a positive identification of his body.

the thing is, this introduces a number of inconsistencies. it could easily be chalked up to confusion between multiple drafts of the script, but if you want to look deeper and see where the information comes from, you'll notice the two survivors have very different stories than the official starfleet record.

specifically, spock says that they died quickly and painlessly, and though he is sure that karidian is kodos, he does not seem to treat him as a legitimate threat to anyone's safety. we don't know if kodos ever directly killed anyone, or if he only gave the orders. but kirk and leighton seem to agree on the violence: leighton refers to his own injury as "the bloody thing (kodos) did", and kirk recalls kodos "blasting" others out of existence. it's possible kirk was saying it to confuse kodos, so kodos might say "that's not how it happened" and give himself away. it's also possible that leighton sustained his injury at a different time than the massacre. it seems likeliest to me in any case that the information on the ship's computer is not the entire truth.

which also means you can headcanon whatever you want and nobody can tell you definitively that you're wrong. be free with your tarsus iv headcanons.

exploring the tarsus iv lore (or lack of it) has led me to this sort of consensus in the fandom that kirk was looking after a group of children. I think it's a very cool way of exploring how central it is to his character that he has to be in control, protecting people, and fighting back, and I've read and enjoyed some absolutely fantastic fics with that premise. even william shatner seems to agree. in his novel collision course (which gives kirk and spock a sort of alternate first meeting as teenagers and gives some great insights into how shatner viewed kirk's backstory), kirk ().

the ship's computer specifies the number of survivors later in the episode as nine, and lists them as

Kirk, J., Leighton, T., Moulton, E., Riley, K., Eames, D.

before kirk cuts it off. once leighton dies, the last two surviving are kirk and riley.

the novelization by james blish names a couple more characters, and in order of age: Leighton, T., Molson, E., Kirk, J., Wiegand, R., Eames, S., and Daiken, R., which was what they called the role of kevin riley initially. he is specified as being five years old at the time, and kirk is not a child or teen but a midshipman.

and collision course names still more characters. edith zaglada, an eight year old girl who kirk saw killed. donny, tay, and billy are named as other survivors. this novel doesn't get into kodos's motivations or kirk's circumstances, but it gives us two new characters, griffyn and matthew, who are teenagers employed by kodos as bounty hunters for escapees of the initial massacre. starfleet arrives just as edith is shot and griffyn is trying to convince matthew to shoot kirk. we don't really know if kirk knew any of the other survivors, but he mentions edith's name specifically a few times as a death that affected him a lot. it's heartbreaking to watch city on the edge of forever with that in mind. I also can't find a source for anyone calling him JT, but collision course does call him jimmy during the flashback chapters.

crucially, the novel isn't technically canon. so you can have your gang of children led by JT, or you can have jimmy stick with a couple of people, or you could do something totally your own. none of these are wrong! do whatever your heart desires.

if you want some practical details, there's a great post here by @spirk-trek and pt 1, pt 2, and pt 3 of a great post by @pywren. I may make my own tarsus iv headcanon post if anyone is interested, and if I do I'll link it here.

[skitskatdacat63]

Sebcedes fmv to Twilight by Bôa. It only exists in my head unfortunately

[emptyjunior]

Enough random notes that have a written story on them as environmental storytelling, explore the space, get crazier with it.

You move into a house and aw cute, it has the kids height on the walls but you notice there's a three foot difference in height between measurements, you check the date, they're a month apart. The final measurement is on the ceiling. It's dated two days ago.

You're part of a recovery team that have finally found a stranded ship, they were found too late and have all passed a long time ago. They all died of starvation. You enter their storeroom, it's filled with food. In the dining hall you find the tables laden with perfectly fine looking breads, cakes, cured meats, jams, candies. Your medic says all the people sitting at the table didn't eat a Thing.

You wake up in an apocalypse. You can't find anyone at all as you wander the streets but you do hear faint music playing from somewhere. You stumble into a supermarket, to see all the aisles still full, except for the shelf that was full of ear plugs, which look to be the only thing that was looted.

Like there's light, sound, props. Having a street where every house is decimated except for One. Landing on a planet known for having No Water and a plant is growing and you don't know where it could have possibly gotten moisture from but you can't find the citizens Anywhere.

I'm sorry, I'm just kinda over the "graffiti on the wall to show the bad guy is around". That's not environmental storytelling that's just normal story. Show me I'm in the villains territory by the rain suddenly cutting out above me as I'm driving, even though it's meant to be raining all night. I park the car and step out, and realise the constellations are Wrong, until I see they're Not constellations, they're the blinking lights of a massive ship-

I Will stop now because everytime I go to write a sentence it devolves into another prompt but I'm just saying we have a Lot of senses, engage them, show me the Environment in environmental storytelling.

[a-mint-bear]

I Think My Cute Co-Worker Got Taken Over By an Alien Hive Mind

On a mission and aboard a ship in space, your only real friend there is the cute and shy janitor. After an accident where he crashed on a nearby planet, he's been acting very... strangely.

(just a teensy bit of nsft implications in the dialogue here, nothin explicit)

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

You're a scientist on a long-term space expedition. It's mission is to find possible inhabitable new worlds for humanity to live on in the future. Your job is to monitor and research environmental factors that could pose a threat to your crewmates and the mission and find ways to make planets more livable.

There are security officers, miners, your fellow scientists and researchers, the doctor and her assistant, a couple of maintenance androids for the ship and of course the crew who navigate and serve on the big hunk of metal you're all zipping through space on. On that crew is the ship's custodial worker.

You're not so snobbish to undervalue the importance of a clean living environment, especially in the medical wing and your own lab, but there are some on the ship that treat him like he's invisible or like he's not important just because he's not the brains or muscle on board. He comes and cleans up in your lab every day before dinner, and while sometimes you're too busy to really spend any time chatting, you do enjoy the talks you get to occasionally have.

Sometimes you're so busy that you end up working through dinner, and when you finally pull yourself out of it, you find quick and easy dishes ready for you well past the allotted mealtime. He always leaves a little candy from his personal stash alongside them, so you know it's from him.

He's a bit shy, and very quiet, but he always seems to light up whenever the two of you get to talk. You heard a rumor that he's the son of some business associate of one of the benefactors of the mission, and he just needed a job. Another rumor that he was a bit of a screw-up back on Earth and needed a fresh start somewhere far away. But to you, he was just your friend.

If you were being completely honest, you might've had a bit of a crush on him. He was just so kind and genuine, compared to the self-important scientists you spent every day with. And he was pretty cute, behind the baggy janitorial uniform and the dirt that sometimes smeared his face. He was sweet and he seemed to always be thinking of you, and he was one of the only things in your life that made you smile.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

There was a mishap one day, a near cataclysmic crash where six members of the mission crew were dislodged from the ship and fell into the low orbit of the nearby uninhabited planet.

He was the only survivor. He'd managed to land in a strange body of water where the density levels were so high that he hit the water mostly safely and stayed afloat until rescue. A broken arm and a minor head wound plus a slight concussion, but he was alive.

Other people on the crew seemed almost angry that out of the six people lost, including the ship's first mate and a researcher, the janitor was the one to survive. But you were just so happy he came back to you.

But after that day, your friend had... changed.

He was smooth and cool, almost confident? A little awkward still, but he carried himself differently. Almost like he was an entirely different person.

And he was... a lot more forward with you. Despite being so happy he was alive and even glad that he was making a move on you finally, you couldn't help but feel like something was wrong with him.

One day, he came in to clean your lab like every day and when you asked him how he was feeling, his arm still in the quick-print cast and the stitches on his forehead still healing, he just smiled.

"I'm fine." he smiled at you, standing a bit too close. "I missed you..."

You joked with him that he just saw you that morning, and he smiled that same smile.

"I've been thinking about you..." He held a lock of your hair in his fingers, seeming almost entranced by it. "My thoughts are damn near consumed by you, love."

You couldn't help the warmth that sprung to your cheeks. He was standing so close, and while he was acting odd, he was still that same considerate, sweet man.

"I want to touch you..." His voice was low and hit just right. You wanted it too, but you faltered. You told him that you weren't sure... that something felt wrong.

"Just let yourself go..." he smiled, caressing your cheek, his other hand holding your wrist. "I want you... Let me feel you."

Wrong. It felt wrong. He wasn't that type of guy. This...

You smiled, putting your hands on his chest. You told him that you were in charge here, pushing him back slightly with an authority you weren't used to wielding. But you stayed calm. Your hand lingered on his chest, pressing him against the wall.

He bit his lip, such a confident face... it only confirmed what you feared. Taking a step back, you ordered him to not move, he needed to be good for you. Your gaze still locked onto his, you pulled up a holo-screen, locking down your analyzer containment field. His smile didn't slip, but his eyes darted around with a puzzled look in them.

"What are you doing, love?" His voice didn't seemed alarmed or even mildly concerned. "Locking me up? If you wanted me all to yourself, all you had to do was ask..."

You told him you didn't know what he was up to, but you weren't fooled by him. He wasn't your friend.

"What do you mean?" He pressed his hands to the shielding, like he was testing it while still talking to you, placating you. "It's me... Let me out, love."

You told him your friend, even if he wanted you, would never push past your boundaries like that. He was sweet and considerate, and the kindest man you knew. While whatever this was had been ready to hold you down to get what it wanted.

You started your scans while it just talked to you, but you didn't respond.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

An hour had passed. If anyone found out what you were doing, they would deem it too risky and demand he be ejected from the ship. It wasn't like this was the captain you were scanning, or a fellow scientist. The mission could afford to lose him. But you couldn't.

"Let me out." It still wore your friend's smile, but there was something in it's eyes. Something... old. Something consuming him. "Let me touch you, love. I want to feel your warmth."

Your hands danced across the holographic screen, lining up your scanners. Usually they'd been used for scanning minerals and water sources to make sure they were safe for humans, but they were equipped with biological scanners in the case of the med-bay's destruction or shut-down. You were looking for what ever could be possessing your dear friend.

Something had been in that water, you were sure of it.

"We need to taste you..." It's tongue lolled out from it's mouth, panting and dripping saliva. "One taste, that's all we need. And then you'll be part of us. No more worries, no more searching, no more fighting to survive... you'll finally be free."

When you didn't respond, it laughed.

"We know how much you want him." It almost seemed to be taunting you now. "We can smell it on you... Don't you want to know what it's like? His lips on yours? His touch on your skin? You've been so isolated on this ship... long, cold endless nights with no one beside you. We know his mind, love. It's plagued by thoughts of you. Oh, how he spent night after night... positively enraptured... consumed with the mere possibility of your attentions. Your affection... Your toucccchhhh..."

You tried to shut out his words as your scanners looked for a way to stop this, to get him back, but the thing inside him seemed unbothered. Almost amused.

"He loves you..." It laughed. "It's an intense, burning thing. He wants nothing more than to feel you under him, in the throws of his LOVE... Your nails digging into his back, screaming his name... His obsession is what let us in... So singularly-minded... It was almost too easy..."

"We came into his body, his mind... it was hard not to be consumed by the thoughts of you. His wants became our wants. We are one, love. His love, OUR love... Be ours, and nothing else will matter..."

You paused. The thing inside him, It was speaking in the present tense. Like he was still in there somewhere. Or at least he wasn't dead. This thing wasn't possessing his lifeless body. It was in there with him. You felt more determined than ever.

You told it you would keep it here until you found out how to get it out of him. Even if you had to study him for days, weeks, you wouldn't stop until he was safe.

"You don't know how happy you've made him, love." It smiled, licking his lips. "He always wanted you looking only at him."

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

light novel-ass titles are so funny to me

still working on CO3 but i needed to write this. i promise it's coming soon

can y'all guess what movie i went and saw that made me think of this one?

i've been thinking of a yandere that it actually some kind of possessing entity, and the idea latched onto a sci-fi vibe.

i wanted the header to reflect a darker haired, scruffier guy with a bit of chin hair who gives off a real loser vibe, but i usually source from other people's ai images (can't be copyrighted), and damn it all if they aren't all baby-faced little guys lol

something more like this:

but that's just fanart of Eraserhead from MHA lol

[yearningaces]

So...

You know how if you're (American) in another country, and find another American and all the sudden it's like 'Hey! Friend! Friend! That's my bestie!' That person could be from an entirely different state but all the sudden you're similar around the unfamiliar so you're buddies!

Does that happen with monsters?

Better yet-

Say you're a human, the only human being hired onto a large cargo ship that travels planet to planet through space. Most of the others you work with are so different in appearance and species you sometimes don't know even if some of them have eyes, or just use a form of echolocation.

Still! It's a nice job, you're given respect due to your status as (a deathworlder) a human, and you're settling in nicely the first few days.

There's a pack of aliens you haven't met yet though, The Aslai.

Huge creatures with a semi-humanoid appearance paired with patches of striped fur across varying parts of them. A maw that unhinges in three distinct separation points, fur tipped tails that vary with color, and slightly elongated limbs.

Of course, the Aslai are the engineers. They work in the sub-floor deck where the machinery and engines are stationed. Heavy creatures with prehensile tails that can lift just as much as their long, burly arms. Creatures made to be strong, and with vast intelligence, the Aslai are perfect for such jobs. Most times they flock to them, truthfully.

Like how winged and levitating aliens prefer jobs that involve them leaving the ship where they can move freely through open space with the right gear.

The first time you see one of the Aslai, they're walking with heavy boot steps to the mess hall. You both freeze in the hall though.

For you? It's got a human-ish face and you're experiencing one hell of a level of the uncanny valley effect in real time.

For Hesh, you look like a softer, mini version of the Aslai. Their tail flicks in excitement and with heavy steps they draw closer. A brighter fur pattern than their fellow Aslai, they're noticeable by anyone. They croon in a low gruff tone, reaching out and prodding at your arms, legs, cheeks, happily babbling in some method of communication you can't exactly understand.

It's when the other three Aslai suddenly appear with different fur patterns and facial structures, mimicking the first one that you seem to realize they're 'cooing' over you. Like if you saw a stray cat on the way home...

You're about to say anything when one of the botanist -a Threxacord by the looks of its mandibles- speaks sharply, "Don't you have somewhere to be, human??"

Technically it's right... You're not at your post, but you were told by your immediate boss you could go on lunch. You don't have a chance to explain that though, not when the second largest Aslai lifts you up and sets you on its shoulders.

"Don't talk to our human that way." The rough, crackley voice is a shock to anyone who hears it, but the pack of Aslai seem comfortable. You can only hand onto the horns atop it's head to keep in place as a different one continues, each on the same thought process.

"Drunum, shouldn't you be tending to your artificial soils?" It's more of a throaty growl than words, but the irritation is clear.

It's only when Drunum hisses as it retreat when the Aslai you're semi-surrounded by relax, looking over at you with bright, fanged grins. They seem to each be muttering variations of the same phrases.

"Oooh, little Aslai! Honorary Aslai!"

"Are you a meat eater too? I bet you're a meat eater-"

"You're warm blooded, that's great! So am I!"

"Look, you've got five fingers too! No claws, but that's okay!"

The pack easily brings you to the mess hall, deciding then and there you're one of them. Just a tiny version. Practically cousin species!

I was going somewhere with this

[wendysastro]

𝑨𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝑠 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒖𝒏! 💌🌻

DISCLAIMER: These are extremely light hearted and just based on the people I know. Not a lot of thought went into this 😬 Please take as it resonates and have fun reading 😊

✿  Saturn in Gemini may constantly worry about the diversity of their own talents. They may feel their talents are completely unrelated or difficult to meld and manage together in reality.

✿  Jupiter in 2nd house people somehow always seem to have money popping up from somewhere. Like people may think they have a hidden stash.

✿  Uranus in 2nd house people are the friends who you're not sure whether or when they'll have money or not. One day they're spending like they come from generational wealth, next day they're acting broke af

✿  The more someone’s Saturn has hard aspects to personal planets (i.e squares, oppositions, sometimes conjunctions), the more they may deal with anxiety. They may constantly feel the weight of something looming over their mind/heart.

✿  Sun opposition the Ascendant may feel fundamentally misunderstood by people. Like the very thing that makes them who they are constantly goes unseen, or is taken a different way.

✿  Earth moons (especially Capricorn) people may rarely seem to others to actually get overwhelmed by situations/phases. Despite whatever they may go through, there oftentimes seems to be an ability to get on with the show and move. Basically, the steady drive of the earth is in them. Better balanced if coupled with water placements.

✿  Whichever house Neptune falls in your chart would make that area feel unclear. Neptune acts like a pebble dropped into a lake, creating ripples and distortions in the image shown in water. For example, Neptune in 1st house would create some identity/self image related issues. You may constantly wonder what you stand for as a person. The way you see yourself may be very unsteady/susceptible to a lot of change. Neptune in 5th house may cause one to question what their actual likes and passions are in life. A Neptune in 10th house may create an unstable career path, where one may imagine or project one career for themselves and end up switching to another seemingly unrelated or unplanned one.

✿  Mercury in 2nd house can be good business people. They may be skilled at handling negotiations dealing with money/finances.

🌻💌 Thank you lovely souls for reading and have a nice day/night!

Edit: I have also just created a buy me a coffee account so if you liked this post you can support me there! Thank you <3

[inkytoru]

FORCED CHEMISTRY ── .✦ ꒰ gojo s. ꒱

SYNOPSIS: You're exploring a foreign planet with the galaxy's-most-renowned scientist Gojo Satoru as his assistant. Or rather, was, until you were both knocked unconscious.

PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader WORD COUNT: 3.6k ⚠︎ CONTENT WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics, omegaverse, dubcon, yandere!gojo, mating bites, breeding, knotting, sex pollen, injections

A/N: minors dni. veeery old repost of one of my more popular fics from 2021 (also crossposted to ao3 so don't be alarmed if you see it under a different alias)! we're so back

Heavy are your footfalls that meet the unyielding terrain of the mysterious planet that’s been on you and your fellow scientists’ radars for quite some time now. You exasperatedly thumb through what’s left of your notes while your lanky boss stretches a foot or so ahead of you, long arms inviting the sky into them. He throws his head back over his shoulder to flash an award-winning smile at you. It drops and forms into a pout when you don’t even dignify him with a look.

“Still mad at me?” he asks.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yes,” you hiss through your teeth, “Gojo you ruined a significant portion of my field notes with your reckless, thoughtless piloting. Again.”

Gojo’s suddenly in front of you, face leaning into yours. You jump, taken aback at the close proximity in which you can smell the aroma of coffee off of him from the stack of unsalvageable notes you had thrown at his face.

“Y/N.”

“Yes, Gojo?”

“You shouldn’t frown so much. Y’know, they say it takes twenty-six more muscles to frown than it does to smile.” he cheerily singsongs as he pulls at the corners of your lips into a mock smile. You swat his hand away, irritation etched deeply between your brows. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re gonna get wrinkles the more you keep contorting that pretty face of yours. C’mon, follow my example!” Gojo says as he beams down at you. You continue staring at him with such blatant unamusement that he practically deflates and kicks a rock away dejectedly. He mumbles under his breath, causing you to quirk an eyebrow.

“Have something you want to say?” you inquire before he mumbles again, this time facing away from you. 

Whining, he turns to fix puppy-dog eyes on you. “I already said I was sorry…”

You suck in a harsh breath, the irritation rolling off of you in waves. “‘Sorry’ doesn’t cut it you absolute idiot! You knew how important those notes were. I needed those to work off of for Yaga’s report and you just—!”

“What if I told you I already submitted a report for you using the notes you like to just leave around where any old idiot like me can pick them up?” Gojo grins seeing you sigh and rake a hand through your hair.

Before any words could leave your mouth, a bellowing boom shakes the ground somewhere in the distance, acid green liquid spewing high into the air. You both share a glance.

“Adventure awaits, dearest Y/N!” your moron of a boss exclaims before marching onwards towards the source of the booming noise. You follow in his footsteps, trying in vain to match his strides. Why’d the damned bastard have to be so tall?

As you two cautiously approach the area of concern, Gojo quickly throws a set of technologically-advanced headphones at you which you catch effortlessly and immediately wear. Beyond the planet’s flora and fauna that spreads into the horizon, a geyser comes into your line of sight. Another rumble reverberates through the ground as that same liquid from earlier shoots out of the hole. Stabilizing your feet, you continue on alongside your partner.

“Hand me a reinforced test tube,” Gojo tells you in a businesslike manner. “We need a sample of that to bring back to HQ. Stay here.”

You nod solemnly as you place the tube in the waiting palm of his hand, expecting your boss to come bounding back to you excited at the prospect of new material to research.

What you didn’t expect when you went to search for him, was the blow to the back of your head, effectively shutting the lights of your world off, submerging you into total-encompassing darkness.

Your head felt leaden as you tried to raise it with much effort; the rest of your body felt strung out much alike to that of a harp’s strings. It soon clicked that that was due to the spread eagle position you were in, suspended in mid-air, naked, wrists and ankles encircled with sturdy shackles that upon closer inspection (and by that, you mean squinting) seemed to be of extraterrestrial origin. Your senses were overwhelmed with the blinding fluorescent lights that swathed the room you were in, which appeared to be an observational room of sorts if the one-way window is anything to go by. A groan comes from your left, indicating that you were not alone.

You turn to see your superior in a similar predicament as you, his signature high-tech shades nowhere to be seen thus allowing his crystalline blue hues to be bare for all to see. He’s blearily blinking, and just as naked as you are. You couldn’t help the blush that dusts the apples of your cheeks when your eyes trail down his lean body of their own accord.

“So you two are finally awake.”

Your gaze darts around in order to locate the source of the voice until Gojo’s own voice reaches your ears. “Don’t bother. It’s communicating with us via telepathy.”

Bewilderment and puzzlement is soon replaced by anger, and you pull at your shackles fruitlessly. “Who are you and who gave you permission to probe around in my head?” you shout at the glass a few feet away from you.

“Relax, descendant of Gaia. We cannot root around your heads as much as we’d like, however we can translate our thoughts in our own mother tongue into yours within your thick-headed craniums for the convenience of all parties.” The disembodied voice responds, skipping a beat as if to allow that information to be absorbed properly. Your eye twitches at the insult. “We’ll cut to the chase. We have been watching and waiting for you foolish Gaialings to step foot onto our planet and your audacity will not go unpunished. You see, we give you puny humans a new purpose and life here.” Wait— so you and Gojo weren’t the only humans to have attempted to explore this luminous body? Your mind reels with a plethora of questions that get interrupted by mechanical whirrings grating in your ears the louder and closer it comes. You gasp when you see the clawed ends of a robotic contraption clutching two separate syringes of some sort of questionable, red, viscous serum. Gojo remains silent beside you.

“What the hell is this?” you cautiously ask, eyeing the syringe wearily.

“Well, we’re glad you asked,” the mystifying voice coolly states. “That serum will gift you a certain set of new qualities that determine which… class you fall under. You have your alphas— those with either a newfound or amplified domineering disposition and changes to their genitals which may result in a knot at the base, or a knot at the base of a penis that will grow from the vulva when the subject presents. Next are the omegas— the ones who perpetuate the growth of our dearest slaves. They have a tendency to be rare, thus being prized amongst the human population here. Heat cycles affect them greatly, and will accordingly need to be placated by an alpha whose job will be to breed and thus impregnate the omega. The knotting process will ensure a healthy litter of pups to come the next month or so.” 

Gojo pipes up. “Do you know how we would present ahead of time?”

“We do not have a surefire way yet to predetermine what category you will fall under, so this will be as exciting a reveal as it will be for you to us. However, we’ve come to find that most females fall under the omega class while the alphas are typically the males; of course this is not true for every case but it is likely that that will be how each of you present.”

“And could you be so kind as to elaborate on the nature of this society you have cultivated for those of our kind?”

There’s a reverberating chuckle before the response that makes your stomach drops comes. “It’s quite the dog-eat-dog world, we’re afraid to say. Alphas fight to the death over the ownership of omegas, omegas try to find ways to off themselves, so on and so forth. Now enough of the chitchat. Let the procedure begin.”

“Wait—!” you start, only for the next words to die within your throat as the sharp tip of the syringe punctures your thigh. You can hear Gojo audibly grit his teeth, and you bite your tongue to curb the scream that threatened to burst forth from your mouth. The pain was immeasurable, white-hot heat that shot all throughout your body ruthlessly.

Suddenly your restraints release you unceremoniously to the floor, Gojo following as his detached as well. Upon contact with the floor, you both begin to convulse, screams of agony and strained noises escaping from two pairs of lips. You could’ve sworn you could feel your DNA rearranging itself to leave room for the serum’s properties to make themselves at home.

The torment the serum put your body under was much too excruciating; excruciating enough for your consciousness to slip away once more and for blackness to fill your vision.

Red. That was all you could see when your eyes groggily opened, and you ponder if you had made it to hell before it registers in your brain that the red was simply the paint that enveloped the ceiling of the new room you were in. You muster the energy to sit up, bouncing slightly atop of what seems to be plush bedding with a plethora of pillows brimming with down.

To your side, a familiar presence can be felt, especially when the owner of said presence shifts around into a sitting position next to you.

You open your mouth to say something as you turn your head only to be met with more nude Gojo.

“Like what you see?” he cheekily asks while wiggling his brows. Before you can answer with a retort he goes on with flapping his lips again. “Actually wait no— don’t answer that. The answer itself is already written all over that cute little face of yours.”

Your eye twitches but the heat rising to the apples of your cheeks betray any and all notion of annoyance your eye twitch showed and you huff as you look away when your bastardly boss winks at you flirtatiously.

Crossing your arms together to hide your breasts along with pulling your knees up to your chest, you speak after a beat or two of silence, suddenly nervous at the potential of the silence stretching on for far too long between you two. “Don’t suppose you have a plan to get out of here, huh?”

“Babycakes, I literally just regained consciousness.” He looks down at himself. “And so did Gojo Jr. it seems.”

You scrunch your face up, shielding your face with your hands. “Eugh, some things are better left unknown Gojo.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. Care to help out your lonely boss a lit— Mmf!” The heart-shaped throw pillow you hurtle at his face comically knocks him back.

You didn’t want to announce it as proudly as Gojo did (due to his admittedly impressive length), but you felt yourself getting wet. The reality of your predicament hadn’t fully dawned on you yet until you replay what the alien explained to you both in your head. Knotting? Breeding…?

The blush returns to your face with twice the ferocity it did before. Did that mean…?

“It’s exactly what you think.” Gojo comments as if he was reading your mind. “Don’t look at me like that— the dawning realization on your face speaks volumes.” he goes on to say, yawning with his long limbs outstretched.

Unfortunately, you weren’t allowed much time to let the prospect of what was to happen sink in in its entirety as some sort of gaseous substance begins to meld with the air of the room. You frown.

“What’s all this?”

Gojo studies the gas with keen eyes for a moment, and says the words you half-expected and were half-afraid to hear. “It’s some sort of sex pollen and also a way to speed up the process of our presentation, I believe.”

“Shit, Gojo what do we do?” you ask in a rising panic.

“I think—” starts Gojo, who gets interrupted by the gas seeping deeply into his lungs, resulting in a coughing fit that wracked his whole body.

You begin having a coughing fit of your own as the gas infiltrates your hyperventilating mouth and nostrils. Your mind was overcome with a haziness that soon developed into one of a burning desire to be claimed and bred, rationale taking a backseat to libido. With a whine, you can feel slick beginning to trickle out of your opening, slowly increasing in volume; your body temperature significantly rising.

So caught up in the heat overtaking your senses and body you were, that you failed to notice the growing feral presence in the room with you until your half-lidded eyes locked with ones with pupils blown so wide that only a ring of darkened blue was left. 

Panting even more, a louder attention-seeking whine escapes your lips, your lust-addled omega brain becoming more and more desperate for the touch and mark of an alpha. “Pl-Please Gojo… Make it stop…” you plead while you shakily snake a hand to your sex in a futile attempt to relieve yourself. His nostrils flare before he has you pinned against the sheets, one large hand smacking your own away from your core.

A low rumble from within his chest that sounds like a possessive growl has you bucking your hips up to meet his angry, leaky cockhead.

“I know baby, you want your cute little cunt stuffed and overflowing with my seed, don’t you?” Gojo coos as he folds your body into a mating press which effectively puts your glistening pussy on display for his hungry eyes to take in in all its beautiful entirety.

You feverishly nod. “Just— Just give it to me already! This is unbearable!”

“I’ll make it all better,” he promises before lining himself up with your desperately clenching entrance; in one swift motion, the tip of his engorged cock meets your cervix, having you howl as you tighten up instinctively.

Gojo’s mouth hangs open and you swipe a slick-coated finger against his bottom lip, to which he graciously licks clean. He moans appreciatively at your taste. “Mmm, fuck— I’m going to cum if you don’t loosen up a little—”

“Isn’t that the whole point of this?” you pant out, the first tendrils of annoyance slithering into you. “Move already.”

“So bossy,” he chuckles. “Your wish is my command.”

He doesn’t waste any time in finding a barbarous rhythm with his thrusts, effectively rendering you unable to do anything but cry out his name and scratch your nails down his toned back, enough so that they left red lines in their wake. Gojo didn’t seem to mind; in fact, it seemed to spur him on even more.

Sweat slid down the vast expanses of both your bodies as praise tumbled out of your alpha’s lips.

“Your scent and taste is so intoxicating—like fresh flowers and vanilla extract—I think I can get drunk off of it alone,” Gojo sighs, cherry red tongue laving up the side of your neck.

You take note of his scent as well, deeming it somewhere between sandalwood and pine. It was heady and stupefying; the type of scent you were sure that would have any omega fall to their knees before him.

He then noses at the junction between your neck and shoulder, and next you’re keening at the scrape of his canines against your flushed flesh. ‘Claim me! Claim me! Claim me!’ screams your mind. You must have said something out loud because Gojo finally stops toying with you and seeks out the perfect spot for a mating bite, teeth piercing and unrelenting even as you whimper over the pain.

Not long after, that pain tangos with the pleasure his cock brings by filling you up again and again. It was a combination of deliciously contrasting sensations that had you seeing pure white— it had your eyes rolling back and your pink tongue lolling out of your mouth.

“God, I never knew you were capable of such a sexy facial expression,” the alpha above you comments in awe as he takes a mental snapshot of the face you were making.

You don’t give a coherent response but Gojo didn’t seem to care. Filth continues spewing from his mouth and you had half a mind to process it all.

“C’mon, I know I haven’t completely fucked you stupid yet. Tell me how much you love this alpha cock.”

“I love, love, love it! Please don’t stop! Gimme more! I want your children!” you babble, incapable of focusing on anything else other than the way your new alpha was breeding you. Your moans only serve to amplify his need to ensure you’d bear his litter the next coming month.

“And who owns this pretty omega pussy?”

“I— Mmmh…”

A slap against your cheek echoes around the four walls you were both imprisoned in, and it clears the fog in your brain just enough for you to answer him back properly when he repeats himself, this time with more of an intense edge.

“You do! You do, Gojo! I need your knot!”

His chest heaves with a growl. “Can’t wait for those teats to fill with milk and that belly of yours to be round and fat with mini-Gojos. You’re going to be such a good mama.”

The alpha before you takes a nipple into his mouth to suck on harshly as a pale hand rises up to give attention and knead at your other breast. “Those little munchkins better share mama’s milk cause daddy has an appetite too,” he makes known after he stops playing with your sensitive bud in his mouth with a ‘pop!’

He then licks his way from your breast, to his mating mark, then to your lips; your mouth was already open so the rutting alpha took the opportunity to shove his tongue into it. His lips merge with yours in a searingly passionate kiss that further stimulates the tightening sensation that rested low in your stomach and was on the verge of coming undone any second now.

And then it happens.

Slim hips stutter in their pursuit to attain their high, their owner quickly pushing the fuller part of the base of his cock into you. It was a mildly burning but not unwelcome stretch that made you definitively lose it.

Your body seizes up as immense pleasure overrides any thought you have made prior to its arrival, and your toes start to curl while your wet walls lock down on the cock that doesn’t cease in penetrating you over and over, coaxing the rest of your orgasm out of you. Stars dance across your vision, your breasts rise and fall with a regularity, and you still find it in you to emit a cry when the bulbous knot inside of you increases in its breadth.

Gojo leans down to rest his forehead against yours, sweat mingling with yours and rosy pink lips agape as he shares breaths with you.

“How do you feel?” comes his concerned voice.

Your eyes flicker down to where your bodies meet, before connecting with his gaze again.

“Satisfied. And full.” comes your answer.

He smiles and gives you a fleeting kiss with adoration for you—his new lifelong partner—shining through his eyes.

You were elated at your union with the alpha being successful, and you mewl at how copious amounts of cum are driven into your womb, making Gojo smile wider as he rocks into you back and forth slowly, making sure his seed takes.

The mating process had taken a toll on your now exhausted body and soon, your eyelids flutter closed. Scenes of domesticity in your near future begin playing in your mind as you think one last thought before a deep slumber engulfs you: ‘Maybe life as an omega here wouldn’t be so bad, as long as I have the universe’s greatest scientist turned alpha—my alpha—alongside me.’

“What’s the meaning of this? We had a deal you conniving Gaialing!”

“Your first mistake was thinking you could negotiate fairly with Gojo Satoru.” states one of the special grade soldiers currently holding the lead extraterrestrial at gunpoint.

“And your second,” another chimes in, “was finalizing a deal with Gojo Satoru.” She grinds the sole of her combat boot into one of the lifeless alien’s faces that lay in front of her.

“Right Gojo?” one more speaks with a shit-eating grin.

The man in question mirrors his grin as he stands with his hands in his lab coat pockets behind the soldiers, pleased that everything went according to plan and that his trusted team of mercenaries triumphed over the natives of the planet that underestimated humans.

He thinks about how you, his now precious omega sleeping soundly in his arms bridal-style, was his first rejection. How you refused his confession, preferring to keep the relationship between you two plainly professional. But he knew. He knew you had feelings for him, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Catching wind of what the aliens on this planet were up to had to have been the best intel he’d ever received, and he’d have to thank Mei Mei for that.

“Give us your word, sir.”

Gojo starts to walk towards the spaceship waiting outside for him and his team, speaking in a commanding tone as he does so.

“Leave no alien behind and meet me outside in five.”

He looks down at you with nothing but love. You looked so serene, and you were at the very least subconscious of your alpha’s presence because you snuggle in closer into the comfort of Gojo’s chest.

Finally, he had you where he wanted you, and the wicked smirk on his face was evidence of that.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Under the mistletoe at a Daily Planet party for Clark Kent. No lois lane slander plz, I love her!

A/n: I could never 😩. She was my favorite back in the animated series and I love her in the comics. Fuck anyone that writes negative shit about her and just bashes her character.

If you want a different clark please let me know 🙏.

It was the annual Christmas party at the Daily Planet and once again Clark found himself in the corner of the room with his gaze fixated on you. Your laugh ringing in his ears for something that Lois had said.

Lois the ever observant one turned to find Clark's gaze on you a smirk forming on her lips. Jumping, Clark quickly turned away finding the drink he was holding much more interesting.

"So Smallville when you gonna take the plunge and finally ask out our favorite photographer?"

"Lois!" Clark quickly adjusted the glasses on his face, his cheeks flushed a deep red. "I don't know what you're talking about." He muttered.

Rolling her eyes, Lois placed on hand on her hip as she pursed her lips. "I'm not blind Kent! I'm pretty sure everyone can see your feelings for them in space..."

"I don-."

An exasperated sigh escaped as she stepped behind the man giving him a hard shove. "God it's like pushing a brick house." She muttered. "They are under a Mistletoe..now that's your excuse now go!"

"You're very pushy!"

"I call it being innovated! Now go!"

Stumbling forward, Clark took a few steps then narrowed his eyes spotting another work step towards you. Making a B-line to you, Clark slipped in between you and his co-workers name he happened to forget.

"H-hey."

Beaming, you gave Clark a bright smile as you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Hey Clark, you enjoying the party?"

"Y-ya I." Glancing up at the Mistletoe he then looked to you.

Lois's voice, her whisper somewhere in the office urging him to do something. "Kiss them." She hissed ignoring the looks she was getting.

Adjusting his tie, Clark cleared out his throat giving you a nervous grin. "So uh...I happened to notice we are standing under the Mistletoe and I...would you mind...I mean you don't have to but can I kiss you?"

Blinking, your gaze flicked up to the red and green plant that hung above you both. Gaze softening, you smiled then stood up standing on your toes as your breath fanned across his lips. "I'd like that Clark."

Returning your smile, Clark let his arm wrap around your hips drawing you in close. "Good." Bending down his lips grazed yours in a soft and gentle kiss.

Holding her head high, Lois crossed her arms over her chest. "I made that happen."

[theempressofthenile]

Astro Notes : Short N Sweet <3 Neptune's Revenge

Neptune 1st House - Popular energy. Very well known for their beautiful, majestic energy. Could have a lot of haters but admirers at the same time. Energetically sensitive to alot of others emotions. Sometimes, it can be a lil confusing holding so much power. Because their energy can be mixed up with someone elses if they don't know how to tell the difference. They usually have a strong sense of self, its just other peoples opinions can get in away of that if they arent careful.

Neptune 2nd House - Could use some help on the financial train. They're organic to the way they use their money. I mean, they could be super horrendous spender, spending each and every dime on any and everything. While still some how always having more in their wallet. Or they could be pretty good at saving and are a little bit of a cheapskate.

Neptune 3rd House - Whimsical voices. Poetic writers. Creative thinkers. Very talented when it comes to the hands as well. Could be excellent drawers & painters. Neptune in the 3rd has an ability to travel to very interesting places that aren't too far at home. They may go on lil adventures here and there. But its always a treat. Its kinda strange how well they can be at finding good eats as well with all the travel they do. Could work abroad or go to college somewhere out of their comfort zone a lil.

Neptune 4th House - Has a lot of secrets when it comes to the inner child. Very free, sweet loving children. Can open a door to different realms like we're in Narnia or something. Angelic creatures who enjoy alone time near their favorite place. If they ever share that special place with you consider yourself lucky. They normally keep the things they cherish hidden for a long time.

Neptune in the 5th House - Artists who seek deep into the art and become it. Very creative & a one of a kind with the way they carry the emotion in what it is they do. Can have you thinking hard on what it is they are trying to convey, they are a master at making complexities more harder to figure out. Just be there in the audience and watch the show. You'll never leave the same again.

Neptune in the 6th House - Fun loving pet owners, they go hard for the planet and the creatures that come from it. Real advocates for change and don't take too kindly to insensitive people. Could need to sharpen their boundaries a little more with people. Also, are incredible writers and should tap into this side a bit more. You might end up surprised with what talents you have that could make you some money, or could be a really cool job.

Neptune in the 7th House - Romance is the thing that just keeps on given to these individuals. May need to put the rose colored glasses down. that man might not be for you, love. Don't forget to put more time into your own needs versus the needs of someone else. Your compassionate energy may run dry if you're not using that waterfall of emotion for yourself. People are drawn to 7th house neptunes alot more than you think. They are capable of seeing thru the veil, you just don't notice.

Neptune in the 8th House - Psychologically understands the reasons on why the universe is the way that it is and why the people in it behave the way that we do. Could be honest about a lot of things, dishonest about what they know. The world doesn't need to know everything, which is why the divine gifted them with certain antidotes. Only they can use this so bring healing to a certain nation (or individual) but not everyone can find this secret the way they can. This is normally given to them by spirit guides, ancestors, or thru drreams.

Neptune in the 9th - Impracticality is almost their birth right. They see things in a way that doesnt make sense at all but to them it means something. What I mean is that these people see the world bigger than what they people tell them. They could have big drams and not understand why they have them, but God put them their for a reason. So you can figure them out. You may want to travel and study abroad, or just move somewhere different and don't know how. Thats where all the magic happens, finding out and taking the risk. The sagittarian way.

Neptune in the 10th - Majestic auras. The highlight of the moment. The star. The siren. The energy healer. Do I keep going? Very special creatures who touched this earth to make their dreams come true, even if they have to figure it out themselves. Empathetic to the people around them and are big on helping out with anything whenever they can. The Queens & Kings of the law of attraction. Can attract what they want if they just believe it in it more.

Neptune in the 11th House - Community leaders. Ancients who know they way to what the true reality is meant to be like. Literally can change the world with the way they move, think, and go around helping others. Sweet and lovely people to be around. Needs healing in their own friend groups. Can be a little out there, but thats why people love them.

Neptune in the 12th House - Practical minds in a world that tells them their crazy. No they arent crazy, they just have multiple psychic gifts. And these gifts have a way in showing them things people aren't usually equipped with handling. They need more time alone and in nature to keep themselves grounded. Other wise, they will go crazy from the world telling them that their crazy... When really they know a little more than what they led on. The imagination is a fun place, but also a place where the most hidden becomes entirely to open. Seers of the daylight & the night.

[neeeooon]

Hiii!! Hope you're doing well! I wanted to make a BLLK HC request!

Can you do one where the characters suddenly get a lot of cuteness aggression for their s/o and then proceed to smother them with affection? SORRY THIS IS SO CRINGY BUT AT LEAST IM FREE 😔

For the characters, can you do Sae, Rin, Reo, Isagi and whatever other ones you like?

AGAIN SORRY FOR THE CRINGY REQUEST

NO DW ITS NOT CRINGY thank you for the request!! 🫶

when you’re affectionate toward them ;

bf bllk x cuteness overload reader

itoshi sae

-> sae has been doted on his entire life. becoming a famous soccer player didn’t chance that, the praise just heightened, especially from fans

-> your affection was different, because you didn’t use meaningless words to compliment your boyfriend on his talent or skill. you simply thought he was the most adorable thing on the planet

-> “i’m gonna get an indent in my cheek from how much you poke it.” “I WOULDNT POKE IT SO MUCH IF YOU WERENT SUCH A GRUMP.” “but when i smile you cry—“ “CAUSE YOURE SO CUTE OH MY GOD???”

itoshi rin

-> having someone as aggressive with their affection as you was a bit shocking, especially since rin isn’t the type to show much love

-> you sat across the couch, staring at him, when you felt a swell in your chest. a need to jump on him. who were you to ignore your impulse?

-> “y/n, why are you looking at me li—OOF.” “GOD YOURE SO ADORABLE I COULD THROW UP.” “i’m just sitting here..” “WELL STOP. ITS TOO CUTE.” “okay..”

mikage reo

-> you out-affection him and he doesn’t know how to feel about it

-> the first time he smothered you in kisses was like opening pandora’s box. now that you knew it was safe to be your weird, affection-crazy self around your boyfriend, there was no going back

-> you’re walking together when you slip your hand into his back pocket. “y/n, what if someone sees?” “sees what? i’m just walking with my boyfriend!” “your hand is in my pants.” “your back pocket!! that doesn’t count, couples do it all the time!” “i feel your hand on my skin!” “then you have a hole somewhere. not my fault!” “you’re so weird.” “you love it~”

isagi yoichi

-> it’s the hair, you conclude as you cradle isagi’s head to your chest. “y/n.. can’t… breathe..!” “IM SORRY I CANT HELP IT. YOURE TOO CUTE.” “goodbye.. world..”

-> no but you cannot keep your hands to yourself, and isagi doesn’t care. he’s gotten used to your mindless affection, your need to be close to him, and has adapted to involve you in his daily life

-> “y/n, are you okay?” “hm? why, what’s up?” “you’re not invading my personal space nearly as much as usual..” “AWW YOICHI ARE YOU WORRIED ABOUT ME??” “i mean—“ “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MY CUTIEKINS! KISS ME.”

michael kaiser

-> it took him a looooong time to get comfortable enough around you to accept your affection, but you didn’t mind waiting

-> the only time you allowed yourself to smother him with affection was after he initiated it first. a simple hand on the knee meant he wanted your touch, a squeeze meant he wanted cuddles

-> you were sitting together when you felt his hand tentatively brush your leg. you waited for him to do it again, and when he gave your ankle a little squeeze, you flung yourself into him, smothering his face with enough kisses to make him laugh. “you’re gonna kill me one day by kissing me to death!” “then you’ll certainly die a happy man <3”

[osaemu]

"YOU'RE PREGNANT?!" FT. GOJO SATORU

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: gojo mistakes your period symptoms for signs of you being pregnant.

contents: fem!reader. mentions of pregnancy and periods (duh), gojo is an idiot (obviously), innocent miscommunication lol. gets pretty suggestive.

just because satoru gojo's the strongest sorcerer on the planet, that doesn't mean he's the smartest one; especially when it comes to you.

not too long ago, you got your period, and the cramps have to be the most painful thing you've ever experienced. nestling yourself farther in between the couch cushions, you wrap your arms around your stomach and wince, eyebrows furrowing. somewhere in the background, you hear satoru enter your house and call for you, but your stomach hurts a little too much to allow you to do more than hum in response.

"baby?" satoru calls again, poking his head in the living room and smiling when he sees you. "hey, i'm hom— babe, you okay?"

you open one of your eyes (which was previously squeezed shut) and look at him, a soft whine slipping out from your lips when the pain in your stomach goes up a notch. "hey, 'toru," you mumble, watching him quickly plop down besides you on the couch. his eyes round in concern when he notices how tight your teeth are pressed against each other, and a moment later, satoru scoops you up and holds you in his lap.

"is.. this 'cause of last night?" satoru murmurs, stroking your hair as you squirm in his grip. his eyes are focused on your scrunched-up face as you fidget, struggling to find a comfortable position.

"i dunno," you mumble, assuming that satoru's referring to the way you scurried off into the bathroom the second you and satoru finished round after round in his sheets. funnily enough, your interpretation of the events is starkly different than satoru's.

you had immediately gone to the bathroom because you suspected that your period might've come, and you were right. but to satoru, he had something very different on his mind; especially since last night was the first time you two had fucked without protection.

satoru pauses before replying, face slowly tinting pink as his version of the events settles in. he had no idea your departure from his arms so soon after sex was because you just wanted to check for your period; on the contrary, he thought you ran into the bathroom to check if you were pregnant.

"are you—" he starts, dipping his chin and looking you straight in the eye. satoru's azure eyes carefully take in your expression, studying your features for a sign of what's to come.

you nod. "yeah, i am." on your period, that is.

satoru's eyes widen and the corners of his lips twitch with a smile. "is that why your stomach's hurting?" he whispers, and you hardly spare a thought as to why his reaction was nothing like what it usually was.

"duh," you huff, automatically assuming that he's talking about period cramps. "why else would my stomach be hurting?"

"holy shit, are you kidding?" satoru breathes, eyes lighting up like a child's would on christmas. you make a face, confusion evident all across your features.

"that's not the reaction i was expecting," you note tentatively. satoru's mouth falls open a little and after a moment, he immediately dips his head and kisses you, long and slow. his mouth tastes like spearmint (like always), and something about the way his lips melt into yours feels... different.

"is this better?" satoru whispers, smiling against your lips. you nod, carefully removing your arms from your torso and wrapping them around satoru instead. you nod hazily, more invested in the way satoru's mouth collides with yours than in anything else.

"much better."

"anythin' for my pretty girl," satoru murmurs, eyes softening every time they settle on your face. his hand trails down your waist and settles on your tummy, and he slips his hand underneath your t-shirt and rubs the skin with his thumb. a couple more seconds slip by in silence, with the only sound being the soft breaths you two take in between kisses.

when satoru finally tilts his head up and takes a longer breath, you both open your mouths to speak at once.

"i can't believe i'm gonna be a dad."

"my period cramps feel a lot better."

the two of you stare at each other in silence for a long, long second. you blink and ask, "what did you say?"

satoru tilts his head like a confused puppy, eyebrows lifting in uncertainty. "uh, what did you say?"

you look away, cheeks heating up as you mumble, "satoru, i'm not... pregnant...?" you stare at him blankly, matching the confused look on his face. "i'm on my period, baby. what did you—"

"oh, shit."

"yeah."

five awkward seconds go by until you clear your throat and smile up at him hesitantly. "i mean... d'you want a kid?"

satoru's face somehow goes even redder, which you didn't know was even possible. after a moment, he nods, and the subtle movement is enough for you to grab his face and pull him in to kiss you again; and you stay like that for the rest of the night.

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico hates three-legged races on principle. One, because they force him to pronounce the extra syllable in legged, which makes him think of William Shakespeare -- Billy, as he insists Nico calls him. Ugh. Two, because they are stupid. And three, bonus, because they are stupid enough to merit saying that twice.

It's inefficient, is what it is.

"It's fun," Will coaxes. He winks, or tries to. He really just blinks both eyes and Nico melts but for propriety's sake, and because it is ridiculous also, he pretends he doesn't. "Plus, it's not so bad if it's me you're tied to, huh?"

Nico glares at him for a moment. He is grinning, now, wide and cheeky, ignoring the genuine Distance between his hips and Nico's and the general calamity that is sure to cause. They are not only about run a three-legged race, but they are going to lose. Which is worse.

(Practice, Chiron insists. You never know what the real world will be like.)

(Bah.)

But as he opens his mouth to snark something along the lines of I don't actually need you to qualify, I just need your leg, so don't piss me off, he comes to a realization that snaps his jaw right closed.

Tied to, Will had said.

A grin of his own spreads over Nico's face. He hides it quickly.

"On your marks, racers!" calls Chiron, stamping his hoof. All fifteen teams of the meet hobble over to the starting line, pushing and shoving. Will and Nico make their ridiculous, sauntering way.

"Actually," Nico muses, as they shift into position. "If I'm gonna have you tied up..."

"Get set!"

He moves just enough to brush his shoulder along Will's bicep, tilting his chin up to stare right in Will's round, pretty face, tilted in confusion.

Nico lets his mouth curve into something wide and wolfish.

"I'd rather it be somewhere a little more private."

"Go!"

The rest of the teams tear off. The advantage they have is staggering -- Chiron had offered, safe distance away, if Nico would prefer competing in a weight class perhaps closer to his own, and Nico had snapped his disgust so loudly campers jumped several paces away. It had, possibly, been a tad arrogant, and if Will had not sighed in exasperated fondness Nico may have swallowed back his pride and accepted the offer.

...Well, maybe.

But it is his own fault, regardless, their predicament. In no way and on no planet would they have in any way won, by any margin. They are simply no match for Ellis and Malcolm, when the freakishly reedy rivals manage to set their differences aside.

But the total dead weight on Will's end is a surprise.

The flush, he had expected. Nico relished in the anticipation of the redness high on Will's cheeks, the heat pouring off of him, the curl of his shoulders up by his ears and the high bend of his cracking voice.

What he was not expecting was for each of Will's freckles to go supernova.

In a sudden, cracking flash, like sunlight bursting through stormclouds in tiny little pinpricks, every little dot on Will's body -- of which there are many -- shine a beam of pure, hot, white line in every direction, enveloping him like a nuclear waste facility lit aflame. Between every white-bright light is bright red heat, like lithium flame, so hot the air around them kind of warps. Were it not for Nico's tough jeans and long-sleeved shirt, he may have fried off his skin. As it is, he feels sunburn.

"What did you do to him," asks Lou Ellen, aghast. She and Cecil have not only paused but have doubled back, hobbling over to gawk.

Nico grimaces. It is probably a bad sign if two of Will's closest friends have not seen him react in this way. A quick glance around confirms that all racers are gawking; spectators, too, stopping where they stand to stare at the sheer light pouring off of Will until it burns so brightly they have to look away.

"Hey," Nico whispers, poking his friend in the ribs. He regrets it immediately, sticking the smarting burn on his fingertip into his mouth. "Are you -- Will? Are you still...present?"

His soul is, at least. Mostly. His facial features however have become entirely obscured by a glowing red so bright it is white, like the sun behind closed eyelids.

Oops.

Nico spares another look at the racegrounds. Still people watch, mouths open -- gaping or whispering to one another, curious. Several appear to be scribbling notes onto paper. Kayla appears to be taking diagnostic photographs. (Or, at least, Nico gives her the benefit of the doubt.)

The race track is wide open.

"I promise I didn't actually try to turn your brain off for this," Nico says. He carefully does not promise never to do it again, in case Will is present behind the glow and holds him to it. "But I am going to use this to our advantage."

Nico pulls his sleeves over his hands and grabs both of Will's, tugging them to the finish line. Nobody stops them.

"Notice how I said 'our'. See, we're a team."

Quickly they cross the finish line. Nico stands for a moment at the end and ponders his situation, wondering if he should let Will calm down and perhaps stop while he is ahead.

But as Will's light fades, the bright red flush high on both his cheeks becomes clear and cherry-toned, and the red does ever so bring out the absolute mortified agony in his eyes mixed with slow-blinking confusion, like the last time he forgot to eat for five days and passed out directly on top of a rock, giving himself a grade 3 concussion.

"What -- happened."

And, well.

Nobody really got hurt.

"Nothing," Nico assures quickly. He pats Will's still-red cheek, smirking. "Yet."

[charlvr]

- you're the only reason that i came

Pairing. Megan Skiendiel x Reader

w.c. 4.8 k

Y/N never liked parties—too loud, too bright, too easy to disappear in. But Megan shines. She sparkles. And maybe, that was enough of a reason to stay.

The rooftop party is alive, shimmering with glittered bodies, dizzying laughter, and too-sweet cocktails passed around like secrets. The bass from the speakers thrums up through your legs like a second heartbeat. It's relentless, vibrating through the floor and lodging itself somewhere in your ribcage.

You’re not even really in it. You're hovering at the edge of the venue, more a reluctant observer than an active participant. Still, you’re clutching your obligatory drink—something citrusy and fluorescent that Sophia had shoved into your hands hours ago. It’s more a prop than a beverage, though. A way to keep your fingers busy. To look like you belong.

You don’t.

Not in this mess of wealth-drenched recklessness. This fever dream of young immortality, where the night feels infinite and consequence doesn’t exist. You blink as another camera flash slices through the dark, catching sequins and posed happiness in its glow, and you can only hope that whatever photo was taken won’t be slapped across the front page of TMZ tomorrow. You sigh, already foreseeing the PR disasters this party was sure to bring come morning.

And there, in the center of it all, she gleams.

Megan Skiendiel.

Of course.

Your eyes find her instantly. They always do. She stands by the DJ booth, laughing at something Manon said, her head tossed back, the sound genuine in a way that makes your chest tighten. Her silver dress catches the light like she wants to be seen—like she was born to shine. People gravitate toward her like planets caught in orbit. Even in this crowd of Hollywood's best.

You sip your drink. It’s gone warm, diluted to the point of being flavorless: just a vague suggestion of something that once tasted better, but you swallow. You barely taste it, anyways.

You’re not even sure why you came. 

Yoonchae had bowed out easily enough. With a soft “I’m tired,” and a reminder that parties aren’t really her thing, no one had even fussed.  You should’ve followed her lead: thrown on a hoodie, sunk into the couch, and let the night pass without you. Maybe watched something dumb and comforting. Fallen asleep to the sound of nothing. You weren't the partying kind either. Never had been.

But still. Here you are.

And it was because of her.

Megan.

The girl who made everything look easy. Like she was born knowing how to move, how to shine, how to carry the weight of expectation without ever looking crushed by it. She moved like gravity barely applied to her, like she existed in a different atmosphere than the rest of you—lighter, freer. Where pressure cracked your voice or tangled your feet, Megan met it head-on. She doesn't just survive. She thrives. She lets it shape her, not break her.

You've watched her push through the same eight counts over and over in a rehearsal rooms that reeked of old floor polish and sweat. Her body would tremble with effort, sweat slick down her spine, exhaustion written in every line of her muscles. And still, she would find space to laugh. To toss a joke across the room and spark a wave of breathless laughter. Like pain was just another beat in the rhythm. Like giving everything wasn’t a sacrifice: it was the reward.

And maybe anyone else would’ve been untouchable in that brilliance. Maybe someone that gifted, that driven, would’ve had the right to be distant. Cold. A little sharp around the edges.

But Megan wasn’t.

She always saw you.

Even in the chaos. Even when the mirrors fogged and the music blared and your insecurities screamed louder than your voice. She’d catch your eye. Send you a wink, or nudge your arm, or flash you that lopsided grin that said 'You’re not invisible. I’ve got you.'

And there had been day. An interview.

You were all lined up beneath the glare of studio lights, stylists flitting around like moths, dabbing sweat, fixing hair. The questions started fine—surface-level, rehearsed. The kind your team had practiced with the group a million times before. “Any new music?” “We have been in the studio...” “Favorite pastime?” “Seeing what Eyekons are up to.” "Big collaborations in the horizon?" "Oh, you'll get us in trouble!" But then one of the interviewers had turned to you, just you, smile tight, voice syrupy-sweet and slicing, and you straightened your back in anticipation.

“Y/N. You're a little hard to read, aren't you? Some fans say you're often too quiet—like you're not fully... in it, sometimes. They think that you're not as dedicated to the group. What do you say to the doubters out there?”

You smiled. You always smiled. Gave an answer that was safe—something soft-edged and non-committal. The kind of reply that wouldn’t make headlines. The kind that earned you a nod of approval from your team behind the cameras. 

But inside, you were a little less composed. A little less secure. A flicker of embarrassment. A moment shame. A spotlight you hadn't wanted.

Later, in the greenroom, silence pressed in like cotton soaked in static. Everyone else was distracted—phones out, halfway out of their stage clothes. Save for your odd question, the rest of the interview had gone without a hitch. Nevertheless, the rest of the girls had taken time to check in with you after, their worries waved off with a simple, 'I'm okay, really. It had just been a silly question.' And yet- you found yourself sitting stiffly on the couch, hands clenched in your lap, fighting off the sting behind your eyes.

You’d seen the comments, of course: opinions that felt more like insults than critique. Fans posting about how you always stood out, how you weren’t as talented, as genuine, as likable. How you didn’t belong. You knew it was part of the job, hell they trained you for this part of the job, but that didn’t always make it easier.

Then Megan sat beside you. She didn’t say anything at first, just leaned in, shoulder to shoulder, steady and warm. And then, in the softest voice you’d ever heard from her, she said, 'They don’t get to define you, you know. You do. And you’re doing great.'

Simple words, but they hit like thunder. So simple. So small. But somehow, it undid you more than anything else could have. Because it was her. Because she meant it. Because she didn’t have to care, but she always did.

You swallowed the tears. Managed a smile. Whispered thank you. Focused hard on a stain in the carpet just to keep yourself from shattering, but her words had helped, given you the strength to keep going. 

Maybe something shifted that day. Maybe that was the moment you started to fall.

Or maybe it came later, quieter.

A night off in Tokyo. Just the two of you under too-thin hotel blankets, a stack of Ghibli movies queued up on her iPad. You’d peeled off your makeup in silence, slurped down convenience store ramen side by side, your shoulders brushing in the kind of easy closeness that didn’t need words.

Somewhere between Whisper of the Heart and Howl’s Moving Castle, the talking started. About childhood. First auditions. Families. Regrets. The kind of things you don’t even realize you’re saying until they’re out in the open between you, fragile and real.

And you remember her like that, back lit by soft blue light, her face open and alight, listening to you like everything you said mattered.

Maybe that was the moment when something inside you cracked—not in pain, but in wonder. Because Megan was everything. And somehow, impossibly, she still had room to be kind.

You don’t know when it started, not really. Only that it did. And that it never stopped.

Until eventually, somewhere along the way, your admiration melted into something even more molten. Dangerous. The kind that twists your stomach every time she brushes past you or says your name in that low, laughing way.

You don’t remember if the HYBE contract explicitly forbids falling for a bandmate—but it might as well. It’s written in the silences, in the knowing looks from staff when your legs touch on the couch. No one says don’t fall. They don’t have to.

And yet, here you were.

Because earlier, between mouthfuls of rice balls in the practice room, Megan looked at you and asked, “You’re coming tonight, right? I mean, it’s gonna be a shitshow. But I want you there.”

And like the idiot you were, you had said yes. Rationalizing your decision with promises that you wouldn't stay long. Just enough to be polite—show your face, then disappear. But then Megan had spotted you from across the room, and her whole face lit up. Not just a quick smile, not just the polite recognition you were used to. It was real. Bright and unguarded, like seeing you there had changed the shape of her night.

And just like that, leaving stopped feeling like an option.

You find yourself near the edge of the rooftop now, where the music fades to a low thump behind closed doors and the wind cuts through the humidity, cooling the sweat still clinging to the back of your neck. Below, Los Angeles stretches out in glowing silence, a constellation of buildings and headlights. The kind of city that holds a thousand stories at 2 a.m., most of them never told to anyone who matters.

You let yourself breathe. The air up here tastes different—less performative, somehow. Less rehearsed. Or maybe that was the alcohol finally kicking in. 

“Hey.”

You flinch.

It’s her.

Megan stands a few feet away, backlit by the spill of warm light from the stairwell. Her face is flushed, kissed pink from too much dancing or maybe laughing too hard. There’s a small smear of glitter near her temple, catching the light like a secret. And her hair—God, her hair—is orange now. A blazing, copper-bright kind of orange that shouldn’t suit anyone, but somehow makes her look even more impossible. A far cry from the soft, dark brown she used to have when you first met, when she still felt like something you might one day understand.

Management had changed it, said it would make her stand out more.

You’d almost scoffed out loud. Megan didn’t need to change a damn thing to stand out. She always had. Not in the loudest way, not in the desperate, look-at-me kind of way. No, Megan glowed quietly. She walked into a room and the air changed, like someone had opened a window. Her laugh could cut through tension like sunlight, and her presence had weight, even when she was still.

And now, here she was, smiling at you.

“You hiding over here?” she asks, with a tilt of her head and that teasing lilt that always makes your stomach clench.

You force a smile, trying to will your pulse to behave. “Just catching my breath.”

Her smile widens a little, soft but knowing. “You hate this kind of thing.”

It’s not a question, and you don’t bother pretending otherwise.

She steps closer, not pressing, just… present. “Why’d you come?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. Her gaze is steady, but not demanding. Curious, open. She never tries to make you speak before you're ready.

Finally, you murmur, “You asked me to.”

That makes her pause. You watch it happen. Then she lets out a short laugh. “So if I asked you to go skydiving, would you?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Maybe. Would I have to wear heels?”

She laughs—real laughter, full-bodied and unfiltered—and it hits you like a jolt to the ribs. It’s not just the sound, it’s the feeling of it. Like you’d done something right without trying to. Like you’d given her something small but true.

You can’t stop watching her. The way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs. The way she tucks a strand of orange hair behind her ear, even though the wind is already tugging it loose again. The way she sees you, like you’re not just part of the backdrop.

“I’m glad you came,” she says after a moment. “I was worried you’d ghost.”

“I almost did,” you confessed.

She nods like she knew you would. Not in a hurt way. Just... honest.

The silence that settles between you isn’t awkward. It feels earned, like something you’ve both been building toward without quite realizing it. The rooftop hums with the distant bass of the party, but it might as well be miles away. Out here, the world feels smaller. Softer.

Megan leans on the railing beside you, her arms folded loosely. Her shoulder brushes yours, warm and grounding. You could pretend it’s accidental, but you don’t move away. Neither does she.

“You ever think about what it’d be like if we weren’t… here?” she asks, her voice quiet enough to get lost in the wind. “If we weren’t idols?”

You glance over at her. She’s not looking at you, but you don’t mind too much. The question makes you smile—amused, though not surprised. This is what Megan is like. All loud laughs and bright eyes in front of the cameras, spinning jokes and charm like it costs her nothing. But underneath all that shine, there’s something else: quieter, steadier. She keeps it hidden from most people, tucks it beneath the glitter and noise. But every now and then, she lets you see it. And maybe that means more to you than it should. 

“All the time,” you finally say, and it’s the easiest truth you’ve ever told.

She hums, thoughtful. “I’d work in a bookstore,” she says after a beat, smiling faintly at the thought. “Somewhere quiet, with tea and mismatched mugs. Maybe fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. I’d write little notes on the bookmarks. Recommendations and stuff.””

You glance at her, amused. “You’d lose your mind,” you say. “You can’t sit still for five minutes.”

She laughs and nudges your elbow. “I could learn. You don’t know.”

“You’d also have to read a hundred back covers a day,” you point out gently.

Megan pauses, then rolls her eyes like you’ve caught her in something. “Okay, yeah, that might be a problem.” She grins, bumping your elbow with hers. “Okay, maybe a dance studio instead. Something small. Kids classes. I’d play terrible pop songs and teach them how to pirouette.”

“There she is,” you murmur, smiling.

She turns toward you, grinning like she knows she’s ridiculous and proud of it. The city lights reflect in her eyes, “What about you?”

You hesitate. “Something where I don’t have to talk to people.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Lighthouse keeper vibes.”

You nod solemnly. “Solitude. Ocean. Brooding.”

She laughs, but then quiets. Her voice is softer when she says, “You’re better at that than you think. Talking, I mean.”

You don’t respond. Not because you disagree, but because if you tried to explain how much that means coming from her, your voice might fail you.

She looks away then, giving you the space you didn’t ask for but needed. Her fingers curl around the railing, knuckles pale in the cold.

There’s a moment, just one, where you imagine reaching out and tracing that line of her hand, just to see if she’d let you. You don’t. But the thought stays lodged in your chest.

The wind picks up, tugging strands of Megan’s hair loose until they whip across her face. She laughs, this time the sound light and effortless, and lifts both hands to brush the strands back. Under the rooftop lights, her hair glows—fire and gold, touched by something that doesn’t quite feel real. Almost magical.

You watch her, like always do. 

You’re not sure when it started. This new ache that now lives quietly in your chest. A need to be close to her, to soak in her light for as long as you can. You never planned it, never wanted to feel like this. Like your heart might just stop beating if you were away from her for too long. But now that it’s here, blooming quietly under your ribs, you can’t make it stop.

And the worst part is, you don’t even try to.

You trust her with things you’ve never said aloud. With the softer parts of yourself you usually keep hidden. And when she looks at you, not the version you perform, but you, something bright sparks. Like maybe, for just a second, you belong in her light. Like maybe you glow a little too.

Deep down you know it won’t take you anywhere good, though. You know how these stories end. But here, on this rooftop at the edge of the night, you choose not to care. You let yourself indulge in the what-ifs. Just for a moment. Just long enough to feel something real.

There’s something selfish in it, you know.  Still, you let yourself lean in. Just a little.

Your thoughts drift back to her question from earlier. What if things were different? If Megan asked you to run, if she held out her hand and told you to follow, to jump and fall, you think you might. 

You’re still holding on to that thought when suddenly, she grabs your hand. 

“Come on,” she says, eyes dancing.

You blink, caught off guard, not realizing how deep you'd drifted. How far into that soft, dangerous place inside your own head you'd gone. “What—?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just grins and jerks her chin toward the far end of the rooftop, where the party gives way to a sleek rectangle of rippling blue. 

You follow her gaze, and that’s when you get it.

“The pool?!” you ask, incredulous.

She just shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Clothes and all,” she confirms, her grin growing wider. She’s practically vibrating with energy now, orange hair clinging damply to her neck, eyes wild with the thrill of it. “Let’s go.”

“You’re insane.”

She flashes her wild grin, teeth gleaming under the string lights. “Only a little.”

And before you can say no—before your brain can catch up with your heartbeat—she takes off running, her hand still wrapped around yours, and of course, you follow.

The water hits like ice, a slap that steals the air from your lungs. You sink for a second, clothes ballooning and dragging, then break the surface with a gasp. All around you, laughter erupts. The lights from the rooftop dance across the rippling pool in fractured beams, and beside you, Megan pops up, slicking her orange hair back from her face. Her makeup’s gone patchy, glitter smeared across one cheek, her lashes cling together from the water. The kind of look your management would probably scold her at the sight of. But to you, she’s breathtaking. Radiant. Not the version of Megan that shows up in magazine spreads or music videos, but the one who lives behind it. Alive in a way that makes the rest of the world feel distant, almost fake.

You’re both laughing like kids who got away with something. And maybe you did. Maybe, somehow, this sliver of the night belongs to no one else. Just you and her and the sound of your heartbeat crashing in your ears.

She turns towards you, water beading down her jawline, and looks at you like this—this, you, her—were the only things that mattered.

Your chest tightens and something sharp blooms there. An ache so full, it makes you dizzy. Something you didn't have a name for.

“You’re insane,” you say again, your voice rough from laughter or maybe something else.

She smiles like she knows. “You’re just mad I beat you in.”

“You dragged me,” you shoot back, half-heartedly splashing her in return.

She lets it hit, still laughing, head tipped back, water cascading down her shoulders. “You could’ve resisted.”

And that’s when you really look at her.

Not just a glance. Not just see.

You look.

The way her bottom lip is stained pink from biting it when she’s focused. The small “ 气” tattoo tucked just behind her left ear, barely visible under wet strands of orange hair. The way the corner of her mouth twitches when she’s fighting a smile but doesn’t want to give in yet.

And you adore her.

Gods, you adore her. Not in the way people adore stars or songs or stories. You adore her like it’s been stitched into your body, like the very shape of you has grown around her presence. Like she’s a language only you were ever meant to learn, fluent in all her moods, her silences, her tells.

“No,” you say. And the word is out before you can stop it.

It’s too fast. Too sure. Too honest.

“I couldn’t.”

The admission slips from your mouth like it had been waiting there all along, just biding time. Weeks. Months. A lifetime. 

And it wasn’t the words themselves that were dangerous. Not really.

You’ve said things like this before. Plenty of times.

In Weverse Lives with Lara and Daniela, giggling into the camera, hamming it up for the fans. You’ve draped yourself over Yoonchae like the doting older sister everyone expects, tossed hearts at the camera like confetti. You’ve even “confessed” your undying love for Megan in half a dozen interviews, voice syrupy and loud, a wide, exaggerated smile pinned to your face so the subtitles could catch it.

So no, it wasn’t the words.

It was the way you said them. The slight tremble that gave you away. The silence that followed. The way Megan blinked at you—too slow, too thoughtful—and didn’t fill the quiet right away like she usually would. That half-second pause felt like forever, and your heart clawed against your ribs, begging for retreat.

Then, finally, she gave a small laugh, shaking her head.

“Haha, okay,” she said, voice light, teasing. “Maybe I didn’t give you much of a chance.”

It’s almost enough to let you breathe again. To make you believe she misinterpreted your confession. 

Almost.

Except there’s a flicker in her eyes you can’t read. A question she doesn’t ask. Or maybe a knowing she doesn’t want to name, either. 

You managed a breathless laugh, too. You tried to make it sound real. But something in you pulled tighter.

And then, like she couldn’t help herself, she added, “Don’t say stuff like that, Y/N… or I’ll start thinking you’re in love with me.”

That time, your breath catches. Not in your throat. In your chest. 

You don’t say anything.

You can’t. And that silence is more damning than any words you could have said.

Megan tilts her head, still smiling, but there’s a new edge to it now. Like she’s testing something. Waiting for the punchline.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, the silence stretches. Thick. Fragile. And you can feel her gaze start to sharpen in the quiet. Curious. Then, concerned.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, moving closer.

The water ripples around her, cool against your overheated skin. You don’t back away. You just freeze, standing perfectly still as she draws near. Too near. Close enough that you catch the faint, clean scent of her shampoo. Close enough that you could reach out and touch her. To know how soft her skin would be under your thumb. Her jaw. Her collarbone. The curve of her wrist.

She’s not even trying to be seductive. Doesn’t have to. She just exists like this, and somehow, that wrecks you more than any staged intimacy ever could. You tell yourself it’s the drinks. The tequila you barely tasted. The sparkling cocktail someone handed you in the kitchen. The sweet burn of it all, the dizzy thrum in your chest that’s making you feel like this. But all of it would be a lie. 

It was her.

It was every sleepless night you’ve spent staring at your ceiling, trying not to think about how her laugh lingers in your ears. It was the countless times she’s brushed past you, her perfume curling around your throat like a whisper, the way her presence tilts the world, every time she walks into a room. It was the ache that’s been growing inside your chest, and every time you’ve felt your fingers twitch with the urge to reach out. 

You wonder if she realizes you’ve memorized her. You wonder if she’s memorized you back.

Her voice is quieter now, but it still feels loud, "What is it? What's wrong?”

You can’t bring yourself to answer. Can't even try. Because what's wrong is that you want her so badly, it feels like grief.

What’s wrong is that you’re considering ruining everything—everything—for a feeling you can’t even say out loud. The group. The friendship. The rhythm you’ve built with her over months, years. All the small, precious rituals: sharing headphones on long rides, laughing too hard in dressing rooms, exchanging looks across rehearsal rooms that say we’ve got this without a word. 

Everything you’ve worked so hard to keep clean. To keep your heart contained. And yet—

You feel her touch before you see it, her hand reaching out, her fingers brushing a soaked strand of hair from your forehead, tucking it behind your ear with a gentleness that undoes you. That simple motion breaks the last shred of resolve in you and splits open the heart in your chest. The pads of her fingers are warm even in the cold water, soft against your skin, and it feels so unbearably tender you almost lean into it without thinking. She doesn’t pull away right away, but when she does, it's like she's afraid of what she's done.

“You’re shivering,” she murmurs. Her voice is lower now, and there’s something raw inside it. Something that sounds like it hurts to say.

“So are you,” you whisper back.

She smiles. But not like she had earlier. It’s smaller now. Slower. Almost sad.

And that’s when you realize: she feels it too.

The ache. The weight. The fragile, trembling thread stretched between you.

She’s not just being kind. She’s not just being Megan. She’s feeling it—all of it. Just like you are.

The air thickens. The silence is deafening, vibrating with everything neither of you have said, with everything you can’t say. Her eyes drop to your mouth and return, quickly, like she hadn’t meant to look. But she did. You saw it.

Her gaze searches yours, asking something wordless and terrifying. And for a second you wonder: Is she going to kiss me?  And then, worse: What if she doesn’t?

What if this is just a moment. Just adrenaline and night air and the hush between songs. What if you’re projecting everything you want into her silence? What if she’s not leaning in for a kiss, but for comfort? For warmth?

But no. Her expression says otherwise. Because Megan doesn’t look confused. She looks like she’s finally allowing herself to feel something she’s been holding back just as long as you have. And with devastating clarity, you’re forced to accept that you’ve known.

You’ve always known.

You knew in the soft, vulnerable way she asked you how you were doing after rough days, when everyone else was too wrapped up in their own fatigue. You knew in how she touched you: lightly, instinctively, like she couldn’t help it. A brush of fingers. A hand on your back. Knuckles bumping yours under the table, not entirely by accident.

You saw it. Felt it. And you looked away.

Not because you didn’t want it. But because you did. Because seeing it meant admitting how close you were to the edge. How much harder it becomes to resist when you know she’s right there with you, trembling the same way. 

And the ache—that terrible, beautiful ache—was never about unrequited love. It was about the forbidden kind.

The kind that could shatter everything. The kind that isn't allowed to exist in your world, where every expression is analyzed, every touch dissected. Where a glance can start rumors, and a kiss could end careers. The kind that ruins you.

Megan leans in.

And still, there’s time to turn away. To laugh. To swim to the other side of the pool and pretend this moment never happened. But you don’t move. You stay exactly where you are, because every part of you is aching for this.

She kisses you.

Softly. Tenderly. Like she’s memorizing your mouth with hers. Like she’s apologizing for the months spent not kissing you. Like she’s telling you everything she doesn’t have the language for. And you kiss her back.

Because how could you not?

Your lips tremble against hers, not from the cold, but from the weight of it all. The months of quiet want. The slow, suffocating thrum of pretending. The kiss is nothing like you imagined, and somehow, it’s exactly like you imagined.

There’s no fire. No hunger. Just this fragile, reverent yearning.

A single kiss. But it feels like a lifetime.

And when Megan finally pulls away, her forehead presses gently to yours. Her breath mingles with yours in the narrow space between you, neither of you speaking. There’s nothing left to say.

The kiss was perfect.

And somehow, that made everything worse

—

rusty as hell, but its all in good fun :)

listen to. parties by tom odell

[pyract0]

╰┈➤Angst thoughts (Hsr edition)- Part 2

☁︎Just short little collection of thoughts of different scenarios! ☁︎Amphoreus spoilers! If you haven't played any of the 3.0 story onwards be warned (Not many, but would consider a few parts) ☁︎Warnings: Angst, death/ injury descriptions, illness ☁︎ No specified gender/ physical descriptions, referred to as "you", ☁︎Mydeimos, Anaxagorus, Gallagher, Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Jiaoqiu (continuation) ☁︎Part 1 here, part 2 here

╰┈➤Mydeimos (+Tribbie)

Mydei who after losing you had to relearn the simple things you used to help him with. Some days waking up forgetting you're gone, seeking you out thinking you're walking about somewhere after rising early.

You who used to sit down with him, talking about plans while braiding his hair, now gone forcing him to do it himself. Some people wouldn't even realise you had passed, him doing everything in his power to stop everything else from changing.

With you both being "parents" (the cities children who just love you), having to explain to them why you aren't coming to play with them anymore or give them gifts like you used to.

Like to imagine Tribbie would be naturally close to you, seeing you as a parental figure, who tries to be positive that she'll "see you tomorrow" but takes it just as hard as Mydei. The two of them trying to cheer up the other but in the end just making themselves realise further that you aren't coming back.

╰┈➤Anaxagorus (Spoiler warning!)

Anaxa losing you in the same incident that took his own life, yet only one of you were given a core flame and revived. Him waking up breathing again just for your body to remain unmoving, pulse long gone.

Him pushing that people use his full name, not only because he sees it as disrespectful but because it's what you called him. Wishes to keep it as your designated nickname, as both a way to respect and remember you.

Imagine you both who liked gifting small things, rings in particular, with Anaxa wearing them each day without failure. Never taking them off in fear of losing them, with them becoming apart of his normal attire. Wears an extra ring that you never gifted him, matching the one tucked away in a small box that he never got to give you.

╰┈➤Gallagher

Instead of him losing you, he was the one lost in the end. You knew it would happen eventually, he didn't exist, he was never meant to accomplish anything other than his mission. Yet it still hurt when he inevitably disappeared.

You who took it upon yourself to release "Sleepie" with the help of the trailblazer, letting go of what felt like the last piece of him that remained living in hopes that one of you could be happy. Though you later find the creature in search of Gallagher, coming to you in a means of finding him.

The man who begins to fade from the dreamscape, with people and memories slowly forgetting him, yet you can't seem to stop thinking about him. You keep a small locket with his photo, yet each day he looks less recognisable as time moves on without him.

╰┈➤Aventurine

Aventurine who saw you as a friend, someone who he could confide in on his home planet, the only person he had left besides his sister. Yet you fell alongside everything he knew, leaving him the only known survivor of your world. The only one to hold your memory.

He fell in love with a ghost, imagining you growing up beside him, being able to free himself and move on to a new life with you. He began to drive himself insane, living as if you were there the whole time as a comfort, though it did more harm than good.

Who after falling into the deepest part of the dreamscape sees you again, finally letting you rest as he walks away from his past.

╰┈➤Dr Ratio

Dr Ratio who loses you early into your relationship to an illness he failed to detect, blaming himself for your death and using it as a motive to keep working on his studies. Imagines a world where he saved you as his end goal, that somehow if he found an answer it could bring you back.

Him picking up sculpting as a way of preserving your memory, engraved in stone for years to come. Having a room dedicated to solely you, each sculpture doing something you loved as if you were still there.

Refers to you as if you were still alive, never failing to mention you in conversation when he sees fit. His students believe you're still breathing, as if at any moment you would walk in to deliver something to him, yet you never come. And only he knows why.

╰┈➤Jiaoqiu (Please read part 1 for context!)

Less like idea, more just my thoughts since the last part.

Since he's a foxian, I imagine his anatomy to be different depending on if it's more based on his human side or not. If his body, specifically his digestive system, is more canine based then this idea isn't as plausible.

But if he's more human

He'd likely fall ill from the consumption of the raw blood and organs that weren't cooked, maybe he get's a deadly bloodborne disease?

Worst part is, he's a doctor so he'd see the signs. If not initially of what you had been doing, he'd know from the telling's of his own body. Nausea, fatigue, fever. He would know.

But would he seek to get treatment or let the possibly fatal disease choose his fate?

He hasn't fulfilled his promise of curing Feixiao yet, but can imagine his losing motivation from your death. While he isn't killing himself, he isn't stopping the disease that could potentially end his life.

Or, he takes your sacrifice as his reason for moving forward, for living his life to the fullest because that's what you would have wanted.

Just some thoughts I had for it, might just die who knows.

╰┈➤ Note

I might do him in another one of my pieces but y'all.. Sue me. I don't really like Phainon. Like I see the appeal but his design doesn't do it for me 😔 He is pretty though. (I also just didn't have any ideas for him)

I have a request I plan to write next, not sure when it'll be done but plan to finish it soon :)

[wendichester]

⋆˚✿˖° prettier than heaven,

summary. to castiel, you're as pretty as flowers, as pretty than the universe itself.

pairing. castiel x reader genre. fluff

wordcount. 473

He stares at you like you hung the stars.

You’re not even doing anything special—just sitting cross-legged on the hood of the Impala, biting into a gas station snack with more chemicals than actual food in it, eyes turned lazily up to the sky. Your hair’s a little messy, there's smudged eyeliner at the corners of your eyes, and you’ve got mustard on your thumb.

And Castiel is looking at you like you’re the first beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You glance at him, eyebrow raised. “You’re staring again.”

“I know,” he says simply.

He doesn’t look away.

You let out a breath, somewhere between flattered and flustered. “Seriously. Do I have something on my face?”

“Yes,” he says, leaning closer.

You blink.

“There,” he says softly, reaching out. His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, careful and reverent, like he thinks you’ll shatter if he touches you wrong.

You freeze. His hand lingers, just barely.

“...Mustard,” he explains, voice quieter now. “You had a bit on your—on your face.”

“Oh.” You laugh awkwardly, pulling back slightly, suddenly hyperaware of your entire existence. “Right. That’s glamorous.”

He tilts his head. “I don’t understand.”

You sigh, cheeks warm. “I mean, I’m a mess right now. And you’re just… staring. Like I’m not.”

He says nothing for a moment.

Then: “To me, you’re as beautiful as flowers.”

You pause mid-snort.

“What?”

He nods, serious as ever. “Or perhaps more so. Flowers fade quickly. You are constant.”

Your throat goes a little dry.

“And the stars,” he continues, softly now. “I’ve seen them up close. I've walked between planets, witnessed the dust of galaxies being born. But even with all of that... I have never been compelled the way I am when I look at you.”

You blink at him. Hard.

“I—” you start, but it comes out choked. “Cas. You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you breathe, heartbeat climbing, “normal people don’t compare other people to galaxies.”

“I’m not normal,” he says. Matter-of-fact. Like that’s the whole point. “I’m an angel. And you are the most beautiful part of my experience on Earth.”

Your hands curl against the metal of the Impala. The world feels too quiet all of a sudden. Too still. Like everything’s holding its breath around his words.

You swallow, trying to laugh it off, but it comes out soft. Fragile.

“Okay, well. You’re not too bad yourself, angel boy.”

Castiel looks almost confused. “You think I’m… attractive?”

You nod. “Devastatingly.”

“Oh,” he says, blinking. Then—he smiles. Just a little. Barely there. But real.

And when he looks up at the stars beside you, it’s different now.

He isn’t looking for wonder.

He’s sharing it.

And you? You let yourself lean just a bit closer.

Just in case he wants to keep comparing you to the universe.

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[punkpandapatrixk]

☃️What Typa City Actually Suits You~? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

We were born into certain Fates, but our Destinies may look entirely different than those circumstances we found ourselves in at birth🚂Where you are in the world right now, if it isn't a place, an environment, a frequency that allows you to maintain balance, integrity and authenticity, perhaps it isn't really your Home⚓️Ain't where you belong, hon.

‘Home is not where you are born; home is where all your attempts to escape cease.’ — Naguib Mahfouz

Somewhere on this Planet your Home exists. Maybe your Soul Tribe can be found there as well☃️Your Home, is a place where you get to feel that you belong, in spite of shortcomings and disadvantages, no matter what, it feels effortless. It's an environment that has everything—well, maybe most things—you need to thrive. A frequency that just makes sense📻

The wind, the water, the earth, are calling~📠

Are you answering?

inspi: London & Madrid | IRENE's Sweet Simple Series

wispy: Kazamidori (Weather Vane) by Sakamoto Maaya

deck-bottom: XI Justice, Priestess of Wisdom, Red Physician (Galen of Pergamon)

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Pile 1 – People; Creativity; Intensity

vibe: Paris | IRENE's Sweet Simple Series

fate ain't Destiny – 3 of Pentacles

You were born into a world that has a strong sense of community. Some of you may have liked it a lot; some of you may have felt stifled and unable to focus on what you actually want. You've dreamt of a world where you can be a bit more individualistic. Go at your own pace and do creative shit that actually suits you. But it seems at times, your community doesn't understand your point of view. Generally speaking though, you aren't necessarily a loner—you do like people. You find people terribly interesting and you enjoy hearing their stories.

Essentially, you're a terrific listener. It's just that...where you came from...people are really quite foolish and uninteresting. You could die if you had to pretend any second longer that you actually cared what they have to say. The truth of the matter is, you've always wanted to be surrounded by diversity and meet people from unique backgrounds that wildly differ from your own. That's the kind of 'chit chat' you'd never tire of. When we say that you 'like people', we generally mean that you like extraordinarily interesting people.

You're someone who's quite intense, maybe that's why shallow conversations bore you to death. Where you came from, serious, intelligent, abstract conversations seem to scare the living shit out of most people. To you, people's interactions are mechanical at best. The Normies seem to operate on a very narrow range of selection of acceptable topics or themes of conversations. Thought-provoking discussions? Oh, never! Nobody wants a disaster! Sometimes, it makes you feel like a 52-hertz whale—the loneliest whale in the world.

where do I go? – Queen of Pentacles Rx

You'd like to be in a place where people care a bit less about what others are doing with their lives. Yeah sure, anywhere you go in the world nosy people exist, but a place where generally people keep to themselves would suit you better. At least that'd give you a bit more room to breathe, is what you think as a fundamental priority. A place where people wouldn't ask intrusive questions. A place where people respect personal space and will understand if you need some time to warm up before they can ask weirdly personal questions.

You'd like to go to a place where people wouldn't think ill of you just because you're eating lunch or dinner alone. It seems that you're mostly tired of having to care about or anticipate what people might think upon knowing or seeing this and that which you enjoy doing alone. You hate people being nosy or presumptuous like that. After all, what's so wrong with enjoying reading a book alone? What's so unacceptable about enjoying being indoors gardening or painting alone? It's not like you want to be alone; you just enjoy being creative on your own when there's nobody else to share or exchange interesting ideas with.

It looks like you've often had your gaze fixated on cities, countries and cultures where people appear to be far more free in pursuing their creative hobbies. You want to find your Muse; or perhaps you want to be someone's Muse. Your Soul wants you to make a career out of some wildly artistic pursuit, where the sky is the limit. A place far stranger than where you are now; perhaps one where you can hear the forests share their wisdom with you~

a Home to call my own – 7 of Pentacles Rx

The city that essentially suits your spiritual tastes is definitely a safe one. A high-trust society where crime rate is low and friends can always be relied upon even on your wildest night-outs. A city where it isn't difficult to find your way home or crash at someone's couch when the need arises. Even more importantly, a city where water and air are clean, and foods are aplenty and come in variety. Why is this important? For your mental sanity. You're the type that wants to be productive and creative.

That type of endeavour is surely to eat away at a person's sanity if they aren't surrounded by ease on the most fundamental level! You want to live in a city or country that's pretty~ Where the landscape is generally awe-inspiring; where it's easy to go to places that can immediately soothe your Soul on days you feel stressed out; where the traffic isn't crazy, so you can easily make plans to meet with your friends, for any kind of occasion. You just need a city where everything is there.

You don't mind rude people. You don't mind cold and detached people. All that matters is that most people leave you alone while the interesting ones are easy to befriend. Interesting people are rarely the sanest and creative ones can oftentimes be a little intense, but that's just what you like. You want to be surrounded by intensely powerful, smart individuals with whom the exchange of creative/artistic ideas can feel empowering, even world-changing~!

BELONGING🔻🧡

my Heart's a battleground – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

manifesting Heaven on Earth – Priestess of Fertility

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Pile 2 – Serenity; Independence; Intellectualism

vibe: Amsterdam & Barcelona | IRENE's Sweet Simple Series

fate ain't Destiny – IX The Hermit

I've a feeling, you're generally a quiet and observant one. You are very attentive to the needs of other people. You have a heart that feels deeply and you notice everything. Some of you may have developed this ability, or sensitivity, through surviving a chaotic childhood. Perhaps at some point in Life you were constantly living on edge and had to learn to observe the moods of everybody around you. You became a master at this, but it's cost you a lot of your peace of mind and a general sense of ease.

Since you're incredibly tuned in, you can easily lose yourself in the vibes and moods of the people around you. This is definitely an empath issue hahah You can often be deeply overwhelmed by constantly feeling, sensing, or 'hearing' the thoughts and emotions and desires and intentions of the people you're interacting with. Sometimes you just don't even know which thoughts are yours or others'. It takes a looot just to maintain composure and remain functional. Society is exhausting for the most part.

That's why you've often dreamt of running away to a completely hidden city where no one knows you and live there for a while just to be able to catch your breath. You've wished there could be one moment where you don't get so distracted by other people's thoughts, aenergy, expectations and, judgement. If you could be honest, unfiltered, sometimes you're just tired of being polite to everyone. You wish you could scream in their faces or hit them in the head with a guitar just to shut them up.

where do I go? – 9 of Wands

I feel that you're someone who hasn't gotten enough recognition for your immensely high IQ or EQ. When you were growing up, the adults around you could've deprived you—very, very much—of emotional and spiritual nurturing. I think they just didn't know what to do with you. You often felt like you were much, much older than your parents. You easily noticed the small things they missed. What is essential is invisible to the eye. I guess you didn't always have a clear thought or words for this feeling, but it was...just a sensation.

And in a way, those circumstances could've caused you some degree of disillusionment, maybe even disappointment. Weren't adults supposed to be the better people? You could've thought that. And it was tiring feeling the way you did. In a sense, you never really thought of where you'd want to go, but you just wanted to be in nature. To be near the waters or the mountains. I think you like the company of rocks and plants and bugs LOL At least bugs don't ask you unnecessary questions or bore you with unintelligent conversations.

If you've graduated your First Saturn Return, chances are, your Soul is beginning to pull you towards a simpler lifestyle somewhere quieter, where there aren't that many Humans and nature is aplenty. Some of you may be attracted to the idea of moving to the countryside or even to a satoyama. I sense that your Soul wants to do something more meaningful with the time you have and you honestly don't mind the 'hard work' that may come with rural living, as long as the tiredness from excessive human interactions can be mitigated.

a Home to call my own – Queen of Swords

A place that would make you feel most at home is one where you get to indulge in much more intellectual pursuits. If you did decide to move to very, very rural, underdeveloped areas on the Planet, chances are...people's variety of intelligence may look very different than those living in far bigger cities, exposed to all kinds of foreign cultures. But I feel it isn't the human interactions you deeply care about. It's your own personal activities you are concerned with.

You seem like the type who wouldn't mind living an off-the-grid kind of existence. Maybe then, there you could become a lifestyle blogger/vlogger like nyangsoop or Li Ziqi. Perhaps in a quieter environment you can finally focus fully on that book you've been meaning to write. Stuff like that. You yearn to live, perhaps permanently, in a place where you can rest your tired Soul, where your everyday Life can be, at least, more easy breezy~

There's this calm lifestyle channel called Tomei that I think you may also resonate with. She doesn't live in a rural area (I think), but she manages to carve out her very own unique aesthetic and pace that allows her to live more slowly, reflectively and meditatively. It's a vibe like this I'm trying to illustrate :D Well, where ever it may be, as long as you get to manage a work—could be freelance or remote, too—with minimal human disruption, it seems you'd be plenty satisfied ^^v

BELONGING🔻💙

my Heart's a battleground – Gold Historian (Raphael Holinshed)

manifesting Heaven on Earth – Priestess of Enchantment

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Pile 3 – Inspiration; Futurism; Dynamism

vibe: Berlin | IRENE's Sweet Simple Series

fate ain't Destiny – Ace of Cups

There are people in this world with a penchant for romanticising the past. The are also those who possess the natural ability to be utterly present in the now. You? To your own surprise, perhaps, you think constantly about renewal, rebirth and the future of Mankind. At least, since you were a kid, if there were values in your society, nation, custom—or even race—that felt outdated or they simply didn't make much sense to you, deep down... You knew you were meant to break them.

Didn't matter your gender or race, whichever country or city, growing up you felt very restricted in comparison to other people you were observing. This was simply because your mind was that expansive. You felt like a fish yearning for the ocean whilst trapped in a bowl. Thus it was that you developed a yearning for places that would make you feel more alive. You're looking for a sense of dynamism and excitement.

More so, you want to be around strange and unusual people that you wouldn't find at all in your place of origin. You are very much attracted to alien beings. For example, if you had come from an artistic background instead, you'd probably dream of moving to a commerce city like Chicago because that's what you're interested in. And vice versa; you could've come from a high society like Rose in Titanic and dream of wildin' in the West LMAO

where do I go? – 0 The Fool

Basically, you're a textbook rebel. You may not look it on the outside, but deep down, you're always thinking of exploring the world and savouring all sensations and experiences. Which...sometimes could be dangerous if you're reckless. But the funny thing is, this daredevil approach to Life seems to be attracted to you more than you it. Maybe you have strong Aquarius/Uranus or Pisces/Neptune placements in your birth chart that's kinda spelled chaos and uncertainty for most of your Life.

There seems to be a cosmic force that governs your movements, sometime in spite of your wanting to remain static and settle down. That said, it's hard to say exactly what typa city actually suits you, because you seem to manifest on your own a movement towards either chaotic environments or cities that are constantly developing and changing. It's like, from deep within your psyche, you want to be dynamic and constantly growing in knowledge and experience.

I believe this is exactly because you're an Advanced Soul. You have a mission in this world—that's why you thirst for knowledge and first-hand experiences. You want to be in the scene of whatever interests you. You could be interested in music, modelling, acting, designing, whatever, really, and you want to be where the biggest players are. That said, capital cities or places that are called the 'melting pot' of cultures and ideas would suit you the best. Diversity and dynamism are your key interests.

a Home to call my own – 4 of Wands

With you, more than the idea of what kinda city you can call Home, it's what kinda scene you can find there. As long as you can find a community that resonates with you, a culture that for the most part aligns with your values, and making a living there is genuinely exciting, that's your place. Amazingly, I'm getting a sense for some of you that it literally doesn't matter what kinda city you live in as long as the Internet works well LMAO

A high-tech society is probably important for you because you're constantly working on the Net? Some of you could be professional gamers, huh? ;D I also see that you'd generally enjoy big cities that regularly hold massive gatherings like concerts, raves, art exhibitions, sporting events and/or other exciting, maybe fascinating, 'community events' and celebrations of a more 'global' scale. Cities where 'international' or 'multicultural' can really be felt.

Alongside artists and gamers, some of you tuning into this are probably scholars and you're looking forward to be in a city where the universities are famous. Cities that contain old, revered academic institutions are probably very attractive to you. Lastly, some of you are probably interested in being part of the tourism industry! Big cities that are often popular tourist destinations could likely offer job opportunities that feel dynamic and exhilarating for you ^o^/

BELONGING🔻💗

my Heart's a battleground – Gold Magus (Johannes Faustus)

manifesting Heaven on Earth – Priestess of Rebirth

Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸

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