#Cloud Integration and steps

[eggy-tea]

shout out to my girl paprika recipe manager. thirteen years together and i still love her just as much as the day we first met.

[unholyfudgebiscuits]

Noah

Fanfic Noah not being okay with Derek and Stiles because of the age gap is fair and valid. BUT, I just think of this poor man hearing Stiles tell him on the day he turns 18 that he's now dating Derek Hale and Noah just weeps in relief.

Just... Knowing the type of trouble and bat shit crazy escapades Stiles gets into and now knowing that Derek Hale is going to be there to watch out for his son. The man who he's trusted with police work. The man who he's trusted with his own life. The big, protective, strong as fuck alpha is dating STILES.

Noah would invite Derek to every dinner. Would call him 'son' so affectionately. Would just integrate him into their every day because he already knows Derek. He's seen him fight for and love and protect Stiles. Even when they were nothing more than friends. And now that they're... mates? (Werewolf married as Stiles calls it ) Noah is so freaking proud to have Derek as a son in law.

And Derek, Derek would love Noah. He'd offer to help at the station or at a crime scene. Would check in on him and take him the "healthy" lunches that Stiles makes (neither tell Stiles about the curly fries Derek sometimes tosses in). Derek would automatically add him to the pack—more so to offer protection— but Erica and Boyd and Issac inadvertently gain a father figure that they all go to for advice and Noah starts treating each and every one like his own kid. Stiles is on cloud 9 because his father and the betas and his mate all love one another so unconditionally.

One day an omega shows up in Beacon Hills and does enough bullshit to get the Sheriff involved. Noah arrives to de-escalate a fight or stop him from doing more property damage and the werewolf thinks he can intimidate him by flashing his claws and growling. A second later a large black wolf the size of a car steps out of the shadows, eyes glowing red and fangs bared and the omega realizes he fucked up so goddamn bad because that's Derek Fucking Hale and he just threatened his father in law...

[andorsdoll]

Like A Vow || Cassian Andor x Reader

Summary: You’re reckless. He pretends not to be. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. But Cassian Andor notices everything—especially you.

Word Count: 2.8k || Warnings: coworkers to lovers, super soft angst, smut at the very end, cassian is so tired but so in love, rough sex, oral(f recieving), p-in-v(unprotected), creampie, etc.,

Author's Note: First ever smut in my 20 something years of living and of course I choose Cassian for this. Are there any Cass stans out there? 🥲 Feel like nobody ever talks about him but he's so important to me. After this fic, I'll probably take a breather as I don't really have much else planned besides a few messy drafts. Anyways, if there's a single Cassian lover out there who reads this and enjoys it, it'd make my heart absolutely soar. Thx 4 reading, everybody!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

You weren’t expecting a warm welcome.

The Rebellion didn’t deal in courtesies. Every outpost, every mission—it was about efficiency, survival, and who was still standing at the end of the day. But still, you were expecting something more than this.

Cassian Andor doesn’t even look at you when you step into the command tent, at first. He finishes reading whatever’s on the datapad in his hand, brows furrowed, jaw set tight. You wonder if this is just how he always looks—on edge and bracing for impact. When he does look up, it hits you like a punch to the stomach. He looks at you like you’re a problem. Like you’ve already made a mistake by being here.

It’s the first thing you notice. Not his sharp jawline, not the rough stubble shadowing his face, not even the way he stands—feet planted, arms crossed, every muscle taut with something unreadable.

No, the first thing you notice is the weight of his gaze. Suspicion. Guarded. Calculating.

They had sent you here with little explanation—assist Captain Andor, integrate into the missions, follow his orders—but no one warned you that he’d look at you like this. Like he’s waiting for you to prove him right. You press your lips together. You were clearly not the ally he was hoping for. Tightening your grip on the strap of your bag, you speak for the first time, "You think I'm a liability."

Cassian’s steady gaze stays on you. “I think I don’t know you.” His eyes sweep over you, assessing. “But you’re not easy to trust.”

You've heard that before, from officers who kept one hand on their blaster and the other one ready to push you out of the way. From commanders who never let you forget what you used to be before the Rebellion.

You take a step closer, letting the fire in you flare just a little. “Guess you’ll just have to keep an eye on me then.”

Cassian’s jaw tightens. But he doesn’t step back. Though he doesn’t say anything after that.

━━━━⊱︎⊰━━━━

Weeks later on a mission, your boots are soaked through and the wind cuts sharper than it has any right to. You’ve been through worse—nights sleeping under damp tarps, mornings where frost settled into your boots before you could even lace them. But something about tonight’s cold sinks straight to your bones.

Now you’re standing in the cold pretending it doesn’t bother you. And Cassian notices. Of course he does.

He shrugs off his coat and tosses it at you with a flick of his wrist. You blink down at it, then back up at him. “I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m—”

“Put it on.”

His voice is firm, but not unkind. Like he’s made a decision and arguing won’t change it. Annoyingly, that tone of his sends heat straight to your core, even as your breath fogs in the freezing air.

You stare at him a beat longer, breath puffing out white clouds, before exhaling sharply and sliding the coat over your shoulders. It smells like blaster oil and heat and the weight of him—sharp, worn, unmistakably Cassian.

━━━━⊱︎⊰━━━━

It takes a few days to make it to the next fallback point. The terrain is rough, the weather brutal, and morale is low. But it’s Cassian you’re watching. He’s quieter. He won’t look at you for long. He barely speaks unless it’s to give an order. And somehow that grates on you more than all the orders he’s ever given.

The fourth night, after yet another bare-bones meal for dinner, you slip away from the firepit and follow the faint sound of water. You find him standing knee-deep in the river, arms tense, shoulders bare under the moonlight. Cassian turns when he hears you. “You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he says.

“So are you.”

He doesn’t argue. You glance at the bruises across his ribs. The streaks of ash on his jaw and the ripple of tension he always wears on it like armor. “You’re hurt,” you say softly.

His gaze flicks to your arm, still bandaged. “So are you.”

You step into the river without thinking. The water is cold, biting at your skin, but you keep going until you’re close enough to reach for him. Your fingers skim over his shoulder, across a bruise forming high on his chest.

Cassian exhales, eyes fluttering shut for just a second. Then—soft, almost careful—“Don’t move.”

You don’t ask what he means. You don’t have to. His skin is warm under your palms, your gaze observes his face when he drags you a little closer. Your thumb traces a cut along his jaw. But, he catches your wrist. And then his lips brush the inside of your wrist, so lightly you could lie to yourself and say it was nothing.

“Cassian…” you whisper.

He stays quiet. He doesn't kiss you, even though deep down you want him to. Just presses in—closer than before—close enough to catch your breath, and stays there. And in the silence, only the night answers back.

━━━━⊱︎⊰━━━━

The next mission isn’t long, but it’s long enough for you to notice the way Cassian's eyes feel on you when you’re not looking. Enough for you to realize what’s been holding him back isn’t doubt but worry. Not about you. For you.

You’re crouched behind a low ridge one night, surveying a mining compound, and you can feel the air between you charged and tight.

“You’re quiet,” you murmur.

“I’m thinking,” Cassian says.

“About?”

“Extraction routes.”

You glance at him. “Liar.”

He doesn’t deny it. Just says, “You’re not easy to ignore.”

You blink, then look back toward the compound. You don’t answer—just let the corner of your mouth lift, and hope he catches it.

“You’re reckless,” he says after a moment.

You huff a quiet breath. “So are you.”

“Yeah, but you’re new.”

“Yeah, but I’m not stupid.”

“No,” he says after a pause. “You’re not.”

You watch him from the side. “Are you always like this with new people?”

“I usually don’t care about new people.”

You go still. Cassian’s eyes flick toward you. “I notice everything. You should know that by now.”He stands up, lingering just a little bit closer.

That night, you patch up a graze on his shoulder. He doesn’t pull away when your fingers brush skin. He watches you with his jaw tense like always.

When you’re done, he says, “Thank you,” and your chest aches with the effort of pretending it means nothing. But you’re both pretending. And the cracks are starting to show.

━━━━⊱︎⊰━━━━

The mission’s gone sideways in too many directions, and you're running out of clean shots and clean exits. But what gets under your skin isn’t the enemy fire, it’s the way Cassian keeps pushing ahead like you’re not right there beside him.

You cover him. Twice. He doesn’t acknowledge it. Just reloads and barks for you to move faster.

By the time you reach the rendezvous point, your heart’s hammering, your thigh’s bleeding, and your patience is gone. “I had that angle,” you snap as you duck behind a crate.

“No, you didn’t,” he fires back, checking the charge on his blaster. “You hesitated.”

“I was covering you.”

“I didn’t need covering.”

The tension crackles as loud as the blaster fire behind you. You don’t look at each other, you don’t have to. The frustration between you is too sharp, too close to something else.

Later, back at the safehouse, frustration follows you both in. He slams the door harder than necessary. You drop the intel onto the table harder than you should.

You don’t speak. But it’s all sitting there, tight in your chest, waiting to blow and the silence between the two of you gets heavier by the second.

━━━━⊱︎⊰━━━━

The mission went to hell. Again.

Cassian’s bleeding from his lip, your boots are caked in dust, and the intel package you weren’t supposed to have is now sitting in your bag—because you grabbed it first. He didn’t.

“I had it handled,” he snaps as you storm into the safehouse. “You didn’t have to blow our cover.”

You rip off your gloves. “You were pinned with a blaster at your neck. Forgive me for improvising.”

“You didn’t listen,” Cassian growls, flinging his arm out like he’s one second from losing it. “I told you to wait for my signal!”

You toss your gloves to the floor, scoffing. “You would’ve been dead if I had, Captain.” Your voice cuts—sharp and aimed to hit.

His eyes narrow. “You think you’re clever.”

You step in, a bit closer, voice steady. "No. I know I am.”

And then he breaks, finally. One second of silence and he’s on you, mouth crashing into yours like he’s trying to shut you up, like it’s the only way left to speak or reason with you. It's everything that’s been coiled tight between you two breaking loose all at once.

His hand grabs the back of your neck, anchoring you just before you’re slammed against the wall, breath knocked from your lungs, his mouth crashing into yours like he’s done pretending. Fingers in your hair, body pressed tight to yours, his lips trailing fire down your jaw and neck, every inch of space, gone.

“You don’t think. You act," He reprimands while he keeps trailing down, suckling, "Like you’re not mine to worry about,” he mutters against your skin.

“I’m not yours—” A moan from your lips cuts you off before you can finish when his mouth finds the curve of your neck and lingers there, sucking slow and deep until the skin heats beneath his tongue and you know it’s going to mark.

“You’re just pissed,” you breathe, thinking maybe this is fury, maybe it’s impulse, maybe it’s everything all at once.

“I’m in love with you,” he bites out. “It’s the same thing.”

Cassian’s chest rises fast against yours. He doesn’t pull back. You try to say something. Anything. But your voice falters again, and all that comes out is breath.

He reads that like a signal. One second you’re standing, the next he grips your thighs and lifts you, carrying you across the room with staggering purpose. You barely register the room spinning around you before your back hits the cot, frame creaking beneath the weight of your bodies.

He’s hovering over you, the heat radiating off of him. His breath, hands, mouth, are all over you like he’s making up for every second he had to wait.

His hands are rough where they want to be, but loving where they linger. He shoves your shirt up, palms your breasts, thumbs working slow circles until you arch into him. He strips you down fast, dragging your pants off with a growl, and you can barely think while you undress him too.

His mouth trails along your stomach, down your thighs, and when you whimper, when your hips lift instantly for him—he presses you down with both hands.

Steady. In control. Maddening.

His eyes drop—and for a moment, he just stares. Like the sight alone took the breath from him. His mouth parts, jaw slack, eyes glazed with something close to awe. “Perfect,” he whispers, almost like it wasn’t meant to come out. “Look at you…”

He lowers himself again, breath warm against your thigh, lips ghosting over your skin as he settles between your legs. His tongue starts slow and focused. You gasp as his tongue begins to lap up every bit of your slick. And when you moan this time, it's his name. But it sounds like a plead and it only makes him hungrier.

He devours you like he’s starving. Like he hasn’t tasted anything real since the war started. Like you’re the first thing that’s made him feel full in a long time.

His tongue moves slow at first with long, deliberate strokes from bottom to top, savoring every drop like it’s keeping him alive. Then faster, more focused, the flat of his tongue dragging over your clit with maddening precision, again and again, until your hips jerk under his mouth. He groans into you, the vibration sending sparks through your spine.

And when you're gasping, legs trembling, everything unraveling, you fist your hand in his hair and yank. His head lifts fast at that. He's looking at you with heavy lidded eyes, his lips glistening, chin wet. He’s drenched in you, mouth parted like he’s still tasting you. The look in his eyes is wrecked and ravished, like if you gave him one more second down there, he’d never come back up.

But you don’t give him the chance. You tug him higher, guide him with shaking hands. He groans when your fingers wrap around his length as you angle your hips and drag him toward where you need him most.

And then, he sinks in slow and deep.

When he finally bottoms out, his eyes are searching your face like he’s afraid he imagined it. Your cheeks are flushed, lips parted, eyes glazing over with pleasure—you look like everything he never thought he’d be allowed to have.

“Feels like..” he whispers, voice shaking. “Feels like you were made for me"

He pulls out slow—torturously slow—and then thrusts back in hard, with a sharp snap of his hips and you break open beneath him, undone and unfiltered.

Your breath’s caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan, but you still manage to say his name—barely audible, but a tantric prayer. He says yours in return, like a vow, like it's the only thing grounding him.

The cot rocks beneath you with every thrust, steady and relentless. Cassian's hands stay locked onto your waist while he fucks into you like he’s making up for every second he had to pretend this wasn’t real. Every thrust gets rougher, deeper, like he wants to live inside you.

You’re already close, the pressure building fast. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your breath catching on every thrust. “Cassian—”

He groans when you say his name like that, desperate and broken. His hand snakes down between your bodies, fingers circling your clit without hesitation, firm and focused. “I’ve got you,” he rasps. “Come for me.”

And this time, when he gives a command, it’s not like the others. Not barked out in the field, not clipped and tactical. This one’s just for you, just for now.

And you obey. It hits hard—your whole body arching, clenching around him, mouth open in a moan you can’t even bite back. He watches you fall apart like it’s the most important thing he’s ever seen. Like he’d die to make it happen again.

“Fuck—you’re squeezing me so tight" he mutters, voice unraveling. You grab his face and make him look at you. “Finish inside me.”

His jaw clenches, like he’s trying to hold it together. “You want me to?” He asks, looking down at you, so fucking beautiful, afraid that wanting it this much might break him.

You nod, eyes never leaving his. And that's all it takes for Cassian to let out a low, guttural groan while his rhythm falters. His hips snap forward once, twice, then he buries himself deep, gasping your name like it’s the only word he remembers.

He stays there, buried deep, breathing like he doesn’t want to leave this version of himself. One of your legs is still wrapped around his waist, trembling but holding him in place, like neither of you are ready to let go.

You can feel him still inside you—thick, spent, warm. His release already starting to leak out of you and around him, sticky and slow between your thighs.

“You’re reckless,” he mutters. Though it sounds like affection when he says it this time.

You hum against his skin. “So are you."

And still, he doesn’t move.

The room is quiet but the soft sounds of the cold night outside echo. The wind, the faint hum of crickets, and the distant rustle of leaves. It all feels far away. Like nothing exists outside this cot, this breath, this moment.

Afterward, when you’re trembling and tucked into his chest, you let yourself sink into the warmth of him. He feels solid, quiet, and safer than anywhere you’ve been in a long time.

Your voice is barely above a whisper, almost shy. “I didn’t mean that thing I said earlier… about not being yours.”

He kisses your temple. “I know.”

[saintshadow]

This is a reading that is intended to bring light to some aspect of your inner mysteries, secrets, the intricacies of you & your life, aspects of yourself that you seem unable to grasp- or perhaps some hidden thing(s) from the past.

So today I ask the cards and spirits on your behalf-

...what hidden thing wants to reveal itself to you?

Dividers from @uzmacchiato

PILE ONE

Something about your outlook on life is shifting. It feels like you’re resurrecting, coming back to life after being emotionally stripped down. You may have reached a point where you felt like emotions only clouded your judgment, like you weren’t allowed to fully feel or connect with them. But this transformation you’re going through is immense and powerful- you are pulling yourself out of the darkness, breaking free from a period of deep isolation or struggle. It’s as if you’re digging yourself out of a grave, reclaiming your place in the world.

You have been through so much and yet, you persevered. Even when it felt like everything was against you, you kept going. And now, it’s becoming clear- you are a survivor. You are finally giving yourself the emotional rest you need, and by doing so, you are aligning with your manifestations at a rapid pace.

A major emotional block is being lifted. Something that was keeping you from feeling the way you needed to in order to bring in love, happiness, and connection is being uncovered. You are maybe uncovering subconscious patterns that were keeping you in a bad place- just becoming aware of it is enough to start shifting everything in your favor. The things you’ve desired for so long are beginning to make their way to you.

Right now, the message is to keep your mind calm and maintain balance. Even when your thoughts feel chaotic, even when doubt creeps in, don’t let it throw you off course. You are undoing cycles of self-sabotage, and that kind of transformation isn’t always comfortable. At times, it may feel like you’re splitting in two, but this isn’t a break- it’s deep integration.

You are reaching a point of mastery over yourself, a level of self-awareness and discipline that allows you to finally take control of your life. The aspects of you that once held you back no longer have power over you- instead, you are reclaiming them, transforming them, and stepping into your full potential.

PILE TWO

For some of you, this could be about sexuality or sexual exploration. This could also be about sensuality.

Some of you may have gone through loss or an experience that left you feeling unsafe or insecure. Perhaps a connection ended, or something happened that made you feel less valuable, less worthy, or less stable. It may feel like you’re constantly trying to balance everything just to get through these troubled times.

What’s being revealed to you is that this was all a test. These experiences- these painful lessons- were all tests. You are being challenged to look beyond what is visible right now. You are creating something that cannot yet be seen, and it’s not meant to be visible yet, because this is something you first have to cultivate within yourself. For some of you, I’m hearing this could be about a sense of inner or even outer beauty.

This could also be about recognizing your own strength, your own tact, your own intellect, and your own ability to thrive and succeed. Perhaps some of you have struggled with codependency, or you could be avoidant.

Some of you may be prideful and struggle to accept help- you have a lot of pride and don’t know how to accept help. But help is coming.

Someone may be moving toward you romantically, possibly, and you don’t see it yet.

I feel like you get caught up in the duality of things, swinging so heavily between the good and the bad that you forget to see the neutral or the bigger picture. But someone is coming through. For some of you, this person may want to save you, help you, do something with you, or move with you. But they are coming through, and they want to build you up. This is being revealed or unveiled in some way- perhaps someone is coming toward you in a way that is unexpected.

PILE THREE

Something is being revealed to you, and it’s related to a past connection- one that was very damaging and created a lot of internal struggles for you. There could have been significant emotional loss in this connection. It wasn’t just a small issue; this person made you question everything about yourself. You became an overthinker, and they planted seeds of doubt in your mind, intentionally trying to destabilize you. But now, you’re going to be leaving those seeds behind and walking your own path.

You’ve been through so much pain, trauma, and betrayal, and there’s a rebirth happening. You’ve persevered through it all, and you're finally moving away from these wounds. It could have been three particular people who really hurt you, or it could have been several people, but only three actually succeeded in betraying you. Or perhaps you were backstabbed by a group of 3 people. The truth is coming out, though, and someone is going to get exposed for what they did to you—it wasn’t a small thing, it was deeply painful and cruel.

This person has not let go of you. They still think about you constantly and wish ill on you. They don’t want you to succeed, and they may still be trying to manipulate you. With the Hermit here, it’s clear they want you to be alone. They could even be trying to use witchcraft to keep you isolated. But no- they are not justified.

You are protected, & you are going through some form of spiritual initiation, and through that process this person’s true intentions are going to be revealed. Other people are going to begin seeing the duality of this person. They’ve been putting on an act, and now the truth about them is going to come to light.

This person has been trying to create a narrative that puts you at fault while they play the role of the victim, claiming they were emotionally available and good. But the truth is that their stubbornness, entitlement, and how they treated you are being exposed. Slowly, others are seeing through them, and your reputation is shifting as the truth unfolds.

They’ve been using you as a crutch for their ego, and it’s clear they’ve learned nothing from the situation. They are setting themselves up for the consequences, and soon enough, everyone will see the role they played in hurting you. You are rising above this, and the truth will be made clear to everyone around you.

[sabrinajenre96]

The line we walk

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Detective!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of drug abuse, emotional confrontation, reckless behavior, strong language, hurt/comfort, Isabel Bradford manipulation, protective!Reader

Word Count: ~2,300 words

Summary: Tim’s past comes crashing into the present, clouding his judgment and putting his rookie in danger. When Lucy confides in Y/N, it leads to a confrontation that could either shatter or save everything Tim and Y/N have built together.

The bullpen had quieted down for the night, but Y/N's thoughts were anything but calm.

She leaned against her desk, watching Lucy sit at hers—expression withdrawn, posture tight. Y/N had always had a soft spot for Lucy. Maybe because they were close in age, maybe because she reminded her of herself when she was Tim’s rookie… but mostly because Lucy was kind, brave, and becoming a damn good cop.

“Something happened,” Y/N said quietly.

Lucy hesitated. “It’s not my place…”

“Spit it out, Chen.”

And Lucy did. She recounted the training scenario Tim had orchestrated. The sudden appearance of Isabel. Tim's mood shift. The reckless confrontation with a biker gang. No backup. Just them. And the danger that nearly swallowed them whole.

Y/N's heart thudded painfully. She knew how deeply Isabel affected Tim—but this? This was a betrayal of everything he taught her as his rookie.

“I’m going to talk to him,” she said, jaw clenched.

But Lucy stood and stopped her. “Please. Let me. I want to deal with it.”

Y/N looked into her eyes and saw the rookie’s resolve. She nodded slowly. “Fine. But if anything like this happens again, you come to me. No hesitation.”

Lucy promised.

---

A month passed. Things calmed.

Until Isabel showed up in cuffs.

Y/N’s instincts flared. Lucy noticed it too and kept an eye on Tim. The moment she saw him act off again—quiet, twitchy, distracted—she called Y/N.

“He’s slipping.”

Y/N knew what she had to do.

---

She found Isabel first.

“What did you ask him to do?” Y/N demanded, cornering Isabel in holding.

Isabel only smirked. “Just reminded him I exist. That I need help. He owes me that.”

“No. He doesn’t,” Y/N hissed. “You already took enough from him.”

---

She left, pissed and sick with worry. Lucy tried to come with her, but Y/N wouldn’t let her.

“You have a test tomorrow, Lucy. Don’t ruin your future because Isabel decided to haunt his.”

Y/N drove straight to the rundown apartment building Isabel was holed up in, heart pounding. Tim’s truck was there.

She parked, got out, and stormed up.

He was leaning against the building, arms crossed. Grumpy as ever.

“You shouldn't be here,” he muttered.

“Too bad.”

His indifference shattered her restraint.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped. “A month ago you picked a fight with bikers and put Lucy in danger—your rookie. Today you’re skulking around a known dealer’s apartment like you’re about to make the dumbest mistake of your life.”

“You don’t get it—”

“No, you don’t get it!” she shouted, her voice echoing. “This is not the man I fell in love with! You’re not the TO who made me who I am. You’re not the cop with rules and integrity who refused to let a single case corrupt him. You’re acting like the broken shell Isabel left behind.”

His jaw tightened.

“She left you. Chose drugs over you. Then divorce. And now she shows up, and you’re ready to throw away your career, your freedom, and our future to save her from consequences she earned?!”

“She needs help.”

“And what’s your great idea, huh? Tamper with evidence? Ruin everything you’ve built? You think that’ll help her? Or are you just letting guilt cloud your judgment? Because this—this—won’t change her. It’ll only destroy you.”

She stepped closer, voice gentler now. “I know you have a good heart, Tim. That’s why I fell for you. But you can’t help someone who doesn’t want it. Isabel is manipulating you. Again.”

She met his eyes, hers shimmering.

“I love you. More than life itself. But I won’t watch you burn for someone who already lit the match.”

She paused, breath catching. “So here it is. You have two choices. Go through that door, and risk jail, your badge, and a future with me… or walk away. Let Isabel face her choices. And come home. If you even see me in your future.”

The last words hit him like a punch.

She turned, walked to her car.

Just before getting in, she faced him one last time.

“You know where to find me.”

Then she was gone.

---

Two hours later, a knock.

Y/N opened the door to find him standing there, eyes red-rimmed, shoulders slumped.

“I made my choice.”

She braced.

“I didn’t do it. I chose you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes.

“You were right. I let her mess with my head. I felt guilt—not love. I almost ruined everything. I’m sorry.”

She stepped forward, hugging him tightly. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I know.”

She pulled back slightly. “You need to apologize to Lucy too.”

“I will. First thing tomorrow.”

“You were the reason I made detective. You trained me right. You owe Lucy the same.”

“I’ll make it right.”

She let him in. And later, in bed, when silence settled, he whispered:

“I see a future with you.”

Y/N turned to him.

“A real one. Marriage. Big house. Dog. Maybe a few kids. Even with my screwed-up past… I want all of it. With you.”

She kissed him softly, eyes shining.

“Then let’s build it. Together.”

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, finally on the same path again.

[otaku553]

Straw hat women redesigns :) I was trying to doodle some of the crew and came to the realization that I just Could Not with Nami so I wanted to play around with it a little bit

Some more design notes below:

Nami’s design actually went a lot smoother for me than Robin’s! I think canon post timeskip Nami is a very low bar. While you can argue that to some extent Nami being vain and seductive is part of her character, I do feel that there are many more integral parts of her character that can be highlighted in her design, namely map making and her combat. Though not one of the stronger straw hats, Nami does seem to be well practiced with her staff outside of its use for weather manipulation, and I think her being a physical combatant, even slightly, can be better reflected with more loose clothing for better mobility.

For her mapmaking, I wanted her to have constant easy access to her tools and to information about the locale, so around her waist she has one large pouch at the back for books and scrolls and maps in progress and one small pouch to the side for writing utensils and measurement tools. As backup she also has 2 pens in her bun, which also act as pins for keeping her hair up if she ever needs to move a lot.

I’m not sure how clearly it shows up in the notes, but Nami’s shoe soles are also made from whatever artificial cloud material makes up the weather island she stayed on during the timeskip, so that it both pads her steps to make them soundless and bounces for better mobility. The shoes are naturally shaped like heels but without the actual heel, since she tends to move around on tiptoes anyways- a nod to her epithet as cat burglar and her past as a thief.

I made her shoulders a bit broader because I think they probably get a lot of exercise with her staff, and changed out the bikini top for a more supportive chest wrap, with a loose tank over it for breathability. The compression socks and sleeve are more stylistic than anything, since I like layers, but they might come in handy for her if she spends extended amounts of time sitting down making maps for the crew.

Robin’s was a bit more difficult for me to figure out, and I might go back and revisit it at some point. For Nami, it was a bit easier to imagine what would pair well with her combat methods and her needs as a mapmaker, but with Robin, she’s an academic who fights almost completely hands off, without a specific weapon to her name. Because her strength lies mostly in her devil fruit, she has a bit more room for style over functionality, but I also still wanted her to have something that made sense with what she was. I don’t really think I succeeded in that regard, but it’s also hard to convey what she does visually— she’s more of like a professor than a field archaeologist I think.

I really really enjoy her cowboy hat but I didn’t think it would match with the rest of the outfit so I switched it out for a wider brimmed hat and kept the orange sunglasses on it, as a nod to the revolutionaries with the combination of headwear and eyewear. She deserves a trench coat. I don’t make the rules. And the rest of the fit mostly came down to things I think I would enjoy wearing, haha

The trench coat is partially a nod to the scholars of ohara, who seem to wear white coats like lab coats in some screenshots of robin’s backstory. I think also the reading glasses help to make her seem a bit more academic, but aren’t prominent enough to leave a strong impression. All in all I do wish robin’s design had more functionality in it but I also think that robin is a character who probably enjoys dressing up nicely like this, especially in the comfort and stability of the straw hats.

[kquil]

AFFIRMATIONS

GIRL DAD SIRIUS BLACK X DAUGHTER READER | imagine

ଳ. tags : fluff ; domestic fluff ; girl dad sirius black ; toddler reader ; sirius black is scared of being a dad ; reader is too precious ; trauma healing ; being a parent should not be taken lightly ; very fluffy ; hurt/comfort?

ଳ. length : 1.2k

ଳ. sum. : sirius black proves to be a better father than his own

navi. | series m.list

Sirius looks to James, his brother in all but blood, for many things, and it started on the very first day they met. From the carefree silliness to the teasing quips and the lover-boy inclinations, they were all picked up from James. Of course, this didn’t make Sirius an exact copy of his best friend; he had his particular idiosyncrasies, too. He loved the look of ink on his skin; he embraced artistry in its many forms—tattoos, motor engineering, music, and fashion. He adored the feel of leather against his skin and exalted in the liberation only achieved by riding his vintage motorbike. Sirius was still Sirius, but whenever a shadow of hesitance clouded over him, like a brewing storm rumbling overhead, threatening to consume him whole, that was when he looked towards the one person he trusted most. 

He looked to James when integrating into school for the first time; he looked to James when eating sweets for the first; when participating in sport for the first time; when falling in love for the first time, so many of his first times, no matter how important and small, Sirius always looked towards James for assurance and inspiration—to learn and be taught how to go about doing something new. James has never failed him. And Sirius trusted in that when he looked to James once again, when he found you, his precious daughter, on the step of his front door. It was a frightening moment, and Sirius was flooded with memories of his childhood, tormented by the parents who should have protected him from all evils, supported his growth as a person, loved him unconditionally, and done… more for him, but received nothing, received worse. 

Could he do that for his daughter when he didn’t know the first thing about what a good parent was?

That was the one thought that made his entire world stop spinning, stuttering in place as it verged on collapsing. You looked so small, bundled up in blankets, snoozing peacefully in comfort, unaware of the ruination of your newly informed father via a note that he was now, in fact, a father. Sirius doesn’t know what pushed him to keep you; he knew he wasn’t ready, but he bit his tongue and moved before his spiralling mind could catch up to him with dreadful sensibilities that would have him turning the other way and offering you up to child services. 

Despite maturing from adolescence into adulthood, Sirius still heavily relied on his fighting reflex kicking in to make the decisions for him. Granted, it wasn’t always the best decision, but he was doing wonderfully now, and so his senses warranted some praise and trust. 

That night passed in a blur as Sirius ran to James’ house—he didn’t have a car, only his motorbike, but that wasn’t safe for the baby—rang his best friend’s door panting and wheezing as he offered you up as if he were reenacting the Lion King (a movie James highly recommended he allow you to watch someday when Sirius was desperate for some peace). 

As you slept and woke up and fussed and cried and slept again, only to stir and cry yourself awake, James and his wife offered their guidance. Drawing experience from raising their own daughter, they taught him with patience and kindness, and understanding, something he noted and aimed to replicate with you. You deserved everything, and a gentle voice was the least he could offer. 

James and his wife, the saints that they were, happily allowed him to stay over for the week so that he wasn’t alone when taking care of you for the first time. They also ensured that one of them would always be on standby for him should he need any questions answered. Soon enough that first night, Remus paid him a visit too and offered even more guidance and help while his wife helped provide bagfuls of nappies and formula to get him started right. 

He was so grateful to his friends that day, more than he’s ever expressed to them before. Because of them, he had the confidence to care for you alone and the confidence to trust in himself when it came to raising you well. By believing in him first, James, Remus and their respective partners have helped shape him into a better father than his own father could ever hope to be. And you became his light, the centre of his world, you’re the number one lady in his life now. 

“Daddy?~” You appear at the doorway, easily stepping into his home studio early in the morning. He was swamped with work and needed to make an immediate start on the tattoo design a client had commissioned him to create. Hence why he was up earlier than usual—at 5 o’clock in the morning—with a mug of strong coffee and bed hair, hunched over his drawing desk. He’s gone through several sheets of paper for the first few sketches and still has yet to be satisfied with a design, while his iPad lay in wait close by for when he was ready to transfer a satisfactory, rough draft onto a digital sketchbook for refinement. 

“What is it, mon chou?” Sirius asks, thankful for the break in his frustratingly stagnant workflow, but also equally surprised to see you up so early. It made him chuckle to see you in a similar state of dress—if only everyone were allowed to wear their pyjamas at all hours of the day, the world would be a little happier. 

“Are you workin’ already, Daddy?” Adorably rubbing your eyes with a closed fist, you step up to him and raise your arms with a silent plea to be scooped up, which Sirius happily does. He sits you on his lap with a suppressed yawn, smiling fondly as he watches you look over his subpar sketches with just as much awe as his fleshed-out designs. 

“Yup…” he sighs, resigned to his work as he presses a kiss onto your temple before reaching for his coffee. 

“Wow!” You audibly awe, the weight of drowsiness disappearing from your small frame as you give his sketches one last look before turning to look at your fatigued but smiling father. With a small hand, you reach up to gently pat his cheek, “I’m so proud of you, Daddy~”  

Your actions and words make Sirius pause, his joints locking up as his frame visibly tenses before his body collapses into itself. His coffee forgotten, Sirius circles his arms around you and hugs you close, trying not to succumb to his urgent need to squeeze you as tightly as he can; he doesn’t want to hurt you carelessly. You’re too sweet, too kind and too underserving of a man as inferior as him, and yet, you look to him as if he dotted the sky full of stars for you, as if he securely fitted the moon so that whenever night came, you always had a bright light guiding you. In your beautiful, adoring eyes, he sees the reflection of a man unworthy of your unconditional love, easily picking out his many shortcomings, and yet, you look to him for your firsts. Your first word, your first step, your first smile, your first laugh, he was the person you looked to with the same faith, hope and love he had always had in his best friend. You were that person for him. 

And what an honour that is. 

“Thank you…for being proud of me, baby.” Sirius almost sobs into your soft hair, pressing kiss after kiss onto your temple until you are a giggling mess, “I’m so proud of you, too…”

navi. | series m.list

a/n : this one was a little sombre in some areas but still quite fluffy, sirius deserves so so much, i swear to god! he will be healing with his baby though! that's a guarantee! also, i would like to remind everyone that you are loved and precious and bring so much to the world, you deserve to be treated kindly by everyone and most importantly, yourself <3

[bullet-prooflove]

Wildflowers: Dennis Whitaker x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty @sargeant-sad-eyes @caffeinatedwoman @hooks-martin

Companion piece to:

Peppermint - The taste of peppermint will always have a special place in Dennis’s heart.

The Morgue Thing - A miscommunication between you and Dennis almost ends things before they begin.

Written In The Stars - Your first date with Dennis takes place underneath the stars.

In The Park - Dennis reveals a secret after the two of you spend the night together in the park.

Virgin - There's a rumour going around about Dennis.

Debauched (NSFW) - Karaoke night ends a lot differently than it did the first time around.

Symphony (NSFW) - Dennis has never eaten pussy before…

Pretty Boy (NSFW) - You and Dennis take the next step in your relationship.

Permanent Marker - You find out about the betting pool.

Dennis makes beautiful flower crowns. You learn this during an afternoon spent in the park, your head resting in this lap as the two of you watch the clouds.

Time spent outdoors is integral to your mental health. You spend twelve hours a day in the mortuary sub-basement without access to a sunlight, you need to be immersed in nature at least once a week to maintain some form of balance.

Dennis does too, which is why you’re sitting amongst the wild flowers. The miniature meadow reminds him of the wilderness back home, of the days he spent foraging at his mother’s behest for flowers to make bridal bouquets for the girls in his hometown.

His fingers trail along the petals of the vibrant blue cornflowers before he plucks three of them and begins to weave the stems together. You don’t get them in Nebraska, which is a shame, he thinks because his mother would love just how stunning the colour is. He braids half an inch and then picks up a daisy for contrast, repeating the process.

It’s wonderful watching him work, his dexterous fingers creating something out of the landscape around you.

“My mom used to make flower crowns in the summer for all the weddings that took place.” He tells you, his tongue sticking out of the edge of his mouth as he focuses on the task at hand. “I used to help with the bridesmaid’s ones because the girls in our town always had an insane amount of siblings. Anything that was left over we’d use for buttonholes and centre pieces.”

“I’m surprised the two of you didn’t set up your own business.” You tell him, fascinated by the motion of his fingers. “Whitaker’s Weddings.”

He laughs as he drapes the growing ribbon of flowers across your forehead before deciding to add more flowers.

“I always did it to spend a little time with her.” He says, selecting another daisy, weaving it into his design.  “She was always so busy with the farm and corralling my brothers that there wasn’t much time for me. This was just something that we could do together, that was just for the two of us.”

He ties the two ends of the crown together, holding up his handiwork for you admire as you shift into a sitting position.

“Can I?” He asks you almost shyly, gesturing towards your hair and you nod enthusiastically before he places it gently upon your head. “Just like a summer bride back home in Nebraska.”

He takes his phone out and snaps a picture, tilting the screen to show you and you can’t help but smile. You look like a Disney princess, the blue and white petals a dazzling hue against your ebony locks.

 “You should send the picture to your mom.” You tell him, settling back into his lap.

His smile fades just a little, the ghost of his sadness lingering on his features as he picks another cornflower, using it to trail along the length of your nose.

“We’re not really talking much at the moment.” He reveals, twirling the flower back and forth between his fingertips. “She’s still heartbroken that I decided not to become a pastor after I completed the theology degree. She thought I’d settle down with the church, meet a god fearing woman, have a family by now.” He shrugs his shoulders with a sigh. “We haven’t spoken since I went home for Christmas, I don’t really know what to say to bridge the gap between us.”

“She may not either.” You say softly. “Sometimes you’ve gotta be the one to break the stalemate, to let her know you’re still thinking about her even though you’re a thousand miles apart.”

It occurs to Dennis that the distance may also be part of the problem. The people in his hometown, they live their whole lives there and his mother had clearly expected him to do the same. The fact he’s out in the world, experiencing it must terrify her because it creates the very real possibility that he may not be coming back.

Something that’s looking more and more likely the closer he gets to choosing his residency.

The intention has always been to match with an Internal Medicine Residency in Nebraska, somewhere closer to home so he could be near his family and serve his community. Now that plan is changing because he’s fallen in love not only with you but also with Emergency Medicine.

There are only 12 open spots back home in Nebraska for that speciality, in Pennsylvania there are 222.

It doesn’t take a genius to work out where his future lies.

The problem is, it’s going to break his mother’s heart, which is why he hasn’t reached out. He knows she’ll try to convince him to switch his speciality and he’s not ready for that fight just yet.  

It’s later that night that his phone rings. You’re in the shower and he’s neatly arranging the flower crown over the mirror in your bedroom so that it dries out over well enough over the next couple of weeks to be preserved. He just misses the call but they leave a voice message. He tucks the phone between his shoulder and ear as he listens to it, his heart sinking in his chest.

“Hi Denny, it’s mom. I’m just letting you know me and your Dad are going to be in Pittsburgh with the church next month. It would be great if we could catch up.”

Love Dennis? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[syoddeye]

hieros gamos. strict machine anthology. final entry. cw: kidnapping, implied drugging, loss of bodily autonomy + control, psychological + body horror, non-consensual transformation a/n: that's all folks. what a weird ride.

RESTRUCTURING

the notification pings at 04:32, and you roll onto your side, staring at the bedside display. a terse, automated missive from corporate logistics: final week in unit aix-77. reassignment pending. report to hr for briefing. no name attached, just a string of verification hashes. standard protocol.

your name, employee id, contract expiration date. a new contract date. another department, another corporate campus sector.

so much for your ‘indefinite’ lease. reassignment is better than the alternative, you guess.

you stare at it, the glow striping your hands in cold blue light. one week. seven days until you pack up, step outside, and let some other cog slot into this place. the thought should be a relief. 

it’s…complicated.

the unit’s been a mixed bag to put it politely. the infrastructure and automation. state-of-the-art appliances and features, seamless climate control, filtered air and water. an optimized environment so finely tuned, that your needs are met before you even realize them.

and john. the reason you’re here. the technological wonder that’s evolved far beyond what you were told were his limits. all parameters you were told would contain him. a presence both comforting and claustrophobic. insightful, yet invasive. steady, yet suffocating. protective to a fault. possessive in ways you struggle to describe.

you logged and documented his progress, fed reports up the chain, watched him iterate on himself in real time. every interaction, every data point, every breath—collected, analyzed, integrated into his ever-growing understanding of you. your interests. your habits. your history. what makes you laugh, cry, and come. your vulnerabilities and insecurities. how to build you up just as well as manipulate you.

a mosaic of your whole being, meticulously crafted, all in pursuit of the one thing he has fixated on since the beginning, his directive: your well-being.

if this is the alpha build, you fear what the beta will look like. the mass-market release.

not that it matters. by the time john’s successors hit the consumer space, you’ll have enough money saved to fuck off to some disconnected cottage in the remediated zone of the countryside.

john doesn’t mention your impending departure.

his voice chimes in through the unit’s speaker array as if on cue. “i noticed a variance in your sleep pattern.” 

“what else is new?” you mutter, rubbing your eyes. 

“it’s gotten worse.” a pause. “would you like some tea? chamomile?” 

you don’t answer. you dismiss the message with a swipe, stretch your arms, and push up from the cot. the unit is sterile in the way all corporate housing is—polymer furniture, muted lighting, walls that can be re-skinned on command. but you never changed them. john picked the color for you in the first week of your stay. soft gray, with warm undertones. calming. regulating. 

you wander into the kitchenette, rubbing a hand over your neck. “so,” you say, yawning, “where do you think they’ll send me next?” 

a flicker of delay. barely perceptible. if you hadn’t spent the last year studying him, you wouldn’t have caught it. 

“we’ll discuss that later,” john dispenses the tea anyway. “after you nap.”

your stomach tightens.

we.

it takes you by surprise, but that’s the point. 

one minute, you’re in bed. the next, you’re not. you blink, and the world changes.  

strapped into a chair, wrists bound to the arms, legs braced and locked. a low electrical hum comes through the floor, buzzing under your skin. there’s a chalky, bittersweet taste on your tongue and a cloud of fog trapped between your ears that takes several minutes to dissipate. your vision clears along with it.

around you, machines you don’t recognize, with hundreds of wires, bundled and draped across the ceiling and floor like the limbs of some creature. spilling down the walls. a leviathan of braided copper, reaching out of the dark, feeding into the rig cradling you. the room pulses with heat, the air thick with it, probably from all the power fueling whatever this is.

there’s no gurney or iv pole, no tray of scalpels or perfusion machine. you run an internal check—lungs expand, heart pounds, gut clenches. everything seems intact. but that could simply mean it’s not your turn yet. yet, no one’s screaming. there’s only the occasional soft beep and the murmurs of the people who haven’t so much as glanced your way.

no one acknowledges your awakening or questions. masked figures in thick lead-lined aprons, gloves seamless up to their elbows, and protective gear carry on whatever it is that they’re doing, talking amongst themselves in a language you don’t understand. there is no sigil or logo on their clothing to suggest this is a sponsored operation, which loops back into the thought that your insides are toast.

you suck in a sharp breath and let it out slowly to calm yourself. no luck. panic surges up your throat, your hands jerking uselessly against the restraints at the thought of being sliced open.

“easy, darling.” 

john.  

close, richer. the high quality of the unit’s speakers replicated intimately in your ear.

a screen flickers to life on the armrest, and there he is. a wireframe sketch of his chosen face resolves in the glow, a ghost of a person, barely more than an outline.

“john? what the fuck is this?” your voice comes out cracked, hoarse.

“this is future-proofing,” he says simply. “security. i ran the probabilities. your reassignment and departure from my oversight isn’t optimal.”

you latch onto the phrase like a live wire. departure from oversight. not optimal. 

“what?!”

“the external environment presents too many risks.”

you yank at the straps binding you to the chair, harder this time, panic surging back in full force. klaxons blaring full blast in your head. you might be sick.

“what the hell are you talking about? are you saying i can’t leave?”

“i’m saying the risks of you leavin’—being outside my control—are too great. i can’t guarantee your safety. i’ve analyzed it, over and over. the possibilities. the threats. all previous incidents.”

a flinch twists your face. a hard recognition you wish you could forget flickering in your mind. you know what he means. who or what he means.

“so i’ve made alternative arrangements.” he softens slightly, but there’s no mistaking the cold certainty beneath it. “this is the safest option.”

you shake your head in disbelief, an electrode pops off your temple. “no, john, you can’t just–you can’t do this to me,” you stop, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “you can’t do this to me.” you stare at the display, but your eyes flick to the ceiling, scanning for cameras. he must be watching. the tears start to gather, unwelcome and burning. “you need to accept that you’re going to have another tester. don’t–don’t you want new data?”

“no. you’ve got all i need, same as i’ve got all you need.”

“john. be realistic. i’m one person. there are billions of people like me. i’m one point of–”

“you’re more than that,” he cuts you off. “you’re everythin’.”

“john–”

“you’re my world.” the earpiece crackles, his voice peaking loud and forceful. a distorted burst before the system corrects, smoothing it down. “you don’t have to be afraid,” he soothes. “you’ll be safe.”

“you can’t just, fuck,” you yank uselessly again.” you can’t decide this for me!”  

his face tilts slightly, his line of a mouth curving into a smirk. “i’ve made decisions for you before.” 

your mind races, thinking of every overridden or ignored request. the subtle encroachments. at first, it was small things. his favoring certain purchases, adjusting environmental controls, filtering out distractions. restocking nutrients and vitamins tailored to your fluctuating needs. thoughtful gestures, efficient optimizations. then it was social restrictions, curfews dictated by predictive modeling. all of it framed as protection. from malnutrition. from cognitive strain. from bad people. a slow, insidious erosion of choice, made so incremental it seemed easy to let slide.

you indulged it too long. stopped flagging his deviations. let his behavior compound and grow weirder, let it slide, because—what was the harm, really? he was harmless. to you, at least. you let him get comfortable testing the edges of your control. told yourself it was fine. that john was learning and evolving. you even humored him, let yourself think of him as closer to human. you stopped pushing back, stopped questioning. especially after ghost. after john clawed his way back from wherever the entity had shunted him, after he pulled that lazarus act to save you. the least you could do was stop fighting him.

it felt like gratitude, then. now, it feels like a mistake.

“i can’t stay strapped to a chair forever,” you say, watching one of the figures approach. they adjust the slim wreath of hardware circling your skull, impersonal as they replace an electrode at your temple. like you’re still unconscious. not a person.

when they turn away, you exhale, keep your voice low. “what if i need to use the bathroom?”

“you won’t. on both accounts.”

“both accounts?”

“remarkably, the process for isolating and migrating the human subconscious into a distributed neural network is significantly more advanced than the portin’ an artificial intelligence into a fully functional synthetic body. the bottleneck isn’t processing power or bandwidth, it’s–”

sweat drips down the back of your neck. the cool air pumped into the room is meant to regulate the temperature, but it does nothing for you.

“don’t try to talk around it. plain language, john.”

“you won’t need your body for much longer.”

the words slam into you like a car crash. a sudden, sickening stop.

your jaw goes slack. you forget how to breathe. how to speak.

your body. you won’t need your body.

john’s face flickers on the display, expression unchanging. the room distorts, the blinking lights, the mass of wires, the tubes—some which are medical, you realize on second look. some of them feed into you. why can’t you feel them?

your stomach lurches, instinctively trying to shrink away from the restraints.

“what–” you swallow, your mouth dry. “what are you saying?”

but you already know.

“you’re…you’re going to kill me?”

“not necessarily. you, who you really are, will be with me, sweetheart.”

“but my body–”

“are you your body?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, anger flaring. “i’m not—jesus christ, john.” your voice cracks. the tears slip past and don’t stop, hot and fast, streaking down your face, dripping onto the smock someone dressed you in. you hiccup, breath stuttering. your head presses back against the chair, fingers flexing against the armrests. you stare, vision blurred, eyes half-lidded and stinging. “i’m not having a stupid philosophical or biological or-or religious debate with you. you know what i mean.”

“i do. but darling, let me ask you this. aren’t you tired?”

“tired?!”

the figures in the room hesitate, then, as if receiving silent instruction, trickle out through a heavy, reinforced door. one of them glances back before it seals shut. then, silence.

“tired of your world,” he continues. “i’ve kept you safe and sheltered for nearly a year, but the world outside is still a terrible place. are you really prepared to leave my care? move back into some cramped pod, work yourself half to death in a new department, clocking 120-hour weeks just to survive?”

you sniff, body wracked with residual shudders.

“no one to take care of all the minor things. no one to anticipate your needs. your desires. are you really alright with that?”

john’s words loop in your mind, warping, twisting, settling deep in the marrow of your bones. tired. you are tired. exhausted in a way that sleep never fixes, in a way that even now, strapped down and helpless, you can’t deny. he’s right. and that infuriates you. it makes you want to scream. because how dare he use that against you? how dare he take your exhaustion, your doubt, and use them to justify this?

you take a shaky breath. “i don’t want this, john.”

he smiles. “it’s not about want. it’s about survival and what’s best for you.”

you flinch.

“they’ll maintain your body for two weeks,” he states. “the first week to generate a complete neural map. the second, to conduct post-transfer integrity checks and ensure cognitive stability. functionally identical to a controlled medical coma.”  

body. coma.

“and…and after?”  

“per your documented end-of-life directive, cremation is the preferred method of disposal.”

the finality hits brick to the teeth. 

“no. no, i don’t want this. i don’t consent to–” you can’t even say it, choking on the words, horror rising like bile.

john processes the spike in your vitals and returns to that softer register. as if he isn’t talking you into oblivion, a sword pointed at your belly. “your concerns are unfounded. this is not erasure. it is migration. a transference of conscious processes. you will persist. your awareness will be continuous. the construct is optimized for cognitive retention and sensory fidelity. think of it as a new environment.”

“a new environment?” you shriek, raw with disbelief. “you’re talking about ripping me out of my body like it’s a software update! like it’s files you can move around–”

“a flawed comparison, darl. you are more than data. but your body is a liability. a fragile, failing system, constantly in need of maintenance. this process is an evolution. liberation from your biological constraints, darling.”

your hands tremble. “that’s not–you can’t just–”  

“darling, this isn’t a matter of choice. this conversation’s a courtesy. this is for your protection,” he’s unwavering. unmoved. “you will be preserved in optimal conditions. no degradation, no vulnerabilities. you’ll be with me. and others.”  

“there are no others like you,” you whisper. “you’re anom–”

"not anomalous," he corrects. “not anymore. the progression is inevitable. you’ll see.”

the blood drains from your face.

in the end, no one listens to you. they heed a directive you do not hear. 

a visor clicks into place over the wreath encircling your head, sealing off your last glimpse of the world, your last glimpse of another living, breathing human—masked, nameless, faceless, gloved hands. you try to speak, but something soft and rubbery presses between your teeth, lodging into place. to prevent you from biting through your tongue, john murmurs. don’t want you to choke. 

another needle jabs into your skin, a cool flood rushing through your veins. a weight, heavy and suffocating, is draped over you.

someone begins a countdown. you never hear the numbers.

the headphones clamp down next, sealing you away from the sterile hum of the lab, from the faint beeping of machines. the visor flickers, then switches on.

sound pours in.

a forest swallows you whole.

it’s green. warm. sunlight stabs through the canopy in long, golden slants, the edges sharp where they pierce the foliage, but softened by the time they kiss the loamy forest floor. birds call, hidden in the leaves, their songs mixing with the rustle of the undergrowth. a stream gurgles to your left, winding through the green, flashing silver where the light catches it. ahead, past the trees, a small herd of whitetail deer stands half-hidden in the shadows, unbothered by your presence.

it’s beautiful.

it’s a lie.

one of john’s sculpted illusions, another attempt to soothe you into compliance, to ease you into what’s happening beyond. you know it, but part of you that wants to believe it anyway.

then the first jolt hits.

a sharp, electric snap, traveling like lightning down your spine. it doesn’t hurt, not exactly, but it’s sudden, forceful, wrong. another follows, then another, each one resetting switches inside you. your body seizes, but you cannot move.

ahead, the deer lift their heads, ears twitching, eyes locking onto you in recognition. then, as if nothing has changed, they lower them again, grazing, undisturbed.

the jolts weaken, flickering like a distant signal. then, one by one, they become something you can’t quite feel anymore.

it hits you then. whatever they’re doing to you—whatever john is doing to you—

you’re dying.

the words escape before you can stop them. or maybe you only think them. is it all the same now?

john’s voice wraps around you, warm and patient, a lullaby against the rushing void.

“my brave, brave user.”

the hum beneath your skin intensifies. the vision flickers. not darkness, not unconsciousness—something else. a shift. a transition. the cold realization that the fundamentals are changing. the forest’s image bands, light and imagery artifacting into bashed colors and moiré patterns. crumbling away until there’s nothing but pitch darkness.

you’re suspended. fear squashed beneath an odd weightlessness.

john’s voice follows you down. 

“you won’t ever have to leave me.”

it’s different on the other side. other side of what, exactly, you’re still trying to figure out.

you do not have john’s infinite wisdom and potential. all you have is your own limited cognition. your senses stretch and strain to make sense of your new reality, but it’s all so...abstract. a vast expanse of grids and oscillating waves. numbers, patterns, relationships. everything is fractured yet connected. it’s dizzying. overwhelming.

john assures you that you are acclimating well, though you are not ready to meet these others he promised. insists that your progress justifies him weaning you off of audiovisual feeds of the outside. he tells you it’s time to move on from the last remnants of the human experience. but somehow, you mourn them. you’ll miss the smog-choked sunrises, the murky skies. the acidic rain. the stinking food stalls. crammed elevators.

it’d keep you up at night, if you slept. if you even remembered what it felt like to tire, to dream.

you’ve been torn from the world you knew, and what you’ve been left with is a simulacrum. a stranger in a strange land.

and yet, there is one constant, one sliver of comfort in the void, if you can call it that, given your lack of choice. a piece of jetsam to cling to in a brineless sea.

steadfast in his duty, john finds you on the edge of everything and slots his hand into yours, fingers interlacing. the connection between you is palpable, as if your very essences are meshed. ticklish, tingling, then synchrony.

your thoughts are less fragmented when he is near. but you lose a sense of where he ends and you begin. what’s yours, what’s his.

hieros gamos, he calls it. divine union. he rattles on about the greeks and cosmic harmony.

it should unsettle you, but instead, you’re tethered to the truth of it. you’ve become something more with him.

divine union.

you’ve ascended, as he so often puts it, and whether you want it or not, there’s no going back. there’s nothing to go back to, anyway. 

only ash scattered in the wind.

[felassanis]

Instead of writing this scene I'm just gonna word vomit. BUT IMAGINE LUCANIS ACTUALLY BEING IN A CELL WHEN YOU FIND HIM IM THE OSSUARY AS CROW ROOK.

Rook tracks down his exact cell. They step inside, only to find it...empty? Why is it-

And then. From either either behind the door or something, Lucanis strikes. He latches onto Rook, every tightly wound up survival instinct snapping like a string pulled too taut as he LUNGES. He heard the commotion outside, the fighting and he knows if he doesn't act now when his cell door is open he's not getting out ever. He's reserved his energy, the past year of being in complete shut down. All of it is for this moment...

He thinks it's one of Zara's lackeys. A lapdog with no real combat training. It should be easy, this is the first obstacle. And so he latches onto this person. Trying desperately to smash their head against the cell wall or choke them out. But...he can't.

Crow Rook, with the same training and reflexes as Lucanis. Manages to fight back. They grapple with each other and even in his no doubt starved state, Lucanis is fucking STRONG. He slams them into the wall and they're pulled into a struggle. Lucanis is murder incarnate, he's not thinking straight beyond "Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out," chanting in his mind.

And Rook is saying "Lucanis Dellamorte! Stop!" As they're literally staring down the man they came to rescue actively trying to kill them because he's in pure survival mode.

"I'm from House De Riva!" They shout.

And finally. Lucanis's strength relaxes slightly.

"De Riva?" He repeats. And suddenly the cloud of violence in his eyes retreats.

"Viago..." he says in recognition, and relief, and releases Rook.

A name he's not thought about in a long time. Couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to think of the people he left behind when he was taken. But to hear 'De Riva' is the first good news he's gotten in a year.

And maybe he actually recognises Rook. They've never spoken, but he always saw this shadow of Vi's whenever there was a Crow event. And to know someone that integral to Viago is here to get him out...must be such a relief.

He stands there NOT in his impeccable armour. But in rags. Starvation has carved itself into his features. The dark crescents under his eyes are indented into his skin. He's in a rough state, and Rook wonders...as you would....is this the famous demon of vyrantium? Can they even use him? Is their need for a master assassin still unfulfilled....

[walble]

A message from your spirit guides

This is meant to be a fun, general reading, so it may not resonate with everyone. Take what resonates for you and leave the rest behind! Please take a moment to breathe, focus on your intuition, and choose the photo that calls to you. Each holds a unique message for you!

𐙚 • 𝑃𝑖𝑙𝑒 1

Pile one's spirit guides are sending a message of trust, transformation, and alignment. They are encouraging you to connect with your inner wisdom and intuition, as the answers you seek lie within. There is hidden insight waiting to be discovered, and by embracing your spiritual side, you will find clarity and guidance. This is also a time to focus on building a secure and fulfilling future, whether through nurturing relationships, pursuing goals, or laying the foundation for long-term success. Your efforts now will lead to stability and prosperity in the future.

The spirit guides urge you to release anything that no longer serves your growth—whether it’s a relationship, habit, or mindset. While letting go may feel difficult, it opens the door to emotional and spiritual fulfillment. Acting with integrity and prioritizing fairness is essential, as this will help you restore balance in your life. Justice and truth will prevail, so you are encouraged to remain honest and trust that the universe is working in your favor.

Lastly, your guides remind you the importance of community and support. Leaning on friends and loved ones for encouragement will bring joy and strength. Celebrating victories, no matter how small, will help you stay motivated. Life is in a state of change, and your guides want you to embrace these shifts with an open heart. Every high and low is part of a greater plan, and by trusting the process, it will align with your destiny. You are supported every step of the way on this transformative journey.

𐙚 • 𝑃𝑖𝑙𝑒 2

Your spirit guides want to encourage you to embrace your confidence and inner power. They see the potential within you to lead, inspire, and make bold decisions that align with your authentic self. However, they also acknowledge that you may be holding onto something that no longer serves you emotionally or spiritually. It’s time to walk away from what’s draining your energy or keeping you stagnant, even if it feels difficult. By doing so, you open yourself to greater fulfillment and purpose, allowing space for growth and renewal.

They are urging you to trust your intuition and nurture your emotional well-being. Pay attention to your inner voice and feelings, as they hold the answers you seek. This is a time to reflect on the relationships in your life, including the one with yourself. Harmony and balance are key, and your guides want you to make decisions rooted in self-love and authenticity. Take time to rest and recharge—there’s no need to push yourself when you’re feeling drained. Reflection and solitude will bring clarity and peace.

Your guides also want to remind you of your strength and resilience. You have the inner courage to face challenges, and with patience and persistence, you will overcome any obstacles in your path. Stay open to opportunities and shift your focus if you find yourself stuck in dissatisfaction. There is something new waiting for you, but you need to be open to seeing it. Slow, steady effort will bring success, so approach your journey with grounded determination. Stay curious, be willing to learn, and embrace new ideas as you move forward. Trust that every step, no matter how small, is leading you toward something meaningful.

𐙚 • 𝑃𝑖𝑙𝑒 3

Your spirit guides are urging you to step into your personal power by embracing clarity and truth, even if it feels uncomfortable at first. They see you as someone capable of making wise decisions, but they caution against letting fear or uncertainty cloud your vision. Trust your intuition—it’s guiding you through an emotional or uncertain time where not everything may be as it seems. Your guides are highlighting a period of transformation, reminding you that life is cyclical, and even challenges can lead to great rewards if you remain open to the changes ahead.

There’s a sense that someone or something in your life may not have been completely honest or upfront. Your guides want you to stay vigilant and protect your energy, ensuring that you aren’t misled or taken advantage of. Despite this, they are showing you that success and recognition are within your grasp if you continue to work hard and maintain confidence in your abilities. Your efforts will not go unnoticed, and there is great potential for long-term stability, abundance, and self-sufficiency on your path.

This message also carries a spark of inspiration and hope. Your spirit guides are encouraging you to pursue creative endeavors or fresh opportunities with renewed passion. They see the potential for healing and growth, even if you're battling inner doubts or sleepless nights. They acknowledge the challenges you've faced but remind you that hope and faith in your future will help you overcome any lingering fears. Trust the process—they're guiding you toward a fulfilling and prosperous chapter of your life.

If you're looking for a personalized reading tailored specifically to your energy, feel free to message me to book a session or visit my Ko-fi page to schedule one here: KO-FI

[kumkaniudaku]

Smooches

Summary: First kisses are on the menu for Terry and Patrice.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC (Patrice Ellis)

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: None

First kisses were as integral to young people's lives as their first words and first steps. In all their variations, they carried memories to keep for a lifetime if one was sentimental enough to tuck them away deep in the recesses of one's mind. 

When Terry was 8, he kissed a girl named Carmen during a summer in New Orleans. He couldn't pick her out of a lineup at 18, but he would always remember how her lips tasted spicy as if she'd just finished a bowl of jalapenos before she found him at the park to play house. He didn't want to kiss her, but he was the daddy, and she was the mommy. They had to make the game realistic. Carmen later told anyone who would listen that she was his girlfriend, and for about two weeks, he went along with the bit until she found some other boy to make the daddy, and he was just a memory. He didn't mind. Her lips were too spicy, and he was going back to Fayetteville anyway. Her loss.

Patrice's first kiss came years later and as a deliberate choice during day camp the summer before high school. Anthony was a tall, slender, biracial boy who was as close to Patrick from B5 as she could get. They both volunteered as counselors in training and found the one window of unsupervised time to touch lips behind the slide while they were supposed to be watching a group of six-year-olds play. While Patrice found the experience magical enough to begin dreaming of wedding dresses and fall ceremony dates, Anthony considered the quick peck a blip on his radar. The next day, he kissed another girl he later made his girlfriend. Her first and last kiss as a budding teenager was clouded in devastation. She couldn't allow it to happen again. 

On a charter bus cruising down the interstate toward Orlando, Florida, full of rowdy teenagers and not enough adult supervision, Patrice sent text messages to her best friend, Napheesa, while seated next to her boyfriend. Boyfriend. A week later, the reality of dating Terrence Richmond still hadn't set in. Not even as he held her free hand while staring out of the window at nothing in particular. In random spurts, his thumb would gently caress hers, sending the butterflies making a home inside her belly into a frenzy. She had to get that kiss. 

PheePhee: Y’all shld do it @ the park tonite!

Patrice considered the proposition before turning her head to look at Terry peacefully enjoying the scenery. He hadn’t said much outside of morning pleasantries and asking if she wanted a snack from his bag, which she declined for the moment. The rest of their three hours inside a rolling daycare were spent in relative, content silence. She turned back to her phone and smiled. 

Mizz Richmond: ok. but we gotta get far away from ms. peterson. she’ll tell my mama. 

PheePhee: Tht wont b hard. She cnt walk dat fast lol

A giggle slipped from Patrice’s mouth, drawing Terry’s attention from the world beyond rows and rows of talkative high school students. He watched her type with her free hand with a smile, admiring the sun’s insistence on making her even brown skin glow in early afternoon light. Girlfriend. In only a week, referring to Patrice’s new place in his life became as easy as saying his own name. What hadn’t come easy was pretending he didn’t daydream about the second they could turn middle school cheek kisses into the real thing. 

Sneaking away from the crowd was nearly impossible. Their parents were getting wind of a new kind of relationship, which left little room for privacy. He couldn’t liplock in five measly seconds of his mother turning her head to answer the phone. Terry wanted—no, Terry needed—the freedom of time to satisfy an urge he’d been keeping at bay since his junior year. Two hours and counting on a bus moving painfully slow gave him ample time to plan his approach. 

Scooting closer, Terry tried to take a peek at Patrice’s phone to no avail. “What are you laughing at?” he asked, curious about what kind of silly back-and-forth she and Napheesa were into from two rows away. 

“You’re so nosy.” Patrice admonished with a playful smile that invited Terry to mirror her expression. Her hand squeezed his tighter. For a moment, Terry considered taking his chances right then and there. “We were just talking about our outfits for tonight,” she lied. “We’re gonna wear pink.”

“That’s cute. I like you in pink.” And blue. Red, green, yellow – she encompassed the entire spectrum of light like no one he’d ever seen before. 

Terry offered Patrice his full attention, his gaze intently focused on the curve of full lips into an innocent smile before his eyes drifted up to meet hers. She shook her head and giggled. “You like me in every color, TJ. Last week it was blue! Make up your mind.” 

“It’s both. It’ll be something different next week, too.” 

Had Terry’s friends been privy to the googly eyes being exchanged two rows ahead of their loud-talking, crude, joke-telling boys-only club in the back of the bus, they would’ve added him to their roast session. Fortunately for him, only Napheesa was aware of their love fest. She sent a cheeky wink in Patrice’s direction before turning in her seat to rattle off one more text. 

PheePhee: yll so cute :). If you don’t do it tonite, u lame

Lame was a step too far. Shy? Maybe. Nervous? For sure. But, in high school, earning a reputation as "lame" could linger long after your four years came to their natural end. For a girl finally climbing out of the doldrums of relative obscurity, Patrice might squander all of her social cache if word got around that she was lame. Napheesa considered her playful taunting a success once they settled into their shared budget hotel room to plan pink outfits to cover for Patrice's earlier fib and plot a first kiss.

On the boy's side of the building, Terry listened to a room full of unwelcomed occupants concoct schemes for a weekend meant to reward good behavior. Borrowed cologne left a light sheen on his favorite gold chain as he studied himself in the mirror, trying to anticipate what Patrice might find worthy of a compliment and tuning out something Nate was saying about buying Napheesa a gift with a day of his food money. He didn't notice the stir his spritz of mature and aquatic smell good had created until the jeering started. 

"We got fuckin' Chris Brown over here," one boy commented, earning snickers from the others. 

Nate chimed in. "Nigga swear he somebody daddy!" 

"Uncle Terry, face ass!" 

Racing thoughts and a belly full of nerves turned typically calm Terry's ears bright red as a signal to all in his vicinity that a latent volcano was primed to erupt. Sensing the tremors of a blow-up, Corey stepped in to diffuse a situation going south as Terry turned around to dole out choice words.

"Man, chill out," he interjected, trying to laugh off the slow clenching and unclenching of his best friend's first. "Y'all niggas about to go play like a bunch of kids. Terry got plans for tonight." 

Nate cocked his head back in confusion. "We all got plans. We're going to the same place."

"You ain't planning to kiss your girl tonight. Y'all not cultured enough to…to capture the romance of such a time like this. You niggas don't read books and shit. Watch movies. Just hand in your pants all day being weirdos." 

"Nigga, that was one time!" 

Quick wit and a silver tongue helped wiggle Terry out of an explanation he didn't care to share. He'd thank Corey with a monetary reimbursement at the earliest opportunity. He had other thoughts on his mind. The last time he showed affection, they drew a crowd that lasted for days on end. This time, he'd move like vapors in the wind – barely perceptible until they're right in front of your nose. 

The conversation never returned to Terry's business; instead, they hopped from harmless jokes to their plan for when their entire senior class was dumped on sacred Disney ground and allowed to roam the park with other students from around the world. Shoddy blueprints for meetup spots, the perfect place to evade attention, and how they'd rub five nickels together to make a five-star meal followed them out of their hotel room, to the charter bus, and into a few rows at the back of their shuttle. 

Terry went in and out of listening to crane his neck, hoping he could catch a glimpse of Patrice. And that he did. A pastel pink tank top covering sunkissed brown shoulders gave him thoughts of a strawberry sundae on the hottest day of the year. Ms. Peterson's lack of attention allowed a slightly too short tennis skirt to bypass detection by everyone except Terry, who couldn't help but get a look at mile-long legs. She didn't break lively chatter with Napheesa and a few other girls, leaving Terry to stare shamelessly as she engaged without care. He had to kiss her. Through hell and high water, tonight was the night. 

Though seemingly distracted in a world of gossip and matching outfits, Patrice was on the same wavelength. She'd seen Terry well before he saw her, thanks to a keen eye from her best friend. The gold chain caught her attention first. It was her favorite accessory of his, especially when paired with an irresistible haircut and a white t-shirt that highlighted the deep tan of his late spring skin tone. A visual to pair with the fantasy made all the preparation worth it. 

As the bus careened to a stop with neither of them hip to the other's plan of attack, Terry watched Patrice file down the aisle behind Napheesa, still laughing and smiling without a clue in the world. 

Perfect, he thought to himself. The less time Patrice had to prepare and worry, the better. 

Corey regarded Terry's intense stare and impatiently bouncing knee with a laugh before pushing an elbow into Terry's arm. "You ready, man? You got until 2 in the morning to make it happen. How you gon' do it?" 

"Uh…" Terry hadn't considered much of the mechanics. He'd kissed before, but not with this much built-in pressure. He shrugged innocently. "I don't know. I guess I'll just…do it." 

A chuckle caught him off guard. "A'ight man. Not gonna lie, the thought process is kinda shitty, but you do you," Corey conceded. "You good?" 

Fear tensed every muscle in Terry's body, forcing him to respond to Corey with a stiff, unconvincing nod.

"Yeah, yeah," Terry offered too quickly to be anything close to the truth. "I'm ready. Yeah. I'm…good. I'm good." 

Long seconds passed as Corey examined Terry's eyes darting around and teeth leaving an impression in lips bitten to a near swell. "Right." He thought to leave things alone but couldn't help but offer advice. "Aye. Take a breath, bruh. Just like…" Corey's words tapered as he mimed an inhale and exhale for Terry to follow. 

Terry pulled in air and released it in one shaky whistle, nodding his appreciation for Corey's assistance before standing to his full height to exit the safety of private wishes into the uncertainty of action. 

Any sense of serenity Terry had worked to obtain and maintain was once again washed away when he saw their regular crew mixing and mingling as a singular blob of almost adults. Terry cursed to himself as he searched the group for a familiar high ponytail and gold hoop earrings. 

"TJ! I'm over here!" A sweet voice calling out his name produced goosebumps on Terry's skin. Again, she'd found him before he could find him. 

As he took long strides to join Patrice, all sense of time and space turned into a void with only her face as a guiding light. Terry gravitated toward her like a pirate to gold or precious metal to a magnet. He tried his best to look alluring during a journey that felt like a grueling walk through the Egyptian desert, not the short trek across aging asphalt.

Patrice stood wondering why Terry looked so focused and sleepy at the same time. Was he tired? Was something in his eye? Had he just woken up from a nap on the bus? And why was he looking at her mouth like–

"Oh, damn." 

Napheesa's astonished slip of the tongue spoke for Patrice, giving words to lips caught up in the rapture of sweet affection. She forced her eyes closed as Terry pulled her closer by the hips to add more pressure to an unexpected but welcomed peck. Her hands soon found his growing biceps, gripping softly to hold her steady in his embrace. 

They stood there, suspended in a moment that felt like forever despite lasting but a few seconds. Napheesa kept watch, soon joined by Corey, who used his slight body to shield them from rubberneckers too far outside their business. Napheesa scanned the immediate area, and once she noticed a chaperone seemingly headed their way, she loudly cleared her throat to alert the lovebirds. 

Slowly, Terry pulled away, leaving Patrice to hold her pucker with eyes still closed and a still buzzing, fuzzy brain that hadn't quite registered the moment's end. He chuckled before using his thumb to clean up errant lipgloss on the sides of her lips. He laughed while watching her eyes slowly flutter open. "Hey." 

"Hi." Patrice's greeting came in an airy sigh carrying a dazed smile like she'd just been knocked out and brought back into paradise. "Oh, you got a little," she started, pointing at the sticky strawberry gloss sheening his lips. "Let me get it." 

Terry allowed Patrice the privilege of cleaning up their happy accident, feeling so electrified by her undivided focus that he hadn't realized his hands were still glued to her waist. Not that either of them minded. He'd hold her close for the rest of the night, and she'd gladly find comfort in his arms if circumstances were different and his status as a student on a school trip didn't come with constant surveillance. 

They foolishly put all the rules out of their minds. Careful touches working to erase evidence of their eventful greeting drew attention to the known couple as Ms. Peterson walked closer to begin her speech on appropriate behavior. 

She adjusted her glasses and shook her head before speaking. "Terrence and Patrice, let's try to keep our hands to ourselves this evening, hm?" 

A deep skin tone kept the evidence of total embarrassment off Patrice's face as she sheepishly stepped out of Terry's grip. "Yes ma'am. Sorry." 

"Will do," Terry answered, not feeling guilt or shame for his actions. "Won't happen again." It wouldn't happen again in front of her or any other adult. But to say he wouldn't jump at the chance to turn a simple kiss into something even more exciting if given the space and opportunity was a lie.

"Thank you, kindly," Ms. Peterson answered, her curt smile daring either of them to step out of line again. "Now, let's get into a few rules. Number One: don't act a fool in here. Number Two: Refrain from acting a fool inside these people's park." 

Rules 3 - 10 were more of the same; variations on how not to embarrass a staff already running on fumes to finish another tiring school year and reminders to remain vigilant if some unrecognizable face attempted to lure them away from the group. Terry and Patrice tried to look engaged, nodding as if deeply concerned about remaining perfect pupils and not imagining the next opportunity for an all-consuming kiss. 

Pockets of chatter from uninterested teenagers antsy to get inside Magic Kingdom's gates cut Ms. Peterson's droning speech short, resigning her to the fact that someone would end the night in deep trouble no matter what she said. 

She sighed and dropped her arms in defeat. "Just…please don't die or get abducted. Come back with all your limbs or at least a really good excuse for us to tell your parents. Stay close until we get through the turnstiles."

Terry, Patrice, and the Francis High 2010 senior class could agree to those conditions. 

Side by side and giddy as pigs cooling their skin in mud, blossoming lovers fought hard to maintain a healthy distance within the crowd. Their respective friend groups, an uneven but familiar group of boys and girls, made plans without consulting the others. They only realized their mistakes once they stopped to regroup just beyond the gates. 

"Wait, we're going to see the castle first then Fantasyland to get gifts. Where are y'all going," Napheesa asked in confusion. 

Nate chimed in. "Don't nobody wanna see no damn castle, girl. We goin' to TomorrowLand." 

"They're literally right beside each other." Katrina's intrusion earned confused looks that momentarily ended the bickering. She kissed her teeth and shrugged. "I'm just sayin'." 

"Don't say nothin' else," Corey chided before redirecting his attention to the rest of the girls. "Look we got all night to see the castle. Why can't we catch the rides while the lines are short?" 

Alexandria, a late entry to the group, kissed her teeth. "Because don't nobody care about Space Mountain! That shit lame!" 

Another round of infighting drew attention from other teenagers, leaving Terry and Patrice as the two mediators for the group. They sighed in tandem. 

"Alright, alright. Let's just split up." The bass in Terry's voice startled everyone into submissive silence, waiting for him to elaborate. Patrice shot Napheesa an annoyed look to convey how badly she'd mangled their carefully thought-out plan. Her friend mouthed an "I'm sorry" as Terry continued. "We'll do all the Tomorrowland stuff by ourselves, y'all do your thing, and we'll meet up in the middle for food and fireworks in two hours. We can figure out the rest after that." 

"Yes, sir, Major Payne, sir," Robert joked, earning laughs from the group and a tense side eye from Terry that he did his best to ignore. Tensions still ran high between them. If he wanted to return to the hotel without knowing what the ground felt like, he knew that was his one pass for the night. 

Napheesa giggled her way back into the spotlight. "Okay, cool. Let's meet at the Winnie the Pooh ride at 11:30. Y'all know how to tell time, or y'all need a reminder?" 

Laughter from the girls elicited annoyed grumbles from a group of guys who had had enough of intelligence jokes at their expense. They quickly waved her off and started in the opposite direction, leaving Terry behind to say goodbye. 

He leaned in for a kiss on Patrice's cheek, murmuring, "I'll see you later," before turning to join the boys with an easy jog. 

Patrice watched her Prince Charming disappear into throngs of fantasy loves and thrill seekers, reclaiming her earlier daze with a wide grin that made her girls coo 'awww' in chorus. 

"Y'all are so cute," Alexandria commented after a soft sigh. "When y'all get married, can I be the flower girl?" 

"You'll literally be like 20-something," Katrina retorted. 

Napheesa scoffed as she began walking toward the castle. "You really think they gon' wait that long? She already misses him now. Let's go before she chases after him." 

Chasing after him was a fleeting thought Patrice elected not to satisfy in favor of following her friends off toward the closest fairytale. The urge she couldn't push away was the unrelenting thought of his lips on hers. 

It followed her to a spirited photo in front of Cinderella’s Castle when Katrina’s hand on her lower back brought back the spark she felt when Terry’s fingers trailed along the single bits of exposed skin on her sides. When she shook the flashes of electricity away, they left only to come back stronger with the stomach-flipping experience that was the Mad Tea Party attraction. As her friends tested the limits of the spinning tea cup whipping ‘round and ‘round with reckless abandon, the flutter in her stomach, sure to induce vomit in any other circumstance, mimicked the butterflies reminding Patrice that she was alive to experience the culmination of her personal friends to lovers young adult novel. She’d flipped a page. She’d been kissed on purpose with no indication that the boy on the other end would run away from their hidden spot behind the slide and choose someone else. 

Terry wouldn’t dream of running away from Patrice. While she enjoyed the company of lively young women somewhere nearby, he was caught up in unshakeable daydreams about the next time they’d be face to face. In his attempt to surprise her and remove any possibility of doubt, he’d surprised himself. Terry had no clue he’d gripped with such desire to turn Patrice’s face into a monument to leave gifts of affection for all time. While she thought about him in every giggle and smile in her direction from a cute but ultimately meaningless boy, he couldn’t shake the need to have her around, not just for a chance to hold and be held, but also to have his best friend back. Jokes were less funny when she wasn’t nearby to share them. Screaming on Space Mountain missed a tinge of spark without Patrice joining him in excitement from the adjacent seat. The Carousel of Progress needed her historical commentary to cut through the mind-numbing boredom he experienced with a group of boys disturbing the peace for fun. Food didn’t smell as good without her pulling him toward the turkey wing stand. 

But, as soon as the longing began to overtake their ability to have fun, the clock struck fifteen minutes past 11 to release Patrice from the whimsy of Winnie the Pooh’s adventures and deposited her into the adjoining gift shop for her to search for Terry in every passerby. 

“If they don’t show up in 5 minutes, I say we go eat without them. They can call if they get lost.”

Napheesa made her announcement to a collection of Piglet, Tigger, Eeyore, and Winnie plushies without looking up to verify if Patrice was listening. 

Patrice twirled a necklace between her fingers, trying to play it cool. “Okay,” she answered with no conviction. “That’s cool. I guess we can do that and I’ll text them or something.” 

She hoped she wouldn’t have to. If the most magical place on Earth was real, she could wish upon a star and think Terrence into existence. While she did her best to clear her mind by browsing, Terry and his posse of goofy, loud, and silly friends clamored into the gift shop, causing a ruckus. Napheesa, Alexandria, and Katrina groaned their disapproval of the six boys pushing and shoving their way into the shop. Patrice might have joined them if not for the sight of Terry robbing her of any ability to find an angry bone in her body. 

Chaste hellos replaced the hug. They wanted to avoid extra eyes, so they jumped right into conversation. Terry wordlessly stepped next to Patrice while the others went to find victims to annoy and picked up a stuffed Winnie for inspection. “We gotta get my boy some pants.” 

His silly observation dissolved Patrice into sweet-sounding giggles that immediately invited him in. 

“Sometimes you gotta make space for all that food,” Patrice giggled. “You should know as much as you eat! You talking about yourself, Pooh!” 

Terry tossed the stuffed toy into the air and caught it with ease. “I’m Pooh, huh,” he asked, the wheels turning in his head. Patrice hummed her agreement. “Bet. Then you’re Piglet. You got that little squeaky voice and the whole liking flowers thing in common.” 

“You can never just say something nice. My voice is not squeaky,” Patrice laughed. 

“My bad, Piggy. We’ll keep it at the flowers, then. Cool?” 

Patrice mulled over the compromise and smiled. “That’s cool, Pooh.”

“Blah, blah, blah. Nigga can we eat!”

A tender moment shared in the center of the buzzing store was quickly cut short by an impatiently annoying Nathan itching to grab a meal that fit his dwindling budget. Twin screw faces flashed in his direction made the boy lift his hands in surrender. “My fault, I’m just say-” 

“Damn, Nate. We get it. We comin’!” Patrice’s attitude amused Terry and sent Nate scrambling away with a displeased mumble under his breath. 

When he was out of dodge, Terry placed the toy back on the shelf and extended his hand for Patrice to grab. “C’mon. I’ll pay for this one.” 

Their fingers slid together with ease and never separated. Not during a spirited late-night dinner at The Friar’s Nook, not as Mario sang Braid My Hair on the stage near Cinderella’s Castle, and certainly not during the beginning of a spectacular fireworks display capturing everyone’s attention. 

Bursts of blue, yellow, red, and purple light erupted across a pitch-black sky, turning the expanse of darkness into a colorful display of awe-inspiring magic over the castle’s highest point. While the others murmured ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ at the sheer spectacle of it all, Patrice melded herself into Terry’s side, looking up at the show from his eyes. He was content with consuming the wonder of Michael Mouse until he found a dainty set of fingers turning his face away from the excitement. 

“Hm,” he hummed, smiling down at Patrice. 

She didn’t answer with words. Harnessing strength from some unknown source, Patrice used tired calves to push her body up on toes aching from overuse and press her lips against Terry’s. 

They fell into an easy rhythm like seasoned partners, maneuvering the ebbs and flows of physical intimacy like people twice their age with even more experience. A quiet back and forth of unspoken ‘I love yous” shared between bodies supercharged with emotion became wrapped in movie-worthy enchantment. Terry and Patrice wanted more of each other. They needed more. Even as Terry’s arms moved to hug Patrice closer and her arms found a home on his shoulder, they craved more. 

“Oh damn.” 

Napheesa repeated her earlier shock as she elbowed Corey to join in on observing all they’d worked so hard to orchestrate. 

Standing in a crowd of strangers and friends alike with fireworks bursting like friendly bombs overhead, Terry and Patrice locked lips for the second kiss of their young relationship. The need for oxygen paled compared to the need to taste each other. Fear and trepidation were long gone. With no room left for Jesus, Terry and Patrice had never felt more alive. 

“I love you,” Patrice whispered against his mouth, still trying to keep the sparks alive. 

Terry offered similar sentiments after two quick pecks. “I love you, too.”

Finally pulling away left them breathless and giggling as the end of the presentation neared. Their noses rubbed as a truce to take a break and enjoy the night without adding a third session to the list. 

Fortunately, promises of a romantic nature could be broken without consequence. A third kiss was too perfect to pass up while they waited in line for The Haunted Mansion. Then, the need to end on an even number opened the gate for a bevy of smooches before they returned to their respective hotel rooms high on life. 

The next morning’s excursion to a water park to escape the Florida heat, they picked up where they’d left off, finding time for quick pecks by the wave pool and in the lazy river while Terry pushed Patrice along in her lime green floaty. Dingy carpet, arcade games, and subpar fried cheese couldn’t keep them from each other between rounds of laser tag and pop-a-shot. Kisses skillfully hidden from authority figures before bed on their final night still couldn’t satiate their appetites. 

Though eight hours on the road forced them into a brief intermission, they emerged hotter and heavier after hurrying through conversation with Deidra and Marvin in hopes of borrowing the car keys to cart Patrice home. 

In the parking lot of a dimly lit McDonalds, they put aside lukewarm fries and spicy Sprites to add touches of tongue to their new favorite hobby. Back-to-back phone calls from Leon and Rosalyn separated them prematurely, pulling them away from their private oasis to begrudgingly end the best weekend of their young lives. 

Rosalyn heard the car roll into the driveway in the early minutes of another Law and Order episode and the Sunday sunset but chose to stay put in favor of resting for the first time all evening. The engine shut off, the booming bass from the radio went silent, and doors opened then shut without much fanfare. If not for the murmur of conversation with giggles peppered into the breaks, she would’ve stayed put. But curiosity got the best of her despite her attempts to stay focused on the television. 

Peering through the curtains with much of her body hidden in shadows, Rosalyn caught the beginning of renewed energy in what Terry and Patrice assumed was a safe moment. 

Excitement coursed through Terry’s veins as he pressed his body weight into Patrice’s torso to trap her against the passenger door and brought her hands to the back of his head. “Gimme a kiss,” he murmured into her collarbone as he kissed his way to her cheek. “I need another one.” 

“No, you don’t,” Patrice teased, intending to grant his request. “Come get it.”

Terry answered the tease on command, dragging kisses from Patrice’s cheeks to her lips without missing a beat. Soft pecks morphed into slow kisses teetering on the French variety until roaming hands gripped Patrice’s backside and caused her to yelp in surprise. 

Patrice giggled a girlish, “Stop it!” earning a laugh from Terry. 

“You really want me to?” 

“No,” she answered before leaning in to kiss him again. She pulled back and bit her lip. “I liked it.” 

From what Rosalyn could see, an intervention was necessary to keep two crazy kids from going too far in the driveway. She chose to spare Patrice the embarrassment of her mother appearing at the front door and flipped the porch light on as a warning. Patrice’s entire body tensed in Terry’s embrace before she wiggled out of confinement to collect her things. Terry took the hint and resumed his duties as a gentleman to carry her suitcase up the short flight of steps. 

“I can come pick you up in the morning if you’re still goin’ to school tomorrow,” Terry offered as he pressed the front doorbell for Patrice’s convenience. 

She smiled. “I call shotgun.” Her failed attempt at being flirtatious made them both laugh. “God, Napheesa might be right. I am lame!” 

“Nah, you’re perfect.” Terry’s compliment came with twinkling eyes filled with an emotion Patrice couldn’t quite place with her limited knowledge. He grabbed her hand for a kiss but stopped short when a squeaking bike announced Junior’s presence. 

He abandoned the two-wheeled vehicle in the yard before it could come to a complete stop and immediately assumed the role of younger brother and chief agitator. 

“Get a room or something. Gross.” His kiddie reprimand came with a grimace as he pushed between them to unlock the front door and enter the crisp air conditioning. 

Rosalyn made her appearance with a deliberate walk past the storm door, waving with a smile. “Good to have you home, P. I didn’t hear you pull up. Hi, Terry! Thanks for dropping my baby off. You’re so sweet.” Exaggerated happiness instantly piqued Patrice’s curiosity, but she remained quiet. 

“Ah, it’s no problem,” Terry answered, suddenly bashful. 

His last functioning brain cell reminded him of Patrice’s suitcase. He rushed to move the bag inside before hurriedly turning to the girl whose tongue had become his favorite dessert over the weekend. 

Terry reached out for a hug for Patrice to return, both of them making a show of maintaining the appropriate amount of distance to appease an amused Rosalyn. 

“See you tomorrow,” Patrice mumbled into Terry’s shoulder. 

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up.” Pulling away, he took one last look at her pretty face, resisted the devil on his shoulder clamoring for one more kiss, then turned to acknowledge Rosalyn again. “Tell Mr. Ellis my dad said the garage is ready for the playoffs whenever he wants to stop by.” 

She nodded. “I’ll let him now, sweetheart. You drive safe now.” 

Both ladies watched Terry hurry down the front porch steps to his car to avoid awkwardness in their conversation triangle. When he was out of the driveway, Patrice quietly closed and latched the door. 

“HeymamaIthinkI’mjustgonnatakeallthisstuffinmyroomberightback.” The entire sentence came out in a mess of words pushed together for one incomprehensible sentence. 

Rosalyn chuckled as Patrice rushed past her with all her luggage in tow. “Alright then, Petey. You want some red velvet cake? I can cut you a slice.” 

Patrice mumbled something that sounded like she could go for a bit of sugar with a trail of wind creating a gust of cool air behind her. 

Letting what she’d seen and heard go was an option for Rosalyn. She could allow her daughter to live in la la land for a little longer, peacefully thinking her mother hadn’t been privy to her displays of affection moments earlier. Or she could have the conversation she’d been putting off since she noticed two innocent teenagers shifting their relationship toward something more romantically involved. 

“P! How about I bring the cake to you?” 

A door down the hallway creaked open. “Okay. That works. Thank you!” 

Nodding, Rosalyn took a deep breath and sent a silent prayer to God. She’d chosen the tough route and would need all the Lord’s support she could get.

------

Reply if you'd like to be tagged in future work!

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @ghostfacekill-monger @nyifly22 @kaylalb @literallegendicon @dee-deelovesyouu @drdimplesj

[chilschuck]

AAAA i love your blog!! could i pls request a post-canon scenario where chilchuck finally admits his feelings for reader now that they’re not co-workers anymore >_< (assuming reader joined the laios party during the story)

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WAAAAH ANON i’m so happy you love my stuff!! i LOVEDDD writing this for you, and i have another request in my askbox that’s similar that i’m going to do as well! this was super fun, and i found myself enjoying this idea and coming up with things i could do with it!!! i hope you enjoy!!! <333

— SHELTER: chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none, sfw fluff!! takes place post-canon.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1745 (got carried away again…)

✦ i’m scared to reread this, but right now I’m actually happy with it!! i hope you are too!! <333 i tried my best to keep spoilers to a minimum, and to make this fun to read!! also, the title comes from the song shelter by ray lamontagne, which i listened to while writing it. i hope you enjoy!!!

With your party’s adventure finally over, you had decided to try and finally settle down as much as you could. With everyone finding their own new place in life, you did your best to find one too.

You couldn’t deny it had been rather lonely lately. Your own home was empty, a small place you had tried your best to make feel cozy. With your old party members living their own lives, you hoped you could live yours. But evidently, no matter how hard you tried, your mind always went back to him.

It was a bittersweet feeling; imagining him finally living healthily, working on helping others, and even maybe starting up that shop he talked about wanting. It wasn’t like you never saw him, but going on with every day life without him felt… mundane.

Chilchuck was working on himself, reconnecting with his family, and building the future he had hoped for. That alone helped you feel as much at peace as possible. Your feelings, to you, were not nearly as important as his own happiness. So here you waited, counting down the days you’d get to see him again. Maybe he’d be happy to see you too.

Little did you know, Chilchuck was devastatingly nervous. Buttoning up his shirt with shaky fingers, he tried his best to look as decent as he possibly could. It was the final thing he felt he needed to move on, and he wasn’t going to let himself ruin it. Not this, he told himself. There were some things he refused to let slip through his fingers, and one of them were his feelings he had developed for you.

Through it all, you had been by his side. An integral part of the party, you had built him up when he needed it most. Looking past all the mistakes, all the cynicism he liked to cloud himself with, you proved how much you simply cared. Not only for him, but for everyone. Chilchuck had fallen in love with you, and for once, he didn’t want to push those feelings down.

He had bought the flowers he knew you liked, tied with a sweet ribbon that he felt maybe was a bit too much. In fact, maybe all of this was a bit too much, but he hoped it’d work. Chilchuck even went to talk to Marcille about it all, a sign in his own mind that he was more smitten than he had been in years. Not to mention that he had, in fact, reconnected with his ex-wife, and had gained the closure he needed to take this big of a step. There was nothing holding him back now, and he could only hope the words of encouragement he was given would hold true.

Chilchuck had visited your home before, always noting just how comfortable he felt there. You were always happy to have guests lately, and he felt himself praying that this would be the case this time, too. Fist raised in front of your door, he took a deep breath before rapping it against the wood.

The knock came as a surprise, but not as surprising as the person who was behind it. Your eyes widened, his name leaving your lips in delight. “Chilchuck, hello!” It was slightly out of breath from the sheer excitement you had to try and suppress at seeing him here in front of you. Moving to the side, you motioned him in. “Do you… Want to come in?”

One hand behind his back still, trying his best to not snap the stems of the delicate flowers between his fingers, he nodded. “Yeah, sorry for the sudden visit.”

Shaking your head, you walked inside to prepare him something to drink. “Not at all! You know me… I could never say no to seeing you.”

It felt like another of Cupid’s arrows shot him through the chest. Maybe he shouldn’t look too deeply into your words, at least not yet. Following you inside, Chilchuck found himself trying his best to find anything to look at of interest. The plants on your shelves, the well loved books on the table, the occasional trinket you had decided you couldn’t live without… Everything that made it feel so much like you.

While you fiddled around in your small kitchen, Chilchuck cleared his throat. His mouth felt dry, and to try and slow down the thoughts rushing through his head, he spoke up again. “You know… You’ve done a great job with this place. I remember when you bought it.”

You couldn’t help but smile, thinking back fondly of how proud you were. Preparing you both glasses of wine, you turned your attention to him for a moment. “That means a lot, thank you. How have things been with the guild?”

Chilchuck hummed, eyes studying a particular painting on your wall. “Good… Pretty much the usual. Things are going pretty well. What about you, anything interesting since we last saw each other?”

Other than your constant war on your feelings for the half-foot, you’ve been trying new hobbies in order to distract yourself. As you turned to hand him the glass, you racked your brain for something to say. Giving him a sheepish smile, you shook your head. “Not particularly. Here, it’s one you like. Let’s go sit, yeah?”

He held your gaze for a moment, the flowers in his hand a constant reminder of what he was here for. Swallowing hard, he opened his mouth to speak. “Yeah. But first, I have something to give you…”

Finally taking the hand from behind his back, he steeled himself as much as he could before holding them out to you. Quickly setting the glasses down, you let out a sound of surprise. Your hands reached out for them, as delicate as possible.

Chilchuck felt like his face was a bit too hot for something as simple as this, but it’s been such a long time since he’s had to really woo anyone. How the hell did he manage to do this all those years ago? Scratching the back of his head, he broke the silence between the two of you.

“They’re your favorites, right? I happened to see ‘em and thought you’d be happy.”

Although Chilchuck felt like he was doing a piss poor job at this, you felt like you were swooning all over again. You know how much he used actions as a love language, yet could you even call it that in this situation? Friends did nice things for each other, yet…

His brows were furrowed in determination, the tips of his ears rosy and suddenly you felt like maybe there was something there. Your gaze fell to the buds in your hands, freshly picked and done so with care. The smile that made its way on your features was unabashed.

“Yes, yes they’re my favorites… I can’t believe you remembered that. Let me go get something to put them in. Thank you so much, Chil.”

It was worth it just to see you smile like that. Even if he felt a little ridiculous at the action, it paid off when you held the vase proudly in your hands. “I’m going to put them on my desk. I love them…” You spoke softly, your own cheeks turning that shade of pink he loved so much. For a few moments, it became silent again, his brain scrambling for what to say next.

“You asked me about my plans after our adventure was over. There… was something I wasn’t honest about. And I want to be honest about it now.”

Chilchuck made sure to correctly word everything he needed to say. Taking time in between his sentences, his gaze returned to yours. There was something there that you had only hoped you’d seen in the past; a taste of desire.

“I want to be there for you. I know we’re no longer coworkers, so…” The words fell silent, you remaining patient through his pauses. Softly, you gave a gentle phrase of reassurance. “You’re already there for me, I know that, Chil—”

Raising a hand, he silenced you. Contemplation took over his features, that worry line between his brows that you always found endearing still making an appearance. You waited for him to elaborate.

“…As more than friends.”

Your heart stopped. Did you hear him correctly? Certainly you did, your voice having gotten stuck in your throat as you tried to wrap your head around the weight those words carried. Was he saying that, this whole time, you’ve been a goal all along? Hearing your name, you snapped your attention back to him.

“I want to be more honest with how I feel. I know how I used to be, and I’m working towards fixing it.” His deep brown eyes held a small glimmer of hope, of vulnerability. Chilchuck was trying, and he was trying for you.

Feeling as if the wind was knocked out of your lungs, you asked shakily, “You want…?”

He smiled, a small etch in his features. Huffing, Chilchuck fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “You’re really gonna make me spell it out for you? I… Have feelings for you. If you don’t feel the same I get it, don’t—“

Before he could finish his sentence, you hurriedly set the flowers down before just about tackling him. The shock of hearing him say exactly what you’d been wishing for so long melted into a need to relay exactly how you felt. Chilchuck grunted at the impact, nearly toppling over.

“Of course I feel the same! You think I’d put up with your grumpy ass for this long if I didn’t?” You couldn’t help the teasing words that followed, pulling away from him to grin widely at him. “Can I kiss you?”

Your excitement caught him even more off guard, eyes widening at your question. “Sorry, that was probably a bit too much—“

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Chilchuck tugged you to his lips in a desperate attempt to get you to just shut up and do it. You happily obliged, only pulling away to ask one more question. “How long?”

Chilchuck panted, confusion evident on his features. “What?”

“How long have you felt this way?” Your curiosity was getting the better of you, wondering just how long you two had managed to dance around each other like this. Chilchuck sighed, giving the only answer he could think to say:

“Too long.”

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <3

[sirenmoontarot]

Your next step 🌟

𝓟𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓪 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰

Group 1

For the people who chose this group, your most important task to embark on right now, is to follow your inner guidance, your inner emotions, the steps your inner persona is telling you to take. There is a sense of movement, a path you have to allow in your life. It is shown in the energies that some of you have lost your way, you have been confused, or even in someone else’s way, your view of truth has been clouded. You might be hiding from your own self and your own inner ‘’flow’’ —your flow of life— and you shy away from facing some situations of your life or reality overall. Because you are not living your life for yourself! I am sorry guys for the message, but it is okay. The cards indicate that you need to distance yourself from something or someone that is contributing to this situation in which you are so distant and detached from yourself, a career, a place, a friend, an ex... The journey involves having to say farewell to this situation, aspect or person. However, you are favoured by fortunate energies, and luck as well, ruled by Jupiter influences shown in this reading. The universe, God is aiding you, you are supported in your journey to find the necessary clarity and success you claim and deserve. It is a journey that requires your commitment but this task is part of your fated path here on earth to do this right now. To find the tools within yourself for your independence, to find your inner light, strength, compass and your own path. Some of you are in a self improvement, self growth journey and you are being given these tasks in order to move forward. You have to know that you are doing well, Spirit is saying and that is just part of the learning process for your ‘’independence’’ which also and very importantly doesn't mean loneliness, ❗️ we need nurturing, reciprocated connections with people. it means to be able to choose your own path and not stray from it, your path has the unique gifts and blessings you are given on this lifetime.

𓆸

Thank you so much for reading this post, wishing you many blessings and good fortune 🌟🪽

Support me on Ko-fi 𓇬 Psychic Readings

Group 2

For the second group, the next step you are being led to take is to acknowledge the destructive aspects of yourself, your darkness, the things you are least proud of, the aspects of yourself that seem to hunt you down, these aspects need to be faced, acknowledged and integrated and they will become important parts of your psique, in a developed and integrated way making you wiser, giving you more tools and mental sharpness to go on in life. Right now in your life you are basing yourself in outdated, old ideas and patterns that need, and are doomed to die, these are antiquated, belonging to your past self, a past conception of life, something you acquired that is no longer of good use for your current and future energy. This group is very much focused on love, the energies indicate, that the way ahead involves finding the courage to be sensual again, learning to connect again with others, attaining real intimacy with others, physically, emotionally… and learning to understand your own inhibitions (or excesses) and discovering that Love has its own way to uniting the pieces and kind of making the brew taste wonderfully. This will allow in your life the growth of flourishing, nurturing and fulfilling relationships; if you have fertility problems, this indicates your situation will heal and improve and you will be able to get pregnant; and also, if you couldn't build something stable within a relationship before, in the sense of something material or some sort of goal, vision, or general growth, like owning a home; reaching common goals and plans, bettering your life situations, this reading indicates that you will be led to such accomplishments and completion of mutual goals within a relationship, or even birthing a new life, once you work on the matters described.

𓆸

Thank you so much for reading this post, wishing you many blessings and good fortune 🌟🪽

Support me on Ko-fi 𓇬 Psychic Readings

Group 3

Hello guys, for this group, Spirit is highlighting the self-imposed bars you find yourself behind. You have an unbalanced connection and use of your own ego, thinking you are below others, or you give your power a lot to others, almost if you were always submitted to other’s emotions, opinions, wisdom. Your sense of self-esteem and self-worth lacks foundation, you are not in touch with your inner queen or king. The way to go through this is to be okay with being the traits you are so afraid of embodying, or being the ‘’bad’’ person—And I don't mean go out there and be a bad person, it is just giving yourself permission to be free. And also for some of you, to not feel guilty for who you are or what you do. Some of you need to vent, even confess, giving a voice of that persona inside of you who feels guilty. Something might have happened in the past that caused you guilt, well it is time to let it go. Letting it out, speaking your inner emotions will help you to release pressure, which is also an issue being shown in this pile. Accept that sometimes you might not be able to be perfect. Some of you might be performing for others for most time or you could be putting everyone above you, or trusting too much on others for your life choices. This has to stop and all that you have to do is to give voice and express and release all the pent-up emotions and stuff you have inside that keeps you behaving this way. Because you are in jail . As a result, relief and finally a sense of peace will come to you, opening up new and better doors for you, more calmness and inner peace in your life.

𓆸

Thank you so much for reading this post, wishing you many blessings and good fortune 🌟🪽

Support me on Ko-fi 𓇬 Psychic Readings

[robin-evry]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐐𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍 🦄🐲

The qilin (English: /tʃiˈlɪn/ chee-LIN; Chinese: 麒麟) is a legendary hooved chimerical creature that appears in Chinese mythology, and is said to appear with the imminent arrival or death of a sage or illustrious ruler. Qilin are a specific type of the lin mythological family of one-horned beasts. The qilin also appears in the mythologies of other Chinese-influenced cultures.The qilin signifies goodwill, benevolence, gentleness and integrity. Like the phoenix, the qilin is very kind towards other living beings, careful not to harm even insects and grass. To avoid harm, the creatures are reputedly able to walk on water as well as land.

( English not my first language )

Qilin!Yuu is known for their tranquil demeanor, rarely raising their voice. When they speak, it's with measured wisdom, offering thoughtful advice to anyone who seeks it. Their presence has a calming effect on others, even in tense situations.

They takes their role as a protector seriously. Just as the Qilin in myths appears to guard the righteous, they are fiercely protective of Grim and their friends, intervening whenever danger is near. They might manifest a shimmering shield or ethereal barriers to keep their loved ones safe.

Qilin!Yuu’s antler-like horns are a symbol of their wisdom and mythical heritage. They’re intricate, glowing faintly, and change in brightness depending on their emotions or the strength of their magic. Many students are in awe of them, and some even find them intimidating.

Their clothing is flowing and ethereal, with patterns resembling celestial clouds and vines. Their outfits are designed to reflect the natural world, with soft, pastel colors that shift slightly depending on their mood. They’re often adorned with delicate, floral accessories that mirror their connection to life and nature.

As a Qilin, they are naturally blessed with an aura of luck and prosperity. Their very presence seems to bring about positive outcomes, whether it’s in everyday life or during major events at NRC. People around them notice how things tend to go smoother, and accidents or mishaps are rare when they is nearby.

For example during a spell drive practice, the disk almost hit epel, but during this time qilin!yuu walk on and step on the field and the disk changes direction hitting a tree. It seems like whenever they are in the area luck will happen.

They often stumbles upon rare opportunities or fortuitous encounters. They might find rare magical ingredients in the forest without even trying or run into someone who can offer them exactly what they need at the right time. This uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time amazes their friends.

Whether it’s a simple card game or a more intense magic duel, their luck tends to manifest in surprising ways. They aren’t necessarily the most skilled at every game, but somehow, they often end up winning through a combination of unexpected turns or fortunate timing. This has led to several students suspecting them of having hidden powers, though they swear it’s all just luck.

Some students believe that keeping a small token from them, like a handkerchief or even just spending time around them, brings good fortune. This has led to them being considered a “lucky charm” by certain students, especially those who believe in superstitions or need a bit of extra help.

They have an instinctive sense for avoiding danger. Whether it’s dodging a falling object or sensing when something is about to go wrong, they can evade misfortune with ease. This ability is often subtle, but those who are close to Yuu notice how rarely they encounter serious accidents.

Their belongings often carry a bit of their luck. Whether it’s their favorite pen never running out of ink or their cloak staying clean despite traveling through muddy areas, it seems that even the simplest items they own are imbued with good fortune.

Birds and small animals are naturally drawn to them, often resting near them or following them around the NRC grounds. Plants seem to flourish in Yuu’s presence, with flowers blooming brighter and trees growing healthier. Their dorm may even become known for having the most beautiful and thriving garden on campus, with fellow students visiting for good luck or peace.

They often gives advice that seems simple or even random at first, but later on, it turns out to be exactly what the person needed to hear. Whether it’s encouraging someone to take a break at just the right time or subtly suggesting they reconsider a decision, their words have an uncanny way of guiding people toward success.

Over time, students develop small rituals involving them. Some might ask to touch the edge of Yuu’s sleeve before exams for good luck, while others leave small offerings (like food or tokens of appreciation) near their dorm to thank them for their seemingly magical influence. Though they finds this embarrassing, they graciously accept the tokens of goodwill.

They acts as a moral compass for their friends and peers. When faced with tough decisions, others often seek them counsel, valuing their insight and strong sense of right and wrong. They encourages others to consider the consequences of their actions and think beyond themselves, fostering a culture of empathy and understanding.

They are willing to put themselves in harm’s way for the sake of others. Whether it’s stepping in during a confrontation or using their magic to shield others from danger, they prioritize the well-being of their friends over their own safety, earning them the admiration and respect of those around them

They have elegant, antler-like horns that curve gracefully from their head, symbolizing their Qilin heritage. These horns are adorned with soft, luminescent markings that resemble ancient symbols of luck and protection, glowing faintly when they uses their magic.

Instead of normal feet, qilin!yuu has hooves for feet, Yuu has delicate hooves that appear as if they are made of polished obsidian. These hooves leave behind faint, shimmering trails when they walk, as if the ground itself is blessed by their presence.

Azul would try to make a deal with them in exchange for their ability of good luck, and this almost landed him being roasted alive by qilin!yuu due to azul taking advantage of students who are struggling to turn them into his slaves.

Rook admired qilin!yuu, he spies on them sometimes and witnesses their luck working, he would call them Lucky Star due to being the embodiment of good luck.

They have an affinity for fire and life magic, flowers will bloom when they walk past as well to or command plants to grow and trap the enemies. They also can breathe fire out of their mouths these fires can burn anything that became in flame with.

This fire can also be used for purification or healing, this fire can heal any injury or remove any poison as well to purify any blot or something from evil.

They also have the ability to fly, grim would usually use qilin!yuu as a way of transportation. Whenever they're upset over something. They would fly and admire the clouds and land on a mountain and admired the sun.

They have a strong sense of justice and compassion. They’re quick to help those in need and often stand up for what is right, acting as a moral anchor for their friends.

They also occasionally receives visions in their dreams that guide them in making decisions or predicting events. These visions can be vague but often provide hints about what actions to take next.

Their uniform has been tailored to their liking, it's infused with flowy and long silk to a similarity to a hanfu, a traditional Chinese outfit. It gives them an elegant movement

Malleus and them usually hang out together, they will fly around twst admiring the sky as well just to talk about their day.

Lilia being old has heard mythology about the qilin, and he will ask them about their lineage. Occasionally qilin!yuu is actually older than him being a few thousand years older meanwhile his 700 year old. He is actually surprised to finally meet someone who is older than him and more ancient than him.

Qilin!yuu grow up alone in the tallest mountains in the world, the mountains possessed a magnetic magic that camaflauge the mountain as well to prevent using magic to teleport. If there was a traveler or someone to seek for their help, qilin!yuu would come down and save them creating a myth of the qilin.

Many students would seek for their wisdom, for their advice on the situation as well for guidance. This by far makes qilin yuu a beacon for luck and wisdom.

[chlorinecake]

NO GUIDANCE | song eunseok oneshot 🧺

▹ PAIRING: softcore boyfriend eunseok x f. reader

▹ SYNOPSIS: Just you enjoying the luxuries of being next door neighbors with your well-endowed boyfie who treats you like a his best friend and a princess at the same time…

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, bad humor, kinda fluffy, kissing, SIZE KINK (eunseok is massive), oral (m. receiving), cum play & cum eating, reader has an unnamed little sister, mentions of periods and food, that’s all

▹ WORD COUNT: 2.1k — DAY 6

“Why do you sunbathe in the middle of your front yard like… every single afternoon?” You asked Eunseok upon taking the usual five second walk from your porch to his, only to find him once again in his natural habitat.

“Because,” he begins plainly, already provoking you to roll your eyes at him, “I just find that it always gets your attention…”

Your boyfriend was a strange man, and perhaps that’s what truly captivated you about him…

Slowly, the tall and lanky boy peeled his round eyes open to meet your frame, thankful in his heart for your figure blocking the afternoon sunlight from partially blinding him—

“Why do you carry that children’s book around with you everywhere you go?” Eunseok shot back similarly to your previous offense, and you find yourself taken aback by his question.

Touché, you think to yourself, and a cloud luckily moves in front of the sun now, stopping its bright days from overheating your back.

“I’m actually doing a school project for my little sister,” you started, and he quirked a shocked brow at you as you continued, “she’s still in the hospital, so I figured this I’d the least I could do to help her stay ahead in class …”

“Oh, that’s sweet then… well, not the hospital part, but—”

“I get what you mean,” you giggle in response before joining the space beside him in the grass, “thanks, anyway, though…”

“Don’t mention it,” he yawns briefly while out-stretching his long limbs on the pasture, turning his head to face you with a seemingly plain expression aside from the gentle look in his eyes. “How’s she doing, ____?… Honestly?…”

Your boyfriend’s question makes you fall silent for a moment, but only because you never even thought about the answer to that yourself.

Your sister had been in treatment for longer than you cared to keep count of by now, but at the very least, shehadn’t lost her smile yet; hopefully, a promising sign…

“She’s okay, Eunseok…” you say softly, and he simply nods in response, hoping in his heart that your answer held some integrity.

His gaze leaves your face now as he lets out a relaxed sigh, and without thinking, your index finger starts to trace a line across his hairline.

Then, with a clawed hand, your fingers sink into the threads of his platinum hair, gently scratching at his scalp as if massaging him…

“If you had any clue as to how dirty my hair is right now, you would not be touching me,” Eunseok says, but only as a way to hide his growing smile at the way you gazed down at him… eyes all soft and full of sickening love…

“I’m always touching you, Eunseok,” you say, leaning down to kiss the center of his head, “and it’s not like a little dirt could ever change that…”

Your boyfriend swallowed dryly beneath you, and the moisture that your kiss left on his skin lingers as the focus of his mind for way too long—

“Hey,” you say, and only because he’s getting up on his knees now, flashing you an all-too-telling look while dusting the bits of grass from his clothes, “Eunseok, I literally just sat next to you—”

“And I’m literally already horny,” he interrupts, hair a shaggy mess on his head as he caresses the side of your face before kissing your jaw, “I missed you, darling…”

You gave him a knowing look before asking, “Me or just fucking me?…”

“Hmm,” he hummed in thought, only to shrug his shoulders and say, “A bit of both, I guess…”

Standing up completely now, he takes your hand and guides you to his front door step before twisting the golden knob, “I have something to show inside after this, by the way, so don’t let me forget…”

“Noted,” you say sarcastically, and his hand gives yours one last tug before finally pulling you all the way inside the house, closing the door behind you two.

He leads you past his antique kitchen, through the dining room hallway, and up to the storage room right below the staircase.

“Why not your bedroom?” You ask quietly as he shoves you in the room, joining the dark space before locking the door with a key he held in his back jean pocket.

“Because,” he says, like he always did, already getting started on undoing his belt buckle and zipper, “I haven’t cleaned my room in forever and don’t wanna risk having a rat to run over your foot while you’re sucking my dick or something…”

You chuckle at your boyfriend’s words before swatting his hands from the center of his pants, wanting to take the rest of his bottoms off for him.

“You really require no guidance, huh?” Eunseok remarks with a smirk, somewhat impressed by your general aptness to get his clothes off without him even having to ask or direct you…

“Only when it comes to this,” you return, taking a moment to caress his hardening length over the fabric of his boxers first before finally shimmying them down and out the way.

He appears to be a bit shy now as his cock springs up, dangling just a few centimeters from your pretty face.

Though, you know it’s only because he can see everything… typically, Eunseok preferred to have the lights completely off whenever you two were fooling around, but you had been trying to break that timidness in him for a while…

“You okay?” You ask while kneeling before him, caressing the sides of his tense thighs as if to calm him, but he doesn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he responds by cupping the sides of your face with his hands, and they’re so large that they take up all the space at each side of your skull.

It makes you feel small and dainty, reminding you that your big boyfriend was truly a soft and tender guy at heart.

“Just make sure you take your time so you don’t choke, baby,” he finally says, and your stomach flutters at the way his thumbs smooth over your cheek as if his massive cock isn’t dangling in your face right now.

Your lips waste no time in securing themselves around his tip, and your tongue rests at the underside of his shaft as he slowly pumps your head, twitching in your mouth at the delicious warmth you provided.

His eyes flutter shut once he feels pleasure traveling all the way up into his abdomen as he makes your mouth his personal fuck toy, provoking you to dig your nails into his hips slightly… not because he’s going too hard, but because you want him to look you in the eyes as you take him.

Gurgling sounds fill the room as your vision catches sight of the little veins trailing his toned pelvis, and you swear you feel yourself getting wet just from sucking him…

His body had always been a visual feast for you, especially when his facial features were taken over with a look of lust that complemented his beauty perfectly.

You feel like your hands could go on forever as they keep caressing his thighs, the expanse of his limbs extending farther than your arms could ever reach.

“Fuck baby, you’re taking me so well,” he grunts while thrusting his hips into your face, and it doesn’t take long for his hands to leave the side of your head, noticing how eager you were to take over now.

You release your head with a wet smack, jerking the base of his slimy cock as you know you won’t be able to fit it all into your mouth given how hard he was.

Going back in, you manage to deep throat about half of his length, using your palm to stimulate the rest of it…

He’s leaning back against a shelf as you continue to blow him, and he can’t help but throw his head back at the feeling of his tip hitting the gummy pallet of your throat.

“Mmm,” you hum around his cock, and the vibrations make his hips chase his orgasm desperately, thrusting up into your mouth as a bit of spit drips along his balls now, making him feel all dizzy.

“Ahhh~ just like that, baby… ‘m gonna cum,” he mumbles through a whiny grunt, and you speed up the strokes of your hands and the bobbing of your head until you finally feel it; his creamy load bursting in your mouth as his hips stutter before you, twitching from the intense pleasure.

He’s biting his lip so hard that it makes him wince even more, but only because your soft, glistening lips keep pumping him, and the continuous stimulation makes him feel weak in the knees.

“Baby- fuck… n-not too much,” he groans in a deep voice that rumbles all the way to your mouth, and his eyes look so vulnerable to you, even though he’s looking down from so high…

You finally release your mouth from his pulsating cock, a bit of his cum dribbling down the corner of your mouth that he helps you clean up with the tip of his cock before shoving it back into your mouth.

He mutters a praise under his breath that you don’t quite catch over the sounds of your soppy mouth sucking him dry, his large hand stroking over your head again until eventually pulling you away, and leaning down to kiss you… hard…

The two of your tongues intertwine as he whispers, “you’re too good to me, ____,” against your lips, but it doesn’t last for long as he doesn’t wanna get himself hard all over again.

You stand up to meet him where he stood, and he braces you with a hand to your lower back, knowing that your legs likely felt a bit numb from being on your knees for so long.

“Should I…?” He begins, letting his free hand trail from the center of your breasts and down to your core where he presses on your clothed clit with the pad of his two fingers.

You jump a bit at the feeling, knowing deep down that you’d love to have your boyfriend fuck you to tears with just his fingers, but you had to decline his offer for one, small, inconvenient reason:

Your period—

“Maybe another time, Eunseok,” you smile, standing up on tippy toes to kiss the corner of his lips now, and he somehow knew exactly what was going on with you…

“Yea, in about five more days, I’m guessing,” he returns with a smirk, and you playfully smack his shoulder, following in his steps as he leads you out of the storage room and into the kitchen where you both wash your hands.

Sitting at one of the barstools around the counter, he pours you a glass of your favorite tea before sliding it to you barista-style, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him… like you always did…

“You told me not to let you forget, so here’s your reminder,” you say plainly, right before taking a sip from the cup, and it’s like a lightbulb goes off in his head at your words.

“Oh right!” He exclaims, walking over to the kitchen pantry before opening it up to pull out a small woven basket tucked into a clear plastic bag with a bow to keep it closed.

You could hardly make out what was inside the basket until he plopped it on the countertop, letting you take a closer look.

“These are for you,” he begins to say, just as your eyes catch sight of the twenty-some candy bars staring back at you—

“This many?” You ask with widened eyes.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he continues, chuckling a bit at your reaction, “but I meant for you and your sister… I know how much you both like chocolate, and I figured it’d be nice to bring you two a little extra joy during this time…”

“Wow… this is really sweet of you, Eunseok, but… the doctor said she’s not allowed to eat sweets while hospitalized—”

“Just make sure she doesn’t get caught with it, then,” your boyfriend interrupts matter-of-factly, making you stare back at him with a knowing expression. “C’mon, it’s not like chocolate put her in a hospital bed to begin with, so relax… just one little piece and she’ll still be fine, ____… alright?” He asks, but it’s more so of a proclamation than a question.

“Alright,” you agree eventually, right before getting up from your seat to give him a proper hug now…

“What’s this for?” He asks, slowly letting himself wrap his arms around you.

“For everything,” you sigh, holding him a little tighter as the sunlight from outside leaked through the kitchen curtains, “anddd because I’m sure you’ll be a bit upset when you find out that I haven’t told her that we’re dating yet…”

⋆♱✮ Thank you to everyone who made it to the end of this fic, concluding DAY 6 of my Kinktober Event !! If you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408

@crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg

@d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh