#Nexus Eye Care

[dw-flagler]

just found this fallout modder guy who does The World's Most Fucking Insane Retextures of random fallout models apparently on a whim. Dude WHAT are you doing making free fallout mods. Like i feel like i should make this my desktop wallpaper or something.

these models are literally more detailed than my human eyes

[dankovskaya]

Couples that sacrifice fragments of their basic humanity together stay together excepst for maybe when they don't idk

[drchameensamarawickrama]

A Comprehensive Guide to SMILE Surgery for Vision Correction 

Discover everything you need to know about SMILE surgery for vision correction in our detailed blog. From understanding the process to post-operative care, this guide provides valuable insights to help you navigate your journey to clearer vision.

[undeaddrabble]

IDOL DAILY - New Issue!

(The Amazing Digital Dance Rush AU by @nobody-nexus!)

I finally managed to get my hands on this thing! You wouldn't believe how long it took.

Anyway, I can finally show what's important here...

The info? Nah, don't be silly.

The photos from the photo shoot!

Wow... this sure was a surprise... but a pleasant one! They really outdid themselves this time... can't wait to see what else they got planned in the future!

... Still here? Cool.

Here's something extra <3

After the photoshoot, Jax invited Zooble over to his place. Wind down after all the trouble.

Normally, they would’ve just said no and moved on with their day, but, this time around… why not?

Maybe they’d get some answers. Some stuff didn’t add up.

Zooble looked out the window with contempt.

They glanced down at the crowd of faceless fans screaming their and Jax’s names, singing praises and begging for more.

Those poor fools.

They would never have enough.

They were all just NPCs anyway. It hardly mattered.

But their staring and their screams were still unnerving and grating to Zooble’s being.

They simply closed the curtains, then turned around, and were met by the oversized lagomorph laying down on a fancy couch, drinking wine.

Being at the top of the leaderboard had its perks.

Had the whole place all to himself…

What an ego freak.

“See?” He threw his head back. “I told you the fans would go crazy over this collab.” He took a sip out of his wine and then spread his arms wide. “They’re eating it up!”

Zooble sighed and rolled their eyes. 

“As if that’s even a surprise. They’ll eat anything up.” They sat down on a different couch, keeping their eyes on the rabbit. “If you had collaborated with anyone else it wouldn’t make a difference. You’d get the same result.”

Jax went quiet as he closed his eyes, then sipping his wine again.

“Hmm… maybe you’re right.”

He snapped his fingers and pointed at Zooble.

“But aren’t you glad I picked you out of everyone else?”

Was he expecting them to be thankful?

It wasn’t like they asked for it.

It came out of nowhere.

They squinted silently.

“…Why? You know I don’t even care about the numbers. Or being popular for that matter.”

He spun his drink in his hand, reflecting on his actions for a moment.

It was almost like he wasn’t expecting them to ask.

“I dunno…”

He glanced at Zooble, giving a light shrug.

“Maybe I just felt like being nice?”

The room fell silent for a while.

“…Felt like being nice.”

Zooble repeated his words back to him.

It even felt wrong to say it out loud. They immediately dismissed it.

“Yeah, right.”

Jax simply chuckled.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

They shook their head.

“I have no reason to.”

Jax pretended to be offended, gasping and clutching at his chest. What a drama queen.

“Wow, Zooble. I’m hurt.”

They rolled their eyes once more.

“Psh.”

They got up from their seat, walking over to the bar to pour a glass of wine of their own. “…Whatever.”

[gamesetart]

hngnngngnng sweet and easy universe……

need Pat to fuck you and tease you about how he knows you’re thinking about Art even while Patrick is stuffed deep inside your little pussy. He’s so mean, teasing about how Art isn’t going to be as deep as he is, he’s not going to know what the fuck to do with pussy this tight, this wet, this sweet.

It’s adorable that you don’t even care that Art’s not going to fuck you better than Patrick can. You’re in love with each other. But Patrick doesn’t have to love you to make you feel good, he just has to love your pussy <3

Well yes! 😁🫶

well. yes. (again, had to break the laptop out for this ur so yummy)

"a terrible sweetness" (a patrick interlude)

tags: patrick zweig x fem reader, p in v, mild daddy kink, implied patrick zweig x art donaldson, implied art donaldson x fem reader. nsfw. minors DNI.

You didn't ever mean to fuck him more than once. Patrick was supposed to be a hookup, a momentary balm to soothe your seemingly insatiable need. He's a frat party fever dream, a fantasy through amber-coloured glass. And he's a saved contact on your phone and a text message at one in the morning:

patrick (frat) 1:47 am

in town, wyd?

So you start to fuck him a little more regularly. With Art's permission, of course, you're a lot of things, but you're not a cheater, for fucks' sakes. It's weird for Art, grabbing lunch with Patrick knowing he's been inside Art's girlfriend, and probably will again before his weekend visit is over. But he almost likes it. Because that's his Patrick and his girl. You've managed to inextricably connect two of the most important people to him, and by having both Tashi and her boyfriend, you've tied the final knot. The four of you, all tied together because you can't keep your pretty hands to yourself.

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" Patrick taunts, scissoring his fingers open inside you.

Some days, he doesn't bother with much prep - the tight feeling of him bullying inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the sheer size of him, is dizzyingly addictive - but there are nights where it's like he can read your mind, and he finds sick satisfaction in drawing things out so he can tease you. About Art, his Art, his sweet Artie, your lovely, doting, idiot boyfriend, who, for all the goodness in the world, wouldn't ever be able to fuck you like Patrick does.

And he likes knowing he's caused all of this. Patrick knows Art better than Art knows himself. Fucking you is like fucking a part of Art by proxy, and the fact that you're both thinking about him is almost laughable.

"I'm always thinking about him," you return, balling your hands up in your sheets.

He's got you splayed out on your bed, his body between your spread legs, his hand reaching between your bodies to fuck in and out of you with two quick, strong fingers. Patrick's head is right above yours - you could have kissed him, if you wanted. But that's not really what he's for, sweet presses of lips while you 'make love'. Patrick is for the clash of teeth and tongues while you fuck. His eyes are impossibly beautiful, bluish green, the pupils ringed with a sunburst of hazel and gold.

"So am I," Patrick spits back, and it makes you clench around him, hearing confirmation of that single unifying detail, the single nexus between the two of you.

Art.

"But he can't fuck you like I can," Patrick continues roughly.

He pulls his fingers from you, much to your disappointment. (And excitement: not cumming on Patrick's hands just means you'll cum more around his cock.) He brings the slick, shiny digits to your lips, smiling roughly at you.

"Clean that off for me, will ya, doll?"

Patrick likes that he can treat you in a way he can't treat Tashi. She's a lot of things, but she won't let him degrade her. Not the way he degrades you; he's using you as much as you're using him, and he won't let you forget it. He likes that when he holds his fingers up to your mouth you suck them willingly into your mouth and swirl your tongue around him to really make sure you're licked all of yourself off him, likes that you seem genuinely disappointed when he takes them away. Like a dog losing it's favourite toy.

He lines himself up, dragging his cock meaning up and down your slit. Kisses it against your clit, slaps it there for good measure. You moan, eyes fluttering shut, rolling back in your skull. Patrick knows what he's doing, always does. Patrick knows how to fuck. Patrick knows how to make you feel so, so good.

His palm slaps across your face, not very hard, just as a reminder. The crack of skin forces your eyes back onto his smug face.

"No, no, keep your fucking eyes open," he goads. "I want you to look at me, and think about him, when I fuck you."

It's with that promise that Patrick finally spears himself in you, all at once, bottoming out in one rough, steady thrust. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes open as you all but scream, walls stretching to take him, clenching around his cock when he finally lands home. He gives you no time to adjust, though, pulling out again, almost all the way, and slamming back in.

"He couldn't fuck you like, this could he?" Patrick groans. His eyes are half-lidded and his pupils are blown so wide they look black. Lust. That's all this is. That's how you like it.

"N-no," you gasp, rolling your hips up to meet him. "Not like this, fuck, you feel so good."

"Yeah, I do," Patrick says, dragging a hand down your body to palm at your tits, rolling one nipple between his fingers.

The thing about Patrick is he fucks you like he doesn't care about you. Which, to an extent, he does, you're dating his best friend and you've slept with his girlfriend and you're actually really funny and smart and interesting so he can see why Art likes you, but Patrick isn't in love with you. You both know it.

"So good, so fuckin' good, god, you fuck me so good, you're so big," you chant helpfully.

His hips move with a fluidity that is almost mesmerising - strong, fast, powerful. He's a hurricane. You can't bend Nature to your will, but if you're very clever, you can learn how to move with it, to learn to ride the waves, match the tide. That's what you have with Patrick. Organised Chaos.

"He wouldn't know what to do with all of this," he pants. "And when he does fuck you, you're gonna miss me. Because no one's gonna fuck you as deep, no one's gonna take care of this sweet little princess pussy like I do."

The idea of that gets you both going. For Patrick, it's the idea of Art's sweet, blushing face, his fumbling hands, his shaky moans, moans Patrick's become too familiar with at the Academy, the late nights when Art thinks no one can hear. But Patrick can. Patrick always can. For you, it's the idea of the tables turning. It's the horrible, taboo idea of Art finally, finally fucking you, and getting a reminder of Patrick. You can practically see him in your head, the expression he had when he was fucking himself into your sheets.

You know Patrick's right, and it hardly matters. You're in love with Art, not Patrick. One of these days, you'll probably marry him, (he's won you over to the idea, honestly, the whole kids and a house life. With Art, the idea becomes sweet.) and you'll have a gorgeous wedding and his ring on your finger. You're not going to marry Patrick, he's not for that. He's for this. For the now - college dorms and too much beer, texts too late at night or too early in the morning. So you tell him.

"Yes, yes, fuck, you're so good," you whine, and every word comes out shaky and fucked. "No one's ever fucked me so good, only you, Patrick, only your cock, god."

"Yeah, that's it, baby, tell me how good I fuck you," Patrick moans. "Tell me how well I cuck your fucking boyfriend."

That's it. That's all it takes for you to cum around him, because it's gross, and it's a fucked-up thing to say, and it's so mean, and you're trying to picture Art saying something like this to you, doing something like this to you, and you can't. Patrick fucking laughs when you clench around him, shaking. But he doesn't stop. He fucks you straight through it, and then he just keeps going. It's unfair, the fact that he has the stamina of a fucking race horse when he wants it. You've had nights where you've cum four times before he's cum at all, and by the end of it you're only half there.

You don't really have words, but you try. What comes out is a broken, "Patrick-- fuck, Art-- can't-- fuck."

"I bet he wants to put a baby in you," Patrick teases, slamming in and out like he wants to break you. "Bet he wants you to make him a daddy."

He's starting to think maybe he's thinking of Art while he fucks you, too. Keeps seeing images of Art in his head - Art writhing under him, Art begging for him, Art's voice, not yours, chanting, "fuck, yes, daddy, daddy, fuck!"

Patrick slips one hand down to play with your clit. It makes you sob, voice climbing another octave. Your whole floor probably hates you. Your RA probably hates you. Your neighbours definitely hate you, and maybe they hate him too. They're probably all jealous.

"Come on, doll, you've got another one. Cum on my cock. Pretends it's Art's."

He's kind of pretending your cunt is Art's ass, so you'll at least be even. You sob, legs shaking, hands fisting in the sheets so hard they might rip. It's good, so good, too good. Your entire body is on fire. You're clenching around him, and it's like every thrust drives his cock right up into your cervix.

You gush around him right as he fills you up. You're on the pill, of course, but for a moment you pretend you aren't, pretend it's Art emptying his balls into you, filling you up, pretend you're making Art a daddy. It's a nice thought.

You're never going to marry Patrick Zweig. It's probably why he fucks you so well.

[ddarker-dreams]

Epilogue.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, codependency, Blade's love language is committing murder for you. Word count: 1.5k.

Nexus index.

“You went overboard.”

Blade doesn’t respond.

You know he heard you. He’s lucid enough to comprehend your words, but that doesn’t mean he’ll acknowledge them. Not when he’s standing there, parsing through his frenetic thoughts, which must feel more like a distant dream than reality. This is how you’ve come to understand his mara. It’s a capricious affliction, despite how adept you’ve become at soothing it.

This burden isn’t yours alone to bear. Blade has his part to play. He has to at least, on some level, want to ward off the beckoning madness. Your psionic abilities lay in amplifying base desires, not writing over them. Usually, this isn’t a problem. Usually, you both prefer he retains control instead of leaving a trail of contorted corpses in his wake.

Today, however, was decidedly unusual.

The nature of your new ‘work’ invites risk. Danger has never been a stranger to you — there was a reason why leaving the LOTUS-EATER’s premises was discouraged. This daunting acquaintance loves seeking you out. The feeling isn’t mutual, regardless of how successful the attempts are. It’s the aftershocks that you dread most. In the moment, everything happens so fast, there’s no time to be afraid until you reflect on it later.

Nona would tell you that what’s done is done, no point in dwelling on it further.

Lear would suggest you exercise more caution in the future, whilst barely being able to hold back tears of relief that it wasn't worse.

They aren’t here, though, you think. I only have him.

You swivel around on the kitchen island’s barstool to examine Blade like he’s examining you. He’s wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist as his clothes were dirtied beyond saving. Water trickles down the contours of his scarred, lithe body. The scent of orange and vanilla wafts in the air beside him, courtesy of the safehouse’s shower, no doubt. You prefer that over the metallic miasma which clung to him previously.

His crimson eyes pierce through the dimly lit room. You can’t decipher his expression, nor do you care to. What matters is that he gives some reassurance there won’t be a repeat of today’s incident. Knowing him, however, that’s too much to ask, but you’re starting to wonder if sweet lies are kinder than the truth.

Blade’s predatory gaze pauses at the fresh bruise on your forearm. What he doesn’t reveal outwardly is more than made up for by the sickening wrath his mind emanates. You wince beneath its intensity, a reaction he ignores, surprisingly, as he’s too focused on the hand-shaped indent. It isn’t until you inhale sharply that he snaps out of his reverie and the pressure in the room lessens.

While you rub your aching temples, he approaches, slinking forward like a stray cat. Though he viciously defends you as a guard dog would, you think he shares more similarities with the feline species. He bristles at anyone’s touch but yours, silently stares until you give him attention, and would gladly lay a pile of his kills at your feet, seeking approval for the macabre offering.

There was a time you’d voice this musing to observe his displeasure.

That time has long since passed.

Blade’s calloused fingertips run over the bruise, light enough to spare you any pain.

“Are there more?” he asks.

“I haven’t checked,” you shift back to rid yourself of his touch. His eyebrows pinch together, forming creases. “Is that really all you have to say?”

He’s glowering now. You don’t know what displeases him more — your avoidance of his touch, irate tone, or the condemnation hitherto left unsaid.

“You would’ve had me show mercy to your attackers?”

Blade enunciates the word mercy with every ounce of contempt one would regard their mortal enemy with. Now you’re beginning to better understand why getting him under control was such an ordeal. You encountered every possible resistance when attempting a link with him, a phenomenon you hadn’t experienced since that fateful day in The Lounge’s private room. He was always so receptive to, well, you, oddly pliant to your whims so long as you framed them right.

“You didn’t need to—” your throat goes dry, as the sights, sounds, and smells from earlier resurface, “—Need to…”

Fucking terrify me.

Sometimes, you forget on purpose.

You forget so you can drunkenly ramble anecdotes about your strangest clients over drinks, let him teach you the steps of weapon forging, and not struggle when he pulls you into his chest at night.

You forget so that your resentment can stay suspended in time, never growing past a point that’d suffocate you.

You forget so you can remember how to live.

Streams of sunlight sneak past the room’s blinds. You reach out, as if to catch it, allowing the beam to settle on your hand. The closest star to this planet — Varsig — is named the Spectator. The planet’s earliest inhabitants once thought the giant orb to be a god’s eye. Following their every movement, scrutinizing their every decision.

In the current year of 2157 AE, few still believe this superstition.

You understand where those ancient civilizations were coming from.

Eris’ eternal night hid wrongdoings behind a silvery veil. Stars, however, ensure you witness everything. Every misstep, shame, and regret is crystal clear. There’s no questioning the integrity of what you see. It burrows into your memory where it intends to remain forevermore. You’re reminded again and again that you’re no longer an Exalted Arbiter, but a means to an end for the universe’s most notorious criminal faction.

Either way, it’s a glorified transfer of ownership.

Still. At least then you had Loopy, Nona, Lear—

“You’re thinking about him.”

You freeze upon hearing his gruff accusation. Swiftly, perhaps suspiciously so, you turn the faucet of your thoughts off. Too much slipped through in your carelessness. Blade might not have your level of experience when it comes to decrypting the minds of others, but he’s spent enough time around you to pick up on a few things. The low-level link you share with him goes both ways, as per that miscreant Kafka’s suggestion.

For the most part, it’s an unobtrusive function that’s no more noticeable than one’s breathing. This prevents the continuous uptime from placing heavy strain on you. Identifying fluctuations in Blade’s mara is its main function. However, if you’re not being vigilant, a few segments from your psyche can pass through to him.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

It’s an unconvincing apology.

His mara, previously satiated from its earlier gorging, rouses. It seeks to form a tribunal with you as the defendant. This disease hates you, worships you, and longs to break you so that it might stitch you up and do it all over again.

Blade shakes his head and sighs.

The mara’s deliberation over your sentencing fades, leaving nothing but uncomfortable silence.

He turns around and starts walking away. Your eyes, ever keen in the dark, trace over the scars that cover his back. The off-color testimonies to his many battles have welcomed a newcomer, inducted into the ranks hours prior. The skin is red and angry. His long hair partially covers it — a slash made from the right side of his back to the lower left.

There’s little you know about combat, but from what you can tell, his opponents were skilled. They moved too fast for you to get an accurate count. In the aftermath, the remains were either butchered beyond recognition, or the few intact limbs so spread out, you couldn’t arrive at a number then either. Blade intercepted every shot and stab intended for you. He parried most, yet some slipped through the cracks. Without a second’s hesitation, he’d shield you from the onslaught, unfazed by what must’ve been excruciating pain.

That undying devotion is yours.

He belongs to you, really. Possibly more than you belong to him. This husk of a man who flayed the flesh of your foes and hung them by their entrails. Only the Aeons above know what other desecrations he committed when your consciousness gave out.

Sometimes, you calm the chaos simmering in his veins.

Other times, you raise it to a rapid boil.

“Yingxing.”

His retreating figure stills. Before, holding the memories of who he once was guaranteed he’d succumb to the mara’s influence. It’s less definitive now. There’s an undeniable intimacy to it — speaking a name scratched from history. He isn’t Yingxing anymore, nor can he ever be again. Somewhere, wedged deep into a forgotten crevice of his psyche, a tiny fragment of that splintered identity slumbers.

You rouse it when you think he needs to remember the anguish of losing everything.

“Do you want to be loved by me?”

You’re plenty capable of feeling love.

You love your student, who wrestled with life to reclaim the joy it previously stole. You love your first friend, who didn’t cower away from the unruly girl who decided to change his name on a whim. On some days, you could even love your mother, if your memories deceived you enough.

What about him, whom you might spend centuries beside?

Can loneliness outweigh resentment?

After what feels like multiple lifetimes, he responds.

“Anything’s enough.”

When he leaves, he takes a part of you with him.

…

You rise from your seat.

[bangtangalicious]

nexus (m) part 6

pairing: jungkook x reader, taehyung x reader ft. hobi x reader, namjoon x reader, yoongi x reader

smut: taehyung x reader, jungkook x reader, some hobi x reader

premise: a notorious casino conglomerate took you in when you were young. you grew up alongside their sons; inseparable from the oldest, infatuated with the middle, and engaged to the youngest. after a shocking murder, a detective with a vendetta drags you into unraveling a web of dangerous lies that cause you to question who you trust, and who you love

genre: 18+ slow burn romance mafia elite arranged marriage murder mystery thriller

characters: detective jungkook, heir taehyung, ceo namjoon, arms dealer hoseok, bartender yoongi, doctor jimin, best friend/heir seokjin

wordcount: 6.2k

warnings: 18+ multiple smut scenes, oral (f and m), fingering, sexual tension, like a lot of sexual tension, a lot of subtle touching, grinding, kisses, possessive behavior, tsundere!taehyung, implied bipolar disorder, angstttt, betrayal, light yandere undertones, taehyung gets his first kiss...and some other things too ;) breast play, hella teasing, did i mention sexual tension idk taehyung is hot ok but hes also scary do with that what you will, declarations of love, jungkook tryna be sweet we been knew ig, as you might imagine this sets the foreplay for loads of smut in the next part LOL, its a lot of slow burn build up and evident thirsting over this taehyung okay im not sorry

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“I can’t lose you”

Taehyung’s words haunted you as you stared aimlessly at the tiled ceiling. The hospital room chilly, the smell of alcohol—the sanitizing kind, unfortunately—overwhelming your senses. There were other things you could be thinking about. Namjoon in jail. Jimin dead. Hobi betraying your trust.

But no. It had been Taehyung’s eyes that were on your mind—was it concern? Worry? Taehyung with emotions was a rare sighting. You were practically cherishing the moment.   

“It’s late”

The devil in question sat by the windowsill of your private hospital room, minding his own. Reading. Fingers bending the corners of a paperback novel as his eyes trailed over the pages with interest.

Even in the dark hue of the night, the faded moon seemed to hit his face just right.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Go to sleep” His answer was frank, “None of that matters until you get better”

“How can I not think about it?” You snapped. “Namjoon went to jail for me. Because I was an idiot and trusted Hobi. Bet my ass he killed Dr. Park too. I’m probably next. And if he murders me—you won’t get to, Tae”

The corners of Taehyung’s lips curled ever so slightly.

His uninterested eyes steady on the pages of his novel. Not bothering to glance your way.

“Have you ever considered just keeping yourself out of dangerous situations? Whatever it is you’re trying to prove…that you’re powerful, like your mother…that my family wronged you—all it does is show that you’re still their puppet.”

He exhaled sharply, a dismissive scoff that tore your confidence thread by thread, finally meeting your eyes.

“It’s pathetic”

You’d had just about enough of him. Fingernails digging into your palms.

“You’re an asshole Taehyung” You informed him. He shrugged.

“I’m honest” He countered. “And you’re not used to that. You’re used to being babied.” Finally setting his book aside, he walked up to your bedside, kneeling down until he was at your eye level.

“Now will you please sleep?”

The look in his eyes perplexed you. You couldn’t quite tell if he was annoyed, or if he genuinely cared about your health.

Deep down, you knew he was right. Everything you’d done had been to prove a point.

Taehyung rested his head on the armrest. Watching you intently, his eyes tired, dropping unconsciously.

“You’re the one who needs sleep, idiot” You muttered under your breath, letting your fingers run through his soft, wispy black hair. “Taehyung” You nudged him. He barely opened his eyes. 

“Get in here” You shifted over, giving him space. He didn’t question it in the moment, he was probably too tired. He didn’t face you. Kept a decent distance between you both.

You were paralyzed. Aware of his every breath. Aware of the way he shifted himself to get comfortable—you could sense the intention in his avoidance of touching your skin even slightly. His scent was more prominent.

“Do you miss your mother?”

His question was so quiet, you weren’t even sure it was real.

And it occurred to you then, that you’d never thought about it. That you’d never even been asked. In the chaos of your mother’s death, your move to the Kim’s and Taehyung being sent away—you barely even processed anything. All you remembered was Jin being so patronizingly worried about you—convincing you that he was all you needed. That you moving in with him would fix everything.

You blinked wildly. Trying to piece together a coherent answer.

“I liked her” A smile creeped onto his face. Or so you thought, as you turned to see the side of his face—his eyes steady on the ceiling fan. “She’d always get me hotteok”

You watched him. Inspected the mole on his neck. The curve of his cheek. The way his long lashes merged when he’d blink. The way the night sparkled in his eyes. The same eyes that would bend your will so easily.

Young Taehyung would give you one look and you’d give him the world. And he’d known it too.

It was so quiet. But your chest was beating loud in your ears.

You must have fallen asleep despite yourself. Dreaming of Jungkook had become a standard practice. This time, he was drowning. You were him, and he couldn’t breathe. You reached out to him as he screamed for you. He was terrified. Falling. Dying.

Breathe.

You tried to tell him. Swim to the surface. Breathe. Something chained him down.

Your eyes shot open.

It was dark.

You. You couldn’t breathe.

Suffocating you, the cotton tasted bitter on your toungue. You squirmed. Thrashing, trying to grab for someone—anyone. You screamed out, for what it was worth. Scratching at the strong hands that held the pillow down over your face.

Adrenaline surged. It occurred to you to kick your legs. You did.

Suddenly the grip loosened.

Taehyung was on the floor.

Panting.

Hyperventilating.

The pillow inches from his palm.

He was quivering. Eyes shot—looking down as if he himself couldn’t believe what he was doing.

You stared at him. Trying to comprehend. Trying to rationalize.

“Taehyung” His name left your mouth in a more accusatory manner than you meant it to. Was it a question or a plea—you were unsure. He met your eyes, and you saw fear. As if he’d been pulled out of a trance.

“I—” He couldn’t form the words. He receded into himself, moving back until he was as far from your hospital bed as he could be. Back pressed against the wall as he hugged his knees to his chest. His voice was shaking, “I don’t—”

“Were you trying to kill me?” You yelped, looking around suddenly for your phone. Grabbing it you held it to your chest, ready to call for help if he tried anything. You almost wanted to laugh—thinking for a moment that you were safe around Kim fucking Taehyung.

You should’ve known better.

Taehyung’s eyes were overcome with horror. Disgust, at himself. He looked at his hands as if they weren’t a part of his own body. Then back at you.

“Princess” He was breathless, “—I swear, I didn’t mean to. I was d-dreaming, I didn’t know”

You gulped. Your fingers curling around your phone as you tried to think.

Maybe he was telling you the truth. Taehyung didn’t know to lie to you. He was honest if nothing else.

“Come back” You let your voice soften, but your body remained tense. “Go back to sleep Tae”

Taehyung gave you an uncertain look.

You rose from the bed, the hospital gown falling loosely around your curves. Kneeling down, you met his eyes at his level. Taking the pillow from the ground, you reached your other hand out to him.

“Maybe,” You sighed, “Maybe being in a hospital is triggering for you” It was a stretch, but you needed to believe there was something. Something that wasn’t that Taehyung hated your guts. Resented you, and would go as far as to kill you in your sleep because of it.

“It is”

He confessed quietly, still not meeting your gaze.

The pout on his lips, evident.

“You didn’t have to stay”

He looked at you.

He said nothing.

“Why don’t I call Yoongi, hm?” You reasoned, “He can take you home” And then you can call Jungkook and get the fuck away from him.

The phone rang.

Jungkook groaned, shoving his face into his pillow.

It kept fucking ringing.

Knowing deep down it might be the precinct, reluctantly, he put the phone to his ear.

“Hey”

Your voice was an aphrodisiac.

He felt it straight in his chest. Awake, now. Worried, seconds later.

He rubbed his eyes, checking his phone to see how late it was.

“Y/n? Baby, is everything okay? Are you still at the hospital?”

“I’m fine.” You weren’t. He could hear the tremble in your voice, “I just sent Taehyung home. Can I come to your place?”

Jungkook sighed. “Sure. I’ll be there soon”

Perks of having a police vehicle. Traffic was never an issue for him.

Entering the hospital, he noticed Yoongi and Taehyung in the lobby, heading towards the back exit. Yoongi had his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. Seemed to be reassuring him.

Jungkook wondered what happened. You called Yoongi to the hospital so late to take Taehyung home.

He got in the elevator. He knew what room you were in. He’d been the one to bring you to the hospital, before the staff kindly reminded him he was not family—or rather, he wasn’t a Kim, and therefore couldn’t go into your room.

Then Jimin’s body was found. Duty called.

Three gunshots. He didn’t see him, but the autopsy report was eerily similar to that of his own fathers.

You were waiting at the front desk of the inpatient ward. Signing what he assumed were your discharge papers. You noticed him, eyes lighting up immediately.

Jungkook placed his calloused palm against your cheek. Your eyes were so fucking beautiful it stung him just to look at you.

“You’re okay” He breathed, reassuring himself more than anything. His voice trembled softly into a chuckle as you nodded, covering his palm with your own.

“Yeah, I’m okay” His lips neared yours, not touching, but enough for you to feel his breath scrape against your nerves.

He took your hand in his, and led you out of the hospital to his car. It was a short drive to his apartment. It occurred to him that you’d likely never stepped foot on this side of the city. The streets were narrow. Crippling houses dotted his peripheral—a faint scent of smoke through his windows.

He parked on the edge of the street, in front of an average-sized apartment complex.

“The Jeon Manor” He joked lightly.

You pouted, grabbing his hand. Fingers lacing with his.

“You know I don’t care that you’re not rich”

Jungkook wanted to scoff. But he held it back. If only you knew. If only you realized what could have been his, if it hadn’t been for—

“I don’t care where we are, I just want to be with you”

You brought his hand to your lips.

“Stop” He exhaled.

“W-what?”

“Stop saying shit like that when you won’t fucking commit”

You gulped. His stare was intense as he pulled his hand away from you, running in through his dark curls.

“Jungkook” You reached for his shirt, tugging the fabric towards you but Jungkook’s jaw hardened. He turned away. “Jungkook I’m serious”

“You won’t leave Nexus for me, you told me that. You won’t fight for me”

You tugged harder. He grabbed your wrist, harsher than he meant to. Glaring at you.

You didn’t understand. Jungkook should have known. Why would you? This was personal for you. Running Nexus was a point you had to prove, he understood that. But it was the very thing he needed you to give up. If not, then you’d never forgive him for what was coming.

“I love you”

Jungkook’s eyes clenched shut, almost out of regret. He felt tears but pushed them down.

“No.” He shook his head. Shit. He had let this go too far.

For as much as he’d wanted to hear it, it was a wake up call. The two of you couldn’t be together.

“You can’t”

Then he kissed you. His heart was erratic, breathing too. A desperate kiss, fierce with need. Your body fell limp, melting into his touch. Falling into him because he was everything and all you needed.

-

Somehow, he brought you to his apartment. Kicking the door closed.

He lifted you onto the counter, not letting you breathe—not letting you think, but fighting a sweet war with your lips. You were spinning. Losing yourself every passing second—seconds which passed so slowly as the moment consumed you.

His hands which rested on the sides of your hips, crawled beneath the hem of your shirt. Delicately they explored your skin, rising to the curves of your chest. Caressing your breast, he deepened the kiss, tongue pushing past yours, tangling together.

“Jungkook” You whimpered. His mouth slanting down your jaw, to your neck. Where he tasted your sweet skin and you arched into him. His fingers drawing across your nipples with intention, causing fire to pulse through you.

You could feel him pressed against you, hips locked. Rocking ever so slightly.

Your phone began to vibrate. Jungkook hissed in irritation, backing away as you answered the call.

“Y/n”

Your blood ran cold.

That voice.

“Run”

You could see Jungkook’s eyes narrow at you. The line went dead. You were too stunned to speak.

“Who was it?” Jungkook inquired, looking at your phone. Gulping, you shook your head.

“I-um—just remembered that I need to take care of something”

His fingers hovered over your waist. “Okay, I can drive you” You stiffened as he kissed your neck again. “Or we could go after 20 minutes” His voice was husky.

Run.

Jungkook’s lips dipped to your chest, pushing the hem of your t-shirt up. Leaving pronounced kisses on every inch of skin he could find.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

You squinted behind him. There was an old family photograph hanging on the wall.

Two young boys. A father.

Their suits. Well-tailored. Designer.

Your breath hitched, Jungkook’s fingers slid across your slit.

“I love you baby” He mumbled as his lips returned to yours. “So fucking much, I almost hate you for it”

Two boys. A father.

Two.

“You’re an only child, right?”

Jungkook’s actions halted.

“Yeah,” He wiped his lips, “My mom died when I was young.”

“Any, other relatives…?” You slid off the counter carefully, pieces in your mind beginning to fit together.

Jungkook’s face hardened. Jaw stiff.

“Did Jimin say some bullshit to you?”

Oh God. Jimin had been hinting at some connection between Jin and Jungkook all along. You thought it had been a joke. A way to toy with Jungkook’s head.

That day. After you fucked Jungkook for the first time. Jin saw him. Jin knew him.

What if Jimin had been right? What if he had been the only one who was truly looking out for you all along?

“Did you kill Jimin?” The question had no sound. The air was still. The two of you, frozen in time.

“Come on, Y/n.” Jungkook sighed, “Jimin got what he deserved, but no I did not. He hurt you. He’s insane”

You flinched when he reached for your wrist.

He knew you figured it out.

You stepped outside the apartment. Running down the steps until you were back on the street. Outside Yoongi stood, leaning against the stone wall across the street as though he were expecting you.

“You knew” Was all you said.

Yoongi sighed, “I knew about Jungkook, but I needed to make sure if my hunch about Jin was true.”

You laughed bitterly. “That’s why my mother hated Jin. Because,” You couldn’t even say it. It made you want to vomit.

“Jin is a Jeon”

You blinked back tears. “But, why would he kill his own father?”

“Unless, he didn’t”

“Oh my God. You think…” You exhaled, feeling weak again. Yoongi held you upright. “Taehyung?”

He shrugged lightly, “It’s possible. More believable that a mother sends away the son who killed her lover than a son who simply witnessed something”

You were silent.

“You need to be careful” He made his voice as soft and kind as he possibly could. “I know about Hobi, but I’m honestly more suspicious of Jungkook.”

You nodded. The sun seemed to peak out from the horizon. A new day. A new betrayal.

Then the sound of the voice on the phone hit you. Run. So familiar. Like a ghost.

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah love?”

“Did you call my phone earlier?”

He shook his head. “No…why?”

“You’re back early” Taehyung answered the door, “Figured you’d spend the whole night with the Detective” His bland tone seemed to have been revived. You were too bewildered to care. You pushed past him, Yoongi following behind. Taehyung greeted him nicely. “Hyung”

You slumped into the couch immediately. Hand on your forehead as if it would ease the pounding.

Yoongi watched you, concerned. Taehyung looked to him for an explanation.

“So listen,” Yoongi cleared his throat. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but we still need to stay focused on pushing Hoseok out. The shareholders will be at the casino this evening for the anniversary gala”

“Yoongi” You laughed bitterly, “I don’t want to—”

“Y/n,” He responded, adamant, “This is what it’s like. You can’t hide just because shit’s hard. You’re not Jin’s princess anymore, you have responsibilities if you want back what’s yours. Taehyung isn’t ready to handle society on his own. He needs you”

A tear rolled down your cheek.

“Get some sleep” Yoongi rested his hand on your shoulder, caressing it gently. “It’s 7 AM, you’ve got plenty of time to get yourself together” His gaze diverted to Taehyung. “Black tie formal. I’ll send a suit for you. Make sure this one starts getting dressed at least 3 hours before we leave—she takes forever”

You let out a sad laugh, knowing Yoongi was trying to cheer you up but failing epically when all you had was a broken heart and impending doom.

Yoongi left, but Taehyung remained standing in front of you. A safe distance away, he simply observed you.

“You can sit you know” You grumbled.

He didn’t react. Didn’t move an inch.

“What’s wrong?” He inquired after a moment.

“Nothing,” You chuckled, “Just another missed opportunity for you to be the cause of my misery.”

“Was it,” Taehyung took a deep breath. Pausing, considering his next words carefully, “Was it him? Did the Detective hurt you?”

His eyes seemed to flash with something you couldn’t quite read.

“No” You stood up finally, “No the Detective is just another lying, manipulative asshole like the rest of you”

You walked past him, heading towards the foyer.

“I thought you loved him”

You whirled around. How he had managed to pick that up, you had no idea.

“I’ve decided I’m done with love” You stated confidently, “I end up falling for liars anyway”

You proceeded to storm up the stairs.

You were woken up by the sound of soft footsteps. Squinting, the evening sun blaring into your room, you noticed Taehyung pacing nervously outside of your room.

He was dressed.

Yoongi must have come by with the suit. It fit him perfectly. His dark hair was styled, tousled but neater than usual. His shoulders were prominent. The tailoring was perfect for his lean figure, and long legs. A gold watch on his wrist. It looked natural. He wore it so well.

Just like his brother.

Run.

“You’re awake” Finally, Taehyung stepped inside your room.

“Get dressed” He motioned towards a dry-cleaning bag that lay on your desk.

“Taehyung,” You sat upright, wiping the drool from your lips, “You look very handsome”

He blinked at you. Then walked away.

If you had any lingering doubt in your mind that the man by your side was in fact, Kim Taehyung—they were utterly dismissed. His Kim colors were shining. Despite his typical cold nature to you, Taehyung was the embodiment of charm.

Stepping into the casino, he had been initially overwhelmed by the stimulus: the lights, the slot machining whirring with bright colors, the crowd. You could feel him visibly tense even though he remained an appropriate distance away from you at all times. Close enough that folks knew you’d come together. Far enough to show you that he hadn’t forgotten about what happened.

The first few people who’d approached you had been friends of his mothers. You knew everyone well, everyone knew you. Taehyung would be quiet, shy at first, but it was that very aspect of his personality that made him alluring. He knew exactly what to say. His observant nature allowed him to navigate the different dynamics, pick up on cues expertly.

The elders respected his aura. The young were entranced by his mystery.

Every person he talked to was ready to trust him with their life. And if that wasn’t a Kim trait, you weren’t sure what was.

The only hiccups would arise when folks would bring up the past.

“Aren’t you two getting engaged?” Mr. Lee, one of Kim Enterprises’ stakeholders, asked politely, “So tragic what happened to dear Seokjin. But have you rescheduled?”

With speedy hesitation, Taehyung slid a hand onto the small of your back, looking into your eyes. There was a genuine passing of emotion, ever so subtle. He spoke, to Mr. Lee, but really—to you.

“In time” He smiled slightly. Looking back to Mr. Lee, “We are still mourning, in our own way”

“I’m sure Jin would be so proud of you”

You felt Taehyung tense at the implication. He maintained his composure, nevertheless, but you could see the turmoil stirring within him. Mr. Lee excused himself, and you turned to Taehyung, searching his eyes.

The mere mention of Jin had been pushing him closer and closer to the edge all night.

“Tae” You sighed, caressing his arm. “Want to take a break?”

“Please” His response was curt, but you could see his other hand balled up in a fist. Jin’s name had such a radial effect on him—one that reminded you that despite his ability to play the social field, he was dangerous.

Taehyung followed you to the backrooms where a younger crowd was immersed in pool, poker, and other debauchery.

“They loved you”

Taehyung merely shrugged. “Play the man, not the game” His eyes ghosted over you, “You taught me that”

You snorted lightly, as you found a quieter spot away from the buzz, Taehyung leaned against a wall, looking at ease.

“Taehyung, do remember how to play pool?” You asked suddenly as the billiard table came into your vision.

Taehyung thought for a moment. “Not really. But I’ll learn”

“Winner makes a wish, loser fulfills it” You challenged him. You really couldn’t help yourself. Being in the casino made you crave risk. But Taehyung wasn’t ready for high stakes, you knew that.

“Fine”

You start off expertly. Taehyung handed you the pool cue, the smooth wood cool against your fingertips.

"Alright, let me show you the basics," you said, positioning yourself near the table with a practiced ease.

He watched intently, his eyes following the calculated movements of your hands as you lined up a shot.

You demonstrated the proper stance, the controlled grip, and the delicate finesse required to send a ball into the pocket. With each shot, you explained the strategy, the physics of the angles, and the importance of precision.

You hit the shot expertly. With a smirk, you put down the pool cue and motioned for Taehyung to take your place.

"Your turn, Tae."

He eyed you skeptically but took the cue, positioning himself for the shot. You stepped behind him, your hand gently guiding his.

You’d never been so close to him. Not since the day you reunited, and he hugged you. And asked: are you scared of me, Princess?

Ever since then, there were oceans between you that you could only dream of crossing. He smelled good, you couldn’t help breathing in his fresh aura. The dimly lit room seemed to fade away just for a moment, and you wondered if he was effected like you were.

"Now, focus," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear, though you maintained a level of indifference in your tone.

Taehyung's breath hitched imperceptibly, but he composed himself, focusing on the game. With your guidance, he took the shot, sinking the ball into the pocket expertly.

"Perfect," you praised, the ghost of a smile on your lips. "See, you’re a natural yet again. A true Kim”

Taehyung turned to face you, his gaze intense. "Anything I am is because of you”

You stiffened. His words were both a compliment and an accusation. God, seeing this side of him made him even more terrifying, because you didn’t trust yourself not to buy into the fact that he was some pure, innocent version of his older brother. He wasn’t. Kim Taehyung was unhinged. Any second he could snap, and you were on eggshells.

“Your turn” He handed back the cue. A few shots later, the two of you were neck and neck. The ocean between you two drying up slowly with every exchange of banter.

“Done with love, huh?”

You circled him as he lined up his next shot.

“What exactly did the Detective do to make you say something like that?”

You pursed your lips. “Why, gonna go beat him up?”

With a flick of his shoulder, the ball went in. Taehyung stood straight. “Maybe. What’d he do?”

He leaned against the table, handing you the cue as you positioned yourself. “He lied. He betrayed me. And I’m tired of loving liars”

“Didn’t you also lie to him?” He challenged. You shot him a glare. “Why haven’t you told him everything?”

You hit your mark. You missed. Taehyung’s blatant honesty was always unnerving. He wasn’t one to play games. “It’s complicated. I didn’t trust him. I still don’t trust him”

“And you expected him to trust you” Taehyung shrugged blandly. He stole the cue from your hand and before you could blink, he snapped the final shot. “Seems fair”

Taehyung’s last ball went in.

He beat you.

“Well” Taehyung huffed, trying to hide his gleaming pleasure. You almost wanted to roll your eyes. “I suppose that’s that” He looked at you expectantly.

“Okay Kim Taehyung, what wish can I grant you?” Cue in hand, you pretended to curtsy. Taehyung grabbed the end of the stick, using it to tug you towards him.

The space between you vanished. Only the cue between you, until Taehyung pulled it from your grip and set it aside.

There was something unrecognizable in his eyes. He licked his lips unconsciously.

“Well?” You looked up at him, suddenly aware of his height.

His fingers held your chin, tilting your face upward. Except his touch wasn’t harsh. Wasn’t painful.

Taehyung inhaled.

Your eyes widened as he closed his mouth over yours. His eyes shut—kissing you with a depraved delicateness. As if he was drinking your soul like he was the devil himself.

A touch so tender, and yet it seemed to steal away every last bit of purity within you, leaving behind a raging storm. Activating something so sinful—so wicked. All due to the decadent taste of his delicate lips.

He pushed your mouth open, deepening the kiss. And you—you were lost. Still utterly shocked that—Kim Taehyung was kissing you. The Kim Taehyung that wanted you dead. The Kim Taehyung who blamed you for everything—was actually kissing you.

It wasn’t like you’d never thought about it. The two of you no longer had to get engaged, but you lived with the man. And he was gorgeous. His quiet, mesmerizing charm. Enigmatic, smoldering and yet so calm. Who knew beneath that cold demeanor there was a tsunami waiting to be unleashed? 

He didn’t give you an opportunity to question him. His lips felt too good on yours for you to care. The casino around you seemed to vortex—everything spinning: the colorful lights—until you were airborne.

Floating. Dizzy. Afraid to fall but so fucking glad you were in the sky.

His mouth coaxed out your fierceness until you began to feel impatient. You placed your hand on his pounding chest, a light push until he sat down on the bench. You slid into his lap, no longer thinking—no longer caring that you were in public. That there was a room full of people in the casino who could be staring. Taking pictures. Gossiping.

They were all dead for all you cared.

You gasped audibly, a soft moan as he pulled you impossibly closer. You were losing your breath. On the verge of fainting—overwhelmed with sensations. Everything was heightened—everything felt alive.

His hand was behind your neck, the other one on the small of your back. Both yours in his wavy black—cloud like hair.

He pulled away, finally—barely. Catching his breath. His chest rising as fast as yours, offset by his erratic heartbeat. He was nervous.

Was that his first kiss?

He swallowed, uncomfortably on edge. His eyes were dark with desire. An angry kind of lust.

You searched your mind for words. Something to tell him that he did so good. That you loved it—and you wanted more. He was searching your gaze for something, but you were speechless.

So you kissed him again. Because how the hell else are you supposed to communicate.

“Taehyung” Your hands moved to cup his cheeks. You shifted, letting your body roll against his. Grinding against him slow and sensual, letting your movements mimic those of your lips. He was hard—painstakingly so. And he felt so good tucked between your legs. Throbbing for you. Both his hands lowered to your hips, then back up your back as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you—or maybe he couldn’t believe you were real.

His hold was strong—not rough. Touch intentional but not desperate. He took his time with you as if he had all the time in the world, but was still somehow starved. Drinking from you was his only salvation. You—you were his salvation. And he was your ruin.

He pushed you away, suddenly. You blinked, dizzy from the loss of touch. Sensitive and damp, heart throbbing fast. He didn’t meet your gaze.

“Fuck”

You could see the judgmental stares all around. Rolling your jaw you smirked at the crowd.

“We own this place. I’d mind your business”

The chatter dissipated. You redirected your attention back onto Taehyung.

“Taehyung?” Your voice was soft. “You okay?”

You noticed how tightly he was gripping the table. His head down, looking anywhere but up at you. Eyes wide, spiraling in thought.

“I—” He exhaled, closing his eyes again.

Was he--?

You couldn’t help yourself. You knew he’d despise you for it—but Kim Taehyung already despised you. You weren’t going to pass up a chance to feel him cum.

You shifted his chair so he was facing away from prying eyes. Carefully you snuck under the pool table, clawing at his pants.

His fingers pulled your hand away. A warning glare.

You yanked your hand away, unzipping his pants and letting his pretty cock spring free.

You clicked your tongue. Poor thing was ready to burst.

Licking your lips, you let your tongue glide from his base all the way up his length where you left a soft, sweet kiss on his tip. You slid his tip into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked.

Flattening your tongue, you let his cock rest there. Like a dog, you waited for him to cum all over you.

Then you looked up at him.

His eyes locked onto yours—and they were wild.

He hissed, shooting into your mouth. You drank up everything he had to give—and it was quite a bit. He bucked over, knuckles turning white. The bite into his lip released blood with how hard he was trying to stay quiet. You let him push his cock into the hollow of your cheek and spurts continued to flow out of him. You rested your hand on his knee, and his hand covered yours. Holding it tenderly—as if he were thanking you.

You cleaned him up quickly, before returning to your seat, adjusting your dress inconspicuously.

You grinned at him, but he was not amused at all. Still panting.

“Was that your wish?” You beamed at him. He chuckled softly.

“I just wanted to know what it felt like”

It was an innocent intention. Almost heartwarming.

“And, what do you think?” You leaned into him, “Did I rock your world, Kim Taehyung?”

“You are my world. There was never a doubt”

His eyes glossed over. You wanted to melt in his gaze. Unravel. Instead, you were plunged into cold water.

“Fancy seeing you two here”

The hairs on your body straightened. Chills seeping over you at the familiar voice, laced with betrayal.

“Jung Hoseok” He extended a hand to Taehyung, “Pleasure’s all mine baby boy” Taehyung skeptically shook it.

-

Hobi was extremely amused at what he had walked in on. Of course, a whore like you would take a matter of days to wrap the young Kim boy around your finger.

“Nice job leashing the puppy” He muttered, cigarette at the edge of his lips. The smoke wisping past your unamused expression.

“I should kill you” Hobi grinned at your response.

“No need,” He tapped the cigarette ash on the edge of the ash tray. He had brough you to his private booth. Leaving Taehyung for the wolves.

“What do you want, Hobi? I don’t want to leave Taehyung alone too long”

“Why?” He leaned closer to you. His hand resting on your bare thigh. Your dress was so fucking slutty, he loved it. He always loved the way you’d dress to gamble. As if your body gave you an edge—it did. He knew you crumbled rich playboy’s resolve with one bat of your pretty eyes. “Are you so desperate for dick you’d take your lover’s little brother’s virginity?”

You rolled your eyes. “I asked you a fucking question,”

“A birdy told me that you found out about Jin’s daddy”

You squinted at him. “What about it?”

“Don’t you want to know the whole story?” Hobi’s fingers hooked under the straps of your dress, playing with them. “Of the infamous Jeon family? And your mother—the woman who tore down a legacy”

His hand slid between your legs.

“Long long ago, the entire arms distribution business lay in the hands of one famous Korean gangster. Jeon Junghyun.”

He brushed against your clit. Gentle circles while he gazed into your eyes. A wicked grin. Like he could kiss you or stab you in the back.

You latched onto his arm as he lured you towards an orgasm. His face burying against your neck, breathing you in as he continued to touch you. Nothing except your soft whimpers in the air.

The heat from his body infected your every nerve. His breath scalding over your cheek.

“Then there was this clever little bitch” You inhaled sharply, edging forward towards your high. He could tell—because he pressed a little harder.

“Who manipulated her way to the top. Gained favor of everyone under him and took him out with a stab to the back” His hands roamed your body, sliding up your dress. He pushed the fabric up until it bunched up above your breasts which he grabbed at eagerly.

Thumbs rolling over your nipples, he continued “She took everything from him, leaving him and his two sons to rot. But she wasn’t cruel. She let him stay as her right-hand”

Hobi left a soft kiss against your left breast. Then another. And another. His thumb back onto your clit, he licked and suckled you. You gasped—looking at him with big, pleading eyes. Curving into his touch.

“She grew the business. An arms distribution pipeline can be used for a lot of things. She went legit. Bought out other companies with the blood money. Began distributing just about everything.”

He licked your lips. The sensation like that of slowly sinking into absolute, soft bliss. Licking down your jaw, fluttering desperate hisses across your neck.

Then, he slipped one finger in—your face heating at the sound. You clenched around the protrusion and he reached deep inside. Working you slowly, carefully—before adding in another.

His kisses trailed back up to your mouth. His breaths were heavy, swallowing your moans. It was hauntingly intimate.

“Hobi” You pleaded, gripping onto him as you shook. Orgasm sweeping over you like an earthquake. Tremors from your heart to every finger and toe in your body. He was so wildly aroused that he couldn’t look away. His fingers were steady nevertheless, pumping you through it. “Fuck, Hobi please”

“Jeon Jungkook wants you dead sweetheart” The pain from his words pushed you over the edge. You soaked over his fingers, twitching wildly. “And so did his hyung. Kim Seokjin.”

-

The brisk night air bit at your skin as you seized Taehyung's wrist, pulling him outside. People were chattering, smoking cigars, the lights from the casinos madness still polluting the air. Limousines, sleek and imposing, formed a line ready to usher the remaining guests to their destinations.

Waving down a driver, you led Taehyung inside one. The plush leather seats cool against your exposed legs. The interior lit so you could see him in front of you, clear as day.

The light shut. Instead there were light sparkles on the ceiling of the limo as it began to move. The champagne swirled in your mind as you leaned back, looking out the window. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows. Like a rush, you wanted to lose yourself.

Your eyes shut for a moment. Remembering the way the light danced on your fac when you were with Jungkook that night at the club. Yearning for his touch, the look in his eyes when he told you how he felt.

You swallowed thickly, heart in too much pain to go down that road. You looked at Taehyung next to you, instinctively reaching out to touch his face. Gently, you took hold of his chin, coaxing his gaze to meet yours.

Your thumb traced over his cheek. Fingers dancing over his soft, delicate skin. His eyes fluttered close as you did. Teasing the edge of his lips ever so lightly. He really was a beautiful man. His lips looked soft. Devastating, with the way his shaken breath made them tremble.

He leaned into your touch, your fingers sliding up over his ear, pushing his hair out of his face. It felt like you were getting kicked in the chest repeatedly. Every part of you feeling numb but simultaneously sensitive to even the slightest movement of air.

He exhaled. The flow of his breath wavering. Or was it a moan, you weren’t sure.

You were about to pull your hand away, until Taehyung’s over fingers gripped your wrist. He stared at you, pupils wide. It was these moments where you felt like you could see him. His soft, vulnerable side, behind those concrete walls.

To your surprise, he brought your hand up to his face, kissing the inside of your wrist.

His lips softly melted into the sensitive area. Your breath hitched.

It was furiously intimate.

Holding your hand still, his eyes blinked back up at you. Almost as though he were asking permission.

Your throat was dry. The alcohol loosening the knots on your sense of logic.  

His eyes traced over you, dipping down your entire body. The way he sat, leaning so his knees almost touched yours. The leather suddenly felt so hot against your skin. Under his flaming stare.

He inhaled, steady, before leaning into you. Tracing his nose behind your ear. You shivered. His touch making you dizzy. Needy. Quivering.

“You looked beautiful tonight”

They were plain words.

When he said them, they meant the world. Something bloomed inside you. You were spinning and breathless, mouth parting in shock. His lips barely grazing under your jaw.

He backed away, putting distance between you yet again.

-

Namjoon stood in the foyer, waiting for you to come home. The moment the door swung open, you darted into his embrace. It felt like a familiar haven, and he effortlessly hoisted you up, cradling you in a desperate hug, afraid you might vanish if he let go.

"I missed you," Namjoon murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek before reluctantly releasing you. His gaze then shifted to Taehyung, pride in his voice. "You too. You look great, Taehyung. I heard you went to the casino."

Taehyung's response was measured. "Are you out on bail?"

"No," Namjoon replied with a hint of bitterness, "Yoongi blackmailed Jungkook into letting me go."

Your heart tightened at his name.

"Where is he? I want to see him”

“Absolutely not” Namjoon was firm. “We don’t know how dangerous he is. I have some of my guys looking into it with Yoongi. He sure as hell had been in contact with Jin in the weeks leading up to his murder”

Namjoon cupped your face. “But other than that, it’s over. He won’t contact you. You’re free. I don’t want you worrying about this anymore”

You wanted to laugh at the term. Free. Especially since Namjoon was already back to telling you what you could and couldn’t do.

“What about Nexus?”

Namjoon smiled, taking your hand in his. “Come with me,”

You followed him. Taehyung a few paces behind. Namjoon brought you into the garden. There were a million fireflies. Out of the corner of your eye, you glanced at Taehyung, wondering if he remembered your tender moment in this same spot.

Namjoon lowered onto one knee.

Fuck. It was one of those moments where everything was so still. So quiet yet extremely loud in your chest. He smiled. Eyes meeting yours. Brimming.

“Marry me”

Your mouth was dry. The moisture building in your eyes instead. It hurt, deep inside because your mind took you to a certain tattooed, mean and yet tender man who you had left behind.

“Let me give you everything, Y/n” Namjoon continued, “The papers. The stocks. The business. You deserve it all and I will give it to you. I’ve done you wrong, and I know you aren’t where I am. I know you loved someone else”

His proposal hung in the luminous space. His words echoed in your ears. His gaze held both sincerity and vulnerability. He waited for your response, standing up so his fingers could brush against the side of your face. The fireflies flickered like stars behind him.

“I hope someday, it can be more than an arrangement. Someday you might love me the way I love you. But for now, I wanted you to have the option. I will give you everything, I promise”

Tears blurred your vision, and you took a steadying breath. "Namjoon," you whispered, your voice fragile yet resolute. Suddenly, with the prize standing in front of you, waiting for your claim, you realized how serious your answer was. If you married Namjoon, you were signing a deal with the devil. There would be no going back.

"I need time."

His eyes reflected understanding, and he stood, pulling you into a tender embrace. "Take all the time you need," he murmured against your hair.

You could still feel Taehyung watching the scene unfold. His expression unreadable, he retreated into the shadows.

Namjoon walked you to your bedroom, and you kissed him goodnight. He urged you not to stress. To take all the time and he’d be there, waiting when you were ready. No rush. This is what you’d wanted.

So why was it so hard to say yes?

Jungkook’s face engraved into your mind. Your gut flipping. You needed to find him. Needed to talk to him without Namjoon finding out. Your phone began to buzz. Hope coursed through you. Maybe it was him.

You answered quickly, excited.

“Don’t marry him”

There was no way.

“You’re mine”

series navi | join taglist | masterlist | scream in my asks

a/n: its been a fucking MINUTE. idek how to do thia anymore, please enjoy and let me know what you think !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TAEHYUNG omfg come scream with me pls thanks

and thank you for reading you hawtie <3

[starshipsofstarlord]

norman reedus // daryl dixon

divider credits. @cafekitsune

🥀 = smut (18+, minors dni)

🍄 = requested

daryl dixon

Sleepless

On the farm, you struggle to fall asleep due to all the things that you know that surround you, from the walkers in the barn to Shane. The only thing that can make you feel any comfort is Daryl (1.4k)

Prisoner 🥀

(Early season 3 based) Winter had been a long journey for all of your group, especially you and Daryl given that there was always a lack of privacy. You find it difficult to feel at home in the prison, but Daryl is always there for you when you need him, and you have the chance to relish in a night alone - or as lonesome as a cell can be (2.9k)

Pretty Eyes

(Late season 2 based) throughout the outbreak, after meeting Daryl Dixon the two of you had always clashed heads. However when you reach the CDC, convinced you had been saved, you decide it’s time that you get along (1.4k) 🥀

you and daryl have reverted to your original positions, however your divide in getting along isn’t only affecting the two of you. it’s endangering the group, and so when needs must, you have to reconcile and make a truce (2.2k)

picking up where you left off isn’t always the easiest thing to proceed with, especially when you and daryl are still bickering. but there are ways to make amends 🥀

Throbbing 🥀

Daryl needs you, however you’re out on a run, so he has no other cure other than to take care of himself (0.8k)

Using You 🥀

you love him, you really do - he’s your best friend, however you’re scared if you choose to be with him you’ll lose him; you’d already lost too much. However, Daryl thinks that you’re using him to distract yourself with sex. It’s up to you to prove him wrong (2.9k)

Bemused

daryl becomes bemused by y/n and her affections towards him. also the story of how daryl ‘found’ his vest (0.6k)

How to Weaken a Man 🥀

you were going to get what you wanted, Daryl however was going to have to wait. He was deserving of a taste of his own medicine, after him constantly being in charge, it was time for a change (3.3k)

Cuddle Bunny

all you can do is reflect on the past as you sit by a tired and bedridden daryl, hellbent on not leaving his side. It seems he doesn’t want you to leave either, as you are the only person that sees him for who he is, in every light (1.3k)

Nexus to the Next Life

the cdc was supposed to be the start of continuing life, however after jenner has revealed that the haven of which you had travelled to is going to self destruct, you endure a battle with yourself. to stay and die quickly, or leave and possibly die slowly (1.2k)

Not Yet Corpses. Still, We Rot 🥀🍄

you were surviving after the prison fell, whilst you felt lost deep inside of yourself. without daryl, and the others that you had lost and yet to find, everything only seemed to get worse. and all was proven when the claimers interrupted your futile attempts of avoiding nightmares

Lap Girl

a series of unchronological scenarios of y/n being in daryl’s lap within part of their journey (part 1 - the first night in alexandria)

daryl needs comfort at the greene farm after he fails to find sophia again. luckily his girl is willing to give him exactly what he needs; her in his lap

there’s no better position for daryl than when his girl is in his lap 😉🥵 🥀

daryl is in mourning for his brother merle, overcome with grief and guilt. all he needs is to lay on his girls lap and receive her affection

y/n and daryl are seated on the couch in their home, however there’s only one problem; he’s in her spot. he’s happy enough to move so that she can be comfortable, but his girl has a better idea

Locked Away 🥀🍄

whilst hiding out from walkers in a closet, you grow extremely bored. the only thing to do is daryl, but you have to make sure he stays quiet

Honey suckle 🥀

daryl gets lost in eating his favourite meal between your legs

in sickness and in health 🍄

daryl is distant, more so than usual, and so you force yourself into his personal bubble, wanting to make sure that he is okay since he is the only reminder of your old life before the outbreak

parental advisory 🥀

at the beginning of the strenuous outbreak, you never thought there would ever be the opportunity to build a family. it was never safe, that was until you reached commonwealth. all you want is a baby of your own, but you are unsure if daryl would agree due to the impractical risks and unspoken label of your relationship together (5.8k)

prompts and drabbles and headcanons

“I don’ have the patience ter remove yer clothes righ now.” 🥀

daryl returns from a hunt, but he doesn’t care for what he caught; he’d rather catch you beneath him (0.8k)

“thought you were mad at me.” “it’s a hate boner, i swear.”

you and daryl, despite fighting and surviving side by side for years, have always had a tendency to get on each others nerves. the one thing he hates more than your recklessness however, is seeing you hurt

nsfw alphabet 🥀

daryl pre-apocalypse dating headcanons

sub!daryl headcanons 🥀

what it would be like to have a subby daryl at your hands 🥵😭

daryl + tit fucking drabble 🥀

daryl + doggy style 🥀

cuddling headcanons

daryl + mouth spitting 🥀 reverse 🥀

young!daryl dixon

surrogate comfort 🥀

daryl comes to your home, finding peace between your legs before you relieve his homeward bound struggles

norman reedus

Got a Light?

Norman goes to a bar after a long day on set, and he’s unexpectedly approached by a ‘stranger’ (1k)

Normal Morning with Norman

inspired by this prompt - early morning kiss - a kiss that’s a wake up call, it’s barely even a lips touching, more like they’re kissing your chin because they’re so tired in the early morning haze (0.5k)

[wufflesvetinari]

ok fine, wyllstarion rec list

the demons bade me write this. i have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings and a fabulous bookmarks list. come with me....and you'll be.......in a world of pure wyllstarion nation

note that this is like. an intermediate/advanced, 201-level list. i am trusting you, and assume you've already read asidian's body of work. you've read nothing is safe. you're reading Nothing Like the Sun &etc. Really anything that appears on the first two pages when sorting by bookmarks/kudos is disqualified due to pre-recognized excellence. (you could, however, go read them again)

are you back? good. now read:

"We Happy Few" - @geometea. listen to me. listen. i am looking deeply into your eyes. read this fucking fic. it's hard to shill without spoiling anything, BUT: wyll is a still-pacted grand duke. he used to have a bunch of unresolved romantic tension with astarion and now hasn't spoken to him for 15 years. now take that premise and add body horror, beautiful ominous surreal images, and SURPRISE BIG EMOTIONS. just trust me on this one, guys

"Crossed Blades" - @rebelontherocks. this is a...i think i have to call this a cozy sex romp. wyll and astarion are married, wyll is a busy duke, astarion needs more enrichment, astarion invents a very silly sex game by roleplaying teenage-wyll's smut books. wyll is So Deeply Into It. i love this fic for its characterization, its banter, and its commitment to paralleling character psychology to what sounds like an absolutely wild in-universe smut series (that is sketched with an impressive amount of detail and care tbh??).

"Comfort" - @acephalouscreature. short and sweet. wyll is injured and everyone expects astarion to take care of him. luckily, astarion has a dastardly plan to fake feelings for wyll by thinking about his feelings for wyll. you sure fooled them, astarion!! also featuring: astarion trying to figure out how to comfort someone by thinking about horses

"False Compare" - @jellyfishline. i'd recommend checking out their work generally, but i fell in love with this one first. wyll writes a sonnet! astarion is mean about it until he isn't! deeply in-character with an emphasis on how each of them communicates affection. gorgeous prose

"how to escape the torment nexus" - @ushauz. this series is incredibly unique, set in a fucked-up bad end where wyll is a lemure, astarion is still on the run from cazador, and almost everyone else is dead. where this really shines imo is wyll's POV: he's been through literal hell, doesn't remember his life, and is wading through his unconscious attachment to astarion like a foreign language. (side note also read Heart of Stone for a great lae'zel character piece)

"An Acorn in the Moonlight" - @anonyhex. this is one of the first wyllstarion fics i ever read and it has a special place in my heart!! it's particularly cathartic to read for Wyll reasons, including him actually getting to Have Emotions about what Ulder put him through. and they are so sweet with each other!!

"temporal displacement" - @purplecatghostposts. ok this came out like. yesterday but listen, i LOVE outsider pov of an astarion who's learned to show affection somewhat, seen from the eyes of someone who doesn't know his history and has no reason to suspect All Of That. and when that "outsider" is a dying 20-year-old wyll who just saw astarion step out of a time portal. well.

"nothing to make a song about" - @grey-wardens. for when you want something meaty and casefic-adjacent, set in a post-canon where wyll is the blade and not the duke (for once). contains bonding on the road, getting romantically snowed in together, and Symbolic Fetch-Quests.

i am also watching closely: "One of Those Prince-Types" by @lesbianralzarek and "sigh no more" by @tomorrowsrain. both are one chapter in and promise to be meaty, with execution that already feels very very promising

SPECIAL MENTION TO "Like Death (or Birth)" by The_Dancing_Walrus, which has some fraught implied background wyllstarion and is just generally completely baller. astarion kind-of sort-of accidentally adopts yenna, who got fucked up by her time as a potential sacrifice to bhaal. it works! i promise it works

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

i'm grateful you're my daughter more than anything

Post 6x09, Runaan finds Rayla as she takes care of Callum. She's changed, and he couldn't be a prouder father.

Felt cute might put up on ao3 later :b

The first moment they had alone was in the dead of the night, moon high above the Nexus. It felt fitting, almost full-circle.

On his way down the hall to the library, to get parchment to send a letter to Ethari explaining what could never truly be explained, at least not fully, Runaan spotted Rayla slipping down the hall, footsteps light and quick as a true assassin's, despite how opposite of one she was, a steaming teacup on a little plate in her hands.

She looked up when she heard him, smiling a little as her low ponytail swung. "Runaan. ...Hey." She cleared her throat. "How- how are you feeling?"

He shrugged in the enormously oversized nightshirt the lumberjack human, Allen, had lent him. It was off-putting, being out of his form-fitting, safe garb, especially in this strange, unknown place he should very well have felt relaxed in- a full moon, at the Moon Nexus, but all Runaan could feel was... odd. "As good as one can, I suppose. How are you, though? How is your human? Clem- Camel? Stop me when I get it right-"

She laughed, and it wasn't a snarky one he'd grown so accustomed to. "Callum." A smile ticked her lips upwards at his name. "His name's Callum. And he's-" Rayla looked away to the wall, the little table she elected to set the tea down on, anywhere but him. "He's okay. I think. Mostly in shock. But he'll get through it." The unspoken words hung in the air, a truth both of them hated knowing: What other choice does he have?

"He's got you," Runaan offered, drawing closer. "That's pretty damn good."

She laughed again, a real, merry one, despite the bitter undertones. "Yeah. Some cuddles and tea are all I can do until morning. Bright and early, we go to Katolis." She made a face, and at least that was the same- her utter hatred of mornings.

Just like that, Runaan found himself relaxing just a little more into her presence. No longer a little girl he felt the need to protect- Well, she would always be that, his beloved daughter once he started acting like it, but someone he trusted to have his back. Even with how much she'd changed, not everything had.

"I will be up with the sun," he promised, and she looked away. That had just been one more thing setting her apart from the rest back at the Silvergrove, during training: her adamant refusal to awaken at the crack of dawn for early-morning runs and sparring.

Good. Please, let her never be like the Silvergrove, Runaan prayed now, just as he had so many moons ago with Ethari after Lain and Tiadrin left. Let her never have the hardened heart of an assassin, the only ones the community would spare the time of day. She had an out, and one look at her and Callum was enough for Runaan to know that she'd take it and never look back.

"Well, I should get this to Callum," Rayla said awkwardly, stilted, moving to take the cup, but Runaan stopped her with a gentle touch to her wrist. "Rayla, wait." Gentle, the way he'd be with Ethari. Because this was his daughter, not a member of his troupe or someone under his jurisdiction. His family.

She pursed her lips slightly and shook her loose bangs out of her eyes, and Runaan couldn't help but remember back to her parents. She was the perfect combination of them, with Lain's braids and horns, Tiadrin's nose and face shape, and her lavender eyes unique only to her. Setting her apart. "Yeah?"

He drew his hand back. "I've never seen you like this," he said, admittedly curiously.

Rayla tilted her head, questioning kindly rather than the abrasive, aggressive way she'd always done before. "Like what?"

"Giving," Runaan said, because that was the first word that came to him. Rayla had always been kind and generous and loving, no matter how she'd hated to show it. "Kind. Loving. Happy."

She took a hesitant step closer, reaching to rest her gentle, small hand on his upper arm, blinking furiously.

"It's a good look on you." He blinked his own tears away as she bit back a sob-ridden laugh. "The best one."

Rayla ducked her head, bangs swinging with the motion. "Thank you. That... It means a lot. So much."

Runaan clasped her hands, drinking the sight of his daughter in. So small physically, but larger than life. So, so loved and gorgeous, inside and out, and he was sure her human made sure she knew it, too.

"You have a beautiful heart, Rayla," he said eventually, softly. "The most gorgeous I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. My worst regret is trying to burn it away instead of nurturing it. And for that..." A hand found its way to lay over his heart, bringing a sniffling Rayla’s with it. "I am truly sorry."

"Runaan..." She shook her head, reaching up to wipe away his tears, and they were the softest fingertips Runaan could remember, his own and Ethari's so calloused and rough. And here was Rayla, giving and gentle. The daughter he'd always dreamed of but never deserved. "Don't," she said firmly. "It was my choice. My choices. I had to find my way here on my own. In the end..." She glanced back down the hall, to the closed door that the boy she loved more than life rested behind. "I like where it got me. I'm glad I'm here."

"Rayla..." Runaan tucked her hair behind her ears, pressing their foreheads together. "I don't know what it means to you, but I am so proud of you. I love you, Little Blade. You are my daughter. I only hope you'll let me be your father."

Rayla threw her arms around him, sending him stumbling back in shock, immediately holding her back. "Of course. I'd forgiven you a long time ago, Runaan. I'm so glad you're my father. You always will be. I love you."

And he'd already said it tonight, but Runaan had spent far too much time hating and killing, and not nearly enough loving. So he hugged her back, whispering, "I love you, too."

[eyecarenexus]

🔍 What is Retinal Vein Occlusion (RVO)?

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[nishloves]

unsurity (tartaglia)

words : 1.4k // childe x reader // fluff, narrative

you were always sure that tartaglia wouldn't notice you at all; he valued strength before anything and you weren't strong— at least not stronger than him— not strong enough to be even called an "outstanding" paladin. but the day he saw you defeat a bunch of fatui agents in chess and soon got defeated himself when he challenged you, you saw a switch flip in his eyes.

you were sure that you won't get any special attention from the harbinger; he always knew that you were a capable agent but you weren't anything worthy of his attention— after all, you were just a normal but clever agent; slowly but surely climbing up your ranks in fatui. but soon, he started to observe just how easy it is for you to learn even the most complex of plans, understand nexus of convoluted theories and researches and how easy it is for you, to put those said plans in action, even leading when required to.

you were sure that childe was a man who valued strength above all; yes, he was a straightforward, serpentine and a loyal man, but under that mask of friendly-outgoing man, was a war hungry lunatic, who swore his life to the tsaritsa, who survived on the lone adrenaline of battles and mysteries to be unfolded, a brute living with lust for bloodshed, it was hard to surprise him but— for him, you were a sweet enigma, a cerulean bead sewn with green ones.

you were sure that the ginger-haired male always knew more than he let on; he was a man of many talents after-all; may it be his negotiating prowess, diplomatic nature or simply his strength— you always assumed it impossible to surpass him. but one day, when you were left in charge on account of his absence and were still able to pull off the best deal (which even he might've had problem to get), the male was sure that there's obviously more to you than what met the eyes.

you were sure that the eleventh always assumed for people to bow to him— to be scared of him, like hello, as if he's not one of the most dangerous persons in the world— but, the day you sheepishly admitted that answering to the eleventh harbinger made you quite nervous, his eyes were wide with shock. the sole harbinger who was never known to exploit his sub-ordinates, if he could, he certainly became even kinder to them— rather than tripling their training in case of mistakes, he only doubled them now. well, it was still better than the way the other harbingers disposed of the weak links to their dungeons or simply put up their 'wanted' posters.

you were sure that a fighter like "lumine" would be the one to catch his eyes— she might just be a bit above average with her brains, but her brawns, connections and integrity compensated for everything else— you wondered if she was even stronger than the harbingers— which didn't seem too far-fetched a theory, she was an outlander after all. but she also hated the fatui, without caring about about their end goal; there were evil people everywhere, no? so why would she hold prejudice against every fatui member? you wondered just why it was hard for lumine to grasp that fact— yet, you chose not to say anything, you weren't in her shoes.

you were sure that your leader was head over heels for the traveller, calling anyone "comrade" was probably the highest honor he could present to anyone. you chuckled as you witnessed one or two of their ministerings, panicking slightly as you found his eyes catch yours as you watched them but you simply bowed and left, you sincerely wished for him to stay happy.

all talents are recognized by the tsaritsa and she certainly didn't let your talent go to waste, soon you climbed up the ranks to become an official diplomat from the nation of snezhnaya, you weren't just an agent anymore. your position didn't surpass that of harbingers but, you certainly didn't need to work under them anymore- you were also shocked to know that a few harbingers- la signora, the doctor and marionette had themselves vouched for your promotion. it scared you to the core, you weren't under childe's protection now- you were free, independent- but shackled enough for other harbingers to use you as a puppet for their missions- and you wouldn't have enough authority to deny them either.

you were sure of the fact that you were fucked when the doctor asked you to visit sumeru with him- to handle political and diplomatic issues from his behalf as he works on his own research- but, another harbinger had requested of your help at the same time and the tsaritsa deemed it more appropriate, to aide this other harbinger at work. the other work wasn't a piece of cake- none of your work is, but ningguang was quite hard to please, you would pray that you never negotiate with her again.

you were sure that no one would care to console you after your probably hardest mission till date- you were exhausted- spent, your brain felt fried. so when you felt a strong arm grip your shoulder you didn't even have enough strength to shake it away- honestly, you probably couldn't even if you were healthy. you tilt your head as you looked at the ruffled red locks- they seemed fluffy. you smiled as you stared up at him. "good evening, lord," you said as the harbinger smiled at you- passing you a coffee to drink- your favorite one too! you giggled as you took the drink from his hands, to exhausted to register what was happening in front of you as you grinned at childe.

"your girlfriend might get jealous, my lord."

you saw his brows quirk up quizzically as he stared at you, "what girlfriend?"

"lumine?"

"she's not my girlfriend- neither do i like her."

you were sure that this man was devoid of being vulnerable- yet when you sat next to him as he looked over at the red sunset over the white silky stretches of snezhnaya, you could feel him shiver- if only for a second. he chuckled as he closed his eyes and leaned back, "signora hated the chilly air, you know? now that i think, she hated the wind itself."

ah, so it was about her today,

"and the balladeer would scowl at me as i asked him to spar- sparring was perfect to not feel the cold."

so it is about both of them.

you simply nodded at your ex-boss, listening to him retell stories about his past days, with smiles and chuckles all along, until he falls silent- his eyes gazing at the shadow of what was the blazing red sun.

"at least one of them is alive- i am sure of that, he wouldn't die this easily."

you stared at your master as your hand involuntarily went over his, gingerly tracing small circles over his knuckles as he smiled. he didn't push your hand away and neither did he punish you.

"thankyou." was all that you heard.

you didn't expect him to drag you to snezhnaya's market at the break of the morning- on your holiday. and you certainly never expected him to loiter around the market, asking your opinions on clothes for his siblings that you haven't even seen before. he scrambled here and there for numerous souvenirs, rambling about how he can't return to morepesok empty handed.

he wasn't so cruel as to not reward you for making you work extra hard, he bought you a ridiculously expensive piece of gramet despite your protests and wrapped it around you by himself, singing praises of how you look even cuter now, and promised you to a fairly exquisite lunch too!

not before asking you to come with him- to morepesok.

you were sure that his eyes wouldn't linger on you for any longer than a few mere seconds. so when he stretched his hand across the table and held yours, you wondered if he was the "person of your dreams", someone you would readily give your heart to. you wonder if people like him, needed people like you. because you were always sure, that he'd never notice you, at least not for long.

maybe you were awfully wrong.

[peachyfnaf]

Nexus: I am going to kill the people that hurt my family :)

The Family: 👿👹👺NOOOOO THATS EVIL!!!!!👿👺YOU'RE EVIL!!!!👿👹DON'T DO THAT!!!!!👹👺

Old Moon: I am going to kill the people that hurt my family :)

The Family: 🎉Yippie!!!💯✨Promise???✨💯That's so cool!!!!✨🎉We love an overprotective king!!!!✨🎉💯

This ask was sent to me with so much salt, but it's okay, I agree and support you KJDFSHDSF

There's a lot of nuance to the situation, but that doesn't stop me from believing the story would've been objectively better if Old Moon just.. stayed dead? he's a very funny character with an interesting story, but his revival makes his sacrifice for KC, which was (in my opinion) the most impactful thing of the entire show, completely void. Him coming back, plus KC dying, plus O.M only having been stuck in his own head for a few hours, in his eyes? I just. Find that so uninteresting and dull.

I also still hold many grudges for him for how he treated Sun, and I don't think that's ever changing. I love Old Moon as a character, but he was an abusive brother. He repeatedly beat Sun with a metal pipe, insulted and demeaned Sun's intelligence until he 'died', and ofc the whole show started from him leaving the killcode in Sun's head.

And I know that Old Moon is regretful for pretty much all of that. Doesn't mean I have to forgive him for it, though.

Nexus never did any of that. His biggest mistake was lashing out-insulting Earth and Sun, and calling Earth collateral. He tried to kill Bloodmoon and Ruin, not caring if Earth got hurt in the process, and that was wrong of him, yes, I can admit that. I love Nexus, adore him, but I'm not blind to his flaws.

But he never repeatedly beat Sun with a metal pipe. He never demeaned Sun's intelligence to the point where Sun thought he was forever going to be 'the dumb one'. He never put a killcode in Sun's head.

People are 100% allowed to prefer Old Moon over Nexus when it comes to who they like better as a character, and i won't stop them lmao. But even with all the good Old Moon's been doing recently, which is a lot, and I'm genuinely proud of him for, I just can't see him as a better person than Nexus.

But that's just my opinion so. Shrugs jkhsfdd

[drchameensamarawickrama]

A/Prof Samarawickrama specializes in cataract surgery with premium intraocular lenses, including multifocal and extended depth of focus lenses. He treats keratoconus, Fuchs’ endothelial dystrophy, and corneal blindness requiring transplantation. He also performs clear lens extraction, inserts Implantable Collamer Lenses (ICLs), and conducts laser vision correction to help patients achieve vision without glasses.

[tangledinink]

So. Leo and Donnie grew up under Big Mama's care to eventually become the infamous Gemini in the Battle Nexus... And Mikey has been raised by Baron Draxum to fulfill the prophecy... Well, where's Raph?

(treasure of the shrine) (tireless devotee) (pledged martyr)

enter -> raphael, child of the foot clan

raph grew up under the protective eye of the foot, raised on endless tales of the clan's grand mission and the essential role he would play in it. his value was very clear from the moment he came into the clan's possession as an infant, given the inherent, powerful mystical energy already laying dormant inside him. though he cannot wield any magick himself, he often spends long hours meditating in the clan's shrine, bathing in mystic energy, awaiting the day he can don the dark armor and awaken their master shredder with his life force. as per clan tradition, he was never given a name and is instead officially referred to by his title-- oblation.

though he is just as devoted to his ninja training as any other clan recruit, his future role makes him far too valuable to be sent on missions or risk combat. in fact, he very rarely leaves the safety of shredder's shrine. this doesn't bother oblation, however. he is perfectly content in his role, and proud of what his anticipated sacrifice will achieve. his faith and trust in the clan are absolute and unwavering. however...

though small children are rarely recruited by the clan, there was one other. recruit calls oblation "obby." and obby calls her "cru." they met when obby was nine and cru was ten and have been inseparable ever since, training side by side. though obby is technically considered a higher rank than her, neither of them have achieved full clan membership yet. obby will not earn his place until he completes his one and only mission, and one that he will do entirely on his own-- bring forth the shredder.

(and recruit is loyal. recruit believes fully in the clan's divine mission. recruit will give whatever the foot asks of her. but as obby's promised sacrifice looms ever closer, she finds herself harboring more and more doubt.)