#so I'm not expecting them to be permanent members

[tues-dayy]

And then she proceeded to come up with a ten step plan to woo Zero.

Meanwhile Zero:

alt version, comic close ups, and some thoughts:

I understand that paper isn't much of a Thing so far into the future, but I like the idea of Maj'el specifically having a journal she keeps hidden in her quarters. It's fun to imagine her going back to her quarters and just writing down the events of the day.

"Woah, Maj'el, what's this thing?"

Maj'el: "It is a historical artifact." *supicious pause* "That I have been studying."

*looks at the well-kept, decorated journal with Maj'el's name written in Vulcan on the cover* "Sure... historical artifact. I didn't know history was your thing."

Maj'el, well aware history is not her thing: "Yes. It's a very interesting topic."

"Oh, really? That's really cool, Maj. Can you tell me more about this artifact?"

Maj'el, a prolific liar: "I promised the Doctor I'd review his holonovels, I'm afraid I must leave now."

[Text:

Zero, in Dal's mind: DAL!

Zero: How do I... flirt?

Dal: Wait. You're asking... me?

Zero: Yes, I want to let Maj'el know I am

Zero: interested in her!

Gwyn: Whatever you do, don't listen to any advice Dal gives you.

Dal: HEY! What're you implying?]

I just know that Dal, Gwyn, Jankom, Rok, and Murf would've been so supportive of Zero and Maj'el. With everything else that went on with this season, there obviously wasn't a lot of time to invest in it, but I would've loved to see conversations between Zero and their friends about their first crush/relationship.

[welcometoteyvat]

give it up for trofin snezhevich am I right

[readychilledwine]

span it into March, Liz. Make us cry instead

You asked for it.

Pieces of You Pt 1

Summary - After losing Feyre to childbirth, Rhysand finds himself leaning on one of her friends much more than he'd ever expected

Warnings - depression, self destructive behavior, babies, grieving, loss of motivation in life, Rhys feels his spark is gone, we haven't seen into readers headspace yet

Prologue

Rhys had not left his bed in 7 days. He had not changed. He had not bathed. Dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes as a permanent reminder of the lack of sleep he allowed himself.

It took one week. One week for him to feel the light Feyre lit in his soul to go out. One week for him to feel the last of his spark die. One week of tugging nothing but an aching empty void. Rhys saw no joy in life anymore, just burden and heartache.

Cassian entered the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. It had been like this the whole time. Each day, a different member of the Inner Circle would come to his newly claimed room. They'd try to tell him about his son, try to force him to eat, to drink something other than another bottle of whiskey or wine. They all would leave when they realized he wouldn't budge, and that's how Rhys wanted it to be right now. He wanted to be alone. To drown himself in self hatred, in guilt, in anger, in the depths of sadness he had never felt before. “She's asking when you're going to come see him. She's concerned you aren't bonding with him and-”

“Tell her I just lost my fucking mate and I will see him when I'm ready to.” Rhys growled out every letter, glaring at Cassian. “She's fully fucking capable of caring for both of them.”

Cassian's shoulders fell. “Rhys, she just lost her mate, too, remember? The so-called accident in the port? The one we are fairly sure Beron and Koschei planned? He was one of the males killed.”

A moment of sympathy crossed through Rhysand's face before his own grieve ate through the emotion completely. “She was one of Feyre's friends, Rhys. Trust me. She's mourning as hard as we all are as well as mourning her mate, and trying to process it all while caring for two newborns in her home unexpectedly.”

Rhys rolled away from him, indicated he was done, and Cassian sighed, looking down towards his feet. “She's keeping Nyx alive, selflessly, Rhys. Our last physical piece of Feyre. At least consider going and seeing him.”

-

Members of the Inner Circle had all but moved into your cottage.

You had gone from just you and Wen to you, Wen, Nyx, and which ever member or members arrived to take care of you that day.

Today, Lady Death stood at your door with Cassian. They were holding baby supplies, food for lunch, and clothes for both of the babies. Nesta was a shell, moving into the home in silence and setting things down as if time was moving at a slower pace for her.

Cassian tucked your messy hair behind your ear. “I asked him to come see Nyx.”

Your eyes lit up, hope for the little heir shining in them. “And?” Cassian just shook his head, eyes beginning to water as he did.

“Is he asleep?” You nodded at the question. “And Little Mor?” You nodded again.

“I fed them both about 20 minutes ago.”

“Go do something for you,” Nesta's voice was lifeless. “We will make lunch. Azriel will be here soon.”

Azriel had become a constant companion. As soon as he realized Rhys had no interest in seeing Nyx, he had been here, standing in where a father should be. Doing whatever you needed, whatever the babies needed. Even though he was there for Nyx, he still treated “Little Mor," as the Inner Circle had all named your daughter, like he was here for her too.

You moved into your bathroom, looking at the now lukewarm bath you had drawn for yourself. It would be fine. You'd be quick. Then you would be ready to go be super mom and nanny again.

-

Azriel froze when he saw Rhys dressed in casual clothing, waiting for him at the door. He had lunch for the High Lord, hoping he'd be able to make him eat before leaving to be with you and his favorite babies. A shadow curled his ear, whispering how Rhys wanted to go see his son. How he needed to meet you officially. How he was struggling to set aside his own needs. How he was a scared lamb where a lion once stood, ready to run the second things became too difficult.

Azriel held a hand out, reaching for Rhys like the brothers had reached for each other so many times before. He waited, smiling softly at Rhys as a shaking hand placed itself in his and he walked them through the shadows before Rhys could change his mind.

-

Struggling flowers in pots sat outside of the cottage, wilting slightly from the lack of time and care put into them. A blue door sat on silver hinges, greeting them brightly. Mocking Rhysand's sadness with its cheerful presence.

You were an artist, Rhys knew that much. Where Feyre loved to paint, you used charcoal to express yourself. He also knew the two of you were fast friends, constantly having lunch together, shopping together, giggling.

You had been all Feyre spoke of when she met you 4 months ago. Her first true friend with no ties to a lover, to the inner circle, to obligations. You chose her, and she relished in every moment of your love, and from what Rhys understood, you relished in hers.

Rhys had a piece of your artwork. You had sketched out Feyre, mind and hands deep in paint, glowing towards the tail end of her pregnancy as she worked on painting Nesta rising from the Lake as Lady Death.

You had an impeccable eye for details and for making emotions readable through lines. You were a true gem to the Rainbow. A valued member of Velaris. He knew your name long before Feyre had mentioned you, but now, you were irreplaceable.

To him, to Nyx, to the Inner Circle.

They owed you. Rhys owned you. The very least he could do was drag himself out of a bed, throw on clothing, and come see his son. Rhys shook as his hand reached to knock, before scarred ones gently lowered His and twisted the knob.

“We don't knock. We just enter. No loud noises, okay?" Azriel opened the door, nodding to where Nesta sat with her hands on her hand, and Cassian was making lunch. “They must be sleeping?”

Cass nodded not turning his back to face them yet. “Little Mor and Nyx just fell asleep 25 minutes go. Y/n is Bathing in cold water because Mother forbid that female takes a moment for herself-”

As if on cue, as if sensing Rhysand's presence, a piercing cry broke through the house, and they heard a door open and then another. Azriel pulled Rhys with him to the nursery where Nyx and Morwenna slept during the day. "That cry was Nyx," Azriel said softly. "He struggles during naptime. Little Mor has a more rattle cry."

Long hair dripped water onto the wooden floorboards as a small winged figure rested his head on a bare shoulder. “I know, sweetheart,” you bounced him so softly, soothing him back to sleep. “I know you're lonely. It's okay. We can cuddle, I don't mind.” A deep huff left his mouth as he settled in, basking in the contact you were offering him.

Rhys moved like a ghost to the second bassinet where a sweet girl slept, happy and content for what he hoped was a few more moments.

The two of them could have been twins. Same dark hair, similar noses, similar lips set in a forever baby pout.

Aside from gender, there were only two glaring details sitting on Nyx's back that were the tell-tale sign of their different parents. Two glaring details that killed his mate, his wife. “And your son's mother,” a soft feminine voice whispered. “She was his mother, too, High Lord. He is missing her just as much as you are.”

Azriel looked to Rhys, calling for him in his mind. Daemati. Check your shields.

"His shields are fine. He's just screaming his thoughts like they're going to manifest into life if he does."

A deep voice finally answered, void of all emotion. “I don't think he misses her half as much as I do, my lady,” Rhys continued to look at Morwenna. A picture-perfect babe who caused you no harm.

“Little Mor,” Azriel said as he stroked her tuff of dark hair. "This is Morwenna, but we call her Little Mor.” Azriel then moved to Nyx, a ghost of a smile as his lips quickly trembled before he masked it. “You should hold him, Rhys. He might remember your voice.”

“It would be good for both of you,” you whispered. “He needs you. Look into his little mind and then Wen’s,” a pointed look to Azriel allowed Rhys to finally see you.

Tired eyes, features pale from exhaustion, a small smile that didn't reach your eyes. Your beautiful eyes. You were stunning, even by high fae standards, Rhys knew that, but he could hardly appreciate it the way he once had. There was no more beauty in his world. No more light. Feyre had taken it all with her.

“High Lord, please, holding him. Even just for a second.” You moved to Rhys, standing before him, offering so much more than just his son. “He needs you, and you need him. Just open your eyes and see that.”

Rhys held out shaking hands, taking his son in his arms for the first time, holding him for the first time. Bright blue eyes looked up at him, laced with sleep and confusion, before snuggling so closely into his chest that Rhysand felt something stir again. You moved him to the chair, forcing him to sit and handing him tissues as the tears began to fall.

He looked up to where you had grabbed your daughter before she could start crying, soothing her as well. He listened to the soft whispers of your voice, he watched you care for her no differently than you had Nyx, treating them like they were both your own.

It explained the little heir's health, the rolls beginning to form on his little body, the rosy cheeks. You loved him like he was yours, and he loved you.

Rhys looked back down, and as he stared at Nyx, watching each little movement of his chest, feeling his warmth, his happy thoughts and dreams of his and Feyre's voices, of you singing to him and rocking him to sleep. Looking at his son, Rhys realized that maybe, just maybe, there was still some light left in this world. He felt for the first time in a week that maybe, just maybe, there was still something left to live for.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tayswhp

Rhys taglist:

@tothestarsandwhateverend @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @avajustreads

Pieces of You Taglist:

@dr4g0ngirl @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @novalovi @rachelnicolee @sleepylunarwolf @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams @bunnyredgirl @fandomrejects

If your username is in bold, tumblr is not allowing me to tag you. Hopefully it will fix here soon, though!

[allbark-no-bite]

call it brotherhood (not love).

jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.2k)

summary: jake meets his match in a soldier rather than a sailor. you’re a bit more war torn than he expected, but it’s okay because maybe he is too

warnings: 18+ smut, * graphic descriptions of injuries and death ⚠️

* if you are uncomfortable with this, please don’t read

author’s note: spoiler alert, i know this isn’t the Jake fic that you’ve all been wanting but i swear that one is in the works. i’m about to go back to school and wanted to get this out there for y’all :) (ps i apologize for the lazy ending)

————————————————————————

"At ease, gentlemen —And woman," Admiral Simpson adds after a moment, shooting an uncharacteristically apprehensive look in Phoenix's direction. Payback snorts at his hasty correction, and Jake is surprised when the admiral doesn't fix him with a nasty look.

If the man's cursory show of inclusion perturbs the female pilot, she doesn't show it, and instead she takes a seat with all the rest of them. Jake turns back towards the front of the ready room, sinking down into his chair just a bit, toothpick clenched between his teeth as he waits for the admiral to address them.

However routine, this training meeting was a bit out of left field, especially for a Sunday afternoon. The Dagger squad typically had one weekly, but it was usually led by Maverick and much more informal. That wasn't to say that seeing Beau was surprising, but the man usually steered clear of the wayward captain and left him to his own devices when it came to training the Daggers.

Today the captain sits in the ready room beside the rest of the pilots. Jake watches as Bradley sends his godfather an inquisitive brow from across the room, to which the older man just shrugs. Interesting.

Cyclone clears his throat. "Good afternoon. I apologize for keeping you all, but I promise this will only take a minute of your time. As I'm sure you are all aware, the United States Department of Defense takes immense pride in maintaining one of the most well integrated military forces in the world. It's our job to work closely with other service members to ensure their safety and the safety of our nation." He pauses. "As experienced as you all are, your time here at Topgun has not reflected that."

Jake's brow furrows, his tongue worrying at the toothpick clenched between his teeth as he listens to the admiral go on. Javy shoots him a look but Jake stares ahead, waiting for Beau to continue.

"The permanent installment of your squad here at Miramar was to create a tightly knit group of elite fighter pilots who would be available at a moment's notice, and however successful that may have been, I cannot neglect the fact that comfort builds complacency. Later today, a squad of U.S. Army soldiers will be arriving to aide in your training for the next six weeks. The integration of mixed branch training units has been widely effective around the country, and it's about time we do the same here at Miramar."

With that, the screen positioned on the wall behind him lights up, displaying enlarged headshots of about eight soldiers. The first seven are males of varying ages, but none older than probably thirty. Jake quickly skims over their names and credentials, but when he gets to the last profile, his eyes stop.

The last solider is the only female projected on the screen, but even so she stands out as compared to all the other members of her squad. He can't quite put his finger on why though.

She's uncharacteristically pretty. And by that he means that to most, her appearance would be inherently off putting— even without the straight-mouthed scowl on her face. She's got a square, almost masculine like jawline that hardens her features considerably. Her hair is light, worn from spending too much time in the sun regardless of however dark it may have been naturally. The same goes for her skin, which is comparably bronze in contrast to the tan line on her forehead, he would assume from wearing a patrol cap out in the field.

Her eyes are wild.

And that's when it hits him.

She'd been all over the news just a few months ago. Something about a patrol gone wrong out in the Middle East, which ultimately turned into a high stakes rescue mission to extract the surviving soldiers. They went in hoping to bring back nine men and came out with one. Apparently they didn't even get to recover the bodies.

Jake can't imagine what that'll do to a person.

Before he can stare at her profile any longer, Cyclone quickly clicks off the projection and the image disappears. This time he appears almost nervous as he stares back at them. "These soldiers are recently returning from a deployment in the Middle East, so I trust that you all will do your best to make them feel welcome. If none of you have any questions, that is all. You're dismissed."

---

The following morning, the Jake receives word from Maverick that the Admiral wants to see him in his office. It's not a strange request but certainly raises Jake's attention as to why specifically he was needed.

Upon entering the room, Jake finds not only the Admiral but Maverick and another female that he's yet to have seen before. All heads turn towards him when he enters, as if he were interrupting something. Immediately, Jake snaps to attention, his heels clicking together and his fingers brushing his brow with a sharpness that would make the academy proud.

Cyclone nods in his direction, acknowledging Jake's customary greeting and dismissing him with the notion. "Lt. Seresin," he begins, gesturing to the female standing across the room. "This is Lt. (L/n). She's uh—a member of the squad that I briefed you on yesterday."

He hadn't noticed that she was wearing Army OCPs but he connects the dots as soon as the admiral mentions her name. He remembers reading it on the projector during the meeting.

Rather than introducing herself, the soldier stands rigidly across from him, her arms folded in front of her chest with a look on her face that Jake can only describe as fucking pissed. Unsure of what to do but aware from personal experience with Phoenix that he shouldn't try to cross any unknown boundaries, Jake settles for offering her a respectful nod. She glares back at him.

"You're two of our only service members with active combat experience," Cyclone continues, obviously ignoring the girl's crossed disposition. "I'm hoping that you and Lt. (L/n) can find some common ground. Perhaps it would do you both some good to—"

"Respectfully, sir, if I wanted to vent to someone about my feelings, I'd go see a shrink," the woman growls. "I recommend you do the same, Lt. Seresin." Her tone makes Jake's brow raise slightly in surprise. No one talks to an admiral like that, not even Pete Mitchell.

"Lt. (L/n)," Cyclone snaps. "That's quite enough."

This time, she rolls her eyes with a scoff. "You can't just—"

"Get out."

She clamps her jaw shut but doesn't budge from where her feet are planted in the ground.

"I said, Get. Out," Cyclone reiterates.

The eyes that had caught Jake's attention in the first place fix the admiral with a chilling stare. To Jake, there's something familiar in those eyes. Some sort of unmistakably justifiable rage that runs deeper than just being dismissed from the conversation. Jake watches, his breath stalled as she sets her jaw, unwilling to move, when it hits him. Identical jawlines and untwitching scowls mirror each other.

The illegitimate child of Admiral Beau Simpson stands before him.

He doesn't know how he didn't see it before, granted they don't share a last name, but Jake was aware that the Admiral was divorced, had been for a while. Allegedly he wasn't the marrying type. Jake isn't surprised by the statement. Beau Simpson is a hard man to deal with.

Jake watches in silence as the girl ultimately releases an irritated huff and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind her. He can hear the loud, petulant stomp of her boots as she retreats down the hall. Evidently her looks weren't the only thing that she got from her dad. She had a temper that rivaled even Bradshaw's.

The clearing of the Admiral's throat removes Jake's eyes from the door. "I hope you can forgive my daughter's behavior. Her return to the states has been...difficult."

"I'm sure difficult is the way she would describe you too sir," Maverick jokes.

Cyclone fixes him with a perturbed glare but decidedly ignores his comment in favor of addressing Jake. "Lt. (L/n)'s squadron was ambushed six months ago. Just about everything that could have gone wrong went wrong and she was the only survivor. As her father, I wanted her to accept the Purple Heart and retire." He gestures flippantly towards the door. "Obviously that's not what she did."

Jake speaks for the first time since he entered the room. "Respectfully, sir, I don't blame her. I'm taking this career to the grave. I'm sure both your daughter and Captain Mitchell can agree," he adds glancing over at his instructor.

Before Maverick can voice his agreement, the admiral cuts him off.

"As I'm sure Captain Mitchell can attest to, as her father, I'm just trying to look out for her."

With his preexisting connection to Rooster, the godson that he would risk his career to protect, Maverick has no room to disagree with the admiral. For once, the captain, who usually always has something to say, stands with his palms folded behind his back and keeps his mouth shut.

"As I was saying," Cyclone continues, taking a seat behind his desk and kicking back as if to signal that he's won the conversation. "It is my hope that given your own—" the admiral hesitates for just a moment too long for Jake's liking "—personal experience, you'll be able to get through to her."

Jake swallows and hopes that he doesn't look as uneasy as the insinuation makes him feel. He has to take a moment to reassure himself that the psych unit has repeatedly cleared him for duty and that no one's threatening to take his wings away.

The nights that he wakes up, drenched in sweat, with his fingers wrapped around imaginary joysticks hard enough to make his palms bleed are few and far in between these days. And even those he's gotten good enough at faking like they don't bother him because he hasn't failed a psych evaluation in months.

It doesn't mean he likes to talk about it or that he won't hear the fear in Rooster's voice if he does.

But he's more scared of not flying than anything, so all Jake does is nod and offer a dry, "I'll do my best, sir."

———

PTSD or modern day shell-shock is what they like to call it. You call it waiting on the other shoe to drop.

Because there is always another shoe.

The slam of a beer bottle down on the bar top lights your nerves up like nothing else. It sends your heart straight to your stomach and makes your palms sweat like when you miss a step on the stairs and for a split second, you think you're going to die. You never do of course, but your body is hard wired that way to keep you alive.

There's a flaw in your system that hasn't been right since the east.

You knew that a popular naval bar on a Friday night wasn't the best place for you these days but your nerves had been yearning for an ice cold beer and fuck all if you weren't going to get one. The alcohol would soothe your nerves anyhow.

But after thirty minutes of waiting on said beer, you were beginning to lose your patience. Normally you weren't bothered by that kind of thing. The place was obviously busy and the lone woman behind the bar was doing her best to satisfy the flock of servicemen that only seemed to accumulate with every beer that she handed out.

Just when you're about to give up and leave, a large hand covers your lower back, pressing you forwards through the crowd and toward the bar top.

"Two more on me, please, Penny."

The voice belongs to the tall man standing behind you. He's removed his firm, but respectfully placed palm from your back and is now leaning over you to accept the two dripping bottles of beer. It doesn't take you long to recognize the green of his eyes from a few days prior.

"My dad didn't put you up to this did he?" you ask, somewhat reluctantly taking the bottle that he offers you. It's finger numbing cold, just how you like it.

He kind of just slowly smiles and shakes his head.

Immediately you feel like a jerk. You sigh, dropping your shoulders and smile softly back. "Sorry. That was rude."

"No, ma'am, he didn't. Just had to find out if you smiled like that all the time."

The part of you that's a little bit of a bitch makes you clench your teeth together, tightening the smile that was once spread across your lips. "I'm not looking for that kind of thing right now," is all you say.

You want to tell him that you used to not be so mean.

At the realization that his words had the exact opposite effect of what he was going for, the guy graciously extends his hand. "Look I don't mean to bother you, I just wanted to say hi."

Despite not being keen on his advances, you aren't going to be rude so you accept his outstretched hand. You're surprised by his gentleness. It's not the rough, over-masculine shake you are expecting.

"Lieutenant (Y/n) (L/n)."

"I know your name," he admits with a light, almost embarrassed laugh. "I think everybody in here knows your name."

Your skin prickles. You stare at him stoney faced, bracing yourself for what's going to come out of his mouth. "Why's that?"

The guy—Lt. Seresin—you're remembering, shrugs. "I mean, you're quite the story back here in the states. A bit of a ghost story, I must say."

Ghost story is right. Because who survives that? How the fuck does a twenty-two year old girl survive an outnumbered ambush and not eight men with years of experience? Not someone who deserves to be called a hero, that's for sure.

You're trying your best to keep your cool with him. You know that you're in a public space and he's just being friendly. You used to be so good at this kind of thing, the flirting and small talk.

The thought occurs to you that maybe this is what you need. Maybe this will make you feel normal again. You need to feel normal again.

Maybe that is why you let him lean in closer, buy you another drink when yours runs dry, and another one after that. Maybe that is why you make an effort to laugh when he does, and you close your eyes when he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You let out the breath that's been tightening your ribcage and do your best to smile. "Thank you for the beer. You didn't have to do that." You hope the words sound as genuine as they're intended to.

He smiles back like he's supposed to, all polite and inherently forgiving of your original attitude. You catch onto the way it doesn't quite reach his eyes. You're not sure why but it makes you think maybe he's just a bit sad too.

Maybe that is why he lets you wordlessly take his hand and lead him to the back of the bar. Maybe that is why he lets you sink to your knees on the cold, sticky tiles of the men's bathroom floor, his hands already fumbling to unbuckle his belt.

It smells like beer and piss, and you don't even wait for him to get fully hard before you take him in your mouth, your nose buried into his pelvis, where it smells like sweat. It's all wrong and right at the same time, and he won't ask you to stop. He just curls his fingers into a fistful of your hair, pinpricks stinging at your scalp the same way tears sting at your eyes.

He—Jake—he'd told you a while ago, has a pretty cock. At least as pretty as cocks go. Pink and ruddy at the tip, where it mushroomed beautifully. Almost dauntingly long but not grossly so with a throbbing vein on the underside. You run your tongue along it and he muffles a whimper, his fingers wrapping harder around your hair in an effort not to buck up into your mouth. At least he's a gentleman about it.

He's heavy and twitching in your mouth. You feel heavy. He is standing above you, a harsh line of a man against the buzzing bathroom light. You remind yourself to breathe through your nose and he punches himself further, the head of his cock skimming the back of your throat.

You swallow around him, trying to hold together what little is left of your remaining sense of self. It's been a while since you've been so careless as to place yourself in someone else's hands, rolled over and showed your belly to someone who could easily take advantage of you.

Your jaw aches, uncomfortable and familiar, like something you don't want to remember. Tears well up behind your eyes, the threat of an unwanted but unknown feeling looming just out of reach. Jake's hand in your hair hold your head firmly against his pelvis, hips rocking up into your mouth. He sighs like he can finally breathe.

You can't breathe.

You try to and something rasps inside of you, choking. The feeling that had been looming threateningly sparkles through you. Panic.

You know that he tries to settle you, does his best to wipe the tears leaking from your eyes with his thumbs and murmurs softly to you. "Breathe. It's okay, breathe for me."

You can't. You can't breathe.

Your head is pounding and suddenly you aren't kneeling on the bathroom floor of the bar. You're on the ground, crying, screaming like a wounded animal and no one is coming to help. You can almost feel the dirt under your knees, taste the blood in your mouth.

"Y/N, you have to breathe."

Someone's grabbing you, hauling your useless feet across the floor. Your chest hurts like you've been punched with a bowling ball.

"C'mon, let's get some air."

How you end up outside the bathroom is beside you. All you know is one minute you're dying on your knees back in the desert and the next you're being sat down on the back steps of the bar. 

The cool air of the San Diego evening brings you back. That and the press of a cup of ice water to your lips, the condensation dripping from the glass and rolling down your throat. You swallow, letting the cool liquid soothe your burning throat.

You're aware of Jake sitting down beside you, close enough to touch if he wanted to but still keeping his distance. You can feel his eyes on you, watching carefully for a moment before he turns to stare out at the not so distance shoreline.

Your stomach feels odd, like you might be sick.

He probably thinks you're insane. You would think the same. But if he's dying to ask what the hell that was, he's doing a good job of hiding it.

How do you tell him that sometimes you think that you should have died, that sometimes the memories almost kill you?

"I hid."

He looks up from peeling off the label around the neck of his bottle. "What?"

You swallow, trying to collect yourself before your words fail you.

"I hid. A—After I was shot, I didn't get back up. I crawled under the humvee and... and I just laid there. I laid there and I closed my eyes and I prayed. I prayed that they wouldn't notice me lying under there or that they if they did, they would think I was already dead."

A mixture of sweat and dust burns your eyes. When you blink, you can feel the sandy grit trapped between them. You squeeze them shut while trying to swallow back the dryness of your throat in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort, but it doesn't do much. An unwarranted tear escapes and runs down the track of your nose.

With your rifle held closely to your chest, you let it slide down and collect on the bow of your lip. It joins the puddle of sweat that has already accumulated there. Out here, the sun cooks you alive. You swear it's a constant one thousand degrees. The twenty pounds of kevlar doesn't help.

Dirt kicks up beside you and gravel showers your helmet as a round of bullets buries themselves into the ground a mere six inches from your face. You hardly flinch.

Somebody is screaming. The sound of machine gun fire is ringing in your ears. Somebody is screaming.

"(L/N), C'MON. LET'S MOVE."

It's Cain. He's grabbing the strap of your kevlar vest and yanking you to your feet. You scramble after him, desperate not to be left behind. Bullets explode at your feet the moment the two of you emerge from the concealment of the dirt mound. Fear makes you run faster.

You spot Manny crouched behind the tire of the SUV to your right. He's firing rounds into the brush. You can tell that he's bleeding from a wound to his arm and you're about to veer off to help him when his head jerks backwards, the scattered remains of his brain plastered onto the white side of the truck.

You stop running, the words caught in your throat.

"RUN," Cain screams. He'd backtracked a few paces and grabs hold of your vest once again to drag you behind a second SUV. You stumble over him, falling haphazardly onto your rear once he lets go of you. He immediately turns to fire over the hood of the truck, and the bullets hitting the truck stop momentarily.

Clawing at the gravel on the ground, you hurry to scramble to your feet. Your head is pounding, your mouth dry and gritty. Huffing, you glance between Cain, who is fumbling to reload his magazine, and the crumpled figure of Manny a few yards away. You can only hope Ronny is still out there somewhere.

Before you can even try to locate him or any other members of the squad, movement to your left springs your muscles into action. You slam your back into the side door of the SUV just as a round of bullets pelt the spot where you were standing just moments before. Automatically, you raise your gun, returning the fire. There are a few more shots fired in retaliation, but they stop a second later.

Once you're sure they're subdued, you lower your gun, breathing hard. There's so much smoke and debris in the air that you can hardly even see Cain ten feet away. He's shuffling towards you in a low crouch.

"Let's move, (L/n). They know where we are. We've got to find different cover."

You nod, your finger still pressed tightly to the trigger of your weapon. You drop into a crouch and follow behind him as he creeps towards the back of the truck. He pauses a moment, scanning the landscape before looking back at you. His blue eyes are a startling contrast to the dirt and sweat covering his tanned face. He lifts his gun in the direction of a flipped humvee about fifty yards away. His mouth moves in a silent command.

One.

Two.

Three.

The gunfire starts up as soon as the two of you spring from behind the vehicle. You can hear the whizzing of bullets as they just barely miss your head. All you can do is pray you don't trip as you struggle to keep up with Cain. Your lungs burn and your boots feel impossibly heavy.

The terrain is barren but the ground loose, and rocks threaten to upend your footing, slipping out from beneath your feet as the two of you flee towards the vehicle.

30 yards from the humvee, Cain tumbles to the ground with a broken cry. The bullet catches him in the thigh, stopping him mid stride. He hits the ground hard.

Without even thinking, you skid to a stop. Bullets spray the ground around you. Somehow you're more afraid of leaving him than being shot.

"Go!" he yells at you, already trying to shove you away. "Go, I'm coming!"

Already, there's a lake of blood beneath him. You step in it and the ground squelches under your boot. Crimson gushes from his left thigh, effectively saturating the fabric of his pants. His face is terrifyingly pale. The bullet must have hit his femoral artery.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Like hell," you snap at him, your pervious fear suddenly boiling into the purest form of anger you've ever felt. Angry for being in this situation in the first place. Angry that of all people, Cain is going to die.

It's terrifying how quickly the realization comes to you, how easily you accept it as the truth. There's already too much blood. Without a tourniquet, he'll bleed out in minutes and there's not quite time for that.

"Leaving him behind wasn't an option. It never even occurred to me that it was," you confess, as if saying it aloud will somehow explain away this title of heroism that everyone wants to pin on you. "Dead or alive, he was coming with me."

You shoulder your rifle and use both hands to grab onto the straps of his vest, hefting him backwards towards the truck.

He must clamp onto his bottom lip to stop the scream that threatens to escape because the noise that comes from his mouth is garbled.

You drag Cain about ten feet before you realize how just heavy he is. There's sweat leaking into your eyes and all you can see is the bloody lake that's left behind as you drag him through the dust. Cain's gone quiet, his head lulled to the side, eyes almost shut.

"C'mon, Cain. We're almost there."

His boot snags on a rock, and when you tug him free, he doesn't utter a word.

Something inside of you knows he's gone, was gone long before you started dragging him. You're still ten yards from the SUV.

POP. POP. POP.

You pause, your eyes fixed ahead of you. "Have you ever been shot before?"

Beside you, Jake shakes his head.

"It feels like someone has shot a bowling ball into your chest. Knocks the breath right out of you."

Pain explodes straight through your ribcage. Your vision clouds and you're vaguely aware of your knees buckling beneath you.

When you come to, all of the wind has been knocked out of you from hitting the ground so hard and your immediate reflex is to suck in a reviving breath. Instead all that comes out is a gurgle, the tell tale sign that your chest cavity is filling with blood.

You swallow, looking off at the dark shoreline of the beach, watching as the waves crash against the sand. "I knew that I wasn't dead yet—I did— I just—" Your throat constricts and when you speak again your voice is quieter. "He was already gone so maybe a part of me had already gone with him."

Jake nods slowly, as if putting together the pieces that you're laying down bit by bit. Somehow his green eyes have remained soft this entire time and maybe that's where you find the courage to continue.

Lifting your head, you crane your neck to see the damage, but the thick layer of kevlar strapped to your chest obstructs your view of the lower half of your body. Grunting in frustration, you reach blindly in the direction that the pain is radiating from. Numbly, your fingers find the gushing hole in your side. The bullet had buried itself in the exposed inch of your stomach between your belt and your vest.

There mustn't be an exit wound because there isn't a ton of blood surrounding you. If the wet cough you emit is anything to go by, it's probably pooling in your abdominal cavity instead.

You're going to die.

"I don't know how long I laid there," you admit. "I knew that the clock was ticking, had been since the moment I hit the ground. It was only a matter of time before I blacked out or bled out... I guess I was just waiting to see which one came first."

The scattered rounds hitting the ground around you become muffled background noise as the lull of unconsciousness begins to sweep over you, dulling the world as you know it. Through the haze of your fading senses, your eyes fall on Cain's motionless figure a few feet beside you.

He's lying face up, his desert tan uniform seeped a muddy crimson. You'd known he was dead a while ago. Still, you carried him. He'd have done the same for you. He was your brother, dead or alive.

Blood bubbles from your nose as you struggle to keep yourself breathing. The fact that you have to remind yourself to do that isn't a promising sign. Your body is shutting down, doing anything it can to keep your heart pumping, even if it means shutting down everything else.

Somewhere through the dullness, you hear Cain's voice. MOVE, (L/N).

You close your eyes, trying to picture his face from what had been just a few minutes ago. You remember the urgency in his blue eyes, the intensity of his fear overridden by adrenaline. How had that been only moments ago?

MOVE, (L/N).

"I—I heard his voice," you state, your tone not open for discussion. "Not the gun fire, not God, not anyone else's. I heard his voice."

So many people had tried to convince you otherwise, tried to tell you that it was because of the shock and your brain was shutting down, that you were hearing things. But you know what you heard.

"He saved my life, Jake."

You can see the gears turning in his head, the question carefully forming on his lips. "Were you two— I mean was he—"

It's the first time you have to suck back tears, your chest rattling with a longing emptiness as you fight the urge to cry. Memories of his wild blue eyes and wide smile that could only ever mean he was misbehaving flash through your mind.

You met Sergeant Anthony Cain not long after you commissioned as a Lieutenant. You were still a green officer when you were charged with your first platoon and given orders to deploy out East. You were scared as hell and Cain was your saving grace. He came in as if he'd always known you needed him and the rest was history.

There was never any question about intentions or commitment to each other. Cain was as honest as they came and you left it at that. You never imagined that's where your story would begin and end.

"I don't know, Jake. We didn't get that far."

Forcing your eyes open, you access the area around you. The sound of enemy fire has slowed but that doesn't mean movement won't trigger a return of bullets your way. Still, you know they'll be looking for survivors once the dust settles, and you don't want to be around when they do.

The humvee is only a little over ten yards away. You might would say it was crawling distance if it weren't for the fact that you were actively bleeding out. Even so, you don't really have any other option.

You take as deep of a breath as you can, your chest rasping as you do so, before lifting your right leg and using the weight of it to swing yourself over onto your stomach. Immediately, searing hot pain radiates through your chest and legs. You cry out, curling in on yourself, writhing on the ground like a wounded animal.

Sputtering, trying to breathe through the pain long enough so that you can move, you feel hot tears track down your face. They're tears of insurmountable pain and hopeless desperation.

"All I kept thinking was 'how does anyone survive this?' It was unimaginable, the pain. Looking back now, I don't know how I did it. I don't think I could do it again if I had to," you admit.

Softly, as not to scare you, you feel the gentle weight of Jake's palm on your knee. "You won't have to," he promises. "But you did it. You survived."

You stare down at his hand on your knee.

With a trembling, blood stained hand, you reach out in front of you and dig your fingers into the ground. Heaving, you draw yourself forward, your legs dragging limply through the dust. It takes an unimaginable amount of strength to pull yourself even six inches.

Sniffling back tears and out of breath, you curl your fingers into the ground and drag yourself forward again. This time, you probably only move half as far. You have to fight the urge to just lay your cheek against the ground and cry.

You do this again and again, keeping one hand pressed into the gushing wound at your side while the other drags you forward. Your lower half has become increasingly heavier with each passing minute, your legs nothing but dead weight to pull along. You don't think you could move them if you tried.

It takes you forty minutes to drag yourself to the humvee. By the time you get yourself fully under the abandoned vehicle, your fingers are torn and bleeding, the tips ripped open and embedded with bits of gravel.

Your muscles collapse the very second you give them the chance. Your forehead drops down to rest against the ground, and you finally have a moment to shudder out a sob. Your throat is dry and cracked, and dust coats the inside of your mouth. You're dimly aware that your breaths are dangerously shallow. You just know that you're miserably nauseous and each passing moment is more unbearable than the next.

You turn your own palm over, staring at the scars of your ruined finger tips, scars that tell a story of how you survived. They're ugly, and you wish you didn't have to look at the all of the time. At least your torso is mostly hidden. You've moved to a beach town and will never be able to put on a swimsuit.

Jake’s eyes follow yours and after a moment he flips his palm over, his fingers spread and inviting. His hands are large and calloused from years of flying. There are fingernail divots in his palm.

Almost shyly, his green eyes meet yours. You see a bit of that sadness you saw earlier. “I know it’s not my job to be your shrink or whatever,” he adds with a laugh and you can’t help but laugh with him. “But you’re not alone. We’re all a bit fucked up if you haven’t noticed.” He shrugs. “It comes with the job.”

You can’t help yourself. You trace a finger over the scarred palm of his hand. “My dad would disagree.”

Jake is fighting the urge to close his palm around yours, not wanting to overstep, and so he’s pleased when you intertwine your fingers with his.

“Family dinner must be interesting.”

Jake came from a military family himself and so he knows how deep the ties run. His old man was a sailor and so he knew better than to come home sporting anything other than his dress whites.

You laugh out loud because he’s not wrong at all. Jake squeezes your fingers in response. His hand feels good in yours. Safe and heavy in the way a padlock feels. Like he’s not going anywhere.

“It’s not all ‘Go Army, Beat Navy’ believe it or not. Don’t get me wrong, I was raised a Navy brat and I have a hell of a lot of respect for my old man, but at the end of the day, I had to choose myself. I couldn’t do that with him watching over my shoulder. The Army’s been both the greatest and the worst thing that could have happened to me,” you confess.

Jake hums, dare you say almost disbelievingly.

“What?”

“A few weeks here and you’ll change your mind. No one does it like the Navy does.”

It’s your turn to make a noise of disbelief.

“I guess you’ll just have to impress me, Flyboy.”

Jake squeezes your hand again. “Oh I plan to.”

[d6volution]

i was wondering if u could do a jax x reader were jax walks into readers’ locked room expecting nothing but sees reader .. ‘taking care’ of herself.. iykwim 😋

your writing is my fav !!<33

of course, and thank you so much, I'm glad you're enjoying it anon. 💗

Jax/Fem!Reader | Rating: Explicit.

tags: mutual masturbation, dirty talk, mean jax, voyeurism, mild degrading/name calling, penetration with a foreign object (it's a brush.)

minors dni.

Whistling echoed through the halls as a key twirls around Jax's finger. To his knowledge everyone was off on one of Caine's little adventures. The perfect chance to.. satiate his curiosity, or cause some trouble.. its one in the same to him. He stopped at your door, the plaque with your face on it was oddly endearing.

Just as Jax kneeled down to unlock the door he heard something strange, causing his ear to twitch a little. "What the.." He muttered and leaned in , resting his head on door so he could hear better. But then it was silent. "Don't go losin' your mind just yet, Jax," He scolded himself and unlocked your door with a soft click. "After all you've, —' Jax froze, the light of the hall illuminating your dimly lit room, revealing your figure sprawled out, dwarfed by the large bed. Lewd noises coming from in between your tremblings legs.

Your hand was moving in a rhythm between them. He cocked his head to the side a little, before stepping forward and closing the door behind him with a gentlte, 'click.' Now, standing in the door way with his arms crossed.

... you were using the blunt end of a brush to get off, creative. He'll give you props for that.

Your eyes were closed, and the opening of the door was so brief that you hardly registered the light which flooded in , briefly tickling your closed eyelids. No you were too busy chasing your high.. you were so close, close close..! The brush pumping in and out of your wet cunt. Until you heard the click of the door shutting and immediately shot forward panting, "W.. Who.."

"Oh, don't stop on my account, I was enjoyin' the show, doll." Your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and the unmistakable silhouette of Jax and that shit eating grin that was always plastered on his face.

"Y.. You pervert Jax, get out!" You threw a plush bear at his head which he easily dodged. He just stood and stared, waiting for your excuse.

Fuck. Your cunt was still aching, and you were oh so close to release and this.. jerk had to come in between you and ecstasy.

He tuts, "Naahh... I think I'll stay. I mean, you're clearly breakin one of Caine's biggest rules," Jax takes a step towards you and your stomach feels tight.

"Th-The hell do you care.." You shot back, chest still heaving. Hair sticking to your damp face. What a strange situation this was. You, sitting here like a animal in heat. Cheeks flushed and legs pressed together, trying to subdue the growing frustrations between your legs while the most attractive circus member stares at you like you're being served up on a platter.

"Look, we both know I could careless about Caine's 'rules' , now- what I do care about are those pretty noises you were makin' earlier." He teased, every word that left his mouth was auditory seduction and he knew it. You legs pressed together harder, he wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what he was doing.. "But ya know, I could just call him up now and let him see just what a mess you are, not to mention non-family friendly." He said while gesturing his hand towards your form.

"No! Jax..! You asshole , I swear.." You spoke through gritted teeth, and he hushed you, lifting a single gloved finger to his otherwise permanent grin. "Then get to it toots. I don't have all day. Well— I do. But that's besides the point." He coos but theres an edge to his voice and you gulp.

You grip the brush and scoot back against the plush of your pillows, your heart thumping in your chest. It was either this or even further embarrassment from Caine.. who was sure to be loud enough that entire tent would know.

Besides.. you needed to get off anyways, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.. other than letting Jax have the upper hand which he always took advantage of.

"Hmn, move those covers aside will you? I'd like to get a better view." He said, breaking your chain of thought.

Jax was being oddly patient. He silently thanked the darkness that hid his growing erection in his overalls, he couldn't let you be aware that you were getting him excited this fast.. not yet at least.

One of his hands trailed down his thigh to stroke the growing appendage through his clothes.

You pushed the covers to the side obediently and your glistening cunt was on display. "Y.. You'd better not tell anyone about this or i'll..." You tried to sound bold, intimidating.. but,  the threat was empty, and your voice died in your throat as you teased yourself with the brush.

"Or you'll what ..?" He was walking towards the edge of your bed, "Tell everyone what a slut you are? That I caught you touching yourself in your room and whimpering like a little whore? Oh, I bet they'd love to hear that doll in fact how about I tell them myself, hm?"

Your breathe hitched, you found yourself thrusting the brush in and out of your greedy cunt as he spoke. Degrading you, "Ya like that toots? Bein' talked down to while you get off?" He said and pulled himself from his overalls, stroking his twitching cock over your trembling form. He's already got the upper hand.. no point in hiding it now.

He lifted on leg and planted it at the edge of the bed, as if to give you a better view of him stroking his lavendar dick. Balls jumping a little with each tug.

"N.. No that's.. not.." You gasped, hand subconciously moving faster. Thrusting the foreign object in and out of your wet cunt.

He watched with baited breath, his chest heaving and ears twitching a little as he stroked himself. "I'm afraid lyin' won't get ya anywhere toots.. nnh.. just keep bein a cute little slut for me and fucking yourself."

He panted, drinking up your moans and the cute way your body twitched and hips bucked against your hand. "Just like that.."

"Jax.. please.. please touch me.." You whined, and screwed your eyes shut out of frustration, hand kneading your own breasts.

"I don't think so, toots. I'm just enjoyin' the show tonight." He chuckled, watching you writhe at his answer but your hand didn't stop, you were too determined to finally cum this time.

"You can do it doll, so close.. and just imagine maybe I'll be pounded that tight little cunt next time.~" He purrs, as his own grip tightens on his cock. Fucking his fist with more vigor as your own thrusts got more sloppy and lacked rhythm.

"Hh.. Hha..! [Censor!] Jax.. !!" You cried as your body spasmed and convulsed around the brush, the pressure pushing the object out of your cunt. At the same time Jax was spurting out ropes of cum onto your floor, avoiding your bed .. though it would have been better on your face or thighs..

"Ha.. not bad doll, ...nh.. you should get cleaned up." He said , adjusting his own clothing, but his eyes never left you. He was savoring the look you had on your face. Dilated pupils and mouth agape a little. How cute.

"Next time.. lose the brush, I'll have something a bit more filling.~" 

[effervescentdragon]

I want to talk about the ICJ ruling of July 19th on Palestine and Israel.

I've been mulling this over in my head for days now and I finally have the time to sit down, do research and write it all down. I don't think a lot of people understand what it actually means. Most of the reactions I've seen focus on the wrong thing, which is how it affects the USA, instead of the more, maybe the most important one, which is how it affects Europe and the EU. I will explain what I mean, hopefully comprehensively, ahead.

First of all, the online and offline worlds both are incredibly, annoyingly saturated with USAmerican perspective. We all fall prey to the trap of looking at things through the USAmerican perspective, which is both understandable and wrong. No matter how much it tries to present itself so, USA is not the only country in the world, and although its existence is sadly important through the virtue of "it does not allow itself to be ignored no matter how much we all wish we could", in this case, the US is irrelevant. It is irrellevant because the ICJ decision was not made to put pressure on the US. That is not possible, as the US is notorious for not obeying, respecting, or indeed even acknowledging any of the International Law, or IL treaties. In this post of mine I have compiled only some of the international law agreemebts and treaties that the US has either not signed, or signed and not ratified, which makes it so they're not bound to abide by them. I only want to emphasise one - the American Declaration of Human Rights. It predates even the UDHR, and the USA has never ratified it, which means it does not have to obey it. If the USAmericans have not yet realised that their human rights are non-existent, just look at your data privacy laws, or lack thereof (this post starts in nicely on it). What I am trying to say with all of this is that nobody actually expected the US to obey the ICJ decision. For all of USAmerican boasting about being democratic and the paragon of justice, if you go through actual transcripts and notes from UN General Assembly sessions and International Bodies' rulings and debates, you will more often than not see the US as an (consciencious) objector to many motions that aim(ed) to make life better for humans on Earth, be these climate change policies or human rights policies or war policies. USA serves only its own imperial, megalomaniacal interests and its blatant disrespect and disregard of International Law only brings this fact into light. This ruling was never about the USA and with this, I will stop talking about it because the USA is irrelevant for what I actually want to say. (Also I'm sick of it. Of having to write a full paragraph about the US even when it's not about the US.)

Let us get to the actual point.

The International Court of Justice (ICJ) is a body of the UN that is responsible for adjudicating international disputes and giving advisory opinion on international legal issues. I will not recount the history of establishing the UN and these bodies of International Law and Practice, but suffice to say it replaced the Permanent Court of Justice after WW2, much like the UN replaced the League of Nations. It is also the only body of the UN not located in New York, instead it is located in The Hague in the Netherlands. The most important thing is that all states members of the UN are party to the ICJ statute, established by the UN Charter. In the matter of rulings, ICJ, much like the rest of the international law instruments, has jurisdiction on the basis of consent, be it explicit or tacit, which means that the States which bring their cases to the ICJ therfore agree that the ICJ has jurisdiction, and accept to be subjected to the ICJ's ruling. In the matter of giving advisory opinion (that can be requested either by the General Assembly or the Security Council, or if it's abother organ, by GA's authorisation), these opinions are consultative and non-binding in character. However, they carry a great weight and authority, and are also not without legal basis. The ICJ's views on the issues of international law are reflected in the legal reasoning, as the court follows the same procedures that the state laws that IL relies on demand.

On December 30th 2023, the UN General Assembly submitted a request for an advisory opinion of the ICJ on the practices and policies of Israel in the occupied Palestinian teritory. This is the full request, and here is the core of the request:

GA was asking ICJ to advise on alleged breaches of multiple counts of human rights laws that Israel was commiting on the people and the land of occupied Palestine, and to determine if Israel's occupation of Palestine is true, and therefore in breach of international law. This is important for multiple reasons, but especially because in a court case that we all know of, South Africa vs. Israel, South Africa accused Israel of commiting genocide, therefore going against the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (CPPCG). Israel's defense in this case (not the only one, but the currently relevant one) was the claim that "Israel has the right to defend itself".

Advisory opinion on the ICJ on Israel's practices in occupied Palestine of July 19th 2024 (here is it in full) comes down to a couple of rulings:

- Israel is an apartheid state (illegal);

- Israel's occupation of Gaza is illegal;

- Israel's annexation of the West Bank is illegal;

- Israel continuously and consistently violates Plaestinian right to self-determination (illegal);

- Israel's settlements in Palestine are illegal;

- Israel's exploitation and theft of Palestine's resources is illegal;

- Israel's forced displacement of Palestinians is illegal.

This means many things, amongst others the fact that ICJ ordered cessation of the Israel colonial project and further settlements, evacuation of illegal settlers, return of land and property and assets to the Palestinians, and reparations to be paid by Israel. But what is extremely important is that the fact that Israel, being and conducting an illegal occupation in Palestine, does not have the right to defend itself. What id incredibly important is that Palestine has the right to self-determination, which means claims of "Palestine does not exist" are false. Palestine exists, and has a right to self-determination.

Now, you might wonder why I went into this without yet stating my point. Here is my point.

International law is tricky. It works on the basis of "good faith" and relying on the agreement of its subjects to obey it. All the UN countries are subject to ICJ rulings. All the UN countries are subject to a million and one treaties and rulings and declarations of the UN they have signed and ratified and pledged thenselves to obey. The ICJ advisory opinion on the legal implications of Israel's illegal occupation of Palestine was made with these facts in mind.

The paragraph I highlighted above means that every single EU/European country that exports arms to Israel is now potentially in breach of the rulling of the highest body of international law that they are bound to obey. The General Assembly is advised and tasked by ICJ to take measures to ensure that Israel's occupation stops. The way of doung this is through sanctions, and that also means that the States currently aiding and abetting Israel's occupation are bound by international law agreements to stop. These countries know this, know that there is no way out now, that they will have to obey sooner or later. This is who the ruling is important for.

Another body of international law is the ICC. International Criminal Court, set in Hague, the first and only criminal court with the jurisdiction to trial individuals for international crimes such as war crimes, agression crimes, human rights crimes and genocide crimes. That ICC is preparing to issue criminal warrants against Netenyahu, Israeli, and Hamas leaders. It is preparing to issues criminal arrest warants to war criminals, and a part of it is influenced by the ICJ ruling. Of course, the countries such as Germany, a cesspit of Nazi capitalists who cannot stand a genocide being commited withiut its involvement is already trying to obstruct this process and by themselves more time to accumulate capital by funding an illegal occupation. Austrian right-wing party tried to do the same, but was blocked by the Greens. Other countries might try to do the same, but the fact is - they will fail. The ICJ advisory opinion made sure of that.

What do you mean, you might be asking yourself. I mean that the whole of international community now has a confirmation from the highest body of international law that holds jurisdiction over them that Israel's occupation is illegal. I mean that it is only a matter of time before the ongoing court case of South Africa about the genocide becomes codified and the ruling reflects the reality of the crimes against humanity we have been witnessing for the past 10 months. I mean that I grew up watching the Hague Tribunal proceedings of ICC in the case of Yugoslavian War Crimes, and that I know that it is only a matter of time before my mornings are once again filled with the proceedings against Netenyahu and other war criminals. I mean that I know and understand how a fight for humanity and dignity must be fought on all sides - by Yemeni military actions and by BDS boycottd and by holding your politicians accountable and by protesting and donating, but it is also being fought in the courts of international law. It is fought in a way that signals to the "west" that the very structures put by these States in place after WW2 to prevent atrocities does not mean that these States are exempt from them. This ICJ ruling is monumental for Europe especially, because no matter how many issues I personally and we all have with the UN bodies, they still mean something. Their opinions and rulings still carry a weight, a weight we have all felt, and their proclamations make it so people and structures and governing bodies who have pledged themselves to be under their jurisdiction cannot pretend they don't know what's happening. Cannot pretend they don't know what they are funding and supporting and making themselves rich on. Europe cannot claim ignorance anymore, and ICJ made sure of that.

What can I say as my final words? I wrote this post because I don't think that a lot of people understand, or understood, what this means. I wrote it because I've been walking in a daze since the ruling, and the hope in my heart scares me as much as it invigorates me. I wrote it because I am certain, now more than ever, that Palestine will be free. I hope you are, too.

[cosmereplay]

Kaladin Didn’t Invent Therapy (And Why That’s Actually Great)

“...You need someone to talk to, Noril, when the darkness is strong. Someone to remind you the world hasn’t always been this way; that it won’t always be this way.” “How do you … know this?” Noril asked. “I’ve felt it,” Kaladin said. “Feel it most days.” - Rhythm of War, Ch. 25 Devotary of Mercy

I’m writing as someone with a background in psychotherapy and peer support, and I'm bursting with excitement about one of my favourite topics. You can imagine why I love Kaladin’s arc in Rhythm of War so much! I actually yelled out loud when I read some of these parts the first time.

I’ve seen people online saying and making jokes that Kaladin invents therapy, and while that could eventually be true, what Kaladin actually invented in RoW is mental health peer support. Psychotherapy as most people would understand it simply doesn’t exist yet on Roshar. However, peer support is a legitimate modality for healing on its own merits. Even more importantly for the story, peer support is something Kaladin would personally really benefit from, and it fits his narrative arc way better than therapy would.

1. Therapy as we know it won’t exist for a while yet.

“We need to study their responses, use an empirical approach to treatment instead of just assuming someone who has suffered mental trauma is permanently broken.” - Rhythm of War, Ch. 25 Devotary of Mercy “Someone needs to talk to them, try different treatments, see what they think works. What actually helps.” - Rhythm of War, Ch. 25 Devotary of Mercy

Obviously, Kaladin has not been educated in battle shock or melancholia or any other diagnosis. In Alethkar there's hardly any knowledge to be had on the subject. Even now in real life, research into effective interventions for various diagnoses is still ongoing, over 100 years after modern therapy was founded.

Building an empirical knowledge base* will take time, not to mention the years it will take to train new therapists across Roshar in how to provide interventions specific to various issues. Therapy as we know it today generally includes time in mentorship with another therapist, so in a way, the first therapist isn't a therapist. 😅 In the meantime, there are people who need help today, including Kaladin.

Peer support can fill that gap because its knowledge base is different. Peers bring their expertise, which is their years of trial and error, successes and failures - their lived experience. Peer facilitators need to know the basics of managing a group, and they have to be willing to share their own experiences and learn from the group. Thus, training peer leaders is relatively quick, and incredibly scalable and adaptable across cultures and many issues/diagnoses.

2. Peer Support is a distinct path to recovery that doesn’t require an expert in therapy.

Kaladin located six men in the sanitarium with similar symptoms. He released them and got them working to support each other. He developed a plan, and showed them how to share in ways that would help...Today they sat in seats on the balcony outside his clinic. Warmed by mugs of tea, they talked. About their lives. The people they’d lost. The darkness. - Rhythm of War, Ch. 33 Understanding “While you can’t force it, having someone to talk to usually helps. You should be letting him meet with others who feel like he does.” - Rhythm of War, Ch. 25, Devotary of Mercy

Kaladin is already positioning himself to align with the values of peer support. Some of these values overlap with therapy, such as dignity, respect, inclusion, hope, and trust. What makes peer support different is a particular emphasis on equal relationships, self-determination, and personal growth (Peer Support Canada, 2022).

In peer support, the group facilitator is not considered an authority like a therapist would be. A peer leader may be further on the road to recovery, but they may not be. They are expected to listen and grow just like any other group member.

Because the leader of the group is also a learner, peer support groups tend to be more collaborative and open-ended. Everyone in the group has something they can take out of it and something to give. Everyone in the group is responsible for managing their own self care, and everyone in the group is responsible for the direction of their own growth. This is different from most therapy groups, which often have a specific focus or goal that the therapist is responsible for implementing. And speaking of responsibility...

3. Peer Support Fits Kaladin’s Narrative Arc Better than Therapy

At his father’s recommendation—then insistence—Kaladin took it slowly, confining his initial efforts to men who shared similar symptoms. Battle fatigue, nightmares, persistent melancholy, suicidal tendencies. -Rhythm of War, Ch. 33 Understanding …he’d learned—these last few months—that his battle shock could take many forms. He was getting to where he could confront it. -Rhythm of War, Ch. 39 Invasion

I think everyone can agree that Kaladin needs to participate in therapy just as much as the other battle-shocked men he finds in the Devotary of Mercy.

However, in therapy, the focus is solely on the needs of the clients. A therapist should not be distracted by their own issues (when this happens, it’s called countertransference). Further, therapy is generally framed such that the therapist is the only expert in the room, which means therapists have a higher level of responsibility for how the clients are doing (which varies depending on the issue, the therapy modality, and the circumstances).

In his own recovery, Kaladin is working on trying to take less responsibility for others, so setting him up as a therapeutic authority could be harmful for him. In a position of authority, he might be tempted to replicate the hierarchical structure he was in before (which would impede his own growth), or try to save everyone (which could impede everyone's growth). He simply doesn’t have the mentorship or knowledge base he'd need to work through those issues before leading as an expert.

In contrast, the point of peer support is the mutual sharing of lived experience. The group facilitator is expected to share their own struggles (as a model of recovery), and allow others to support them. In the context of a more balanced power dynamic, Kaladin can give the other group members the space they need to grow, and he can pursue his own recovery without feeling like he’s letting others down. Also, he will be able to leave the group during KOWT without worrying that the group won't be able to run without him. Everyone in the group carries some responsibility for each other, so group members can come and go with less stress than a change in therapist would cause in group therapy.

This is the beauty of peer support. It can happen anywhere people with similar experiences get together. No formal education is required. What is required is a willingness to know yourself as well as you can; to share your experiences; to listen to others tell their stories; to question your own assumptions as you learn how others handle things differently; to look out for each other's safety; to care.

Peer support creates a place of belonging and a community repository of shared wisdom. Kaladin almost had it on Bridge Four, but his position of authority wouldn’t allow him to grow the way he needed. Peer support is what Kaladin needs - he needs a place where he can take off his armour among people who get it because they're struggling with similar issues, and without having a position of responsibility over them. When he (eventually**) attends the groups, they help him grow!

Anyway, that's why Kaladin didn’t invent therapy, and why I think that's great.

For the men chatting together softly, the change was in being shown sunlight again. In being reminded that the darkness did pass. But perhaps most important, the change was in not merely knowing that you weren’t alone—but in feeling it. Realizing that no matter how isolated you thought you were, no matter how often your brain told you terrible things, there were others who understood. - Rhythm of War, Ch. 33 Understanding

---

*Funny enough, empirical research could lead Rosharan researchers right back to peer support. Empirical research on Earth has shown that modern therapy and peer support have similar levels of effectiveness (for example, for depression and PTSD).

**Look who’s resisting attending the groups he founded…KALADIN!! (shakes fist in the general direction of the sky) (This is the most relatable passage for me in this whole book, by the way, helper types unite lmao):

Kaladin looked down at the table. Had it? Had talking to Noril helped? “He’s been avoiding joining in,” Teft said. “I haven’t,” Kaladin snapped. “I’ve been busy.” Teft gave him a flat stare. Storming sergeants. They always heard the things you weren’t saying. - Rhythm of War, Ch. 38 Rhythm of the Terrors

Peer Support Canada. (2022). Peer Support Core Values. Accessed from https://peersupportcanada.ca/ Jun 27, 2022.

[sencrose]

-- SAPPHIRE PASSION

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

tags: dubcon, extremely dubious consent?, idol AU, object insertion, pain, coercion, praise, masturbation, fingering, creampie

wc: 5.1k

a/n: i'm taking notes from underground jp idol culture, if you have any questions feel free to ask (would love to talk more about it despite my pretty shallow knowledge, i am begging actually). in short: chekis -> polaroids, oshi -> fave/bias, oshikatsu -> showing support for your fave. ao3 link with alot more notes here

summary: you're too eager to please, and Satoru's all too willing to take advantage.

Sometimes you wish you had a more socially acceptable hobby. It’s hard maintaining friendships when your days are constantly blocked out by concerts, when you spend all your money on chekis and oshikatsu goods. Whenever you try to explain, you’re met with looks of disgust and snide comments about how you’re throwing money into an endless pit.  

In terms of romantic prospects, it’s not like you can invite anyone over to your apartment either, cramped and covered in a plethora of merch that most people would find strange at best and downright creepy at worst. But that wish washes away as soon as you step to the front of the line.

”Oh look who’s back! How have you been?” Satoru beams with a smile that puts the sun to shame.

”I’m doing great, how are you?” you greet back, handing him your ticket.

“I’m doing great as well!” He gestures to the staff member to get ready to shoot. 

”What kind of pose do you wanna do this time?” he asks. 

”Can we do heart cat ears?”

”Oh, I don’t think I’ve done that before,” his hands press together to show his excitement, “how do you do it?” His eyes peer into yours, sparkling with anticipation.

You bend your index finger while keeping your middle straight and put them on top of your head, two halves of a heart placed to look vaguely like cat ears.

”Aw, that’s so cute! As expected of my cutest fan.” 

He says that almost every time you’ve met him. You’re sure he says it to all the other fans as well, but it never fails to send blood rushing to your face.

The cameraman counts down from three and the two of you get posed up. With a flash, the picture is taken. The film slowly slides out of the polaroid camera, and Satoru swiftly takes it, shaking a paint pen in his other hand to get ready to sign it.

”Did you enjoy the show today?”

”I did!” You exclaim, maybe a bit too excitedly as your voice squeaks unexpectedly. “It was amazing as always.” 

”Aw, that’s great. We’ve been working really hard, I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”  Satoru signs the polaroid while talking, decorating it with hearts. “What was your favorite part?”

“I don’t know, everything was so great…” you hesitate, attempting to collect your thoughts. Your nerves creep up on you, and you curse how this happens no matter how many times you’ve done this. Satoru simply nods to show he’s listening as he continues signing the polaroid.

“T-the new stage outfits are so gorgeous and they really make you shine,” you pause, trying to think of the other highlights of the night, hands gesturing in an attempt to expel your nervous energy, “but I didn’t expect you guys to perform the new single so soon, so that was a really pleasant surprise.”

“I’m glad you had such a fun time.” Satoru responds, finishing signing the polaroid with a dramatic flick of the wrist, signaling that your time together is coming to an end.

”I’ll be here to cheer you on for all your future work as well!”

“I’ll be looking forward to seeing you then!” Satoru holds the polaroid gingerly, blowing on it to aid the drying paint. “Now remember, be careful, hold the picture by the edges so you don’t smear the paint.” 

“Of course.” You grab hold of the picture, holding it carefully by the edges as he’d demonstrated. 

“See you next time! Thanks for all your support!”

”See you next time!” You wave back. You take in the view of the polaroid, slowly developing, the smiles of you and your oshi permanently encapsulated in the thin film. Just looking at it puts a cheesy grin on your face as you make your way out of the venue.

After the paint has had ample time to dry, you place the picture in your wallet, in the transparent slot that’s usually reserved for your ID. This is more important anyways.

---

You must be losing your mind. There’s no way this is real.

You were adjusting all of your chekis, moving them between your mini photo albums. The most recent polaroid had something written on the back:

Text me sometime? xx-xxxx-5429

After finding this hidden message, you dug through the rest of the chekis you’ve collected over the years, only to find nothing. It’s just this one. When did he even get the chance to write this?

You can’t help but burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all. Should you even message it? Are you willing to cross that line?

…

You are. You definitely are. 

---

you: hey, is this Satoru?

Satoru, maybe?: depends, is this my cutest fan?

Satoru, maybe?: with the heart cat ears? ♡ॢ₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

You slam your phone down on your bed in a panic, as if it’s been possessed by a demon. Your heart races as you grab on to your chest, attempting to inhale deeply to collect yourself before unlocking your phone and typing again. 

you: haha yeah

you: but wait, how do i know it’s you?

Satoru, maybe?: <1 attachment>

Satoru, maybe?: does this prove it?

You open the picture with bated breath only to realize it really is him. It isn’t a picture you recognize from his SNS accounts, considering he barely uploads anything to them. 

you: i guess it does :)

Satoru, maybe?: then i was wondering

Satoru, maybe?: did you wanna go out sometime? 

Satoru, maybe?: my treat of course

Alright, play it cool, take a deep breath. This does nothing to still your racing heart. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all. 

you: yes i’d love to!

Satoru, maybe?: awesome! are you free this saturday?

you: yeah i am! :)

Satoru, maybe?: cool, meet me at the station at 2?

you: sounds like a plan 

Satoru, maybe?: alright, see you then :)

you: see you then :)

---

Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. 

You spent all morning agonizing over what to wear, and you can only hope that it was the right choice. You wait anxiously by the station exit, keeping your phone on standby for any incoming texts. 

“Hey!” Satoru approaches you, although heavily obscured. Baggy black hoodie and pants swallow his figure, along with a baseball cap, mask, and sunglasses covering his face. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” He tilts his face down towards you so you can get a look at his eyes, and prove that it is indeed him – not that you need the evidence, you would recognize his voice anywhere.

“Oh no worries,” you smile nervously, noting just how close he is to you, “I just got here.”

“That’s great!” he says, punctuating the end of his sentence with a clap, “Well, let’s get going!” 

“Where are we headed?” You follow behind him, letting him lead the way.

“I thought a cafe would be nice.” He looks over his shoulder to meet your eyes. “You like sweets?”

“I do!”

The two of you make your way to the cafe, engaging in casual small talk along the way. You feel like you’re walking on clouds alongside him, the distance between you so close that his hand occasionally grazes yours.

You find yourself in a quaint cafe hidden in an alleyway. It’s a hidden gem, you’d never find it without his recommendation. A quiet oasis in the middle of a bustling cityscape.

“They have really good pastries here. Feel free to get whatever you want.”

You look into the display case, dozens of artisan pastries and baked goods lined up neatly at your fingertips. 

After a moment of deliberation, the two of you order your food, an array of pastries, along with two coffees showing up at your table shortly after.

“I ordered some extras too in case you wanna try any of them.”

”Oh, thank you.” You reach towards what you assume is a chocolate croissant, ripping a piece off. It has a light crispy skin, melting in your mouth as soon as you take a bite. 

“Wow, this really is good.”

“Right? I love coming here.” Satoru exclaims, taking off some of his layers.

“Are you sure about that?”

”Yeah, don’t worry I come here all the time. Plus,” he says, gesturing to the empty tables, “Nobody’s really around.”

You already knew you were on a date with him, but it feels so much more real when his sunglasses and mask are off. You take in the sight of him and even under the dim lighting of the cafe, his beauty shines, almost blindingly so. You notice yourself staring a bit too long at his face, eyes shifting to the side.

”You can look all you want,” he teases, placing his hands on the back of his head as if he’s trying to show off, “I don’t mind.” 

You bring yourself to look at him again, but he has that award winning smile that has heat blazing a trail to your cheeks.

”So…” you trail off, unsure how to carry on the conversation. It’s one thing when you know you have two minutes in a controlled environment, it’s a whole other beast when you have all the time in the world. Any conversation topic that you’d usually keep slotted in your back pocket eludes you.

“You’re wearing a different outfit than usual. It’s cute.” Satoru picks up where you left off.

“Ah, I guess you’ve only seen me wearing merch at concerts, huh?”

“Yeah, but this is nice too,” he says before taking a sip of his coffee, “‘lets me see another side of you.” 

“I guess we’re both seeing different sides of each other.”

“Am I that different?”

“Maybe,” you pause, a hint of hesitance to your voice, “just a little.”

“What’s so different about me?” he asks, his chin leaning on his hand, tilting his head so he can show off his sharp jawline and the sparkle of his eyes with the sunlight shining through the window. Something about him seems just out of touch, like he’s hiding behind a mask. That said, it’s a beautiful mask.

“I’m not so sure,” you answer honestly. If you really put your head to it, he’s every bit as charming now as he is when he’s performing. Maybe even more so, but you’re not sure you have the guts to confess that. 

“You wanna know what I think is different about you?” he asks, his fork cutting a slice into his tart before pointing it at you, like an accusation of a crime, “You seem more nervous than usual.” 

“Am I right?” he asks, his voice dangerously low, before taking a bite of his tart. 

How could you not be? Your favorite idol is on a date with you of all people, and you’re well aware he’s well out of your league. 

“Yeah, you are,” you confess, eyes looking off to the side, unable to meet his gaze.

“Do I get a prize?”

“What do you want?” you ask awkwardly, shifting around in your seat ruminating on the possibilities. 

“What do you think?” He grins, his eyes tracing the features of your face until he lands on your lips. 

This might be the most forward you’ve been in your life. Time feels like it slows as you scoot your chair closer to his. With your eyes closed, you steel yourself, lips pouted, lean forward, closer — this is what he wants, right?

“Ah,” Satoru’s voice breaks your trance, “but I don’t wanna force you to do anything you don’t wanna do, that’s not fun.”

“O-oh,” you collect yourself, plopping back down in your seat a bit too fast, wishing you could curl up into a ball and disappear, “right.”

---

You messed up.

You wouldn’t be surprised if he just ghosted you after this. Maybe the rest of the date went fine, you’re not sure, too preoccupied with the embarrassment hanging over your head. Why did you try to kiss him?

The jingle of the door notes your departure and interrupts your spiraling thoughts as the two of you make your way back onto the busy street. The air shared between the two of you is stagnant, a clear cut contrast to the noises of the city. 

“Um, I had a lot of fun today,” you break the silence as you continue walking, “thanks for taking me out.”

“Of course! But it doesn’t have to end just yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we could head back to yours?” he proposes casually, eyes meeting yours.

You look back at him, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as your grip on your bag strap tightens. Your gaze shoots nervously to the floor, staring at a crushed soda can that piques your interest for the moment. 

“I-it’s a bit messy,” you look back at him only to realize he’s staring right into you, “I don’t know if you would want-“

“I don’t mind a little mess,” he says, casually wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You’re not scaring me off that easily.” There’s a tone behind his words you don’t recognize, something that doesn’t seem quite as rehearsed or put together like his usual self. You try to find it in yourself to protest, but the words on the tip of your tongue melt away as Satoru looks at you with a burning desire behind his eyes.

“S-sure.”

---

You make your way back to your apartment, with Satoru following right behind you. 

“Make yourself at home.”

Your place isn’t actually that messy, but it is small, feeling even more cramped when it’s covered in an embarrassing amount of merch. You didn’t actually expect him to come over, so you didn’t make any preparations to make your room seem like that of a normal person. Promotional flyers, album posters, concert apparel, smother your walls without a speck of empty space to be seen. 

His eyes are drawn to the display shelf in the corner, fit with several can badges and acrylic stands of his likeness, customized light sticks, and a fan with his face plastered on it. 

“Must be a little weird seeing this, huh?” you attempt to joke, but your awkwardness is too candid to be hidden. 

“I don’t think so. It makes you even cuter in my book.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he states with a conviction that catches you off guard, “you mind if I take a look?”

“Not at all.” You gesture towards the case with your hands and a slight bow, a bit too formally for the situation at hand. “Go ahead.” You swear his eyes sparkle as he looks over the case before settling on one of the light sticks.

“Did you decorate this one yourself?”

“I did! It was before you released official light sticks.”

“That’s so sweet of you. Do you mind?” he points at the stick.

“Sure.” You open the case, reaching for the light before handing it over to Satoru. Once in his hand, he taps on the buttons, cycling through the colors until it turns a beautiful shade of blue.

“Wow, this shines pretty bright.” he comments, admiration glimmering in his eyes.

“I have to show my support from the crowd.” you say, waving your fist as if you’re holding a lightstick in your hand.

Satoru mimics the chant patterns you yell at his shows with an earnestness that has you grinning ear to ear. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch him make a fool out of himself. He really is better suited to be on the stage. After a few moments of waving the light stick around he puts it down.

“God, your arms must be tired after doing this the whole show.” he says, holding onto his shoulder as he stretches. 

“I’m pretty used to it. If anything, it’s a great workout,” you say, raising your arm to flex the less than impressive muscle, “and you’re working out way more than I am!”

“Well with fans like you, I gotta be able to keep up.”

Before you know it, his face hovers dangerously close to yours. Your eyes meet his, an unreal crystalline blue you’ve never seen this close. His hand brushes against yours, fingers gently slotting into yours. His other hand caresses your chin with gentleness you’ve only dreamt of. Satoru brings his face towards you, sealing your lips with a kiss. The scent of vanilla and cardamom fills your lungs, a stark and welcome difference from the sweat and stale odor of the venues you usually see him in. 

It’s just a kiss, but you can feel yourself getting lost in his lips, heat building in your body as you press into him. He presses further into you with a fervor that overwhelms you as he wraps his hand around your waist. His kisses become more intense, like rain clouds swirling into a storm, asking, demanding for an entrance you’re all too willing to give him, parting your lips. The taste of coffee and sugar dance on his tongue, intoxicating like a spell, pulling you in further. Everything about him is overwhelming, the way his body is pressed flush against yours, his grip around your waist, how he maneuvers you closer to the foot of your bed until you fall gracelessly onto it. Satoru hovers above you, toned arms on either side of your head, white strands framing his face, eyes filled with lust. 

“Could you do something for me?” The question is simple enough, but you sense something darker behind his words. You’re not sure what you’re getting yourself into, but after that debacle at the cafe, you’re far too eager to please, to make amends in any way you can.

“Y-yeah.” 

“Show me how much of a fan you are.”

He places the penlight in your hand, wrapping his fingers against yours. His hand guides you to lift the hem of your skirt, the light now pressing against the fabric of your underwear.

“Would you do that for me?” he asks, sultry and sweet. 

Your breath catches in your lungs, face burning as if your cheeks are flint and he’s lit a match under your nose. The beat of your heart rings rhythmically in your ears, as you question if you heard his proposition correctly. Is he asking what you think he’s asking?

“I-I haven’t done anything like this.” you say, not exactly answering his question, hoping he accepts your answer. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you every step of the way.” His fingers hook into the side of your underwear, sliding up and down your slit. “I’ll even help you get started.”

You’re at a loss for words, nerves paralyzing your tongue, only able to give him a shy nod. 

He continues playing with you, fingers finding your clit and drawing languid circles that are just a bit too slow. An unfamiliar tension grows in your core, begging for release.

“You really are my cutest fan.” he whispers in your ear, honey dripping off every word.

His finger teases your hole, slowly inserting to a shallow depth before taking it out. Your muscles squeeze in anticipation only for him to play with your entrance, rubbing against your folds before entering you again. Your hole envelops his finger as he pushes it in. He starts with a curl, his finger digging around as if he’s searching for something. Within a moment, he’s pressing against the spot that has you leaning into him, chasing for more. 

You can’t keep your satisfaction hidden, low gasps spilling from your lips as you realize your hips are bucking into him. His fingers build a steady pace, and you meet him there, desperately humping into his touch. 

“So needy, huh?” he teases before inserting another finger into you. It slides in without any resistance, a testament to your arousal. 

A warmth builds in your body, your breathing labored as he has his way with you. You melt under his touch, like putty in his hands. It’s a wasted effort to keep your voice back, volume rising as you bite back on your hand.

Satoru pauses for a moment, fingers slowly exiting as he admires your arousal on his hands. He reaches out for the penlight, bringing it towards your hole. The plastic presses uncomfortably against your slit, collecting your slick he slides it up and down your lips. Your heart feels like it’s beating in your throat, and a twinge of fear hits you when you realize you’ve never had something so large inside you. 

“S-Satoru, I’m not sure about this.” You hold his wrist firmly, an attempt to have him pause.

“Don’t worry, it’ll feel really good, I promise.” Satoru ignores your grip, slowly pushing the light stick into your hole, the object feeling foreign inside of you. The stretch is uncomfortable, cold unfeeling plastic separating your walls. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, or the intrusion inside your body, eyes darting across the room to look at something, anything else — a daunting task when his likeness is plastered all over the walls. 

“Just like this.” He brings your attention back to him, patient hand holding onto yours, gripping you as he slowly fucks you with the light stick. Your pussy envelops the light, blue sheen disappearing as he pushes it in more. With every thrust, you can see your arousal glossing the surface of the light stick. You don’t recognize it as the object of your affection, custom made for him. It’s molded into something else altogether, a vessel solely there to deliver a hot tension to your core. 

The discomfort from the stretch slowly dissipates, a flare of pleasure building in its place. It starts to feel less foreign as it warms up to the temperature of your insides. Satoru starts to pick up the pace, lewd squelches escaping your cunt with each pump.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he coos. His lips graze the nape of your neck, a subtle lick to test the waters, earning a high pitched squeal that comes out more like an excited moan. You feel him grin against your skin, kisses tracing a line towards your shoulder. You can’t deny yourself the heat that builds in your core, the way your breath hitches in your chest with every kiss, every drag of the light stick.

“Show me how good you feel.” His eyes watch intently as his hand lets go of yours. You continue fucking yourself with the light stick, free hand rubbing circles on your clit, desperate to soothe that building ache for release. Satoru watches intently, his hand stroking himself through the fabric of his pants. 

Heat rises in your face, in disbelief that you’re doing this in front of him — but he’s getting off on it too, a blush painting his face as he unbuckles his belt and frees his cock from his briefs. Satoru lifts the hem of his shirt before biting onto the fabric, revealing muscles you’ve only seen on stage in fleeting moments of fanservice. Even from those short glimpses, you knew he had a well-maintained physique, but it’s much more sinful when it’s mere inches away, for your viewing pleasure alone.  There’s something arousing about watching the image of your picture perfect idol falling apart as he loses himself in the throes of passion. He moans under his breath, desperate for release as he strokes his cock harder.

The view’s enough to send you over the edge, waves of pleasure washing over your body as you gush over yourself, walls fluttering and clamping onto the illuminated plastic. Satoru’s close behind you, soft moans escaping him as he cums, hot ropes of semen covering your pussy.

You’re barely able to gather yourself, chest rising and falling at an abnormal pace, a sheen of sweat covering your back, causing the fabric of your shirt to cling to you. Aftershocks of your pleasure shoot through you, phantom spasms clamping to the intrusion inside your cunt. Your walls clings to the light stick, feeling a bit of resistance as you pull it out. Your muscles shiver at its absence, core aching at the emptiness. The light flickers before turning off permanently. Guess it wasn’t waterproof.

Satoru chuckles as he collects himself, still out of breath from his orgasm. “Wow, you actually did it. Maybe the rumors about my fans are true.”

“What rumors?”

“They’re sluts.”

His words deliver a sobering realization that brings you down from your high and back to reality. Your face twists in embarrassment, blood rushing to your cheeks in a wicked heat. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re the first,” he purrs low, kissing the nape of your neck. You’re not sure you can believe him. “And for what it’s worth, I really enjoyed it.” 

“Look what you did to me,” he teases, stroking his hard cock, already raring to go. “Gotta do something about it, yeah?” His cock presses against your slit, slowly humping into it, his pre and your juices mixing together. The stimulation so close after your orgasm makes you shiver.

“You’ll do it for me, right?” His head tilts inquisitively as the tip of his cock hovers over your hole, moments away from penetrating. The size of his cock strikes fear in your chest. Even compared to the light stick, you can tell you’ll struggle to take him in. You’re not sure if you’re ready for something like this, but when he asks with that honeyed tone dripping from his words, you feel charmed to say yes. You want to make him feel good too, giving another hesitant nod blessing him with the permission he craves.

“Good girl.” With a swift thrust, he forcefully pushes himself inside you, an uncomfortable stretch building into a harrowing pain. Of course a light stick doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. Everything about it is just too much. There’s just too much resistance, too much of him inside of you. You struggle to take him in as he presses in further, holding your breath in hopes of a relief that never arrives – just a fullness you’ve never experienced before. A pained hiss escapes you as he starts humping into you recklessly, air knocked out of your lungs with each thrust, without any regard for your comfort.

“Wait, S-Satoru, it hurts.” You’re barely able to get the words out between pained groans. You attempt to squeeze your legs shut, but it does nothing to soothe the pain or slow Satoru’s pace.

“But you’re making me feel so good.” He spreads your legs apart further, fucking you with slow but hard strokes. His hands grip onto your inner thighs, using it as leverage to push himself deeper inside you. The slap of skin only gets louder, a pain striking in your core as he hits your cervix. Any attempt to drive your attention away from the pain fails, only leading to your hands gripping onto the sheets, knuckles turning a blistering white. The cool and collected facade of your idol fades away to dust. You don’t recognize the man in front of you, all greed and desire, rutting into you searching for his own high.

”Satoru, p-please, it’s too much!” you plead, hand momentarily letting go of the sheets to push against his chest.

”C’mon sweetie, I know you can do it,” whispering in that sweet yet hollow tone that hasn’t left his lips since the moment you met him, not that it does much to soothe. His tongue licks the shell of your ear, a gasp escaping your lips. 

You attempt to power through, biting down on your lip and letting your favorite idol have his way with you, ravaging your pussy like it was made just for this, just for him. Tears swell in your eyes as you try to put on a brave face. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, clenching your eyes closed as you let out choked back sobs.

”Don’t cry, you’re being so good for me,” he says in an artificially sweet tone that now sounds alien, overplayed like a broken record. One hand gently pets your head before gripping onto your hair, only serving as a support for him to push himself deeper into you. 

“You’ll feel real good soon, I promise.” You’re not sure you believe him, not sure you can believe him until his hand makes its way to your aching clit. The graze of his fingers is already enough to have you keening into him. Little shocks of ecstasy shoot through your body as he finally slows down, his hand focusing more on the bundle of nerves. His other hand reaches up to your chest, fingers crawling under the fabric to play with your tits, kneading the flesh before catching your nipple between his fingers. With his aid, your body gets acclimated to his size, the burn from being stretched out subsiding and a dull but undeniable pleasure taking its place.

You don’t recognize this version of yourself, desperate for a high you’ve never even tasted, falling back onto base, primal emotions as you start to match his tempo, pathetically pressing your body into his. You don’t recognize the salacious moans spilling from your lips, the look in Satoru’s half lidded eyes as he watches you give in to your desire. 

”See, what’d I tell you?” he pants into your ear, warmth from his breath sending a shiver up your spine, “feels good, right?”

And you hate to admit it, but he’s right: it does feel good. Better than good even, heavenly. How his length fills you up so deep, the way your cunt anticipates him with each thrust, your walls slowly taking the shape of him. Any words on the tip of your tongue disappear without a trace, head too fuzzy and scrambled to form any coherent thoughts.

The tension in your body comes to a head, body tight as your muscles clamp around his cock like a vice, panting his name with a reverence fit for an idol. Pleasure shoots through every nerve of your body, head light and hazy with bliss as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands ball into fists as he teeters the line of overstimulation, a whisper of pain too quiet to be felt before it fades. Satoru’s close behind too, pace erratic as he moans a string of hushed expletives under his breath. He comes with a deep thrust inside you, warm sticky ropes of cum coating your insides.

Satoru takes a moment to catch his breath before removing himself from you. Cum spills out of your hole, and you wince at the emptiness. You both lie on the cramped bed, out of breath, sweat clinging to your bodies. A gentle yet unreadable smile paints his face, and you’re not sure what to make of it. 

“You really are my cutest fan.”

[stargirlrchive]

false hope ✩ tsu’tey

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: tsu’tey x reader, no use of y/n, jealousy (both ends), they are both so dumb, miscommunication? fluffy ending <3 + wc: 2,983

comments: y’all.. I'm back? LMAOO i hope so! i have been in the worst writing slump but she was so fun to write >:( I LOVE HER! i was giggling writing this shit, anyways i hope you enjoy this, ok bye! mwahhh!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You begrudgingly watched as members of the clan danced excitedly in the center of Hometree. Spirits were high as every young warrior passed their Iknimaya, and successfully completed their dream hunt, but there was any angry gnawing sense of jealousy consuming your chest as you watched the Na’vi dancing.

Tsu’tey had been pulled to dance by Saeyla, and despite the slight stiffness in his movements, he was enjoying his time. It was stupid, he did not even know of your affections towards him and here you were sulking during such a joyful day. You were nursing your drink slowly, sighing quietly every time Tsu’tey and Saeyla brushed closer together.

You were so deep in thought you had not even realized someone was making their way towards you. You were ripped away from your inner turmoil as Takuk sat beside you, a knowing smile littered his features as he saw your face scrunched up with annoyance. “Don’t.” He only laughed, head thrown back in exaggeration and it caused heat to rise to your face as people turned to look at the both of you. You swatted his shoulder and he only shook his head, a stupid smirk permanently seared onto his lips as he watched you, “I have said nothing.”

You huffed quietly, refusing to speak to him again.

“You’re jealous.”

“No I am not!”

Takuk was clearly feeling the effects of the celebratory drink as he playfully tapped on your nose, “Takuk-I will hit you so hard you will sober up.”

He only tsked quietly before he stood up, gripping your forearm and having you follow him. “What are you doing?” “We are going to dance.” His tone was dripping with amusement, trying to stifle his laugh as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

“I am not in the mood, let me go.”

He grunted but relented, “If it makes you feel any better, we are suffering from the same affliction tonight.”

You gasped quietly, “Tsu’tey?”

His mouth fell in shock, clearly not knowing you were teasing him. The look on his face caused a loud laugh to rip from your throat, “I am only teasing!”

He flicked at you shoulder but the smile stayed, “I had no idea you were even interested in Saeyla.”

His face scrunched up at the mention of her name, as if just hearing it caused him physical pain. His shoulders shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “It just sort of happened.”

You both remained quiet for a few moments, the music thrumming so loudly you felt it reverberate against your chest. “So will you take pity on me and dance?”

“Fine. But just one dance.”

He sent you another toothy smile and you could not help but send one back to your friend. He wiggled between the clan members as there was a pause in the music. He placed the two of you between Tsu’tey and Saeyla and Jake and Neytiri.

You bit down on your lip nervously, doing your best to avoid Tsu’tey’s stare. You felt that you would fold under it, your face heating up as Jake playfully nudged Takuk. “Look at us, all together.”

You turned to look at Neytiri, her brows lifting slightly in question. “What?”

She leaned in to whisper quietly, “Nothing, just did not expect the person for you to be dancing with tonight would be Takuk.”

“It is not what you think.”

Her eyes flickered to something behind you, and you knew she was staring at Tsu’tey, “For the sake of Takuk, I hope not. Tsu’tey looks ready to strangle him.”

“Don’t do that.”

Her face scrunched up in confusion, “Do what?”

“Give me false hope.”

The look she gave you made something grip at your throat, it was pity. She was about to speak when the music picked up again. Takuk reached for your hands, bringing them to his chest as all of you began to dance. It was a traditional beat all Omitikaya knew, and you moved in sync with everyone else around you.

Your friendship had always been one closer to that of siblings, so to be dancing with him so closely, both your hands roaming each other, it couldn’t help but make you laugh. There was an almost awkward tension between the two of you, and when you both locked eyes, you both burst into a fit of laughter, your dancing faltered for a few seconds before his hands landed on your hips.

Still unable to contain your laughter, you continued dancing with him. Leaning closer to whisper, “So we are both feeling just as awkward?”

He grunted quietly, “I don't know why I thought this was a good idea.”

“Skxawng!”

Tsu’tey was suddenly having a horrible time, growing angrier by the second as he watched how easy it was for you to interact with Takuk. He hated the way he grabbed onto your hands and pulled them to his chest so freely, as if it was a given. And sure, he had done the same with Saeyla, but it was more out of obligation.

It was unbecoming of an unmated Na’vi male to reject a dance, and it disgruntled him to think you may have asked Takuk for one.

He was practically seething when Takuk’s hands landed on your waist and you leaned in to whisper something into his ear, the both of you laughing.

Tsu’tey tried to wrack his brain at what Takuk could’ve said to make you so giggly. He thought begrudgingly that Takuk has never been particularly funny, suddenly forgetting all the good moments he had shared with someone he considered a close friend.

All the while Tsu’tey’s gaze was fixated on you, and it seemed as though you didn’t even notice he was there. Not once had you even looked in his direction and it caused a spike of sadness to course through him to see your smile directed at someone else. At Takuk.

He had never worried about him, or anyone really, he had hoped that you were reserving your feelings for him, just as he had for you, but now he feared it may have been too late. He couldn’t really blame either of you, two fierce warriors, who had always been close growing up, suddenly seeing each other with new found affection.

It was what happened with him to you, but he had foolishly never made his intentions clear, and seeing you dance with someone else, a close friend of his, appeared to be the consequences.

He had never been more thankful to Eywa when the music stopped, moving farther away from Saeyla as he bowed respectfully, “I think I am all danced out for the night.”

Saeyla was looking at Takuk, agreeing with Tsu’tey, “So am I.”

They were watching the two of you, still laughing as Takuk shook his head in protest, “I am not.”

“Neither am I.”

Jake and Neytiri’s eyes were jumping between the four of you, Jake had found it amusing to see but Neytiri wondered if you and Takuk even realized how this was coming across to your other two friends.

“We should take a break.” She tried to interject but Takuk waved her off, “We will catch up with you later on, I think we have one more dance in us.”

You only hummed in agreement, grabbing onto his hands to continue dancing.

Tsu’tey along with the other three stumbled away as everyone began to move once again, dancing to the upbeat song.

He felt frozen in place once the four of them made it to an empty spot, watching you dance with Takuk. And much to Tsu’tey’s dismay, one dance turned into two, then three, and suddenly you had been dancing with Takuk for nearly the entirety of the night.

Perhaps he was being dramatic, it had only been five songs, but still, your attention had been pulled away from him for far too long. He felt like a child not getting enough attention, ready to stomp his way over to you and beg for it.

When you finally stopped dancing, the two of you first went to refill your drink, walking too close together and still laughing. Tsu’tey had never been so irritated to hear it.

As soon as you made it to the four of them, Tsu’tey cleared a space on the log he had been sitting on motioning for you to take a seat next to him. You did so without any protest, sending him a smile that made his stomach drop as you pressed yourself beside him.

Saeyla called your name, and it seemed that everyone but you and Takuk heard the slight bitterness in her tone. “I never took you for a dancer.”

Your shoulders shrugged, “Takuk practically begged me on his hands and knees to dance with him.”

Tsu’tey tensed beside you as Takuk flicked the bridge of your nose, “That did not happen!”

You huffed in annoyance as you massaged the area, but you both laughed it off. Tsu’tey was watching you intently, reaching out to tuck a few of your stray braids behind your ear as he could not see your face. When you turned to him you sent him an awkward smile, scooting away as you realized just how close you had gotten to him, “Oh-sorry.”

He was quick to answer, “I don’t mind.”

The next smile you sent him was so soft he felt his heart thump hard in his chest, happy that your attention was finally on him. “You know, I was starting to think you were avoiding me. You didn’t even look at me once.”

At this you huffed quietly, cheeks heating up as you pursed your lips. “Yes well, you were busy dancing.”

Tsu’tey felt his tail swish with nerves, there was an edge to your tone that let him know you were displeased, maybe even jealous, and he was ready to explain before Jake interrupted. “Looks like everything here is ending pretty soon.”

He had that stupid smile he always did as he waved around a jug that Tsu’tey could only assume was filled with their traditional festive drink. “We should head to a lake or something.”

Tsu’tey was ready to protest, not wanting your conversation to end but you perked up at the idea, “Yes! I do not wish for the celebration to stop.”

Takuk reached for your hand and pulled you up, Tsu’tey had to refrain from letting an annoyed growl slip from his mouth. Had the two of you always been so close and he only just noticed? Or was all of this recent? He wasn’t sure which he found more displeasing but he trudged along besides Saeyla in annoyance.

“Well everything just backfired on me.”

He turned to look at her, her ears were pressed tightly to her head and she looked defeated, “What do you mean?”

She sheepishly turned to look at him, “Well you see, I have been trying to get Takuk’s attention. And I know your affections have been taken, so I figured there would be no harm in us dancing. There would be no hard feelings since we both already know who we want. But it looks like I just pushed them together.”

Tsu’tey sighed quietly, “Are my feelings so obvious?”

Saeyla laughed, “Just a little.”

“I am not giving up so easily, and neither should you.”

Their rest of the walk was silent, both with a new found determination.

Once you and Takuk reached the lake, a glint of something you couldn’t place reached his eyes, and with one swift motion he pushed you in. Out of instinct you reached out for him, grabbing his arm as you pulled him with you. A loud yelp left your throat right before you both landed in the water.

When you re-emerged you began swatting Takuk, “You just ruined my clothes!”

He only laughed as he tried sinking you once more. “Enough.”

Takuk stilled at the boom in Tsu’tey’s voice, snickering quietly but he moved away from you. Swimming towards the edge of the water to grab at the jug Jake was handing to him.

Your eyes rolled in annoyance at Tsu’tey, turning away from him to keep swimming. It was only a few seconds after you heard the splash of water, your other four friends joining the two of you.

You laughed quietly when you noticed Takuk’s tail swishing nervously as Saeyla approached him. Jake called your name, handing you the jug as you eagerly gulped down the liquid.

The slight sting had stopped bothering you a few drinks back, the light haze that came with it made you feel carefree and warm. Passing it over to Tsu’tey as he reached for it.

Neytiri pulled you into her, smiling at the current state you were in. “How are you feeling?”

“M’great! Never been happier.”

She laughed quietly, “Think you could’ve been happier if you danced with Tsu’tey.”

Her voice was low and your face scrunched up, “He does not want to dance with me.”

“Oh Eywa, you are so blind.”

You huffed and crossed your arms, annoyance consuming your chest. You were about to retort back when Neytiri started being pulled away by Jake, he made a comment about wanting to show her something.

Any of the slight haziness you had, slowly melting away as you realized you were left alone with Tsu’tey.

The water was suddenly much more interesting than it should be as you tried to avoid him. All the feelings of jealousy resurfacing as you had nothing to distract you now.

“You are being mean to Takuk.”

Tsu’tey’s ears flattened slightly at the mention of his name, grumbling quietly. “It is okay to be jealous of him, but do not be mean.”

“I am not jealous of Takuk.”

His voice was snippy, annoyance laced through his tone. But what you said had caused a sense of insecurity to flow within him, “Should I be jealous of him?”

You sighed quietly, “He is very kind, and a strong warrior.”

Each compliment you gave out was like a stone to his heart, weighing him down further and further. “Any Na’vi would be lucky to have him.”

Tsu’tey felt like he couldn’t breathe, fist bawling into tight fist as he realized he was too late, “And Saeyla is just as into him and he is with her.”

Tsu’tey blinked at you dumbly, your final words catching him off guard. You weren’t sure what you even wanted answered, but you took his silence as one. Swimming to the other edge of the lake you began to push yourself up. “I am not feeling well. I will head back home.”

He called your name but it seemed that his voice only caused you to move quicker, not turning to bid him goodbye as you disappeared into the forest.

He was following behind you quickly, calling your name as you continued to move through the forest. He was quickly gaining momentum on you, and when he was close enough he lightly gripped at your forearm.

He pulled you closer to him, stopping your movements and you sighed quietly. Tsu’tey felt his heart thrumming harshly in his chest as he tried to calm his mind. When he was sure you weren’t going to run, he let you go. Moving quickly to stand in front of you.

You were playing with your hands, unable to meet his eyes, “I don’t want Saeyla.”

Your head snapped up towards him, confusion etched onto your features and Tsu’tey couldn’t help but laugh quietly. He thought you looked so cute with your face scrunched up.

“Then why did you speak to Takuk that way?”

“Because I was upset that he held your attention the whole night.”

You blinked up at him a few times, your face heating up as he reached out to tuck a few of your braids behind your ear once again. You felt a shiver run down your back, you weren’t sure if it was the cold air or the way his fingers lightly grazed your skin but either way you felt yourself push closer to him.

“And why would that bother you?”

He groaned quietly, but the smile on his face let you know he wasn’t actually upset, “Because I want you. Have for so long.”

His forehead rested against yours, his eyes fluttered shut when he felt you lean forward. Your cheek nuzzled against his own, you couldn’t help yourself.

Your heart thumped harshly in your chest as you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, retreating quickly as nerves bubbled in your chest.

He didn’t let you get far before his lips crashed into yours, pulling you closer to him as one of his hands fell to your hips and the other one cradled your face.

You sighed happily against his lips, letting him kiss you until you were dizzy. His teeth had gently pressed down onto the plump of your lip before he pulled away.

The two of you were still tangled together, pressing kisses to each other when you heard a quiet, “Oh!”

Your face burned darkly as you dropped it to tuck into his shoulder, his arms snaking around your waist to keep you close.

When you finally turned away from Tsu’tey, you were unsurprised to find Takuk and Saeyla’s hands clasped together, and Jake and Neytiri both had knowing smiles on their faces.

Jake instantly began to tease Tsu’tey, his face burning as his tail coiled around your ankle. Pressing a quick kiss to the back of your head as he tried to hide the smile on his face, “Shut up.”

You tangled your fingers with Tsu’tey as you began to pull him away, the wolf-whistles that came from Takuk and Jake made you laugh, “We’ll catch up with you all later.”

You both had no intention of meeting up with them later.

[thedemonsurfer]

hi I'm talking about Ruin again

My kingdom for more fancontent with Ruin, especially post-Thanos snap.

Like! Authors were barely using him before, maybe a few fics with him shipped with Solar-- and then the Thanos snapping happened and now there's NOTHING (okay there's not nothing, but at the time of writing this, there are about twoish ongoing fics focused on him and a handful of others where he's a participating character)

AND LIKE. THAT'S SUCH A SHAME??? Ruin went from "alright youre kind of boring as an antagonist" to "I guess you're cute now that you're cured" to EXTREMELY interesting.

He's a villain that isn't an antagonist! He takes Sun's hero complex and Moon's martyr complex to the extreme! The only goal he had was to get rid of the threat offered by the creators, in a permanent and complete way-- and nothing else. He holds no ill will towards anyone else--hell, he's so willing to work with people that he doesn't personally like that it keeps throwing him off when others don't think the same way (like showing up to ask for Moon's help and getting tossed into baby jail and strangled instead).

He doesn't like causing harm. He made certain to stress that the whole dimensional evaporation thing wasn't painful, and he despises Dark Sun for being a sadist. He did his best to sabatogue Bloodmoon’s plan and minimize the damage to Earth.

He's desperate to be helpful and useful to others-- even if they keep taking from him without his consent, he still keeps volunteering. He also has a hilarious response of being belligerent when annoyed with someone, like pretending not to know about the wither shard.

He's exceptionally traumatized. Can you imagine what it was like running around for 50 years pretending you're infected, all the while watching the mental and physical deterioration of everyone you know-- and knowing it's YOUR fault they're like this? And it was the person who MADE you, your actual literal Creator, who first started the infection?

And he has no hope. Everything Ruin has done since Thanos snapping the dimensions has been a kind of filler for him, because he expects to die soon. Actually he's lived longer than I think he expected and didn't really know what to do with himself for a while in there. When/if Dark Sun or Nexus feeds him to the witherstorm, I'll be surprised if he tries to fight back.

Also he keeps getting kidnapped and imprisoned, which is kind of funny. I think we're up to 4 kidnappings, 2 jailbreaks, and 4 imprisonments.

Just like... he's a fascinating guy with strong personal motives, and a much more agreeable personality than our other strongly motivated ex-antagonist, Eclipse. There's a lot of potential to work with, and how to get him out of the hole he's dug himself into. Overcoming the whole "I erased 5000 dimensions, including one that your family member came from, and also indirectly caused a different family member to leave" is just one of the challenges!

I know it's not an issue of "but he's hurt/killed one of the other characters!" Because -points at Blood Moon and Eclipse-. Both (all five? six?) have killed other main characters and been antagonists, and it hasn't stopped folks from writing them. Hell, Eclipse killed his own estranged brother for no reason other than petty revenge, and folks still somehow make it work.

So yeah idk. I think Ruin is really interesting and deserves a bit more attention.

[yourdakg]

Donation Found 2!

It took a little while longer than expected, but we finally found an appropriate donor for Brick! Brick was in desperate need of a donation. As the owner of a high quality gym and something of a fitness influencer, he was catching a lot of shit for not showing any empathy to his clientele or, in general, people who weren't in peak condition.

Maybe that's what scared some donors off, the sheer ego of having to maintain a physique like Brick's. But, by God, he paid the $325,000 to get his new body. Did he read the contract? No. But he insisted the customer is always right and he demanded action from the team at Turnaround Technologies.

Not that he could help how he looked, he was always athletic as a kid. Football, wrestling, water polo, gymnastics. He hit the weights hard as soon as high school started. And now he's a fitness enthusiast's wet dream. Let's remind everyone where Brick is starting this journey:

But thankfully we were able to find someone who fit the bill for Brick. This is someone who has the ego, the drive, and... honestly, a lot of the same toxic masculinity that Brick has. Just in a different form. So honestly it's a perfect match. Which we were relieved to find. After all, Brick doesn't fully understand the permanence of this yet. So let's take a look at our donor plate:

Meet Lemmy Chungus. A man who is almost permanently online, a moderator for the r/gayincel subreddit, a prolific user of 4chan, and a man with a subscription to 12 OnlyFans pages and PornHub Premium. He has an interesting take on why this exchange should work.

Donor Statement: This world has winners and losers. I am naturally born to be a dominant male, and it's becoming clear to me that Brick doesn't understand the role he is supposed to have. It's not fair that some buff fuckboy was deprived of the body he needs to match his true, inner self. It's obvious he wants this, so let's seal the deal and make this exhange.

I have to admit, we hear at Turnaround hadn't thought about it like that, adjusting two men into their, perhaps, more honest selves. It really is a public service. Both subjects are being stripped down, injected with serum, and placed in their uniforms as our technicians prepare the chambers.

Just prior to taking Brick's final "before" photo, he was informed that the contract had been signed, this medicine injected, and that his fate was sealed. Of course, we expected him to fight us a bit when told it was one way, one trip per lifetime, and permanent. Instead we were shocked that the young man started to cry.

Patient Statement: What do you mean permanent? What do you mean *sniff* 'new lot in life'? I don't understand why you're taking my designer underwear. I'll never wear it again? Wh-why not? I'll be fit again! What do you mean role adjustment? Huh? I dunno what a gaycel is. I don't spend a lot of time on the Internet. Whadda ya mean that's gonna be most of what I do now? *Sniffsob* I'm still an alpha. I *sniff* wanna change my mind. I don't understand. This body isn't legally mine anymore? I'm *sniff* I'll be a good boy, please!

So docile! He's really sliding into his new role quite well, and we're all very pleased. Brick was injected again when he saw the donor body, and his eyes almost went cross from shock. There will be a stiff financial penalty for requiring several staff members dragging his muscular body to the chamber.

The process was a difficult one. As the waves started to swing back and forth, Brick was grabbing his dick and squeezing his own pectorals as if to hold onto them. The beams and serums and molecule destabilization took days. It's like his body didn't want to assume a new role. But we held out hope that eventually the assault of our technology and pharmacology would win out and he would be shoved, unalterably, into his new body. So I'm happy to report the following:

As you can see, both men are now secured in their new bodies, roles, and lifestyles.

Patient Report: Ohhh God. It's hard to move, it's hard to move. I heard some fat guys had power, but he's... got none. I have none. Oh fuck. I'll get back in the gym and... look at him. What a slut, strutting around in that thong with a muscled up ass. Like he's some hotshot. He's not! Why does it make me so angry???

Donor Report: Chances are there a lot of other losers out there who have hot, buff bodies. Cute faces. Huge dicks. Guys who look like they should be on top, but know they're a beta bitch at heart. Stop being selfish. Ask for a donation today and let the real alphas assume their natural position.

[ghostlykeyes]

Hi, love your writing! Could I perhaps get some headcanons of Hearsteel with a (GN) tattoo artist partner? I'm a tattoo artist (apprentice) myself, and very curious. Thanks! 💕

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HEARTSTEEL /TATTOO ARTIST READER ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW ♡ No TW's ♡ I did Sett, Yone, and Kayn since they are the only HS members I'm writing for right now. ♡ Anon!! I would love to see some of your work sometime if you're comfortable sharing !! <3

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KAYN

Inspired by your art, Kayn buys a shitty tattoo gun off Amazon and messes around with it. He's not serious about tattooing, not really, but he thinks it's super cool that you do it. And, like anything he thinks is cool, he wants to try his own hand at it. (Plus, he wants to impress you. Oh, he may act like the picture of Rhaast he inked into the top-right edge of some practice skin is no big deal, but he actually spent like four hours on it and inside he's just screaming for you to compliment it.)

Protect your practice skin fiercely, because Kayn will absolutely nab some if he's bored. It's not uncommon to pull out a rubber sheet of practice skin and find scratchy sketches of demon masks and glowing eyes.

Kayn lets you tattoo him, as long as he gets to pick the design. He assures you he'll sit well, but it's a lie. He's a squirmy subject. Not because of the pain, mind you—he doesn't care about that. No, he's fidgety at the best of times, and with you so close to him, with you breath and your hands sending tingly heat across his skin? How is he supposed to keep still? Threatening you'll never kiss him again if he doesn't chill the fuck out might do the trick, though. Contemplating a life without good-morning kisses has him doing his damndest to sit still and let you do your work.

While Kayn likes all of your work, he's especially fond of the dark, the creepy, and the ultra-stylized. The more morbid drawings fit his bad-boy image, and the stylized ones? He respects innovation in all its forms, and he loves to see your artistic boldness so plainly expressed.

Kayn often sends you pictures of graffiti that he's proud of. In truth, he does it more for the property damage than artistic expression—but that's besides the point. He's picked up some skills along the way and of course he's going to use them to impress you.

If you ever, ever have a problem client, Kayn will explode in their face. Expect loud words, shoving, maybe a punch or two getting thrown. And if you don't want him exhibiting that kind of behavior in your shop? Well, fine, he can play nice. Just don't be surprised if you find out your little problem client finds themselves with "DUMB FUCKING CUNT" keyed into their car door. Kayn denies any and all knowledge of doing this. "Must've been Rhaast," he claims, but you're not so sure. Either way, it's a warning signal for your future clients to behave.

SETT

After you're sore from a long day shrimp-hunched over someone's leg, you don't even have to ask Sett for a massage. He already knows you're cramping up and he knows just how to make his fingers work. "Lay down," he tells you, and waits for you to get comfy before straddling your back. "Hold still, 'kay? I'm gonna take care of you, don't even worry 'bout it." His strong fingers gently rub at the knots winding up and down your spine, and he smooths the pain from your muscles. And this isn't some five-minutes-and-done back rub, either— he's committed to getting you right. Chat about your day, ask about his. He'll be up there for as long as you need.

Even if he's not interested in getting tattoos yet, Sett still loves your art, and he's willing to commit to something a little less permanent. Any time he's about to leave on tour and won't see you for a few weeks, he asks you to Sharpie a design on him. Whatever you want, wherever you want (just try not to abuse the privilege—he will never forgive you if you draw something embarrassing on his pecs the night before a huge show). He thinks it's sweet to have that little reminder of you etched on his skin. Sett will send you periodic updates of your sketch. If it's holding up well, expect to witness Sett twisting around awkwardly to show you in his daily post-gym selfie. When it's gone? He sends you a photo of blank skin, with a solemn text: "he's dead :(" . Don't worry about the untimely demise of this picture, though—you can draw him another as soon as he gets home!

Sett keeps some of his favorite flash designs of yours framed in his room.

It doesn't matter that he doesn't have any tattoos—if you or your shop sells t-shirts, Sett will wear them, and he'll do it proudly. He loves to represent you. All someone has to do is ask about it and it'll send him on a ten-minute (minimum) rant about his kickass tattoo artist partner, how talented and awesome they are. If you don't have a sleeveless option, though, don't be surprised if the sleeves "mysteriously" disappear.

YONE

Yone is interested in getting some traditional Japanese work done, but not for some time yet. Just know that whenever he's ready to ink up, if you're willing to tattoo in that style, you've got a client for at least a full sleeve, if not two. And when the day comes? Oh, Yone sits like a dream. He's the client from heaven, barely flinching and only taking breaks when you need a second to stretch. It's a bit difficult to convince him to put down his work, though, so be prepared to listen to Yone building some song beats with his free hand while you're buzzing along his other arm.

You both have rather demanding jobs and schedules, but Yone enjoys your quiet moments working together. He plugs away at his music while nearby, you finalize designs for clients and work on new flash pieces. Whenever he needs a break, he comes over and tenderly rubs your shoulders. Yone watches you work, occasionally breaking the silence to ask about certain design choices or what kind of client this tattoo is for. Watching you draw gives him a sense of peace.

Since he knows you work long hours, Yone always gets you a drink on his morning iced coffee run. He gets you lunch sometimes, too, if he knows you'll be spending the day in one long session and might not want to leave the shop. Yone knows what it's like to get lost in your work better than anyone, but he wants to make sure that even if you're in the zone, you've got something to drink and a bite to eat nearby. Now, if only you could get him to take care of himself the same way...

Dating Yone brings you a lot of new clients. Even though he left the mainstream music industry some time ago, he's still got friends within it. If anyone asks him for advice on where to go, of course he recommends you, which means you get your fair share of music artists coming to your chair. Of course, they always tip fabulously (they risk Yone's wrath if they don't).

Yone comes to you for advice on a lot of Heartsteel's artistic visuals. Their loud, messy, brash style meshes well with tattoo aesthetics, so he likes to run creative choices by you before implementing them. He also asks you to design some merchandise, if you're okay with doing that. Whatever you come up with, the guys absolutely love. Consider yourself the creative lead for all future merch endeavors.

[bonuscatart]

Things I know about Dungeon Meshi via Tumblr osmosis

Dwarf guy, halfling guy, blond knight dude, elf lady, and catgirl are a group of adventurers in a dungeon (called Meshi?) I thought there were two elves, but I think there's actually just one?

Dying in the Dungeon Maybe-Meshi kinda works like Minecraft, AKA no permanent deaths. There's a bunch of monsters that will kill you. There might be other dungeons, but we only really see this one

Dwarf guy, Senshi, is good at cooking stuff. The anime sometimes blows his skirt up for some reason. Idk if the manga also does that. His beard metaphorically slays, and he doesn't take off his helmet. I'm starting to wonder if that's his head/horns

Halfling guy, Chilchuck, is this universe's version of a hobbit. I think he has something to do with traps. Halflings get kinda babied by other races, which Chillchuck objects to. He is a dad with daughters. He's a union member and knows workers rights for realsies. I haven't heard audio of DM, so I'm guessing he either sounds like a middle schooler or a 40-year-old man

Blond knight dude, Laos, Latois, uhhh *checks post* Laois, is a nerd with Kenergy. One time he sang a secret song back to sirens perfectly, and it weirded the sirens out. He likes to eat monsters. He would probably eat roadkill (not judging)

Elf lady, *checks post again* Marcille, is kinda like Éowyn or Galadriel from Lord of the Rings? She's good at magic. She can make cool soap. I think her hair is magic? One time she ran bloody fingers through her hair to do dark magic, which was Plot Significant

Catgirl, Izutsumi (yes I had to check the post for spelling), does? cat stuff? She likes to sleep on top of people for warmth, like a cat. She's sometimes drawn like a silly cat in the manga. I don't really know much about her, sorry

I have no idea who the main villains are. They locked the protagonists up, but the gang got out with the power of friendship and being confusing

Honestly, if there's people exploring a dungeon, why would you not expect them to know how to pick locks? I think it was kinda dumb for the villains to try that. Idk, maybe there's a good track record for Dungeon in a Dungeon™

[neoyi]

Sea of Stars DLC, Throes of the Watchmaker ...watched. Time for obsessive commentary. Let's do this, motherfuckers!

Okay, so, I wasn't expecting this game to do anything with Keenathan's name other than as a repeating joke, but apparently it's plot relevant to this DLC oh my GoD.

I wonder if Horloge is inside the big clock located in the Watchmaker's room? When she told us explicitly not to touch it, I just assumed it as part of her nature to be proud and protective of her work; it is a very intricate clock. But maybe it serves as a gateway to another world all along. Which brings up the question: can she travel through time and space?

I will not be using the local 3-player co-op mode because I am a hermit, but I'm vastly curious to see how this will be implemented. I assume they're going by New Super Mario Bros logic in that if anyone is pushed off-screen, they'll probably be bubblized and transported to where the other player characters are.

Circles aesthetics aren't my jam (I never particularly vibe with clowns especially; to me, they all look like gaudy Ronald McDonalds.) But they tend to go hand-in-hand with late 19th century steampunk aesthetics which IS my jam. So, yeah, I have a feeling I'm gonna be taking a lot of screencaps of this game.

GOD, YES! I was sad that the Artificer wouldn't be playable despite his adorable frog robot design really lending himself as a main party member kinda look. Then I found out via the artbook that he would be for the DLC and lo and behold, there's my cutie-patootie froggo! I love him! I can't wait to play him!

Okay, I was really curious how they were going to consider the Resh'an issue since he replaces himself with a puppet late in the game. For that matter, the Garl issue, too, since he dies in the main plot and reviving him is entirely optional (though necessary for true ending.) Would the DLC have accounted for the change or not dependent on where the story would take place? But it seems like they just solved that problem by having only Zale and Valere enter. Which is a shame, because it might mean the rest of the party members don't get to go to Horloge, including any new dialogue from them. Here's hoping we can still explore the place with the other party members after finishing the DLC's plot or something.

For that matter, will the Artificer be a playable character only in the DLC? Or will Sabotage Studio account for the change and place him as a permanent seventh team member?

What, exactly, is Horloge that it can change the rules that forces Zale and Valere to acquire new skills to accommodate their Solar and Lunar magic? Perhaps this land truly is another world that their entire magic system ended up altered because it wasn't compatible with this world. That or someone very powerful (the Puppeteer?) can command such a rule that even the freakin' Solstice Warriors cannot overcome it so easily.

Hey, Pif and Pouf, you two are giving me major Zorn and Thorn vibes. You two start speaking in weird sentence structures and I'mma gonna break out the hammer.

I cannot elaborate how fucking cool looking Zale and Valere's clones, the Feral Queen and Narcis King looks.

And it goes without saying how much the Puppeteer looks like the Watchmaker. I'm guessing either a sibling or an alternate version of herself. Safer bet is on the latter if Sabotage Studio games is really leaning on the multiverse thing. The DLC IS called "Throes of the Watchmaker", which means there must be some involvement of her beyond a gatekeeper of a Clock Circus World or something. Like I have read the canon info that she is the Shopkeeper's ancestor, so could this DLC connect those specific dots?

Yes, it's a meme. Yes, it's kind of old and tiring. No, I do not care, I want to see a train getting suplex'd.

[hellohannie]

Enchantress of the Forest (m) | ljh

“𝙅𝙞𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙣, 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚?”

after struggling to fall asleep one night, jihoon decides to try his luck at the campsite set up deeper in the forest, away from his drunk members filming content for "seventeen in the soop". what he didn't expect was to run into you. mysterious, enchanting, you. part of the enchantress of the forest series. read part two here!

♡ PLAYERS - lee jihoon x f.reader

♡ WORD COUNT - 7.0K

♡ TAGS - fantasy au, faerie!reader, fluff, minor angst, smut (MDNI): implied virgin!reader, unprotected sex

♡ NOTES - hi again :) so, this is not part of my taylor swift x seventeen collection, but i just couldn't get myself to sit and write for those stories. i was rewatching ITS season 1 and then inspiration struck so... i ended up writing this instead!

it's also my first time writing smut, so i apologize if it's not very good

also, i'm thinking about starting a permanent taglist, so if anyone wants to be on it, please drop a request in the ask box! thank you! I hope you enjoy!

It amazed Jihoon every time how loud his members could be, despite the size of the space they were in. It’s one thing to be able to hear Mingyu and Seungcheol bickering in the kitchen from his bedroom in their apartment, but how is it that he can hear Soonyoung screaming from the dining hall while he’s in the upper house? That’s a whole separate building. Not to mention they are in a literal forest, with so much vast space, yet that man’s voice still carries. Every door and window in the upper house was closed, for God’s sake. Jihoon even has on Hansol’s headphones with a pillow mashed to them, and he still can’t fall asleep. It’s just too loud. 

Listen, Jihoon understands, ok? Karaoke, drunk karaoke at that, is meant to be loud and obnoxious. But, he’s been working as an unofficial workout trainer all day to his members who were worried they’d let their diets go too much on this trip. They only had two more days in the soop, and Jihoon wanted nothing more than to add as much sleep to his reservoir as he could since he knew it would be time to grind out in his studio the minute they returned to Seoul.

Jihoon kicked the blankets off his body with a loud groan before swinging his legs to the ground. 

“Jihoonie,” Jeonghan cooed from the other side of the bed. “Can’t sleep?”

Jihoon shot his elder brother with a dry look. “What does it look like?”

“Oof, no need to be so snarky,” Jeonghan teased, turning his phone screen off and placing the device on his chest. “Where are you going?”

Jihoon roughly tugged on a hoodie, uncaring of how his hair was sticking up in clumps. “I’m gonna shove that microphone down Soonyoung’s throat,” he griped. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Jeonghan was sitting up by this point and digging around in the closet. “Here,” he chucked a duffel bag at Jihoon, who caught it with a grunt. “Take this and go down to the campsite by the stream. Joshua and I slept down there last night when the very intense foot volleyball match was happening. Very peaceful. No screaming K-idols. Highly recommend.”   

Jihoon shot him a grossed out look. “You really expect me to believe you two snuck away to a secluded tent for peace and quiet to sleep?” The blush creeping up the blonde’s ears was enough of an answer for Jihoon. “Yeah, thanks, but no thanks.” He dropped the duffel bag with a thud. 

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous Ji,” Jeonghan scolded, arms crossed over his chest, half in embarrassment and half in annoyance. “We brought the soiled sleeping bag home. The one left behind is clean. That duffel bag has all the essentials: water, snacks, extra clothes. Everything you need for a good night’s sleep. Go, light a fire, enjoy nature. Maybe you’ll find some inspiration for our next album.” The wink he sent Jihoon seemed a bit suspicious, as if he knew something more than he was letting on. 

Too exhausted to question him any further, Jihoon picked the duffel bag up off the floor and headed out the door. 

The trek to the campsite was silent, and Jihoon was thankful. He couldn’t remember the last time he could hear himself just breathe. When he was in Seoul he was either rehearsing with the members or in his studio. When he was in his studio, he was always making music or listening to guides. Come to think of it, Jihoon rarely slept without noise. So what was he thinking wandering off into the forest in search of sleep? Maybe he should’ve put up with Sooonyoung’s drunk crooning. 

Suddenly, the smell of burning wood and the sound of crackling fire overtook his senses. Is someone else here? Jihoon thought. It couldn’t be any of the members. They were all drinking or asleep. He started walking quicker, the campsite more visible the closer he got to it. There was definitely a bonfire lit by the tent, and Jihoon was pretty sure he could see the silhouette of a person sitting on the log near it, their back facing him with waist length hair that shimmered like glitter. Definitely not a member. 

“Excuse me?” Jihoon called out, now merely feet from the campsite. The unknown woman turned to look over her shoulder and Jihoon felt his breath catch in his throat. Whoever this girl was, she was glowing, literally. Like a star, she had pure white light surrounding her body. 

Big, doe eyes blinked at him. “Hello.” You only said one word, but your silvery voice left Jihoon in awe. There was silence for a few minutes before you cocked your head questioningly. “You are?”

Jihoon snapped out of his reverie, clearing his throat as he looked away, willing his face not to flush with color. “I’m Ji-” he stopped, appalled. He almost gave his identity away to a total stranger. You could be a sasaeng for all he knows and here he was ready to spew out his social security number if you asked, all because he thought you were beautiful. “I’m the owner of this camp,” he said, firmly, “and you are?”

“Liar,” you stood up, the white, satin dress adorning your body swishing delicately around your calves as you walked towards Jihoon. “The owners are the two men who were here the night before. You,” you came to a still directly in front of Jihoon, “are not either of them.”

Jihoon sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Those were my friends, we share this area. That doesn’t matter though because you obviously don’t own this area-”

“False,” you cut in, and Jihoon would’ve been irritated if he didn’t find your melodious voice so soothing. “While I may not own these objects,” you gracefully extended an arm towards the camp set-up, “this land does in fact belong to me.”

Jihoon raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You own the forest?”

“This part of it, yes,” you said, candidly. 

“What? Do you work for the Korea Forest Service or something?” Jihoon laughed, disbelievingly. You simply gave him a confused look. Jihoon huffed, walking towards the tent so he could toss the duffel bag inside. “Listen, you can stop with the games now. I know you were probably hired by Jeonghan and Joshua to prank me or something so let’s just say you got me, ok? Ha ha, that was so funny, I totally fell for it, you can go home now.”

“I’m not quite sure who Jeonghan and Joshua are, but I can assure you this is not a joke. This part of the forest belongs to me,” you called out, eyes following Jihoon as he messed around at the entrance of the tent. 

“God, why do you have to be so stubborn? Are you seriously not gonna leave until you’re done playing the part? Fine,” Jihoon turned to face you again, faking a surprised look. “Oh, you’re a government official? Please don’t arrest me.” He held his hands up by his head to really sell it.

You did not understand the joke. Instead, you simply straightened your posture and clasped your hands in front of you. “I am not a government official. I am Y/N, a forest nymph.”

There was a pause before Jihoon burst into laughter. He bent forward, clutching his stomach as he laughed and laughed, all while you stood there, watching him blankly. 

“You do not believe me.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Wow,” Jihoon flicked a tear from his eye. “I don’t know if the hyungs told you to say that or if it was improv. Either way, bravo, you really got me there.” He started to walk towards you. “A forest nymph, now the all white outfit makes sense. How did they get this glow around you, do you have some sort of glow in the dark paint on?” Jihoon reached out as if to touch your forearm. 

You stepped back, your right arm shooting out to your side, two fingers flicking upwards as if directing something towards Jihoon. At that very moment, a dark green vine shot up from the ground and wrapped around his wrist, preventing Jihoon’s hand from touching you. 

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, eyes wide in incredulity as he stared at the vines coiling around his arms and legs. Then he moved his glare to you. “What is going on?”

You brought your hands together in front of your body once more. “As I said, I am a forest nymph. You have not only trespassed on my land, but have also tried to touch me without my consent. In the land of Faerie, this offense is punishable by dismemberment of your arms and legs.” Jihoon began to trash, trying to break free of his binds. “But,” you proclaimed, louder this time. “As you are human, and seem to be unaware of my kind, I shall let you free. However, if you commit another offense towards me, I will not let you go so easily.”

You willed the vines to loosen from Jihoon’s body as he apologized to you. “I’m sorry, I had no idea you were telling the truth. I thought this was all part of a prank my members orchestrated. I didn’t mean to offend you, I mean it,” he rambled, clearly still shaken by what had just transpired. 

“You are forgiven. I believe you, so do not fret Human,” you strode towards the logs arranged by the fire, dress fluttering around your ankles as you sat. You gestured to the log next to yours, “Please, sit.”

Jihoon sat, noticing the fire was starting to go down. He looked around for extra firewood, but couldn’t find any. He went to stand up, “Let me go find some more wood for the fire.”

“No need,” you held your hand out to the fire, palm facing up. Jihoon watched the fire grow as you curled your fingers into your hand, mesmerized. You noticed and giggled, your tinkling laughter drawing Jihoon’s attention to your eyes. “You behave as if you've never seen magic before.”

“I haven’t,” Jihoon responded. “I didn’t even know faeries were real. I live in Seoul, so unless there are city nymphs…”

You giggled again and shook your head. “There is no such thing as city nymphs. We faeries prefer to stay in our own land, which is in a dimension separate from the human world. Every once in a while, nymphs, such as myself, like to come to the human world to tend to your nature. Forest nymphs care for the trees, flora nymphs help flowers bloom in the spring, water nymphs keep the freshwater running. Of course, there are many other nymphs, but it would take me much too long to explain, and you would likely be bored after hearing me speak for so long.”

Jihoon, who had been entranced by your voice, shouted, “No!” You jumped, startled by the volume of his voice. “I mean, no, I could never get bored listening to you speak. Please, keep going.” A hand shot up to his mouth as Jihoon blushed. He couldn’t believe he’d said all of that. It was like the words just flowed out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

You smiled, adored by this man beside you. “It’s a symptom of being exposed to Faerie magic, the candor. Now that my magic has touched you, you’ll find it a bit difficult to lie to me. It will wear off by morning, so do not worry Sweet Human.”

“It’s Jihoon.” You tilted your head and raised your eyebrows in question. “My name. It’s Jihoon. You can call me Jihoon instead of human.”

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding. “Alright then, Sweet Jihoon.” You gave him a blinding smile. 

Jihoon was unsure whether you were flirting with him, or if it was simply faerie practice to use adjectives before people’s names, but either way, he was sure his cheeks were going to stay pink as long as he was around you. He wondered how Jeonghan and Joshua reacted to you. Suddenly, Jihoon felt his chest begin to tighten. The thought of you speaking, possibly flirting, with his brothers made Jihoon feel…jealous? The realization caught him off guard. He barely knew you, yet here he was, getting jealous at the thought of you interacting with someone that wasn’t him. 

Stop it, Ji, he thought to himself, stop thinking like an incel and get over yourself. 

Jihoon cleared his throat, catching your attention as you turned your face away from the night sky, from the stars you were gazing at. You had a pleasant smile on your face, and for the first time that night, Jihoon noticed you had dimples, as if you were kissed delicately on either cheek by an angel. He felt the sudden urge to do the same. 

“You mentioned the two guys from yesterday, Jeonghan and Joshua. Did you…did you speak to them?” 

Your eyes turned soft and your face filled with longing as you responded, “No. They were surrounded by an aura of love so strong I do not believe they would’ve noticed anyone else around them. I, too, did not have the heart to bother them, so I let them stay.” Jihoon nodded. That sounded like his hyungs, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to much else. It left Jihoon and the others feeling a bit envious of them and their relationship. 

“Jihoon, have you ever been in love?” 

Jihoon choked on his saliva, surprised by your sudden question. “C-Come again?”

“Have you ever been in love?” 

Your eyes glittered as you looked at him, wide and curious. Jihoon stared back, thinking about your question. “I’ve dated a few girls, I guess, but I wouldn’t say any of it was love. But…” But I might be in love with you, he thought.

You leaned in a bit, “But?” 

You smelled clean, like the morning dew after a night of rain. Jihoon wanted it bottled into a perfume so he could smell it wherever he went. 

“But,” his eyes flicked down to your lips, plush and pink with a perfect cupid’s bow and a slight dent in the middle of your bottom lip. He gulped, and forced himself to pull away, turning his gaze towards the fire. “But maybe someday…” he trailed off.   

He could see you straighten as well from his periphery. A chance glance in your direction told him that you looked slightly disappointed, but he didn’t believe it. Why would you be disappointed by his answer? Why would you care if he was in love?

“What about you? Do faeries fall in love?” Jihoon asked, though he immediately regretted it when you left out a disappointed laugh. The light surrounding you dimmed as a physical indicator of your emotions.

“Faeries mate for life. We believe that Mother Nature has selected a partner for each of us, and we are destined to be together for as long as we live. I suppose humans would call them soulmates.” Your head was bent down, a curtain of shimmering hair hiding your face from Jihoon’s view. You picked at the flower bracelets around your wrists as you spoke. “Everyone in my cohort has met and bonded with their mates. I have not. They all believe the person fated for me does not exist, and I believe the same.” You sniffled, and the sound shattered Jihoon’s heart. 

“Y/N,” he said, in an effort to comfort you. 

“It’s alright, Jihoon,” you looked up at him with a smile despite the tears that brimmed your eyes. “I have nature, I have my forest. I have the trees and the birds and the insects and the deer. I do not need a faerie mate to be happy. I am alright, will be alright, without one.”

“Or maybe your fated mate isn’t a faerie,” Jihoon mumbled under his breath, hoping you hadn’t heard.  

The slight shock on your face said otherwise. “What did you say?”

Jihoon turned to face you completely, looking you in the eyes. “Maybe you aren’t meant to be with a faerie. Look, I don’t know how faerie rules work when it comes to interracial, or I guess inter-species, relationships, but I know this pull I feel towards you isn’t something to be taken lightly. Ever since I saw you, I’ve felt this thrumming in my heart that I’ve never felt before, like it’s calling out to you. I want to hold you and touch you and kiss you. I want to stay up all night and keep talking with you because I’m afraid. Afraid that you won’t be there in the morning. Or worse. That I’ll wake up in the room at the upper house and find out I dreamt the whole thing. I-” Jihoon broke off with a smile, a small laugh escaping his lips when he saw the astonished look on your face. He reached a hand out, as if to touch your face, before dropping it back down to his lap. “You asked me if I’d ever been in love. I think I might be right now. I think I might be in love with you.”

The air around you was charged and silent. Even the plants and fauna were still, as if awaiting your answer with a bated breath. After about ten seconds had passed, Jihoon was a bit anxious. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. Maybe this was all too much for you, finding out that a mere human was in love with you. What was he thinking, proclaiming his love to a faerie. You’re a whole otherworldly being, way out of his league! What if you were disgusted? Oh God, what if you decided to take him to Faerieland so he could be punished? What if-

Cool, soft hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him from his thoughts. All he got was a glimpse of glimmering eyes before he felt soft lips being pressed into his. He froze. You were kissing him. You were really kissing him. Your lips, soft as rose petals, were on his own. Until they weren’t.

You had pulled away, unsure of your actions considering Jihoon wasn’t kissing you back. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, hands still on his face. “Was I not supposed to do that?”

Jihoon couldn’t help but laugh, his right hand coming up to cup your cheek while the other tucked a lock of silky hair behind your ear. “It was perfect. Can we kiss again?”

You nodded, shyly, letting Jihoon pull you into another kiss. This time, he kissed back, the pressure giving you the courage to move your lips against his own. You gasped when Jihoon’s arms circled your waist, pulling you plush against his chest. You moved your hands to rest on his broad shoulders, your fingers playing with the tips of his hair that curled on the nape of his neck. Jihoon kissed you for what felt like hours before he pulled away, chest heaving as he took big breaths. 

“How are you not out of breath?” Jihoon asked in bewilderment. 

You simply shrugged, tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, awed by how those lips had made you feel more pleasure in a few minutes than you had in your entire lifetime. “I suppose it’s another faerie skill.”

You squealed in delight when Jihoon picked you up and twirled you around. “You are mind blowing, you know that?” He kissed your forehead after setting you down on your feet. “Amazing. Fuck, I think I really love you.” 

You took a hold of Jihoon’s wrist, bringing his palm to your chest, above your heart. Then, you placed your own hand on his. You closed your eyes, concentrating on the beat of his heart. Jihoon watched you silently, his eyes flitting over your face as he committed your features to memory. The brush of your eyelashes against your cheekbones, the gentle slope of your nose, the freckles that dotted your skin. After a few seconds, your eyes shot open, a big grin on your face. 

“Do you feel that?” you asked, in excitement.

“Your heartbeat?” 

You nodded quickly, “Yes! It matches your own.”

Jihoon focused on your hand on his chest, trying to feel his own pulse as it tapped a rhythm against your palm. Each heart beat of his was identical to yours. As your heart picked up speed the more excited you got, his did the same. 

“That’s so cool! What does that mean?” he was smiling widely, your elation contagious.

“It’s how we identify when two people belong to one another in Faerie. Their hearts beat as one. Jihoon,” you were bouncing on your feet now. “We are fated.”

Jihoon could do nothing but dive in to kiss you again. You were laughing as you kissed him, unable to hold back your glee. “I love you,” Jihoon mumbled against your lips. “I love you, I love you.”

“I love you,” you responded, with equal fervor. Faeries did not tell each other of their love. They found no use for words when their hearts proved it. Still, you told Jihoon you loved him in hopes that it would make him as happy to hear it as it did you. 

“Jihoon, my sweet Jihoon,” you looked dazed, as if drunk on the kisses you shared. “Will you show me how much you love me?”

Jihoon, enraptured by the sound of my Jihoon, responded, “Of course, my love, I’ve been showing you all this time.” He bent to rest his head in the crook of your neck, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your back as he placed a kiss on your collarbone, exposed by the neckline of your dress. 

“No,” you whispered, breath tickling the shell of Jihoon’s ear as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “I want you to show me the way the men from last night showed each other. Your friends. As the night went on, the aura around them grew stronger. I want to be loved like that, however they loved each other.”

Jihoon’s body stiffened, before he groaned into your neck. “Fuck, you can’t just say things like that Faerie.”

You pushed Jihoon’s body up so you could look at him. “Why not? What did I say wrong?” You held his hands in yours. 

“Nothing, it’s just- well they-” Jihoon stumbled over his words, a bit embarrassed now that he has to have the birds and the bees talk with you. Unsure of how to broach the topic he decided to go right for it. “Do you know what intercourse is?” Jihoon’s face was flushed bright red, his hands turning clammy in your grip.

“Of course,” you affirmed with a nod. 

“Well,” Jihoon gave you a look. 

You stared for a second before recognition lit in your eyes. You smiled. “Oh!” Your smile dropped. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon said, dumbly. 

“But, I do not understand. Were your friends trying to have a child?” 

Jihoon spluttered. “What?? No! Of course not!”

“Then why be intimate?” You asked him, innocently. Jihoon sighed. The cultural differences surrounding intimacy must be far more different than he anticipated. 

“Here,” he tugged at your intertwined hands. The fire has almost completely died by now. “Let’s sit in the tent where it’s warmer and I’ll explain.”

Jihoon ushered you inside, zipping the tent closed before sitting down on the blankets opposite you. “What’s the traditional practice in Faerie, if you want to…procreate,” he cringed internally at his odd word choice.

You did not seem thrown off, however. “After faeries find their mates, they have a ceremony, similar to a human wedding ceremony. The faeries will combine their auras, which allows them to share their powers and essentially become one unified entity. Then, there will be a mating ritual, in which they are intimate. Their auras are most powerful immediately after the ceremony, so that one night is enough to create a child. Faeries do not have more than one.” You explained, methodically. 

Jihoon nodded. “Ok, so Faeries aren’t intimate for pleasure?”

You shook your head, “I suppose not. Humans are, I presume?”

“Yes. Many humans see intercourse as a means of seeking pleasure first, and reproduction second. There are medical advancements that can prevent pregnancy, so humans can be intimate without worrying about children. The guys from last night…They are intimate because they love each other. Make sense?” Jihoon searched your face for a hint of confusion.

“I understand!” you chirped. “Are you someone who correlates intimacy to love, Jihoon?”

At this point Jihoon has no choice but to assume that you say things to make him blush on purpose. “I mean, yeah, I- I guess so,” he stuttered, a complete opposite to your eloquent way of speech. 

“Then, I would like you to be intimate with me.”

His breath hitched. “My love,” Jihoon started, hesitantly. “Are you sure? There’s no rush, we can take things slowly-”

You moved closer to him, your knees pressed against his. “Sweet Jihoon,” you held his hands, stroking the backs of them with your thumbs. “I am unsure what will become of us tomorrow. I must return to Faerie in the morning, and you live in the city, so you will eventually leave as well. I do not want to wait in hopes of a day that may not come soon, if at all. I do not wish to dampen the mood, but it is the harsh truth. That is why I want to do this now. I want to love you completely. Tonight.”

Your eyes were blazing, the grip on his hands firm. You meant what you said. You would not let Jihoon go tonight, not like this. 

“You have to know, I’d do anything for you Y/N. I’d leave Seoul, hell, I’d leave this dimension for you. I’d go to Faerie, go wherever you want,” Jihoon rambled. 

You pressed a finger to his lips. “Hush. We can talk about it all later. Right now,” you leaned in, bumping the tip of his nose with your own, “I want you to…fuck me.”

Your yelp of surprise was swallowed by Jihoon when he surged forward to kiss you. The force pushed you back and you were laying flat on the blankets, Jihoon hovering over your body, his hands braced by your shoulders. You pushed him up with a press to his chest, unable to hold back giggles. 

“What was that for?”

“Where did you learn to say that, you little minx?” Jihoon moved to press butterfly soft kisses to the slope of your neck, moving up towards your ear. 

“I heard,” you gasped at a particularly biting kiss, “I heard the blonde man from yesterday tell his partner that. He seemed to like hearing it.” Your hands were now clasped against your chest as you were unsure what to do with them. 

Jihoon teasingly bit your earlobe. “Ah, didn’t know my innocent forest nymph was actually a voyeur.”

“Jihoon,” you slapped at his shoulder, scandalized. Jihoon pulled away, sitting back on his heels as he laughed. “It was not as if I meant to intrude! I did not know about human customs of love.” There was a slight pout on your lips, as you turned your head to the side, pointedly looking away from Jihoon in embarrassment. 

He couldn’t help but place a kiss on your reddening cheek. “Cute,” he mumbled. “I’m just teasing, Faerie.” He held your chin with two of his fingers and turned you back to face him. “I think you’re cute,” his voice dropped a few pitches, seductively. “Bet you sat up in those trees, listening, wishing it was you that they were touching, hm?” Jihoon ran his fingers up your right leg, tickling your calves. You whimpered. “My poor Faerie felt so lonely. Thought she’d never find someone. But I’m here now,” he pressed a kiss in the dip between your collarbones, “I’ll take care of you baby.”

By now, your dress was rucked up by your knees, Jihoon’s hand splayed out against your thigh. Your hands were tangled in his curls, the grip allowing you to tug him back to your lips. “Jihoon, please,” you whined. 

Jihoon held you by your shoulders as he pulled you up to sit on his lap, your legs wrapping around his hips. “Can I take your dress off?” he asked as he toyed with the straps of your dress. You nodded, demurely. Jihoon slipped the cloth off your right shoulder, pressing a kiss to your skin before doing the same on the other side. Like water, the dress slid down your chest, bunching at your waist when the straps caught on your forearms. You pointedly kept your eyes trained on the neckline of Jihoon’s shirt, feeling a bit too self-conscious to look him in the eyes. Jihoon must’ve understood this. 

“Breathtaking,” he said, trailing a finger along your face, down the side of your neck. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, my love.” His finger dipped into the valley of your breasts before twirling around your left nipple. You whimpered, the sound morphing into a moan when he took the other nipple into his mouth. Your body felt warm and the bottom of your feet were tingling. You’d never felt so good before. Had never imagined you could ever feel like this. 

Jihoon moved to kiss you again as he laid you back down on the ground, helping slip your dress off your body. Even though it had only been a few hours, you were sure you’d never tire of kissing Jihoon. 

You grew more and more impatient as Jihoon slipped his tongue into your mouths, pulling desperately at his clothes. “Why are you wearing so many layers?” Jihoon found your eagerness endearing, the way you wanted his clothes off his body but refused to let him part from your mouth. Somehow, after a few failed attempts and limbs getting awkwardly caught in fabric, you were both naked, bodies pressed tightly together. 

Your arms were gripped like a vice around Jihoon’s neck, loudly whining as you bucked your hips up, trying to find some sort of friction.

“Desperate little thing, aren’t you,” Jihoon chuckled, tauntingly. “Looked so innocent when I first saw you, but you’re really just aching for cock.” Your mewl was indication enough that you liked the way Jihoon was speaking to you.  

“Please, need it. Need you in me now!” you begged. It was too much for Jihoon. The way your hair was splayed around your head like a halo, the way your skin was glistening with a thin layer of sweat from the heat, the way your neck and chest were red from his ministrations. As his gaze slid down your body, he took note of your heaving chest, the smooth skin of your belly, the way your pussy was dripping wet. He couldn't take it anymore. 

“Already so ready for me baby. Don’t even need my fingers or my mouth on you, do you? Bet I could slip right in.”

“Yes,” you wailed. “Please, put it in, please-” you broke off with a cry, hands shooting to grip at Jihoon’s biceps as he pushed into you with a single thrust. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry Faerie, did I hurt you, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, felt good, don’t stop Jihoonie,” you babbled, desperate for more. 

Slowly, he pulled out, moving until just the head of his cock was still in you before pushing back in. The strokes were gentle and languid. Your heat was so warm and tight, he felt like he was on cloud nine. Jihoon dropped his head to your neck, licking and kissing at the skin there as you dug your nails into his shoulder blades. 

“Jihoon,” you moaned, feeling overstimulated by the feeling of his lips on your skin, his hands stroking your body, his cock inside you. “Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.”

“Never,” he said vehemently. He pressed his forehead to yours. “Wanna be with you forever. Wanna be inside you forever. Never letting you go after this.” 

You cant your hips up to his, the feeling of your clit grazing his skin adding an extra level of pleasure. 

“Jihoon, feel something, feel pressure,” you gasped. 

Jihoon slipped a hand between your bodies, pressing delicate circles against your clit. “That’s it Faerie, let go. Come for me,” his voice was breathy and strained, as if trying to hold himself together. 

You let out a loud, long-winded moan as you came, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Vivid colors splashed like fireworks against the back of your tightly shut eyes. You threw your head back, arching your body up as if chasing more, more, more. 

You vaguely felt Jihoon pull away, and whined pathetically, too enveloped in this newfound sense of pleasure to do much else. Your chest heaved as you slowly regained awareness, prying your eyes open. The world was blurry, and you realized your eyes were filled with tears. You saw Jihoon begin to stand, and whined as he walked away. 

“Not going anywhere, baby,” he chuckled. “Just gonna clean you up.” He grabbed a washcloth from his bag and wiped away the sweat and fluid on your body. He tossed the cloth to a corner of the tent, along with the blanket he was sitting on that seemed to be stained with something white. 

Jihoon laid down beside you, gathering you in his arms. You whimpered a bit, your skin sensitive everywhere, as if every nerve ending was exposed to Jihoon’s touch. Your head rested against his heart as you traced silly patterns on his abdomen.  

“I meant what I said earlier,” Jihoon said, the vibration of his chest tickling your cheek. “I want to stay with you. I don’t want to leave.” 

You sighed. “I know, my sweet, but we must part. It is inevitable. We are from different worlds. However,” you lifted your head, “I have a plan. I will request an audience with the Queen come morning, and request to give up my powers, so that I may become human.”

Jihoon began to argue, “No, Y/N, I can’t ask you to do that.”

You shook your head firmly. “You are not asking me for anything. This is my decision. There is nothing waiting for me in Faerie, Jihoon. I do not have family, and anyone who I would consider a friend has a mate of their own. Here, in the human world, I have you.” You placed a hand gently to his heart, letting the steady beat relax you. “I want to be with you. Eat with you, sleep with you. I want to meet your friends and your family. I want to build a life with you here. That is all I desire.” 

Jihoon still looked hesitant, worried that you may not completely understand the depth of what you were saying. “Y/N, to give up the only world, the only life, you’ve ever known…are you sure you want that? Are there no consequences?”

You cut him off with a kiss. “That is nothing for you to worry your beautiful head about. For now, let us sleep.” 

Jihoon watched curiously as you placed a hand to the bottom of the tent. Suddenly, the ground beneath him started to feel soft, as if he was laying on a cloud, not solid ground. Through the white cloth, he could faintly see the yellow and green shades of moss and grass growing to create a makeshift bed. You laid back down, pressing one last kiss to his lips. “Good night, Sweet Jihoon.”

You awoke at the first sign of daybreak the next morning. It was time to return to Faerie, but you were in high spirits. You have a purpose this time: to fight for your freedom and return to Jihoon. 

You gently brushed the strands of hair away from his forehead as you cooed his name to wake him. Jihoon’s eyes fluttered open, lips splitting into a wide grin when he caught sight of you. 

“Morning beautiful,” his voice was raspy and deep. You felt the sudden urge to repeat last night’s events. You clambered to your feet, dusting off the skirt of your dress you had thrown on when you woke up. No, there was no time to fall back into the sheets with your lover. You had a job to do. 

“It’s time for me to go,” you said, faintly, holding Jihoon’s hand as you led him out of the tent into the cool morning air. He then wrapped you up in his arms and kissed you, lips slightly chapped from the chilly night air. 

“When can I see you again?” He brushed his thumb over your cheekbone. 

“Give me one year. In exactly one year’s time, I will be here again, whether it be with good news or bad news. Should the Queen grant my wish, I shall return home with you. Should the Queen not grant my wish…” you looked away, “I will return for just an hour, to tell you goodbye.” 

Jihoon nodded, knowing there was nothing he could say to change your mind. “One year then. I’ll be here, waiting.” 

As you stared at the grass, something caught your eye. Quickly, you bent down to pluck a lone dandelion flower from the ground. After analyzing it for a while, you placed it in the palm of your hand, enveloping the flower with shimmering white light. Then, you twisted the stem into a ring, before taking Jihoon’s left hand, and sliding the flower ring onto his pinky finger, opposite the silver ring on his other hand. “This flower is enchanted, and will never wilt. I hope it will serve as a reminder of me, so you never forget this time we shared.”

Jihoon caught your hands, holding them tightly. “You know I will never forget you. But, thank you. I will treasure it forever.”

You nodded, eyes welling with tears as you leaned in to press one last kiss to Jihoon’s lips. “See you in one year, my Sweet Jihoon.” 

You stepped back, fingers slipping from his hold. 

“See you in a year.” 

With that you turned to walk into the forest. Jihoon watched until your silhouette disappeared into thin air.

“Hyung!” Seungkwan called, shaking Jihoon out of his stupor. Somehow, he had walked all the way from the camp back to the main houses. He didn’t remember a single moment of the trek. “You’re back! Come on, we have to wrap up shooting!”

Oh, that’s right, the broadcast, Jihoon thought, desolately. We are going back to Seoul tonight. 

Jihoon silently trudged into the upper house, all his members watching. 

“What happened to him?” Seungcheol demanded, glaring at Jeonghan accusingly. 

The blonde held his hands up defensively. “Me? Why do you assume I did something?”

“You’re the one who sent him to the tent last night! Now look, he came back more depressed than ever!” 

Jeonghan glanced at Joshua, the two sharing a silent look of confusion. “We’ll go check on him,” the latter said to placate Seungcheol. 

Together, the two boys went into the house, noticing Jihoon belly flopped onto the bed. 

“Oh, Jihoonie, what’s wrong?” Jeonghan sat on the edge of the bed, patting the younger reassuringly on the back. 

Jihoon mumbled something incoherent into the pillows. 

The two older boys exchanged another glance, as if urging the other to say something. Finally, Joshua sighed. “We thought you would’ve enjoyed the company waiting at the campsite. That’s why Jeonghan sent you there last night. We are really sorry if that was the wrong call.”

Jihoon shot up straight, turning to level his members with a glare. “What do you mean by company? You two knew? About Y/N?!”  

“Ah, so that’s her name,” Jeonghan said. “We noticed a girl sitting, well hiding, up in the trees when we first got there. She had this mystical air around her, we figured she was something nonhuman.” He turned to Joshua, who shrugged.

“Yeah and, I don’t know, she seemed so lonely. Reminded us of you, so we thought why not have you go the next night? If she returned, you’d meet. If not, then you’d get some good rest. So, win-win.” He then climbed onto the bed to take a seat by Jihoon, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a side hug. “What happened last night Ji?”

Jihoon began to recount the story to the two men, starting from when he met you to when you left. All of it. By the end, Joshua was giving him a sympathetic hug, while Jeonghan had a determined look in his eyes. 

“Well,” the blonde clapped his hands together. “Looks like we have no choice but to return next year then!” He shot Jihoon a wink. “Let me go tell the other boys!” He ran from the room. 

Jihoon stared with his mouth wide open as Joshua sighed. “What he means to say is, we’ll set up a meeting with the producers. No matter what, we’ll get you back here in a year so you can see her Jihoon. It seems like Y/N is pretty optimistic that everything is going to work out, so you should be too.” With one final caring pat to the back of his head, Joshua too left the room. 

As Jihoon sat alone, thinking about what his brothers had said, he heard raucous laughter and cheering coming from outside. It seemed like Jeonghan had told everyone else the news about them returning. Jihoon let out an endeared laugh. He knew that he would have to tell the rest of the boys about you, and that they would be nothing but supportive. Jihoon stood from the bed, his confidence in seeing you again growing. 

In a year, he’d return here and bring you home with him. With a hopeful smile, he placed a kiss on his flower ring and headed out to meet his friends. 

[supershot73199]

Hey just wanted to post this as its own post as well it's a reaction to chapter5 in my story Dawn's Big Daddy.

Barbara was directing the bat's to the various bomb sights in Jokers latest scheme. She also had the damn clowns livestream playing on one of her monitors. Unfortunately this meant she saw as Danny, her younger sister figures boyfriend, was antagonizing the Joker.

It was only when Danny lunged forward and wrapped his legs around the bastard that she realized it was all a ploy and not him being a self sacrificial idiot. She figured she should update the others on the potential for Joker trying to set the bombs of early out of anger.

"Damn it Cass' boyfriend has the Joker in a headlock with his thighs, he's keeping him contained for now but what's yo-"

Mid-Sentence Barbara froze, as an experienced vigilante and native Gothamite there wasn't a lot that could shock her, but the visceral crack and spray of gore as the Jokers head was crushed between the thighs of one of the kindest people she had ever met was one of the few.

"Forget that just disable the bombs, Jokers not a problem any more."

Damian was the first bat to respond, likely his bomb was already disabled as he was assigned the closest when the split up.

"I knew Fenton was protective of those he loved but I was not expecting him to be capable of knocking the Joker unconscious while dangling from a chain." The soft tone tinged with respect would have been unthinkable from Damian when Barbara first met him, she was proud of how far her honorary little brother has come. But she should probably correct his misconception.

"Sorry Robin, but Danny didn't knock him out, and no Cass didn't either, when I said Jokers not a problem I meant permanently." Barbara said

"How certain are you that it's not some trick of the clown? We all know how crafty that bitch is." Jason interrupted clearly agitated.

"Not even the Joker can fake having his head crushed like a watermelon Hood. Check the group-chat I'm dropping a gif for your enjoyment. Also I'm telling Agent A to prep a feast." Barbara said even as she put action to words while turning down the volume of her com so as not to be deafened by the influx of shouting from the members of the family who were suspicious (overprotective) of Cass boyfriend.

"O we have to get him the world's best gift basket, shit Signal, Spoiler you guys want in on this? Don't even have to ask you demon brat." Jason's words might have been jesting but the way his voice choked up everyone on Com knew it was only his iron clad self control that was keeping him from crying, whether those tears were of joy at the clowns death or frustration that it wasn't B doing him in.

Either way it was best not to bring it up and allow Jason to work through his feelings on his own before she tried to talk to him about it. Suddenly a thought came to mind.

"Huh, I wonder how Harleys taking this.

Harley Quinn knew she has done a lot of bad things in her life, she had made a lot of mistakes and while she would never change where she was now, living with her beautiful wife Pam, she would always regret her time spent infatuated with the Joker.

"Harley, I know you don't like thinking about the clown but you have to see this." Speaking of her wife, Harley went over to the television that Pam had been watching to know if the Joker tried to do anything near the two of them.

"Well gee Pam, you don't usually like me seeing what that piece of work gets up ta. What makes this so different?" Pamela had the footage paused with the newest Wayne member (yeah Harley knew the two weren't married yet but she recognized the look in their eyes, after all she saw it every day in the mirror).

Pam pressed play before walking over to the kitchen while Harley watched. She admired the kid he didn't back down or show fear and his insults were really hitting Joker where it hurt. Then the kid got his legs around the prick.

"Whoo go kid give that piece-a-shit a concussion!" She cheered to her wife's amusement, based on the chuckles she heard.

Harley saw the look on the boys face and she hoped he didn't let Joker go before the Bat got there, that disgrace to clowns would not hesitate to hurt his little girl. Whatever Harley expected it wasn't the sight of one of the subjects of her recurring nightmares being snuffed out.

*Pop* Harley jumped before looking at the source of the sound, only to see Pam pouring out two glasses of the fancy wine that Bruce had given them on their wedding.

"To the end of a pasty faced try hard, may he rot in hell." Pamela said as she handed a glass to Harley before she raised her own glass in a toast.

"And a long healthy, happy life to that crazy Fenton bastard who did what Batman never had the balls to do himself."

"Hear, Hear and may his daughter never be bothered by any Gothamite worth their salt." Harley added before taking a drink. Looking back at the screen Harley couldn't help but giggle.

"We should give Ms Prima Ballerina one of my old mallets, she'll need it to beat all his new fans off of him if the way that girl there is looking at hims any indication."

Pam laughed, causing a soft smile to spread on Harleys face.

"Maybe we should give him a thank you basket, he did the entire city a favor after all, think they make a card for when someone kills your ex? Ah who am I kidding this is Gotham I'm sure we can find one."

Gotham city held its breath when the darling of the Wayne's got kidnapped, and when the Joker was killed it was like time stood still. Not a single word was said until o e voice cut through the silence.

"THATS WHAT IM TALKING 'BOUT BABY!! EAT SHIT YOU PASTY FACED MOTHERFUCKER!"

And suddenly the spell was broken laughter, cheers, crying, and shouting echoed over the city, as for the first time in years it felt like a weight was lifted from the atmosphere, for the first time since he made a name for him self, the Jokers memory no longer darkened people's mind, instead relief, joy, and pure unaltered happiness reigned supreme.

Parties sprang up in the streets, businesses closed early, and all anyone could talk about was the man who brought a smile back to Gotham.

As the days passed by an interesting trend came to social media from Gotham people were buying watermelons and painting the Jokers iconic make-up on it only to crush them between their thighs, recreating the historic video that showed the end of an era of fear.

Of course things started spiraling when infamous vigilante/crime lord The Red Hood took part in the trend,in full uniform no less, leading to other famous heros to take part of the trend.

This of course led to countless arguments about which hero was the hottest, as the internet does, though it seemed that despite some of the most beautiful heros male and female who took part Gotham city would always argue the original couldn't be beat.