#there's something about making the best of with what you have that always draws me in

[bbydoll18xx]

I'll Be Your Temporary Fix

Paige Bueckers x Media Team Reader

Based on this request: 

'Could you do a Paige x media team reader. Where Paige and reader are fake dating because Azzi is uncomfortable with the fans shipping her and Paige. Reader does it cus she owes Paige a favor (you can make something up).'

Word Count: 2.3k

I absolutely loved this request! There will be a second part posted in a few days.

Thanks for reading!

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You look up from your camera as the sounds of an argument cut through the bouncing of basketballs and squeaking of sneakers against the floor of the gym. 

Azzi and Paige are at it again.

This was not the first time you had seen them sniping at each other this past week, and sure it was concerning. They were best friends. 

What could possibly be the issue?

Being the head of the media team for the women’s basketball team at UConn meant you had formed some very close friendships with the girls. Today, you were attempting to finish filming shots of this week's practices to post on Instagram. The new season was soon beginning, and it was crucial that the rest of the world was able to see what you saw in these girls. However, that was proving to be a challenge with the incessant bickering coming from Paige and Azzi.

“C’monnn, just please go ask her,” Azzi whines loudly, looking over in your direction. You frown, confused as to why their arguing would have anything to do with you. 

“I can’t just ask her to do that. She’s too nice, and you know it’ll make her feel all weirded out!” Paige retorts, equally as loud.

They really were not subtle.

As practice ends, you put away your equipment, feeling Paige’s eyes on you. Looking up, you see Azzi retreating back in the direction of the locker room, with Paige slowly sauntering towards you looking nervous. 

That was odd. Paige never really looks nervous. She was smug as hell, pretty much always. It was something you envied and admired.

“Good job today, P,” you say as she comes to stand in front of you, eliciting a broad grin that caused your belly to do several happy flips.

“Thanks, gotta have someone to show off for,” she responds with a wink and laugh. She continues after a beat, “Listen, I have a weird request and feel free to say no, but I kinda promised Azzi I would ask.”

You nod for her to continue, wondering what the blonde could possibly need from you.

“The fans are kinda obsessed with the idea that me and Azzi are in a relationship, and Azzi is super uncomfortable with it. She has a bit of a crush on one of the guys on the men’s team, and even he thinks we’re together.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the information, trying to process what she was saying. 

“Okay…so how do I fit into all this?” you ask puzzledly.

Paige bites her bottom lip apprehensively, “well we thought maybe if the fans saw me with someone else, they’d forget about ‘Pazzi’.”

You look at her blankly. “Wait, me?” you ask. “You want to pretend to date me?”

“Only if you want to. We just thought it’d be a good idea. The fans love you, you’re actually gay, and you’re not exactly bad looking,” Paige mutters the last bit, causing you to turn a bright shade of pink. 

This was certainly not a good idea. It was a terrible one.

You had harbored secret feelings for Paige since showing up day one with your camera and a head full of ideas. 

Pretending to date Paige Bueckers was a surefire way to fall head over heels, and that was something you had spent a generous amount of time trying to avoid. 

You sigh, going over the pros and cons in your head.

“Pleaseee,” Paige pouts, drawing out the syllables dramatically. “Ya know, you kinda owe me. I did introduce you to Steph Curry that one time…”

Your eyes narrow at that. She really decided to pull that card. “Fine,” you clip, in a way that was more hesitant than you actually felt. 

Paige throws herself against you in a joyous hug, whooping loudly in your ear. You giggle at her antics.

“Thank you so, so much. I promise Imma be the best fake girlfriend you’ve ever had! Why don’t you come over tonight, and we can start planning,” she smirks excitedly.

You agree and go your separate ways, your stomach already rolling at the idea of doing anything romantic with the tall blonde. 

Later, you walk towards the door to Paige’s apartment feeling thoroughly fucked. You had gone over every scenario in your head just about a million times since your conversation earlier. Your pessimistic disposition could not see this ending well. 

The noise levels were alarming, and as you peered your head around the corner of the door, you saw multiple girls from the team lounging on Paige’s couch. They whoop as you make your presence known, feeling grateful for a buffer. Sure, you loved being alone with Paige, but the idea of having to feign intimacy was so foreign. You weren't sure if you were capable of that.

“She’s here, P,” Azzi shouts towards Paige’s bedroom door, causing her to quickly emerge with a shy smile. 

“I hope you don't mind, but I figured we could go live with the girls tonight and get these rumors rolling,” Paige explains to you. 

“Course not,” you respond breezily, wanting to keep up an air of indifference. You secretly hoped everyone else thought you were chill and not at all dying at the thought of people thinking you and Paige were together.

Azzi gets up from her spot to stand next to you. “Thank you so much for doing this. It’s not going to bother you, is it? People talking about you?” She has the eyes of a puppy dog, and you immediately feel better agreeing to the scheme.

“Nah, nothing really bothers me,” you shrug noncommittally. ‘Except having to fake intimacy with the person I want most,’ you add in your head bitterly.

Considering it was Ice who was live the last time shit had gone down with Paige and Azzi, everyone thought it would be hilarious for her to do it once more. It was so fitting.

KK, Ice, and Azzi were sitting on the couch in the living room of the apartment, leaving you and Paige the small armchair in the corner. It felt like something out of a cheesy movie. The girls giggle as you realize that you both cannot comfortably sit side by side in the chair, your cheeks aflame once more as you put the pieces together in your head. Paige takes a seat first, basically manspreading, as she does, before patting her lap tantalizingly. 

Shit. 

Before you can protest, Paige is grabbing your hand and pulling you to sit down on your lap. Her muscular arms circle your waist in a way that has your pulse racing instantaneously. Despite her skinny build, she is so fucking comfortable, and she pulls you towards her chest, encouraging you to melt into her body. This had to look natural to work.

Satisfied with your positions, Paige gives Ice the green light to start the live with a nod. 

“Hey y’all, what’s everyone up to?” Ice begins, giving you and Paige a sly nod. You struggle to hold back a snort at the absurdity of the situation you’d gotten yourself into. 

KK, Azzi, and Ice take turns answering questions, showing off the tiktok dances they’ve been practicing and being straight-up obnoxious. After 10 minutes of sitting on Paige’s lap, the lack of action was making you feel antsy. The unknown of what was coming was eating at your anxieties.

Suddenly, KK reads out ‘We wanna see Paige,’ causing her to dramatically flip the phone toward where the two of you were nestled together. Paige gives a wave, smiling smugly, as if she could see the faces of the fans already.

Feeling shy all of a sudden, you bury your face in Paige’s neck, trying to disappear from the camera and the hooting girls holding it. You try to ignore the way Paige lets out a tiny moan as your lips accidentally meet the pale, smooth skin. You think you’d spend the rest of your life wanting to pull that noise out of her lips again. 

Ice grabs her phone back out of KK’s grasp and continues asking questions, as if nothing had happened. You let out a breath, and come up for air, looking around at the girls. 

Azzi looks pleased, watching the comments carefully and gauging the reaction of Paige’s loyal, and extremely passionate, fans. Out of reach from the camera, she sends an enthusiastic thumbs up, signaling that the first phase of the plan was a success. You just didn’t realize how successful it would end up being. 

Phase two was deemed ‘Project Bow Bow Bow’ by KK. You had protested, saying, “what the hell does that even mean?” KK had just shrugged, so you went along with it. 

It was decided that you and Paige had to be seen in public together, showing considerable amounts of PDA. “Ya gotta really sell it,” the girls had said with a laugh. Again, you just went along with it, but the idea of people seeing you with someone so loved by the public terrified you. What if people thought you weren’t good enough for Paige? 

Foregoing your usual bar, Paige decides a house party would be a more intimate place to delude the UConn students into your fake relationship. Trusting Paige to take the reins, you accompanied her into a colossal, and if you were being honest, ostentatious, house just outside of the university’s campus. Your eyes widened at the stately staircase, its grandeur diminished by the drunk students already perched upon it. The noise of the house pounded through your ears, almost distracting you from the way Paige had intertwined your fingers together, rubbing soothing circles onto the top of your small hand. It was blissful.

The tall blonde leads you past hoards of students through the house. You’re too busy avoiding the looks you’re earning to question how Paige knows her way around so well.

A tall and muscular guy bumps into you, causing you to stumble in the heeled boots you wore. Paige glares at the kid, eyebrows furrowing harshly, and removes her hand from yours to wrap protectively around your waist. She pulls you in, making sure you are fine before continuing to lead you into the kitchen. 

“Want a drink?” Paige asks, leaning into you, struggling to converse over the pounding noise of the bass.

You nod, grateful to have something to dull your overwhelmed senses. Paige pours you a drink, making you wince at the amount of vodka that ends up in your cup. She holds the cup to your lips, encouraging you to tentatively sip the beverage. You welcome the burn that slides down your throat, settling into a warm pool in your belly that makes you feel more relaxed in seconds. 

As the kitchen fills up with numerous people, all looking for refills, you and Paige take solace in a sitting area in a more closed off area of the house. You are pulled onto her lap once more, a wink reassuring you that everything was going to plan.

You talk over the noise of the party, faces close together. One of Paige’s hands settles on your inner thigh, almost possessively. She rubs slow, teasing circles onto the sensitive flesh, the pressure deepening in a way that had you holding back moans of pleasure.

“I-I gotta run to the backroom. Be back in a sec,” you stutter, feeling suddenly appreciative that the darkness of the party hides your blush. Before Paige can even respond, you shoot off her lap, and run to the bathroom. 

It takes a few tries to actually find the bathroom, accidentally walking on several horny couples getting it on in random rooms. As you lock the bathroom door, you sigh and slide onto the floor, feeling overloaded with the fake intimacy. It had been awhile since you had dated anyone, and stress of it all was starting to get to you. 

You had to get it together. Taking a few deep breaths and giving yourself a pep talk, you walk back out into the chaos of the party. As you find your way back to where you and Paige had been sitting, you see some girl talking to her. Jealousy settles into you, before remembering you had a role to play; you were actually allowed to stake your claim on Paige.

Walking up to the two girls, you plaster a sultry smile to your face and take a seat back on Paige’s lap as if it belonged to you. Paige’s eyes widened in surprise; this week she had initiated nearly every touch between you two. Little did you know, she was secretly very pleased at this new behavior, arms immediately wrapping around you once more. 

Without saying anything, the girl rolls her eyes and walks away You try desperately to keep up the act of nonchalance; the smirk that crawls over your face ruins it real fast. 

No one bothers you the rest of the night, but you continue your act. You play with her fingers and she traces patterns onto your thigh. And despite the commotion transpiring around the two of you, the entire world disappears.

Paige drops you back off at your apartment that night with bright blue eyes, hazy under the spell of intoxication, but she was drunk off of more than just the alcohol. She places a small kiss on your cheek, lips grazing the corner of your mouth before bidding you a good night.

You spend the whole night dreaming about it, over and over again.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 20

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Have a good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The crackling of the fire grows clearer as the tides of sleep swirl and still. Your eyelids part to the flicker of the hearth, a figured limned in the rustic haze, looming over you, lifting you, moving you with ease. You stir and fidget, pressing a hand to the firm wall against your arm. The woolly tunic scratches against your palm as you feel the pulsing of a heartbeat beneath.  

You look up at the square jaw of your accoster. King Geralt lays you on the mattress, your disposed clothes cleared away from the corner. He's gentle as he sets your head on the pillow, caressing your cheek and your hip as he draws away. He stands, looking down on you as his fingers curl and extend, a hot breath rushing from his nostrils. 

You watch him as the the world sharpens around you and a flow rolls over you like cold water. You push yourself up on your elbows as the king's eyes rove your figure beneath the thin shift. He sways and brushes his hand over his chest, letting out a deep rumble. 

You want to say something. Anything. Just a word to break the fragile tension between you. You can't get a single noise out. He stares down at you with his gold eyes, like coins shining, forged in flame. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, snug to you as he rests his hand on the other side of you, tenting his arm over you. His other crawls along your shoulder and down to your wrist, walking back up again. His fingertips spread goose prickles along your flesh as you lay frozen in his fiery exploration. 

The haze of the fireplace, the gleam of his eyes, and the dregs of your drowsiness make you doubt the realness of it all. Are you dreaming still? Everything is so much more than it should be. His heat, his touch, the way you can feel his need radiating from him. 

You fall flat, staring at him, entranced by him. He brings his calloused palm to cradle your face. You gasp and latch onto his wrist.He lets his fingers flutter away and turns his arm, looking down at your grasp on him, cautious but firm. You see how his cheek strains and he sits up, grazing his other hand over yours.  

He covers your hand with both of his and draws it up. He unveils it like some precious treasure and kisses each knuckle. You shake as each brush of his lips tingles through you. He pulls back and keeps hold of you, lowering your hand between you. 

"You fear me," he says, "you fear what I want from you." His voice is low and sonorous, "I want nothing from you. I only want you, my summer maid." He inhales deeply and lets it out with a quaver as you feel the tremor in him, "my treasure." 

Your eyes sting and tears soften the lines in your vision. You shake your head, a knot in your throat, a pinch in your chest. He brings your hand flat to one of yours and twines his thick fingers between yours. The difference is drastic, a reflection of your status. He is all-powerful and you are a speck in the wind. 

"I have worn a heavy crown, I have raised an army, I have bled in battle, and not of it can compare to this, my treasure. You are my greatest achievement. By fates, I found you. I thought that I was destined to sit the throne, to unite these peoples, to hold it all in my hand," he squeezes, "but this is all I need have in my grasp. This is what called me to your southern plains. All of it for you. I have won it and so quickly as you bid me, I would give it up." 

Your lashes flick as your heart swells. He cannot mean it. Not any of it. You are only a maid. 

"You have your fear, little maid, and I have mine. They are one and the same," he gazes down at you, eyes wrought in layers of pain, sadness, and longing, like the sediment of the earth, worn and weathered through the years. "I fear myself all the same as you. I have withheld myself for as long as I can and yet I feel myself dwindling. I feel the rope fraying." 

You sniff and shake your head, "your highness..." you croak and your voice seems to crackle in the air, "Queen Jazlene--" 

"Do not speak her name. I beg of you. Treasure, I beg. I will beg you anon." 

He keeps hold of you and shifts off the bed. He brings himself to his knees at the side of the bed, clinging to you as he once more kisses your hand. As you lay helpless to him. 

"Do not fear me. How can you when I only mean to worship you," he rasps. "As any treasure, I only mean to prize you, to hold you dear, to keep you from those who would steal you away. To keep you for my own. Treasure, you are mine, all mine. By rights, I, King Geralt of Rivia and the Hinterlands, claim you. No other shall have you. Upon my life, I could not bear it." 

You close your eyes, ice trickling into your veins at his declaration. He is king, he is the almighty, and you are his. You are sworn to serve and by rights of marriage, you are bound to him. Even if it wrong, even it transcends the vow he spoke to another, a king may bend the laws as serve his purposes. A maid may only obey. 

"You have forsaken me," you whisper. 

He kneels in silence, lowering his head to rest on your hand. You lay in tableau, strangled and solemn, as he prostrates himself at your side. As a mourner might do for some tragic corpse. Is that not what this is? Grief for the treachery of it all. 

"I belong to you," he speaks at last, rising as he releases you. Your eyes roll open and pinpoint on him.  

He turns away and pulls at his tunic, stripping it from his broad shoulders, revealing a back ridged with muscles. He drops it on the seat of a chair and sits in another. He is patient as he unbinds the straps of his boots and removes each in turn, placing them neatly aside. He undresses piece by piece, rapt in the task of his dissembling. 

He remains only in his braies, the short garment ending at the top of his thick thighs. His stomach is as thick as the rest of his, muscles wrapping around his arms and chest, fur like the very wolf he's sewn into his cloak. He approaches the bed and you steel yourself for him. 

He lifts himself over you, hovering just above, his hands above your shoulders as he holds himself on his knees, straddling as he once did in the moonlight of your unconscious. He peers down and breathes a scalding plume upon you. You shiver and meet his eyes, unable to repress the wash of terror that comes over you. 

He pushes himself to the other side of you, folding his arm to fall upon his side. His other stretches over your stomach as he nestles against your side. He lays on his shoulder, facing you, and his nose brushes your temple. You clutch a fold of the blankets in your hand as his traces the shape of your side, playing with the seam of your shift. 

His touch creeps over your stomach and his lips dance on your cheek. He exhales your name into your ear and his hand cups one side of your chest. A whimper escapes your throat as your nipple hardens, poking him as he fondles you. He is gentle but diligent, eager as he explores your body, as if you are another map to be conquered. 

He trails up to your neck and his thumb draws a line along your throat. You feel his gaze but cannot face it. It burns hotter than the heart. He touches jaw and chin, as if he's never seen anything like you; cheekbones, nose, forehead, as if he is an artist moulding a statue.  

He presses his straight nose to your cheek and drapes his arm around you once more. He embraces you from the side. He tucks his fingers under you and you bring your hand to his thick forearm, feeling the soft hair along it. You claps onto him and shudder at the ceiling. 

"You will not always fear me," he whispers, "when you see the world for what it is, when you see me truly, you will feel as I do." He snarls as he leans his weight into you. "You cannot fight fate, my treasure. Even a king cannot bid what is written by destiny." 

You let every ounce of strength drain from you. You sink into the mattress, surrendering to his will. Whatever he might do, whatever he might demand of you, you will give in. That is your duty. 

He purrs as his own body relaxes, "I only wish to feel you, little maid. My soul needs yours close." He closes his eyes and bows his head to rest against yours. You shut your eyes once more but know you will not rest.  

You are afraid. You are terrified. All your life you've served but this is more than you've ever been asked. The peril is all yours. A king would never face the same atonement as a maid. 

⚔️

The king enshrines you in his warmth. You examine the white strands of his hair as you lay in his arms. Your gaze wanders further to his rounded muscle, the unmatched strength woven in his body. His statue matches the intangible authority attached to his very being. He is power incarnate. 

You feel smaller as you lay beside him. The night passes, as it will not matter water. Time marches on like the very army that invaded your homeland at the behest of the man now clinging to you. Just a maid. Just a deceiver. 

You turn your eyes past the king's sleeping form. His rumbling snores underline the soft crackle of embers breaking down. You cannot remove the danger buried deep in your chest. Memories only drive it deeper and deeper. 

Your remember when Jazlene was only a girl. You've known her through every year of her life. You've seen her grow from cradle to crown. She might be flawed, she might be selfish and rotten and mean, but she is still that life you watch round the duchess' stomach when you were but yourself a child. She is still a living being. 

There was a time when she did not obsess over jewels and silks and bottle. When you both were just young and naive. When she counted and you hid, then switched places. When you revealed yourself form behind your hands and she giggled in amazement. That time is gone and you only see doom ahead of you. 

You can't lay there any longer. 

You move the king's arm off of you and sit up. You put your back to him and bend over your lap. How you could melt to a puddle like the icy outside those castle walls. How you might wilt away like a flower without shade. 

You do not dare leave the bed. Your emotions cannot overrule the man behind you. You flinch as he quiets and his snoring turns to a long groan. A tickle crawls up your back as he touches you. He pinches the fabric, tugging it as if to get your attention. 

"Are you well, treasure?" He asks with grit in his throat. 

"It is morning," you say, though the shutters block out the day, "shall I fetch you something to break your fast?" 

He sighs and his hand fists the back of your shift. He pulls until you twist to look at him. He props himself on one elbow, holding his head as he looks at you. His expression is not as stony as it usually is. He is not the statuesque king, he is just a man, entirely vulnerable in nothing more than a piece of cloth. 

"I don't want you to be maid this day," he touches your hip, his eyes dipping to watch his hand. "I want to... show you something. I want you to know this land. Once you do, you will know me." 

"As you wish, your highness." 

His brows lower and he pushes himself up, sitting against the pillows, "it doesn't need be. What do you wish, treasure? Tell me and I will grant it?" 

You push up one shoulder, "I wish for nothing. A maid does not..." 

"Not a maid," he insists again, "you, what do you wish?" 

You lower your head and turn back to the chamber, "I would see your land. Show me then what I have not already seen." 

His forceful breath uneases you. He is disappointed, though you say exactly what you should. What he should want. You will heed his desire, he only need declare it. 

"Very well," he jostles the bed as he moves to sit beside you, "you will need to dress warmly. I will have gloves and a hat. Some boots," his arm is snug to yours, " 

"Thank you, your highness," you utter. 

"No, Geralt. My name is Geralt." 

Your chest racks and your shoulders feel as if there are pins stuck in the joint. Your lips part then clamp together. You try to muster your voice but it catches like phlegm. You nearly choke. 

"Will you say it?" He asks gently. 

You turn to glance at him. It feels next to blasphemy. You blink and he reaches to frame your face with his large hand. 

"To hear my name on your lips would me like a sacred melody. Please, treasure, just for me, you can say it," he pleads. 

You take a breath through your nose and let it out in a wisp, "Geralt." 

He smiles and his thumb runs along your chin to your lower lip, "again." 

"Geralt," you say louder and he toys with your lip, his golden eyes narrowing on it, hungering for it as if a starving man looking upon a fine citrus. 

"Again," he commands once more. 

"Ger--" 

You cannot finish is name as he covers your mouth with his. He smothers you in his need, pulling you against him, snaring you in his arms. He brings you over him as he falls onto his back, moaning as he delights in the taste of you, nibbling at your bottom lip. He hums and draws away as you breathless stare down at him. 

"I have never known paradise, not in the hinter or the summer, but I find it here," he growls, "upon my very chest, in my very arms. If only it could be forever." 

[ot9snumber1]

siren song

siren!sana minatozaki x reader

summary: dahyun gets your crew shipwrecked. jeongyeon says she's got it under control. you take a walk to clear your head—clearly not the best idea.

warnings: smut, blood, manipulation(?), 2yeon!, implied death(s) but the main one is up to interpretation, i know nothing about pirates nor sirens i'm making things up

notes: just wanted to write something based on the dive teasers and ended up making it way longer than my usual fics,, i also couldn't help but insert misamo in this. u guys know me and misamo...

also, dedicated to the lovely @royaltozaki <3

wc: 3.2k

"damn it!" you yell, kicking a rock in frustration. dahyun trails behind you as you pace around the beach, muttering constant apologies.

"captain—"

"enough! do you realize what you've done?" dahyun shrinks at your tone, nodding and looking even more guilty. "what if we're stranded here forever? you have no idea how hard it is to get rescued—hell, i don't think we have enough supplies to last us two mon—"

you had dahyun cornered against a tree. voice laced with venom, seeing pure red as the younger girl did her best to hold back tears.

your scolding was cut off by jeongyeon putting a hand on your shoulder. "y/n." she says, her tone not exactly harsh, but very far from the usual banter she'd have with you.

"lay off the poor girl, will ya?" jeongyeon frowns, moving to stand between you and the newbie. "she's doing her best."

you cross your arms, jaw clenched and staring at her like she was crazy. the taller woman sighs, nodding understadingly. she couldn't blame you for being mad—you were just doing your job as captain, after all. she just wished you wouldn't be so harsh on dahyun.

"look, i've got it covered. jihyo and i are working on the engine, nayeon's preparing lunch for everyone." she says, a gentler tone this time as she puts both hands on your shoulders. no matter that you were the captain now, you'd always be the little girl she and nayeon rescued in her eyes. "take a walk, okay? it's a beautiful island, it'll help clear your mind."

you grumble, looking away to think as you tapped your foot on the sand repeatedly. she's right, you were just letting your frustrations get the best of you. "fine." you mumble, storming off without another word.

jeongyeon sighs.

"i wouldn't worry too much about her," she says as she turns around, putting her hand on dahyun's shoulder this time. "she's just sensitive about this stuff."

dahyun looks at her, puzzled. jeongyeon nods, already knowing what she was going to ask. "she lost her girlfriend—tzuyu—in a wreck a few years ago. it was the one expedition where she wasn't there."

"she's captain now—give 'er some space, okay? she just wants to protect us, you included." jeongyeon reassures her, giving a smile and squeezing her arm before leading the both of them back to where the others were.

—

you curse to yourself as you trip over another root, kicking the tree that it belonged to. you wipe the sand off your front and sleeves, brows furrowing as you take deep breaths.

this definitely wasn't helping, you think. you huff, finding yourself in an area fenced off by rocks. the tide wasn't high, leaving more than enough room for you to sit and draw on the sand.

you sit, the waves barely crashing against the tip of your shoes. you take back what you thought—it was as beautiful and peaceful as jeongyeon described, you were just too stubborn to let it calm you down.

your focus goes to the wet sand in front of you. scooting closer, you shiver when you feel your pants begin to soak. the waves reach your ankles.

you keep staring at the dark sand, watching how the water continues to crash against it. leaving rocks and shells only to bring them back with it the next time a wave crashes.

without giving it much thought, you trace a heart into the sand. the next wave only consumes half of it, you redraw that half quickly.

the initials of you and tzuyu's names are written shortly after, a small smile gracing your face before the wave crashes back and takes tzuyu's inital back with it.

"what's up with you and taking my love, hm?" you scoff and toss a small stone into the water, attention back to the waves that continued to crash against your shoes and the cuffs of your pants.

"this is dumb." you mutter, running a hand through your hair. you cringe when you feel the strands that stuck to your sweaty skin. "jeong was right. mind cleared, time to go." you stand up, not even attempting to wipe the wet sand off your pants. you'd just gross yourself out.

"i don't think you've cleared your mind."

you whip your head around. that wasn't a voice you were familiar with. was your crew followed?

a giggle follows and you shiver, grabbing a small knife from your belt. "i'm not afraid of a fight." you say, getting into a protective stance. "i've taken the loves—"

"i don't care what you've taken." you see something—someone emerge from behind a rock in the water, head just barely peeking above the sea. "unless it's me, of course."

she smiles, her eyes dangerous.

"put that thing down." the mystery woman says, pointing at the knife in your hand. you shake your head.

"i said put it down." she seems to sing through her words this time, kind smile replaced with a deep scowl. you were about to tell her to piss off until you hear a quiet thump beside you.

you look down. when did you drop the knife? you were just holding it with an iron grip just a second ago—

"come here."

you were too busy trying to process what just happened to even realize that your legs were walking towards her.

"what the fuck?" you gasp once the cool water hits your chest. "what do you want? what are you? why are you—"

she laughs once more, finally face-to-face with you. "isn't she cute, girls?" she hums. you feel something wrap around your legs, her arms pulling you closer by the waist.

you look down, going stiff at seeing what exactly was holding your legs together. a tail.

a siren's tail.

you panic instantly, trying to free yourself from her grip. her grin only grows as a hand goes over your mouth and another pair holds your arms together.

you look to your side—another siren, black hair and blunt bangs squishing your face a little too hard. you look to your other side, a third siren, long black hair—long enough to cover her chest—held your arms tight against your body.

you look back to the one in front of you, light brown hair and a stare that burned straight down your core.

"a little feisty, though." the one holding your face says, squeezing a little harder when she feels you open your mouth to protest.

"doesn't matter, they're all the same anyway." the brunette—you assume she was their leader—muses, carefully moving the hand away from your mouth. you open it to say something, but she just shakes her head.

you can't seem to form words after that.

"hm," she whispers, face just inches from yours as she gets lost in thought.

"momo, mina, leave. this one's mine." she commands. they leave your side almost instantly, you sigh out of relief when you regain control over your arms.

"bring leftovers home for us, yeah, sana?" momo quips before disappearing into the water with mina.

you look back to sana. she was still staring straight through you, her gaze never left. not even to bid her girls goodbye.

"sana is a pretty name." the words leave your mouth before you can even think. what the hell were you doing? she was about to kill you, for fuck's sake!

the siren raises her eyebrows, a seductive smile gracing her face. "you're not concerned that she implied that i'm going to eat you?"

she observes you. every breath you take, every blink and every time you have to peel your eyes away from her cleavage. nothing goes undetected in her eyes.

you take the time to think. what exactly were you feeling? you were tzuyu's. you swore you always would be, no matter what. it's not like you were committing to anything with the creature holding you captive. hell, you were 100% sure she'd just gotten into your head.

jeongyeon had always warned you about sirens, but you never believed her. in your eyes, she was just trying to keep you from getting out of her sight.

now you couldn't keep your eyes away from sana.

maybe you were just sexually frustrated. she is very attractive for a monster known to kill pirates. then again, that's how they get 'em. or you're just bored. maybe it's both.

"...no?" you'd given the answer much thought, yet you were still unsure. sana feels her hunger and desire grow tenfold.

she grins again and you catch a glimpse of her razor sharp canines. "for a captain, you're really stupid. i like you." she hums, giving you exactly a second to process her words before crashing her lips onto yours.

this was wrong, so terribly wrong. you were kissing someone that wasn't your tzu and breaking the promise you made to jeongyeon about not daring to look at a siren.

you tense up and she notices, prompting her to move a hand to your neck and hold you still. unsurprisingly, her touch was ice cold. you moan involuntarily at that.

she wasn't even choking you or anything, she just felt so good against you.

"not so bad, huh?" she whispers when she pulls away to grant you a breath. sana hums something you couldn't comprehend and you nod, the action completely out of your control. "mhm, that's what i wanted to see."

you finally gave up trying to distinguish what were your choices and what was controlled by her song. your body belonged to her now, as far as the both of you knew.

sana kisses you again, trying not to smile too much when you sigh into it. her tongue swipes against your bottom lip, making you whine against her mouth once more.

you part your lips, wanting to feel her tongue against yours. instead, you feel her sharpest teeth pierce the skin of it.

you pull away, hating the taste of blood. you watch it drip down to the water before looking up at sana, her mouth dripping in your blood too.

"what? it hurts?" she grins, leaning in for another taste. "let's get you cleaned up, then." you have no time to respond before you're pushed into the water. (thankfully, you screwed your eyes shut before she did so.)

the wound on your lip stings. you try to swim up, but sana just pulls you back down and continues kissing you like it were nothing. her tongue goes in and out, you can feel her sharp nails scratching against your waist. at least her lips on yours distracted you from the pain of it all.

you feel her lips on your neck. your breath would hitch, but you can't breathe—you don't want to breathe. not necessarily craving death, but if it meant you'd never have to live with the fact you were letting this happen, it didn't sound terrible to you.

you're pulled back up, but she hardly lets you breathe anyway. one hand on the collar of your dress shirt, stopping you from escaping (as if you were trying to) and another rubbing your pussy through your pants. you weren't her first victim, you were sure of it now.

"wait—wait, sana—"

she finally pulls back for more than a second, pouting. "it's not very fun if i give you everything you want."

you raise an eyebrow, panting as you wipe blood off your lips. "this is the first time you've let me breathe since you pulled me into the water."

sana tilts her head, biting her lip as she looks away from your bleeding lip and up to your eyes. "cute. i can only give you one thing, you know? that's how we keep it fun, darling."

"now choose: the ability to breathe freely," she seems uninterested as she tears the buttons off your soaked shirt. "or let me do whatever i want?"

her eyes flit back up to you.

"well?"

"i was told to kill your kind, you know."

sana laughs again, backing you up against a large rock. it was incredibly attractive, like listening to death come collect your soul.

—

jeongyeon frowns when she sees that nayeon still hadn't touched her food, nor had she even sat down after telling everyone lunch was ready.

she gets down on the shore again, walking towards nayeon. the older woman was just standing, barefoot on the sand and letting the waves cover them in sand.

"worried about her?" jeongyeon asks, voice as gentle as the shore as she stands beside her lover. nayeon nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. "of course i am."

"she's strong, nay. she'll come back and forgive dahyun, trust me."

"not about that, jeong." nayeon mutters, fiddling with her necklace now. jeongyeon purses her lips.

"give her ten more minutes before i look for her, okay?"

nayeon nods, feeling a small weight lift off her chest. "okay."

—

"fuuuck, sana!" you groan as her tongue swirls around your nipple, her fingers pinching the other. you take a fistful of her wet hair and desperately attempt to push her head down to your pussy.

"got somewhere else to be?" she asks, her free hand replacing her lips as she straightens up. "...yes. your head has somewhere else to be, too." you mumble in frustration, face flushed.

"right." sana teases, opting to suck more hickeys into your neck instead. you were even more pissed now, but you found yourself too weak to protest against how fast she wanted to do things. she licks the fresh mark, making you whine.

"you hungry? your mom was making you lunch before this, no?"

"she's not my mom!" you reply, your mind wondering how sana knew about nayeon. then again, she'd probably been stalking you since you got shipwrecked here. "and i'm not hungry."

"i am." sana husks against your ear, chest heaving against yours. you tense up again. "calm down, i'm not going to devour you like that."

"not yet at least." she mumbles as she undoes your pants. you didn't allow yourself to laugh. "not funny." you mumble, she shrugs. "wasn't trying to be, darling."

sana lowers herself, kissing across your stomach while pulling your pants down. she takes your hands and forces you to hold them together. "do not touch me."

you weren't going to anyway, in fear of her using her song on you again. you learn to stop trying to predict her behavior. now you physically couldn't let go of your hands, just watching helplessly as sana descended into the water.

your leg gets thrown over her shoulder and she immediately latches onto your clit.

you hiss, her mouth warm compared to the cool water enveloping your entire lower half. you hear her faint giggles as her nails dig into your thigh, lapping up as much of you as she could.

her tongue was moving faster than you could think—in and out, swirling around your clit, moving anywhere and everywhere to coax those delicious sounds out of you. she was a relentless predator and you were just meek prey.

you whine through clenched teeth when you feel yourself rapidly approaching your climax. you didn't want to cum for her at all—much less give her the satisfaction of making you do so this quickly, but everything about her was so alluring and you were incredibly desperate to feel something after so long.

you make the mistake of looking down at her, bucking your hips up when you realize her eyes were still on you the whole time.

she lifts you up out of the water, both of your legs over her shoulders while her hands moved to steady your hips. you were practically laying on the smooth rock, hissing from the slight burn it gave you.

the filthy sound of sana eating you out was much easier for you to hear now and it drove you crazy. your thighs close around her head as you continue grinding against her face, making her smile against your lips. "cum, darling. don't be so scared of me." sana whispers, breath hot against you.

you stop fighting against it, cumming hard when she kisses your clit. your body relaxes quickly after, panting and focusing on trying to form a coherent thought that you didn't bother to notice sana was singing again.

sighing out of relief when you realize she was giving you control over your hands again, you lean up slightly only to see her climbing on top of you.

"we're not done, captain." she whispers against your wounded lips, capturing them in another kiss.

you try not to cringe at the feeling of her slimy tail against your legs.

—

"y/n, it's not funny anymore. you're going to give nayeon a heart attack!" jeongyeon calls out, sighing when you're not hiding out in a clearing amidst the trees.

it's been nearly an hour since she started looking for you. how far out could you have gone?

jeongyeon continues walking, her pace quickening the more she thinks about finding you passed out on the ground. she'd never forgive herself if anything happened—going on a walk to clear your head was her idea after all. (she'd never forgive herself for how nayeon would react, either.)

"y/n, i'm serious!" she calls out once more, reaching another part of the beach. her heartbeat quickens once she sees footprints.

—

your hands were on sana's boobs, one massaging and the other pinching at her nipple. she moans into your mouth, her hands going over yours.

"rougher, darling. how many times do i have to tell you?" sana says, smiling when she sees how tired you were when she pulled away from your lips. you were doing your best to catch your breath, hating that you couldn't keep up with sana.

it's not like you could shove her off you and kill her anyway, you could hardly move your legs as is. you hate that you fell into her trap—that you let her plan unfold.

there wasn't a single merciful bone in her body either. she was only keeping you alive to torture you at this point.

sana's lips reattach to your neck, kissing harshly but not leaving any more marks for the sake of keeping your head attached to your body.

her ears perk up when she hears someone calling your name from a distance, the fins extending as she looked towards the direction of the voice. you did too, heart dropping at the sight of jeongyeon looking around and yelling your name. you pray that sana dragged you out far enough for her not to spot you like this.

"ah, what a shame. that's our cue, darling." sana hums, letting herself fall back into the water and pulling you with her. you struggle against her grip, using the last of your strength to push her away. still, she was hardly exhausted. she easily captures you once more, holding you tight and forcing you to watch jeongyeon's figure on the shore grow smaller and smaller.

"don't worry, it's not the end for you yet." sana whispers, her lips grazing your ear. "you've been my favorite to ruin, darling."

you feel tears run down your cheek as you both submerge under the water once more. you don't bother to close your eyes anymore, the ocean didn't sting as much as it did years ago anyway.

sana sings again, her voice muffled in your ears. everything goes dark the second after she stops.

"rest up, darling." sana smiles, her arms tightening around you.

[sunnitheapollokid]

hi! i’m praying your reqs are open lmao,, can I please request for a percy’s sister!reader x leo where it’s a whole enemies to best friends to lovers and percabeth were just secretly shipping us from the start 🥹

🪼┊ ༉‧₊˚✧ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃, 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

↳ leo valdez x daughter of poseidon oneshot ೃ࿔₊

☀️ sunni’s notes : THANK UUUU FOR REQUESTING!! (i loved ur leo angst blurb even though it did hurt me like LORDDD) i will never get tired of writing for this trope 🤞🤞 its just TEWWW good!! SORRY IM TAKING SO LONG WITH THESE REQUESTS I SWEAR IM NOT THIS UNRELIABLE. this one’s pretty long but, this was way too fun to write so i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i loved reading it 💛 anyhoo, sunkisses!! happy reading!!

ೃ࿔₊

WOULD A BOY LIKE YOU LIKE A GIRL LIKE ME!

(name) (last name) hated the way leo was so self-centered. how he was charismatic, and managed to be good at mechanics and ladies alike. she hated the smirk he always had on his face, and how he couldn’t fix his greasy hair or atleast wipe his dirty tank.

COULD SOMEONE LIKE YOU LIKE SOMEONE LIKE ME!

leo valdez hated the way (name) was always swaying her hips like that as she walked. how she was beautiful, and managed to be so, sweet even when the other person happened to be a bitch. he hated the way her hair was always perfect after swimming, but can’t manage to atleast make eye contact with him.

ೃ࿔₊

ANNABETH WATCHED (name) argue with leo for the fifth time in the past week. she sighed, “what are they arguing about now??” percy strode his way beside his daughter of athena girlfriend.

“your sister looked at leo the wrong way and leo started burning her shoelaces.” percy glanced down at the black and burnt ends of (name)’s shoelaces, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“for the last time— i didn’t give you a stank eye!” (name) grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest, upset. leo looked right through her, his brown eyes narrowing at her upset expression. “so stop burning my shoelaces!! i still need them. god.” (name) had made her final point before walking away from the son of hepheastus.

percy walked beside leo, pinching the side of his stomach, “the hell do you think your doing?” percy asked. leo yelped at the pinch, and as well as percy’s appearance. percy had that shit-eating grin that he gave his sister’s pursuers. “don’t give me that look perce, she was totally looking at me weird.”

“awww!” annabeth coo’d, “they remind me of us seaweed brain.” she kissed percy’s cheek. leo’s cheeks flared up a tint of pink, “okay first— where’d you come from?” he pointed to percy. “and second of all, we do not remind you of.. — you, i don’t know whatever, it’s too early for this.” leo rambled, feeling the heat in his ears escalate.

annabeth raised both her brows, “you’re mad at her for looking at you?” she asked him, “isn’t that what you want?” percy continued her sentance.

leo grumbled again, running his fingers through his hair, “ay.. mierda.” he mumbled. “ahhh..” percy sang. “you have a crush on my sister valdez.”

“NO I DONT.”

“… but if i said yes, are you going to kill me?”

“probably.”

annabeth nudged percy hard on the stomach. percy winced in pain, “god she’s got an arm.” the son of poseidon hugged his stomach in pain. “what he means is you should atleast try and show that you’re interested in her. all you’ve ever done is burn her shoelaces, her jacket, and the drawing she was working on the other day!”

annabeth exclaimed, percy in the background groaning in pain. “oh stop being a baby, percy.”

leo sighed, “actually i almost burnt her hair the other day— which.. will be a story.. for another time..” percy’s eyes widened. “is that why she smelt like burnt popcorn the other day?! leo—“ he snarled, annabeth stopping him before he could kill the poor guy.

“be. nice.” annabeth shot at leo before walking away with percy to go engross in something else. “but he was— i’m gonna—“ leo could hear from the short ditsance of the couple.

ೃ࿔₊

IT WAS UNEXPECTED. (name) walked back to cabin three with a light in her chest. “PERCY!” she barged inside. percy jumped, “(nickname), i’m taking a nap here.” she threw a pillow in his face, “hey!”

“leo got me shoelaces to replace the burnt ones and apologized for the other things he’s burnt. THAT’S SO WEIRD?” she whisper-yelled in her brother’s face as she sat on the edge of his bunk. percy rubbed his eyes, the bed head very visible the strands of his jet black hair out and about. “how’s that weird? the guy’s just trying to be nicer. about time.”

(name) agreed, it shouldn’t be weird. but it was just so sudden. then she thought about him, his smile, maybe it wasn’t always a mischievous one. and his tank? no lie, he did look really attractive in it. his smile.. wait didn’t she just think of it?

“(name) you’re as red as frank when he found out about sex.”

she threw another pillow at percy’s face.

ೃ࿔₊

THE SEVEN, (and some added guests) made their way to camp’s lake to go canoing. “alright! so,” annabeth made her way to the front of the group. “me and perce, obviously. frank and hazel. jason and pipes. nico and will. reyna and rachel. (name) and leo. any questions?”

“I DO!”

“I DO!”

leo and (name) turned to each other with their hands both raised. “i don’t wanna go canoing with him!” she shot. leo scrunched his brows. “i’m not that bad! i already apologized for all the stuff i’ve burnt!”

“oh yeah, WITH A FROWNED FACE!”

“okay, enough! we can’t have you guys switch, just, manage and don’t try to drown each other?”

leo and (name) hopped in their canoe last, while the others rushed to go look around. “hey, i’m suppose to be in the back. the leader’s in the back.” (name) shot again, “oh yeah? and who made you leader?” leo put his foot in the back seat. (name) snarled, putting her own foot in the back.

“me. daughter of poseidon.” leo chuckled with a smug smile, “that was cringe.” (name) hit him on the head with her oar.

leo let her be leader.

ೃ࿔₊

AFTER A BIT, (name) had grown tired and leo offered to paddle on his own. weird. instead, she played with the water with her fingers and listened to the birds in the forest. leo watched her, his lips curving into a small smile.

“you’ve been canoing yeah?” leo asked. “sure. percy’s usually always the one paddling though, since he’s faster.” the curly-head latino nodded, listening to her words slip out like honey. wait what?

he flushed at the thought, shaking it away as he paddled and looked away from her in attempts to help him calm down.

their canoe was nudged, slightly moving. “what was that?” leo breathed, hugging his oar. (name) furrowed her brows at him, “what was what?” the canoe was nudged by something underneath again. “that!” in a panicked voice, leo sat by (name) and gripped her arm. “leo the canoe! it’s gonna lose—“

the canoe tipped over to the back flipping them underwater. the two held their breath, while (name) held leo’s waist as she brought them up to the surface. leo couldn’t swim, it was obvious by the way he was coughing and struggling to catch his breath.

“it’s just an otter!” (name) sang with a smile, the baby brown creature swimming away. “it’s adorable!” she coo’d. leo had his arm around (name)’s neck as he clutched his chest, continuing to pant. (name) kept her arms around his waist, “god you look terrible.”

his hair and ‘chb’ shitt damp, leo shot her a glare. “this is unfair.” he looked at her very dry hair and very dry shirt. she kicked underwater to keep them afloat, a giggle escaping her lips.

their laughs harmonized as they stayed in the water.

the two became inseperable since then. they were an unstoppable duo, fireboy and watergirl. they called them. they landed a lot of pranks around camp, usually did duties together, and even after percy offered (name) to go together to sally’s place after the end of summer, she insisted she’d stay with leo.

ೃ࿔₊ end of summer.

“hey watergirl, canoing?” leo walked inside cabin three with an oar in his hand. “HELL YEAH!!” camp half-blood was pretty empty, with only about ten other campers around to stay all-year round because of non-existent homes they couldn’t go to.

and since it was almost fall, you could smell the crisp of autumn air and the breeze that constantly pinched your skin. leo and (name) hopped into their canoe and began their paddling, “(name)?” leo hummed as (name) played with the water, just like last time. “yeah?” she giggled.

leo melted into her smile, “i have something for you.” (name)’s eyes gleamed. leo always made her things, but for some reason, this felt extra special. leo clicked his tongue, almost sort of in animal call and an otter swam closer to them.

(name)’s lips parted as the cuddly otter held out a silver heart locket in it’s hands. “take it watergirl, come on.” leo motioned his head to the otter. (name) had her jaw dropped, taking the locket and opening it. — a picture of them inside.

“(name), i’ve liked you forever now, and .. sorry.” he trembled a smile. (name) lifted her head look at him in the eye, “oh my gods leo. i, i love it.” she beamed, (name) made her way towards him. “(name)! you’re gonna tip the canoe!” leo laughed. “i don’t care!” she laughed with him, kissing him as she kneeled in-between his legs.

closing their eyes and feeling the moment, it was too late to realize that their canoe was tipping, and they had been flipped once again.

(name) brought leo again, up to the surface, and since (name) had been giving him lessons, he wasn’t too winded from the previous canoe-flipping sitch. they laughed together again, and this time,

(name) had chosen to get her hair and shirt damp. “you can say you got me flipped, watergirl.”

“cringe.”

“hey! it was cute! c’mon!!”

[torialefay]

dear tori, do you have a minute to talk about our lord and savior christopher bang, and more specifically these videos from the met gala?

https://twitter.com/backsdoors/status/1787611418755285267?t=XkWEPIdkxCvncRqTISp_3A&s=19

https://twitter.com/backsdoors/status/1787621386053189754?s=19

thank you for your time.

—🧸

hi 🧸 anon!!!! i hadn't seen that second link you sent me and oh my god 😭😭😭😭

here's the thing: i am delusional. and all of these clips make me think about what it would be like to be chan's girlfriend at the met.

you're in the crowd at the met waiting nervously for all of the kids to arrive. and when they do, you feel like the proudest parent in the world. they way they look and behave is giving you the biggest sense of fulfilment. they all look scared shitless, but a proud mom moment nonetheless.

and then, you look over and finally lock in on your boyfriend. how fucking beautiful he is. his cape falling off of his body to reveal a suit that had been tailored just for him. his big, broad shoulders highlighted along the line of the jacket.

and the way that he'd secure his jacket inward to make sure it looked perfect. he knew he had to be perfect tonight with so many eyes on him.

and you'd watch in awe as they did what they do best. charming everyone. your group of boys, now looking like grown men. you couldn't contain yourself. before you knew it, tears were starting to well up in your eyes as you smiled and covered your mouth. this was all just too perfect.

when you'd focused in on your boyfriend again, that's when you really lost it. you couldn't believe he'd made it here. your fucking man. at the met gala. the shine in his eyes looked like it was made for him. and everything about him was made for you.

as you started releasing a few tears, you couldn't help to yourself but mouth the words "my baby" while looking in awe. grasping your hands to your chest, you took deep breaths, admiring him for all he was. "so perfect," you'd mouth again.

you watched again as the boys went up the stairs for their interviews. although you couldn't hear them, you were sure that they were doing great. chan was holding the mic the entire time, and your heart raced, looking at the emotions going across his face to clue you in to what they were talking about. others may not be able to notice, but you knew that he was nervous. he showed it in his own, hidden way. your perfect boyfriend.

your eyes would continue to follow as they finished their interviews. you could see the relief on chan's face once he realized that the hard part was over with. he was so excited and so giddy to know that he could now freely enjoy himself for the rest of the night. he'd gotten through it, and he'd done a good job. while waiting to go into the museum, he looked out to see if he could find you. he craned his neck in all directions and squinted harshly until he could make out your face. you smiled as hard as you could, waving and giving him small excited fist bumps into the air. he perked right up, following your moves.

when they were about to enter the huge building, a panicked look came over chan's face as he was told that they needed to do something with the members' phones. they only had a couple of staff near them, but they offered to take care of it. while the members handed chan all of the phones, he was struggling to hold him in his two hands. instinctually, chan turned his body around to find you in the crowd, motioning for you to come up and take the phones for him. he knew you'd keep them safe in your purse.

a bit embarrassed, you knew that this is what it meant to be the mom and dad of stray kids. always having to take care of the kids. trying to draw the absolute least amount of attention, you shimmied up the stairs and to the boys waiting patiently.

you threw your hands out, almost in a panic, to retrieve the phones so that the boys could get back on schedule. you placed each one quickly in your purse before zipping it up and resting it snug to your hip.

"thank you baby," chan huffed out, a sigh of relief on his face.

you'd fully expected to grab the phones and dash, but instead, chris pulled you in for a quick peck on the lips to say thank you. you blushed incessantly as you pulled away, locking your eyes on his. for one fleeting moment, it was just you and him.

you had to break the eye contact to quickly get back downstairs. you told the boys they did great and to have a fun time. that you'd be waiting with their phones as soon as they were done.

----------------

the next day would be filled with photos of you at the gala. a quick snap of your kiss with chan of course. and a shot of you "to the rescue" and taking up the phones. but there was a video you didn't expect as well. in the crowd, you could be seen with your big watery eyes, mouthing the phrase "my baby... so perfect" while you stared with so much love at chris.

comment after comment was speaking your praises. captions like "if my future partner isn't like this, i don't want them" and "literal goals. they are so in love." ... and they weren't wrong.

you'd be dubbed as the "mom and dad" of kpop. everyone would be able to see AND feel the love you'd have with your little stray kids family. and to be honest, even the members themselves saw you that way too.

[raina-at]

Cold

“John.”

John shivers, chills wracking his body, and draws the blankets up to his ears. “No.” His voice is barely there, but he’s sure Sherlock heard him. 

“John.”

Sherlock’s voice is strangely doubled, over the phone and outside the bedroom door.

John closes his eyes. “No,” he says, louder, more firmly.

“John. Please.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, can you be reasonable for once in your fucking life,” John grates out between clenched teeth. Then he spends the next five minutes coughing into his pillow.

“I’m not the one being unreasonable here,” Sherlock points out when John has stopped coughing. “We’ve been having the same fight for ten years, remember? You’re sick, and I’m not allowed to take care of you.”

“This isn’t the common cold, Sherlock, this is fucking Covid. I’m not being stubborn, I’m quarantined.”

“I don’t care about getting sick, I just want to be with you,” Sherlock says, and John closes his eyes again because that’s just such a typical Sherlock thing to say. Sherlock, who loves John unconditionally and intensely, for no apparent reason, who would scoff at the very idea that he even needs a reason. John adores him, loves him, needs him, so much, and that’s why this door stays closed and Sherlock stays on the other side. 

“I know,” he mutters, sliding the phone closer to him so Sherlock can hear him. “But I care. I can’t…”

He can’t bear it. Sherlock on a ventilator. Sherlock gasping for breath. Sherlock’s eyes glazed over with fever, his beautiful lovely brain starved of oxygen…

He shivers again. What he wouldn’t give for Sherlock’s hand on his forehead, for Sherlock’s fussing about, bringing him water and tea and tissues, making him crazy by checking his temperature every fifteen minutes. He’d love to be able to warm his shaking, shivering body by wrapping himself around his hot water bottle of a husband, who’s always so warm, so warm…

But he can’t. 

“Please,” he whispers. He can’t fight any more, he’s so tired. 

“Fine.” 

He can hear Sherlock’s frustration, and he empathises. He also knows that nothing would keep him from Sherlock’s sickroom if situations were reversed, and that he’s being a gigantic hypocrite. But he’s not actually that sick. He’s coughing, and he’s running a fever, but there’s no shortness of breath, and his fever has hovered just under 39 celsius. He feels rotten, but he’ll be fine. And the horrible thing about this virus is that John has no idea what would happen if he gave it to Sherlock. Sherlock could be completely fine, or he could die. And everything in between.

“I get it, love, I do,” he says, touching the face of his phone as if that touch could translate to Sherlock. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Sherlock sighs. “Can I at least make you something to eat?”

John smiles at the petulance in Sherlock’s voice. “Please. I’d love that.”

“Chicken soup with dumplings?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll bake you something as well.”

John feels his eyes close and his body relax. “Make me a YouTube video. So I can watch you.” It’ll keep Sherlock busy, as well as giving John something to watch. The channel has been a godsend. The bakery is reduced to take away, but the YouTube channel has more than made up for the loss of revenue. Sherlock is more popular than ever, with the whole world stuck at home and everyone suddenly obsessed with making their own bread. 

“Will do. You’re almost asleep, aren’t you?” Sherlock’s voice is warm and fond and full of love, the kind of love John never thought he’d find and is sure he doesn’t deserve.

“I love you,” he whispers, because it’s true and because he never tires of saying it, how the words feel on his tongue and in his sore throat.

“I know. Go to sleep now. There’ll be soup and cinnamon rolls when you wake up.”

“You’re the best husband in the world, you know that?”

“I’ll remind you of that the next time I destroy the kitchen,” Sherlock says, and John can hear the smile in his voice, can imagine it on his face. 

“Oi, I’m sick. Nothing I say can be used against me.”

Sherlock sighs, exasperated. “Go to sleep. You’re stubborn and impossible, but if you don’t get better fast I don’t care what you say, I’ll chainsaw my way through this door if I have to.”

John smiles. “Threats, insults and property damage. Now I know you love me.”

“And the fact that I married you and we’ve been living together for ten years wasn’t enough?”

“Circumstantial evidence.” He’s no longer as cold as he was. The sound of Sherlock’s voice and his presence hovering outside the door are soothing, and calming, and John can imagine that everything will be all right when Sherlock is fussing and baking and being himself. 

“I’m hanging up the phone right now, and you’re going to sleep. Phone me when you wake up and I’ll bring up your soup.”

“Yes, captain.”

“You’re completely ridiculous,” Sherlock huffs and hangs up the phone. 

John mutters, “I love you too,” to the closed door and finally succumbs to sleep.

-----

Took me six whole days before I got out the Bakers, aren't you proud of me? ;-)

I wonder if I can hit every single one of my AUs in this challenge. If the challenge for tomorrow is what I think it's going to be (I still protest my relative innocence, by the way, no matter what @totallysilvergirl says) then I'll check another one off the list.

Anyway, tags that might or might not work under the cut as always, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.

@calaisreno @jrow @peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @jolieblack @weesi @thegildedbee @salmonsown

[brailsthesmolgurl]

Remember me?

Preview: You had gotten into a terrible accident. What happens when your memory of him had faded? What would he do to regain your love for him?

Warnings: Angst with comfort. Suggestive as well ;)

P.S: Xavier girlies really be getting a treat because I made sure to make his part a little longer than usual as i always struggled with writing Xavier :,)

ZAYNE

Rushing into the ER, Zayne’s footsteps came to a sudden halt when he watched you getting pushed into a room on a stretcher, a crash cart finding its way next to your side. He had received a call from your colleague Tara, crying on the phone explaining that your heroic actions had been a disastrous one as your were outnumbered by a sudden influx of wanderers. You managed to kill most of them, but in return, you too sustained some severe injuries.

Prior to Tara's call, you had tried to call Zayne, or in fact, just trying to reach out to anyone possible as you knew that you were not going to pull through the next hit. But as you were about to press the green dial button, a wanderer charged towards you from behind and successfully knocked you down. You would have easily avoided that collision if you were not in such a weakened and drained state. When your back hit the ground, your vision immediately turned black like a television that got turned off.

“Dr. Zayne, you have to leave.” The attending instructed the nurses to push him back but Zayne turned, knowing the Hippocratic oath he had taken had to be respected as the other doctors would serve you within your best interest. The man returned to his office, his mind a blank slate as he did not know nor expected to see you in such a condition. You were knocked out cold, blood painting your face as it flowed down from the top of your scalp. Your clothes were torn and roughed up, showing lacerations that calls for infections. Doctors and nurses in the ER swarmed you, tugging off the covers to reveal a gaping hole on the side of your hip.

He could not bring his feet to leave, stagnant at his current spot as he watched nurses intubated you, doctors drawing cultures from your body so it could be tested in the lab. It did not fazed him when this is a norm for him on a daily basis, yet he could not help but to be bothered at the fact he could not do anything as he watched you from the point of a bystander. The memories of you laying in the scarlet tainted bed would never be out of his mind ever again.

The next day, Zayne stopped by your room during his lunch break, a paper cup in his hand, filled with hot chocolate. His lunch break would usually be spent in his room, with one of the nurses stopping by to hand him his meal and he shall eat in peace in his office while going through patient files or simply read a book for his own entertainment. But it is different this time, he had abandoned his lunch break routine just to stand at the window that views directly into your room.

He mentally counted the amount of tubes that were attached to your limbs. Two IV poles stood on each side of your bed, like guards on duty, holding up packs of liquid substances that works to provide nutrients for your injured body. Your face had a couple of plasters on them, mimicking patches of your skin, while protecting your wounds from getting contaminated. Zayne had to constantly remind himself that you were just taking a nap but his logical mind would not let him succumb to those imaginary thoughts. You are in fact, in a concussed state.

It took two days for Zayne to receive a notification from his pager informing him about you regaining consciousness and the cardiologist was quick to dismiss his current patient, jotting a quick prescription and handing it to them. When he was asked why was he in a hurry, he came up with a banal excuse that has something to do with a toilet break and he rushed out of his room with hasty footsteps. Taking the stairs straight to the second floor instead of riding the elevator as he has no time to waste. When he arrived at your room, he waltzed right in. Your attending stood next to you, going through the charts, chatting with one of her cohorts, fingers pointing on the chart from one end to another, perhaps discussing about another possible upcoming diagnosis.

“Y/n.” His voice was surprisingly calm as he approached you but the attending doctor of yours held him by his arm and a shake of her head indicated a warning sign. Zayne looked at the two doctors and back towards you, eyes of hazel-green meeting yours. “What is the diagnostic?”

“She had just woken up from her concussion, head trauma might suggest short-term amnesia. But it was unsure how long it would take for her to recover her memories. So, if she does not remember you, I would suggest taking things slow.” The doctor informed Zayne, her tone professional but certainly held hints of wariness. It was rare to see Zayne being emotional over a patient, let alone this patient who is not even within his care. She surely is a special one to Zayne, the attending assumed and together with her colleague, they both left the room to give Zayne and y/n some space.

You watched the guy doctor approached, his face held no emotions. You caught the black name tag on his coat, ZAYNE. He looked surprisingly young to be a doctor, it made you wonder what department he works in. His raven hair was neatly styled, framing his chiseled features well. For a moment, you had a sense of deja vu, as if you remembered him from somewhere. But the memories vaporised as soon as you tried to recall it, making this man in front of you a total mystery.

“Hi.” You smiled, cheery as ever but with a nasally voice. You figured he must care for you if he were to come and visit you during his working hours right? Zayne’s eyes lit up as he took a seat right next to your bedside. “Thanks for visiting me, although…I am not quite sure who you are. But still, thank you.” The doctor’s emerging smile dropped, realising that your amnesia would have been more serious than what was estimated.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Weeks had passed by, then came along with months but even till now, your memories remained black. You do not recall Zayne at all, his face provided not even a bit of a vague memory of both of your shared past, his voice sounded still as stoic and foreign, but you always had this bubbling feel within your belly, and it only ever comes around when you are with him. This applies for the moments when he would come to your office to pick you up, suddenly stopping by your house to hand you some of desserts that he managed to discover, and spending what you thought was unnecessary effort for someone that he 'barely knew'.

Pushing the glass door open, you stepped into a coffee shop, the waft of coffee beans and freshly baked pastries enveloped your nose. This place looked familiar to you with cosy warm lightings on all corners, booth seatings made out of plush velvet cushions and wooden tables that have carvings on it that surely cost the coffee shop a pretty penny. Your eyes scanned the occupied seats and rested upon a figure in a man in a white button up. His posture was straight, head tilted just low enough to capture the phone's screen.

Once you got close enough, the doctor reacted naturally when he spotted the outline of your shadow. He did chose to sit in an obscure corner, so if someone were to approach, he would automatically assume its you. With a tap of a button, the screen on his phone turned dark and he looked up, adjusting his spectacles that was perched on his nose bridge. “You are late.” He stated as he quietly studied your outfit for today. A white turtle neck with a pair of black jeans, put together with a black leather jacket that compliments your jet black boots. Simple but stylish. “I had already ordered for you, the usual of course.” He held up the ceramic cup and drank from it, feeling the warm coffee hitting the back of his throat, leaving a bitter trail for his taste buds.

“I’m sorry, I just got delayed by traffic but thank you for ordering for me, it was nice of you to do so.” Too nice. Ever since you had regained full range of motion and slowly got back onto your feet, you had became too nice that it was a strange phenomenon for Zayne. Low-key, he missed your borderline witty retorts and occasional petty remarks. That was a part of you that he longed for. “So, why are we here again?”

The young man swirled the coffee in his cup, watching the liquid sloshed around. “I just figured you might remember this coffee shop.” His attempt to make you remember him is still very much present and ongoing. “As this was where we had our first date.”

“Well, it does look familiar.” You looked around, taking in the view of the amazing cafe. “But, still nothing comes to my mind. I am sorry Zayne.” Another failed attempt which was already expected by Zayne the moment you had entered the doors to this cafe. Hearing you addressing his name every time was a comfort and yet a curse because you calling his name did not mean anything anymore.

The doctor sat in front of you provided both you and himself a smile of solace. “It’s alright. You do not have to apologise every time if you do not recall the memories we once had. I will just keep on trying.” The waitress then approached the both of you, laying down the desserts and pastries that Zayne had ordered. “Here, have it as much as you want. It shall be on my tab.”

Staring at the array of desserts, your vision paused at the strawberry roll. The cylindrical delicacy doused in a layer of butter and decorated heavily with fresh whipped cream and strawberries. Before you could manage to taste a piece, your daydream beckoned you, flashes of memories came along, showing visions of you eating desserts with Zayne. The both of you standing side by side, debating on which coffee would match which dessert better and finally deciding on the strawberry roll. The same strawberry roll that earned him a toothache and you eventually accompanied him to the dentist, your nags could be heard through the playback in your head. “Are you alright y/n?” Zayne’s voice interrupted your vision.

“I…I need the washroom.” You pushed your chair back and hurried off into the bathroom. Jamming yourself into one of the stalls, you sat yourself down onto the toilet cover and held your head in your palms. The throbbing pain on your frontal lob causing you to feel waves of nausea. Your breaths started quickening as you felt like you were strapped down to a roller coaster of emotions involuntarily, going through tunnels at light speeds, replaying all of your memories along the way. Then it stopped. You just sat on the toilet cover now, tears stinging your eyes as you take in your surroundings.

The day before you went onto a mission, Zayne and you had a fallout, arguing over the fact he was too busy with his schedule and constantly cancelling his meet ups with you just to attend to his patients. You knew he had an important role to play within the hospital, but his last minute cancellations was the main reason you got riled up when you confronted him about it. Not to mention his indifference further fuelled your anger. The argument that night was inconclusive, the both of you agreed to have your own time, only to result in solemn sighs and quiet cries. The next day, the fight between the both of you partially held the blame when you were in the middle of the battlefield, too drained from your lack of sleep. Then, your inability to focus while fighting Berserk Wanderers made you pay the price.

But when Zayne caught sight of you for the very first time in the stretcher, the fight never mattered anymore. If apologising would bring you back, he would have done it without hesitation. He took the blame too, silently cursing himself, questioning himself if things would have taken a better turn if he chose to hold you close and apologise for that night, to promise you that he would spend more time with you. The promise was only played out when you regained consciousness. How he wished you could have remembered, seeing that he had made time for you just the way you would have wanted him to.

He would always accompany you to your physiology appointments, visiting you often after he is done with his shifts, forgiving you every time you do not remember scenarios or locations that had played a significant part in both of your relationship. It must have been an aching journey for him. From the throbbing pain, your head started feeling heavy and you collapsed in the stall.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Waking up, your hands pushed down against satin sheets in an attempt to sit yourself up. The room you are in is definitely not yours, the pristine white walls with darkish blue accents belong to Zayne’s. Just as you thought of him, he appeared through the doorway, wooden tray in hand as he walked over to you. A cup of water with pills in a transparent plastic cup, and two pieces of bread sat on the tray. “You passed out when you were in the washroom earlier on, but I do not sense anything serious so I brought you home and figured Ibuprofen would settle your issue for now.”

“Zayne.” The way you called him made him perked his ears up as he laid the tray down. “I am sorry for everything.” He looked at you, the lights in his room casting a glow on his face, showcasing the creases in between his brows as he was confused over your apology. “I am sorry I don’t remember you.” The tears of yours got released and they flowed down your face. Your sincerity broke his guard and he leaned forward hugging you, pulling you tautly against his torso. Nobody could explain nor understand the amount of relief that was rushing through his system now, shooting endorphins and dopamines straight through the roof of his head.

He nuzzled into your neck, breaths taken in long and slow drags as he tried to calm himself down. He was never used to showing emotions but just for this one time, he could let himself loose. “You don’t have to be.” He rubbed his palms on the side of your arms, consoling you from sobbing.

“I missed you so much.” Your arms wrapped around him in return, smiling at his overwhelming response. “I really missed you. You did so much just for me.”

He pulled back, hands cupping your face immediately, sighing in relief. “I only did what was deemed necessary to bring you back to me. No matter how long it takes, I will keep on trying.” Lurching forward, your lips caught his in heated passion, thanking him for his efforts through your actions. You had missed his kisses, lips overlapping over one another then parting, allowing tongues to dance for dominance. His arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you to sit onto his lap, a tent evidently pressing against you. His other hand went to the back of your neck and he pulled back, searching your expressions for a confirmation to his further actions. “Would you like me to continue?”

“Yes.” Your one-worded answer approved of his arousal and the both of you continued kissing fervently. This time with your hands exploring the expanse of his upper torso, feeling his muscles with every touch. “I love you.”

Getting to hear those words coming from your mouth again, he picked you up by your thighs and laid you onto his bed, climbing over on top of you as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, eyes raking through your body, desperately wanting to reveal what was underneath your conservative clothing and wanting to revel himself in pleasing you. “I love you too.” Your hands reached up to cup his cheeks this time, smiling. “Allow me to take this slow, all night. Till you remember me fully.”

XAVIER

“You take the two on your right and I will take on the big one.” Summoning your guns out of thin air, you gripped it familiarly within your palms, the metal grips on your guns cold to your touch. You looked at the wanderer in front of you. The size of it outweighed the wanderers that Xavier was tasked to deal with. The wanderer is shaped like a dragon, floating above the ground, with metallic scales all over its body that forms a shield as part of its defence mechanism. Talons sharp and hard as a diamond came slashing at the speed that could only be counted in milliseconds and you dodged it at the perfect timing, a few strands of your hair suffered the damage of its talons. “Tsk, you are certainly feisty.”

“Are you hurt?” Xavier is already dashing over to you, him dealing with the two wanderers barely took 5 seconds. It was a simple slash and dash for him. You regained your stability, standing up straight and getting into a combative stance, the blond man joining you by your side, sword raised and aimed at the foul wanderer. “Let’s take it down together.”

The both of you moved in sync like a dance is taking place in the middle of battlefield. The wanderer utilised its talons and tail to its best attempt to attack the both of you but the bigger they are, they tend to be slower in motion. That added an advantage to both Xavier and you. The man hollered at you as he jumped up, distracting the dragon and you denoted his instructions, charging in at full speed. The talons of the dragon then came towards you. Yet, everything seems to happen in slow-motion as you kicked yourself off of the ground and did a somersault, counteracting against the movement of the talons and safely avoiding it. Xavier appeared beneath you, his teleportation abilities an extremely useful tactic for displacement.

Dropping on one knee, he reached his hand out and you used the platform on his palm to provide a leverage for you to gain momentum for height, springing yourself up into the air, rotating in circles before angling yourself face-first towards the dragon like creature. The dragon roared as it spotted you, talons now flying upwards to stop your strike. You waved your hand and the guns switched to a blade similar to Xavier’s but with a silver hilt and a red tip. Fast as a bullet, you avoided the attack of the dragon yet again and this time jammed the blade right onto the top of its head. The dragon screeched before fading into dust particles and the Protocore that it carried fell to the floor with a clink. “How was that move just now?” You smirked, awaiting a compliment as you landed onto the ground steadily.

“It can use some work.” Xavier spoke nonchalantly, bending down to pick up the Protocore before crushing it in his hands, not wanting anyone else to get their hands on it, especially those who are not associated with your organisation. You placed a hand onto your chest and gasped dramatically, feigning being insulted. “You deserve that for letting me deal with the weaker ones and with you dealing with the dragon all by yourself. You could easily get hurt.” His display of puppy eyes might fool everyone else other than you. You can see the smirk right through him.

“Well you’re always the show off, it is time for me to grab that spotlight by now.” You huffed, arms crossing over your chest in disappointment and he laughed, walking over to you and pulling your arms away from your torso, his smile genuine this time.

“I can never win an argument against you, so I give up okay?” He raised his hand up and brushed what seemed to be left of the dragon ashes off of your head. The sudden interaction of his got you speechless. “Nothing to say? Cat got your tongue?” He teased and you sent a light punch towards his way, aiming right at his torso. “Ouch.”

At this point, both of you could not hide your feelings for one another. It was so obvious to the point Tara would always mock that the both of you ‘are a force so great that gravity could not even pull you both apart’. Tara’s point was widely agreed by everyone else within the same department and even reaching towards the data mining department and the HR department. Well, looking onto the bright side, at least you guys have more support than rejection. Captain Jenna however, presented her disapproval towards their relationship as ‘business and personal matters are not a good concoction’ as quoted by the superior of theirs. Still, majority decision matters and Xavier have strong beliefs that the both of you would be able to still keep things professional while pursuing a relationship.

“Let’s grab some ramen, I am hungry.” The usual routine ensues. It is not a routine if there are no food gatherings after a mission, or specifically, one that involves you. “This time, it will be on me.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

Xavier’s superbike engine increased in volume as the acceleration increases. Wind hitting the both of your faces like some form of karmic payback for going so fast on the streets. Clouds were being shoved in the skies, eating up the sun light that once provided warmth and exchanging it for clouds of storms. The rain then poured rampantly, wetting everything in its path and coating the tar roads in a sheen of wax-like surface. Xavier twisted the handle further and that pushed the bike faster, you holding on tighter to his waist as he registered himself to be in a race with the rainstorm. Something about Xavier riding his bike like a wild man does something to me :,)

They are almost at their destination, the marker point for the restaurant could be seen on Xavier’s phone screen that had the GPS system running. “We are almost there.” He called out from his helmet, the indicator of his speedometer showing that he is nearly achieving the top speed on his superbike. The good thing about modern technology nowadays is that there are no struggles to speak in a normal tone when there is a built in microphone within the helmet. Back in the days, talking on a motorbike in motion would involve a lot of yelling as the deaden wind noises would act like giant ear plugs in one’s ears, making it difficult to communicate.

Turning a corner, his tyre screeched in rejection, a normal phenomenon for him using wet tyres that provides a better grip on slippery roads during such rainy seasons. What was unexpected however, was the lorry that appeared right in front of them, blaring its horns as the driver was seen stepping onto the brakes, inertia taking over when his body was jerked back, praying for his brakes to take control of the vehicle. “Xavier!” You screamed out as Xavier turned the bike’s head over to the other side to prevent colliding into the lorry but it was too late. A loud bang came through and you just remembered falling harshly onto the ground, landing on back first and darkness took you right away.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Beep. Beep. Beep. Machines were heard, your body struggled to move as if chained down by restraints. Your head felt like it just went through a lobotomy, aching in deep throbbing pain. You slowly opened your eyelids, welcoming the sun light that had invited itself into your room. Your surroundings are clean, smelling like iodine and sterile alcohol. You looked down and realised you are in a loose blue hospital gown. You are in a hospital. For what reason though?

Your mind emitted a high pitched ringing as you tried to recall your last moments that had landed you into the hospital. All you managed to recall was you coming in contact with a wanderer alone, and after you had defeated it, everything else is a mystery. Hearing the door sliding open, you looked over, spotting a man walking in through the entrance. He is wearing a white oversized hoodie, layered over a baby blue T-shirt and matched with a pair of black jeans. This man looked like a model, with blond hair that could easily blend in with the sunlight and with eyes that is twinning with his T-shirt. “How are you doing?” His voice was not as deep as what you had predicted, but it does give it a distinct personality of its own.

“I’m fine, I guess.” You tried to sit up but the pain that jabbed your chest made you winced. The man took a seat next to you and with the press of a button, your bed slowly moved upwards. “Thanks.”

He watched you, eyes holding a glimmer of hope that you could not pinpoint on what he was hoping for. His hand reached out towards your face and you instinctively moved back, eyes widened in shock. He looked at you, face turning pale as he realised the reality of the situation. “Do you know who I am?”

“No.” Your quick response made him blinked twice, not knowing what to say at all. “Are you someone I know?” He could have heard his own heart cracked at that question of yours.

The nurses who were in charge of you had already acknowledged Xavier to be your sole caretaker. The lack of parents and caretakers within your family history indicated that you had nobody to rely on, other than this blond bloke that had constantly been bugging the nurses about your condition. They had informed him about the side effects of a concussion, including a period of amnesia. Xavier had seen this coming but it still hurts, given that he is the one to be held accountable for this outcome.

After that day at the hospital, Xavier no longer rode his bike, the damage inflicted upon the metal piece of garbage was so great that it now sat in the garage of his condo. Other than that, he was also traumatised by his accident that nearly costed the both of your lives. His self-recrimination got to him so much that it had affected his working attitude and causing him to be more closed off than ever.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Having the day all to yourself, you decided to explore the city on your own and hopefully you get to go to an arcade and catch one of those plushies that you have been eyeing for the past few days. The lack of Xavier in your life did not affect you as much. Since you had been discharged he would drop by your house every once in a while and you came to learn that he stays within the same building as you. But what you found interesting was the fact he would always buy you food that you crave for, and seemingly had always presented a liking for. It got you wondering if the both of you actually had a history together but since he did not say anything, you did not find the need to pry either.

The store stood proudly in between a coffee shop and a convenience store, its neon lights and floating holograms of this season's featured plushies made it a fanfare, inviting everyone that catches sight upon the store and kidnapping all of the families who are spending time for an outing. Couples are seemingly reeled in as well, leaving the singletons sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the cramped space. Just like y/n, sliding smoothly in between couples and families to arrive at the back of the store, where the plushies hailing from an older season would be secreted. Crowds would not clump at the back here given that the need to keep up with the latest plushies is a cool trend nowadays. But y/n’s decision to settle for an ‘out-of-the-season’ plushie characterises her to be a sentimental and loyal individual.

You exchanged for a couple of tokens, enough to fill a small bowl and you walked over to the machine of your choice, eyeing the bunny plushie in the middle of the pool of plushies. “Here I come.” You inserted a token into the coin slot and the machine jerked awake, lights flashed in front of you and a fast-paced nursery rhymed filled the silence. You looked into the mirror stationed at the back of the cubicle of the claw machine and a bright light pierced through it, swallowing you entirely. Then you were stood right next to the same machine, but you were focused on the couple manoeuvring the machine you had paid for. You were about to stop them till you realised that it was you and Xavier, standing next to one another, chatting and laughing as you guys watched the claw machine worked its magic.

You could not bring yourself to snap out of your own reverie, not when the presented scenario is full of warmth and …love. Your guts has been right all this while, the fuzzy confusion you get whenever he is near you, the sense of heightened self-awareness when he leans in to study your expressions, a slither of unknown jealousy coursing through you when you realised the nurses were asking for his contact information. It finally placed your brain back into your head. When you are brought back to reality, you blinked away your tears that stung at the back of your pupil and you recollected yourself, walking away from the machine and towards the exit. You are going to look for Xavier.

You knocked onto his door multiple times, series of knocks, pause, series of knocks, pause. Took him a good seven minutes to open the door. His hair is messy, eyes half lidded and yawns so dragged out that he could easily break the world record for being the best yawner. “Is everything alright?” The man in the pyjamas asked, looking concerned. But you dashed through his door and attached yourself into his embrace, the young man awoken in an instant. His arms now beside his torso, halfway upwards into the air when he tried to process what is happening at the start of his day.

“It’s not your fault Xavier.” You mumbled through his shirt, still loud enough to reach his ears. “I don’t want you to blame yourself.” You remembered the day you were deep in your dreamland till you were woken up by muffled sobs, your hands feeling wet to the touch. When you opened your eyes, you saw Xavier’s face was plopped in your hands and his body was jerking to every heave and pants he took. He was crying within your palms, blaming himself for the amount of pain he had inflicted upon you while he gets to walk off unharmed. Just the thought of seeing him cry again pains you.

He gets to reap faster than what he had initially sowed, with a mere expectation that you might get your memories back after a couple of months, but to get your memory back within two months time, he would have kissed heavens if he was allowed to. You felt his weight pressed into you and you stumbled backwards, back hitting against the closed door as a response. His arm now around your waist, steadying you before he pulled you closer, sandwiching you between the door and also his torso. “I wanted to do this for a long time.” His breath fanned your bangs, heating your cheeks up. “Would you mind if I do things to you that nobody else gets to?”

You gained just a tad bit of courage to look up at him and you gulped, seeing his orbs darkened, gleaming lustful desires behind it. He is not the only one with such dirty thoughts in his mind, for you bear the same thoughts as him. You want him just as much as he wants you, but there was just a gap between the both of you the whole time, the hesitant, the doubt and the fear of a mistake that was holding the both of you back. But as of now, perhaps not anymore.

Responding to your eager lust, you pressed your lips against his and he reciprocated it. Your lips parted and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in, caressing the insides of your mouth. His hand traced to your bum and he smoothed his palms over it, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "Did I ever told you how sorry I was about your accident?" He whispered against your plump lips, a passionate emblem brewed behind his cerulean orbs. Gasping, he lifted you up by swiftly hooking his arms under your thighs and pinning you harder against the door. "Tonight, let me apologise sincerely, and allow me to make it up to you." The night then gets darker but younger.

RAFAYEL

Seated on a wooden chair tucked behind a huge desk, the young artist crossed his legs under the table, eyeing the cue cards that he was given so he could get an idea on what answers he could opt for. But as what Thomas has predicted, Rafayel's fish brain would not even appreciate the aid of a script. Rafayel positioned the cue card at the very edge of the table and awaited for the curtains to be withdrawn.

Jazzy tunes started playing and the host of the interview roared out Rafayel's name belatedly. Heavy maroon drapes slowly drew back, revealing a standing ovation from the crowd and a grumpy Rafayel behind the desk. "Welcome Rafayel!" The young woman introduced herself to be Miss Kony. Everyone, Miss Kony even, are in awe with his effiminate features. Men hate his feminine looking features but women dig it. Rafayel on the other hand, knows that he owns the stage the moment he was revealed.

Almost at the end of the interview, MIss Kony was asking some handpicked fan-favourite questions towards Rafayel. "So what if, just what if you found out that someone you love someday had lost their memory about you?" The woman asked, hands smoothed over her yellow chiffon blouse and placing the cue card onto her lap, leaning in to catch his answer.

The young artist shrugged. "I don't know really. I think I would just get disappointed and leave." He was known for his impatience to everything except for his own artwork. "As I do have time for other things other than tending towards someone who barely remembers me. I might just take the time to continue doing what I do."

His answer received praises and whistles, earning admiration from his fanbase for someone being true to himself and also having to think of the 'bigger picture'. The interview that had took place ended on a particularly neutral note but the end of the night seemingly turned sour. Not only was he tailed by paparazzis all the way to his car and that he was late for a movie. The one movie that you would never shut up about, featuring some sappy drama with a very predictable ending. Rafayel wanted to express his distaste towards your movie choices but seeing you getting so excited over something so minute, his heart could not help but to be wrapped around your fingers. Sliding himself into the bucket seat of his hyper car, the artist held up a hand, signifying a blatant goodbye and to cease further questions. Starting the ignition, the car roared to life and he stepped onto the gas pedal and steered out of the parking lot.

You stood at the front of the cinema, eyes darting everywhere to search for a sign of a 6’ tall man with purple hair, good sense of fashion and dashingly good looks, but he was nowhere to be seen. You picked up your phone, squinting your eyes when you checked the time. He is late. Which is unusual of him. Before you could even control yourself, your mind had already started stirring up different scenarios of what could have happened to Rafayel and you got increasingly worried over him. Your fingers hovered over the green dial button, Rafayel’s name on your screen before you were interrupted by the screams of the general public.

Rafayel's phone vibrated for a few times before he picked it up, hearing your voice on the other end through the speakers of his car. "Rafayel, I think there is a bombing happening near—” A huge whirring could be heard and a high pitched ringing sent the call directly to an end note. The line emitting a no-signal dial tone caused Rafayel's heart to plunge. He looked at the phone, your name and profile picture the only thing that filled the screen before it turned off and the young man stepped pedal to the metal, the car’s turbine sound cutting through the quiet night.

His car screeched to a halt when he was greeted with barricades in the middle of the road, fire ablaze on multiple buildings and rubbles filled the once bustling streets. Security and medical forces are already at the scene, scavenging for survivors and treating victims of the unfortunate circumstance. “Tara!” He called out when he spotted a familiar outline of a female similar to your height but with a bob. The girl turned at the call of her name and her eyes widened, probably not expecting your boyfriend to be at the scene. “What happened here? Did you saw y/n?”

Tara looked like she had gagged onto the smoke but minus the coughing and actual physical struggle. Words are not pouring out of her mouth despite she is a proud extrovert. “There was a bombing.” She managed to mutter after a while of silence and intense staring. “We have yet to find her. We don’t know where she is.” She hesitantly looked down to check her hunter’s watch to avoid his gaze. She could tell that he is not taking the answer well.

“She was last seen at the cinema. Have you searched there yet?” He asked and watching Tara being hesitant again, he did not bother asking and he walked right in, getting a clearance from the authorities issued by Tara. He walked past rubbles, hearing for anything that could get him to locate you easier. Then, he stopped at the sight of a hand peeking out from under one of the cement rubble. The promise ring of his laid dormant on your ring finger, the ashen skin nearly similar to the rubble you are laid underneath.

“Y/N!” He shouted, sinking to his knees and started to dig through the rubble, his sudden movement caught the eyes of a few of the fire marshalls stationed at the site. They rushed over with their gear. “Please help, my lover is underneath the rubble!” He called out, still digging through the rubble.

“Sir, we are gonna need you to step back.” One of the man pushed him back, the young man indicated signs of reluctance but he knew that he does not have any tools that could lift up the huge piece of rubble anyways. “Once we get her out, you can be on the ambulance with her.” Another marshall placed a hand on his back, his voice and gaze reassuring enough to get Rafayel to back off to let them do their work. He stood aside, peering over their shoulders every once in a while, wanting to catch a glimpse of what they could manage to find. It didn’t take them long to lift your body out of the piles of rocks. Your body was limp, eyes closed and scarlet red painted a few streaks of colours on your beautiful yet pale face. “Y/n!” He called out to you but there were no responses, his legs matched the pace of the marshalls lifting your injured body towards the ambulance.

He got in right after the stretcher and sat down next to you, grabbing hold of your hand in his. He kept mumbling your name, peppering kisses over the back of your hand as if he was praying to a god. Ironic. The ambulance’s sirens wailed as the paramedics strapped themselves into the driver seats. “Hang on tight.” The driver’s voice could be heard through the plastic pane separating the patient’s mobile room. With the rev of an engine, the force of inertia caused Rafayel to jerk backwards as the ambulance sped through the traffic.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Batting your eyelashes a couple of times, you invited the sunlight into your vision after who-knows-for-how-long it has been. Your body felt sore as if you had been lifting weights too heavy for you, your head felt groggy like your nap had been too good, your hearing sense prickled whenever someone made too loud of a noise. By that, you meant the man in front of you who would not stop calling out your name when he opened the door to see your opened eyes. This man, his lilac-pinkish hued orbs widened with what you may describe as excitement. His smile is nothing less than dashing, he seemed like he is made for the television shows. Everything on him, from his head to his toe, a simple black formal button up, a pair of black slacks, and a pair of normal sneakers looked expensive on him. Maybe he does adorn those branded items, but you could not possibly tell at this moment.

“Do you remember me, my love?” His smile had reduced a little bit, perhaps due to your unresponsiveness when you initially woke up from your days of deep slumber. “Y/n?”

“I don’t know you.” You frowned, gaze avoiding his. You could hear slight shuffling, squeaks caused by the friction between the waxed tiled floor and the soles of his sneakers. “Do I happen to know you beforehand?” You tilted your head up and you watched the young man took a seat next to you, a face of disbelief tattooed onto his features. “Would you like to—”

“I’m Rafayel.” The man in front of you beamed, his sappy look somewhat disappeared into thin air. Although he knew that it would hurt for you to not remember him, but he felt like slapping himself in the face now. Saying something along the lines of not giving two shits to someone he loves if they were to forget him is just plain ignorant when he sits in front of you now, watching the love of his life not remembering him and yet he could not go forth with what was mentioned at the interview a couple of days back.

You still had one of your eyebrows quirked up, looking at him as if he is an alien. Still does not deny the fact that he is handsome according to your standards. "Do you at least remember your name and your job?" He crossed his arms in front of his chest. His shirt was tight enough for you to get a good peek at his taut chest.

"My name is y/n and I am a deepspace hunter. Yeah I guess I remember that bit." Judging at the way Rafayel barely spared a blink your way, you bit your lip and started to stir your memory. A little bit goes a long way when you caught hold of your other responsibility. "I am a bodyguard for someone I think."

Rafayel's lips curled into a smirk, nodding. He relaxed his arms and leaned back against the chair. "Good, we can work with this."

𓆩⟡𓆪

Slamming the oak doors, you gasped in shock when you spotted Rafayel laying motionless on the floor. "Rafayel!" You shouted, grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him like a cocktail shaker. "Rafayel, are you okay?"

The man's eyes suddenly widened and you dropped him, his head colliding with the hard floor with a thud. "OUCH!" He wailed in pain, rubbing the back of his head immediately. "Why would you do that?"

"You left me 13 calls when I was out at the field, I thought it was an emergency!" You fished your phone out of your pockets, revealing his name highlighted in red with a big number 13 next to his name. "Then I rushed here to see you lying on the floor like a dead fish!"

"It is an emergency." His pout emerged. "I am having a painter's block, I needed your input on my painting." He slowly sat up, dusting imaginary dust off of his shoulders.

Sighing, you stood up from your kneeling position. "Can't that wait till after I am done with work? I took half day off just for your so-called emergency." The annoyance in your tone was not as aggravating as what he had to endure before you had lost your memory. You held your hand out to him still, a frown fell upon your face.

He took your hand and stood up, his height easily towered over you. "I will make it up to you by bringing you out for dinner at any restaurant you want okay?" He placed both of his hands on your shoulders and he slowly guided you towards the corner that he always brainstorms for his pieces. His suggestion made you huffed in objection, but then, you are not entirely rejecting his idea.

Standing in front of the artwork, you analysed it, strokes in wavelike pattern covered most of the canvas, with a sketch of what seem to look like a jetty etched out on the bottom of the canvas. The artwork presents a setting held during twilight, the sunset and night sky bleeding into his art. A sudden high pitched ringing made you winced and you fell to the floor, clutching your head in agony. "Y/N!" You could hear him calling out to you but his voice slowly got muffled, like he was drowning in the waters drawn on his painting.

𓆩⟡𓆪

You woke up to the day you first met Rafayel, at the fair where he did this little trick to catch a small fish for you from the small pool. Your flashbacks then went on, projecting all of the moments you had spent with Rafayel and coming to the day he asked you to be his girlfriend while presenting the promise ring to you and to the moment the bombing happened before you could watch the movie at the cinema.

This time, you actually sat up, gasping for air as you felt cold sweat trickling down your forehead. Your memories of Rafayel had been revived and you could not hold back the tears that came. "Y/n, are you---" Rafayel's voice caught your gaze and you pushed yourself off of the bed and sprinted towards him, ambushing him with a hug so tight the artist nearly fell backwards. "Hey, hey what's wrong?"

"Raf...Rafe..." You sobbed, head buried into his cleavage. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The artist ran his hands through your hair, feeling the smooth and soft strands to his touch. "I'm sorry I don't remember you."

Rafayel at this moment, with you in his arms, felt nothing but relief crashing over him. One might think that he would be excited, and to pull her into a rib crushing hug to express his excitement. But, he did the exact opposite. His breath was calm, hands still working their way through your hair before he caught your jaw and angled your face upwards. Your eyes looked right into his coloured irises, adoration radiating through his gaze. "I missed you, do you know that?"

Your hands snaked up his forearms and you cupped your hands over his. "I am sorry for making you so worried, Rafayel." His thumbs brushed over your cheeks in sync, wiping off the tears that are coming to a near stop. He did not allow you anymore space to apologise by leaning down and kissing you. He eventually pried your lips opened by darting his tongue out to caress your soft lips for the opening.

His hands heaved you up by your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, the fervent kiss providing a headstart for the long night ahead. Your back hit against the plush beddings and he ran his fingers teasingly up the inside of your thighs, making you hiss in pleasure. He pulled back, pupils dilated and breath ragged, rubicund dusted over his cheeks and ears. "You have to pay for making me so worried over you, yeah?" He danced his fingertips to the fly of your pants, but stopped right at the zipper. "If you do not want me to, tell me to stop."

Now it is your turn to run your finger teasingly down his neck, your nail drag leaving a hot trail on his skin. "I would actually ask you to stop if I do not remember you." You bit down onto your lip, eyeing him as he slowly started to unzip your pants with his skilled digits.

"If it's so, I will take my time all night to prove to you how much I love you until I am satisfied." He smirked and dived his head down to catch your lips once again, allowing his fingers to travel south, already planning to make you cry only his name for the rest of the night.

[senualothbrok]

Hello friend!! I have been thinking about undiagnosed sorcerer Gale a lot lately, so I am making it your problem too.

You only gradually become aware of it, and once you are you wonder how you hadn't noticed. Maybe it's the passage of time, each day one step away from the nautiloid and the Netherbrain and all of it--each day that much more distance from Gale's last audience with Mystra. The burden of the Orb hadn't been yours, but it had been heavy enough that you felt lighter when you saw his face as he stepped out that portal. Maybe, like the wounds you both bring back with you to Waterdeep, your mind needed the chance to heal before it could process even more.

More in this case is living with Gale. It had been one thing being on the road, chased from danger to danger; all you'd been able to think those nights you'd collapsed into his tent with him was we made it, with a fervent hope he'd be next to you when you woke and still next to you the night following. Now, you lie down with him night after night and wake up to him morning after morning, and as you let yourself accept that this is how things will be, you start to notice.

The tower is suffused with magic.

It's not only the spells and wards that Gale has woven into the very heart of it, or the numerous enchantments he's created to make life easier, or the artifacts and books you've brought home with you. It's Gale himself.

Surrounded by magic and slow to shed the exhaustion that's clung to you since Baldur's Gate, you need some time to sense the difference, but once you do it's there, a touch on your sleeve or a whisper to catch your attention. When you search for it you can't see it, there's no breeze to stir the curtains or the profusion of flowers Gale brings home day after day. You don't smell that dreaded rosewater or taste cloying honey-sweetness on your tongue. It's a sense that goes beyond sense, speaking to the parts of you that lie under your bones and between your nerves--it's something that escapes your words just as you think you've found the ones to describe it. The sense of him wraps around you like a comforting memory, smoothing its unfelt fingers across your unquiet spirit; the happiness you feel, the life that suffuses you, doesn't compel you but invites you just to be.

It's different when you're in bed together, like tonight, when Gale is salting your skin with kisses. Tonight he's all around you, flowing into and filling every part of you like water, Gale himself spilling over at the edges. He's not glowing but you feel alight with him, woven into him, his threads twisting around yours to draw you close. You're not in one of his illusions--the world around you is very real, if hazy and distant, and Gale's body is hungry, solid flesh and bone against yours. The sensation doesn't vanish even when Gale pauses to ask you what's wrong and you realize you're staring at him.

"I can feel you," you say awkwardly.

"I'd hope so," Gale says laughingly, though he notices your uncertainty and sits up, bracing himself back on his haunches. "What is it?"

You explain as best you can, though every word out of your mouth sounds more foolish and inaccurate than the last. You find yourself tangled in a thicket of your own making and are just about to panic your way out of it when Gale says, faintly embarrassed, "Oh. That--that hasn't happened in quite some time. Years."

I'm so sorry, friend, that it's taken me so long to reply to your once again beautiful piece. I feel like my writing is pretty awful at the moment so I do apologise. I just wanted to get it out though (despite being in a weird creative space and putting off writing a little bit!)

Thank you so much, as always, for your exquisite work <3 ---

You do not need to ask. There is an intuition that exists between you, so that you often know his intentions before he speaks, and he senses your desire before you tell him. You know that part of this comes from the joining of your souls, sealed by your love. But you suspect the other part comes from something altogether different, that sensation that you cannot yet name.

“Admittedly, it wasn’t as innocuous as what you’ve described, back then.”

He pulls you closer, as if he needs your skin on his, even though you feel his being like a flame inside you.

“By all accounts, there was more force to it. It was more of an explosion, if you would.”

You arch an eyebrow. He flashes you that languid half smirk that drives you wild. You wonder if he feels your arousal as his own, like two rivers flowing into each other. He watches you with dancing eyes, savouring your reaction.

“Not that kind of explosion.”

You laugh a little. His lips are smooth and warm as they graze the tips of your fingers. For a while, you fumble for words to explain, ever grateful for his patience.

“It feels like a spell,” you manage eventually. “Even when you’re not casting. Like I’m floating in the Weave, except that you’re the Weave. You’re all around me, inside me, everywhere.”

He gazes at you, fingering this chin absently. And then he nods. There is a kind of solemnity in the gesture, the slight gathering of Gale’s brow. You wonder how long Gale has hidden this part of his nature, or shied away from examining it too closely.

“When I was a child, I learned to control it. But with you…”

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, the heat of his sigh blazing like your pulse. There is a force to it, then, an ache to his longing. You feel it like a flood.

“I want all of you,” he rasps. “And I want to give you all of me. Perhaps that’s why.”

Your open mouth finds his, wet and desperate. His breaths are ragged, swirling into yours like a clouds swallowing clouds. He is a warm bath, lapping at every inch of you. You are about to drown yourself in him when he draws back, so abruptly you feel bereft.

“Does it disturb you?”

The wavering in his eyes almost makes you wince. Traces of his uncertainty, the measure against which he still judges himself. You shake your head sharply, immediately.

“No.” You press yourself against him, swelling with tenderness and desire. “The more I find out about you, the more I love you. Nothing could make me love you less.”

He hesitates for a moment. You feel, as well as see, the last of his doubt fading. His smile is a ripple of light through you, a pleasure almost as intense as pain.

“That’s a relief,” he whispers, as his fingers flutter downwards, and his taste becomes your own.

[tadpoles-and-daydreams]

Hey there! Hekate has pointed me toward your blog and I just wanted to say hi 💞

I do have a question though, have you ever had deities help you with motivation and executive functioning skills? I've got ADHD and the "laziness"(🤢) or what I call "going slug mode" (staying in bed all day, no motivation to shower, etc) really commands my life.

My periods of deity work tend to coincide with my periods of productivity and energy, but I often fall off when, well, everything else falls off. So I guess I'm also looking for advice or at least to connect with someone who's had similar experiences.

(I've also connected with Aphrodite and Loki! Other gods I've worked with in the past are Mother Hathor and Brigid)

First off, I may or may not have had so many feelings upon seeing "Hekate has pointed me towards your blog" because the idea that my blog can be useful enough that a deity would go "go look at what that dude has to say" just brings me so much joy.

Second off, OH THIS IS ABSOLUTELY SOMETHING I SHOULD SCREAM ABOUT THANK YOU. I can't believe I haven't already made a post about this!!

I, too, am an ADHD motherfucker and I have always had so many issues with keeping up with my craft. I will absolutely be calling it "slug mode" from now on, that's the best fucking way to put it. I've had deities help me with executive function at times, but if I'm honest I've forgotten lately that I can ask them for help with that. More often than not it looks more like nudging me towards a task than giving me the energy- but that doesn't mean you can't ask! It just means I forgot I could, lol.

This is gonna be a chonker post, so I'm breaking this post up into two parts; 1, why accepting "falling off" was the best thing I could have done for myself and 2, how to still connect with your craft (and deities) through those times anyway.

So for one, you're not broken or a failure, and your deities fuckin' love you.

Call me philosophical, but hear me out; I've always worked in cycles. Cycles of insane productivity, cycles of tiredness, cycles of hyperfixation on one thing, then another, then another. I'm just someone who works that way, and I've always viewed it as a problem to be fixed. I've always viewed MYSELF as a problem to be fixed, which really started with the school system but that's an unrelated rant. So, apologies for getting a bit intense especially since this may not apply to you personally, but just in case:

You're not a problem. You don't need to fix yourself. The world works in cycles. Seasons, reincarnation if you subscribe to that belief, the water cycle, and a billion other things I've forgotten- working with cycles is just a natural way of going about life that I think shouldn't be forgotten. I have intense periods of growth in my craft, and I have periods where I don't do much and instead play my favorite video game for eight hours straight- and that's okay! One of the best things I did for myself and my craft was give myself permission to do that. I, and you, are not failures as witches for "falling off" and our deities love us anyway. Not in spite of it, either, because of it. They know how to work with the cyclic nature of things; people are no different.

So honestly, there's a chance that none of this will make sense to you- but there's a chance that you, and maybe others seeing this post, might find that giving yourself permission to go through cycles might be the best thing you could do.

Okay, now that I've yelled about that, here's ways that I keep myself connected to my craft and my deities during my less witchy periods.

I give myself permission to use witchcraft for "dumb shit." I have at least one post on this, but witchcraft can BE childish, playful, "dumb-" it doesn't need to be serious all the time. So I'm learning to let go of what I think it should look like and recognize that sometimes the way to stay connected is to lay in bed and draw a sigil on my phone as a mini-spell to manifest a nice little treat or a thing I want in a video game.

This isn't deity work, but it had been huge for me: SIGILS. Sigils my beloved. I don't often have the time, energy, or supplies to do what most people think of when they talk about spells. So instead, if I'm feeling like I could do a spell for something but that's just too much, sigils can be done on my phone or computer while just chilling. Also, if you're like me and a writer, I just write spells too. Literally the same way I write statements for sigils, but a bunch of 'em.

Personally I just talk to my deities. I would like to do this more, actually. You don't need to have a big reason for calling them in, just ask them to sit with you and talk about your day or infodump about a special interest. They're not going to deem it unimportant; you're important to them.

Turn anything into a devotional activity if you want. Any self-care. Not just the typical stuff; I mean food, meds, literally any sort of "maintenance" to keep your body and mind running! If you can't do those, play music you associate with them, or watch a show/play a game and invite them to just sit with you. Whatever you're already doing, you can just ask them to do it with you. If that's literally just laying in bed doing nothing but feeling crappy, I can assure you I've asked them to sit with me during those days too and they've been more than happy.

Literally most of my offerings are just random food. As we speak, I have a little tiny thing with a few sips of soda because I give Loki some when I drink some. If you don't have the time or energy to put it on the altar, literally just drink it with the intention that you're drinking it "for" them. When I did a reading and Kali visited for it, she asked for a graham cracker of all things. It doesn't have to be associated with them. Virtual offerings too! If you can, I've seen people just scroll through pinterest/google images and pick images to offer to their deities.

This might not be something you struggle with, but this is definitely something I would need someone to tell me so: ASK. PLEASE. ASK FOR THINGS. They're not going to riot if you ask for things!! Let them help!! Ask for things, unapologetically if you can muster it!!! I am using excessive exclamation marks for a reason, I swear. My deities are in a constant state of telling me to just ask for things.

Be gentle with yourself. Genuinely, I think one of the best ways to honor your deities doesn't even require them to be there at all; just try not to hate on yourself for being the way you are, because they wouldn't want you to.

Overall, my only advice is just... throw away what you "should" be doing and find out what you LIKE doing. What works for you? It's a hard question to answer, but it gets a lot easier when you start looking away from what "should" work. Your deities are working with you, they wouldn't be working with you if they didn't accept every single part of you. That includes slug mode.

As always, my DM's and asks are open if you have any more questions/just want to connect because being a neurodivergent witch sometimes just feels isolating at times! If you actually read this whole post thank you, I hope some of it helped!!

[jay7543]

Hi omg, could I request for Konig x male!exoticdancer!reader (Idk if that's how you say it but ahh) Like Konig and Reader could be on a mission and Konig is part of the audience and is like- wow hidden talent >:) muhahaha. Reader has to dance on ropes or literally just anything! because their mission is to infiltrate the chambers of an elite member to retrieve his files safely. You can write this however you want, change it up, and do whatever because I know you'll write it best your way <3 Thank you so much.

Undercover with könig

18+

M4M

No, thank YOU, for requesting this, this is a great idea, and thank you for saying what you did, I’m always worried I’m not good enough at writing, but I’m happy some people find it good enough.Enough about my self doubt, I hope this story is to your liking, enjoy!!!

P.s. I hope you enjoy the few comedic lines/ elements, I always enjoy coming up with them

P.p.s. Feel free to make a request

When you were a kid, you always wanted to be a spy, or undercover cop, or just something of that nature. That’s what happens when you grow up on bond movies and tactical shooter games. So when you hit 18, you finally joined the military, thinking you could work your way up, get sent on special undercover missions, maybe even get a partner. 2 years later, you finally got there, everything you dreamed of but…. Not exactly with the suits and suppressed pistols, and the snarky German partner doesn’t help.

Reader-“do I really have to wear this?”

You say as you pick at the tight speedo that’s pushing your bulge almost back into you, it’s not comfortable

König-“yes, you’re posing as a dancer remember? And I don’t know if you’ve noticed the type of place we’re in, but they don’t exactly wear many clothes, hell I think you got lucky even getting that, though it doesn’t look like there’s much to show off”

He snickers as you look around at the other dancers, and he’s right, most of the women don’t have any tops, and almost all the men are just bare naked, meat and taters just out, you really did luck out.

König-“well get ready, you have to go out soon maus. And remember to show off. You have a target to seduce”

He gives you a firm spank as he walks out of the dressing room, laughing…prick.

Reader-“don’t call me that! It’s not my fault you’re a damn giant!”

You yell as he passes through the door.

How did you draw the short straw, you worked so hard to get here and your first mission is you dressing up like a damn slut. Well…you have always been a pretty feminine guy, but still, you wanted to be a spy, not a stripper. While you wallow im your life choices, you hear someone shout for you.

Voice-“new guy, you’re up”

You take a deep breath, dig the Speedo out of your crotch, and walk out onto the stage, it’s not huge, only big enough for a few people to dance, but it’s very high class, and more than enough people are sitting in the crowd watching you and the others. Some are just fawning over the others on the stage, some are even touching themselves, for such a high class establishment you’re surprised that’s allowed. You walk up to your pole and start dancing, more than that, you start absolutely killing it, twirling around the pole and shaking your hips and twerking to your hearts content, you got a bit carried away. Everyone in the crowd has there eyes on you, enthralled by what your doing, it’s honestly turning you on, making your dick harden in the speedo, making it poke out a bit. What you don’t know, is that könig is also in the crowd, and he’s very impressed with what he sees. He’s never seen anyone move like that, not one woman, and definitely not any men, even he’s turned on, rubbing himself through his pants. Soon your time on the stage is up, the embarrassment just now kind of hitting you as you shuffle off stage, still with a raging boner from all the eyes on you and the rush of the thing you were doing.

When you get back stage könig is waiting for you, with a smile on his face

König-“that was…really something else”

He snickers as he takes a few steps towards you. You try and push down the embarrassment and ignore your hardness as you choke out a few words.

Reader-“do-do you think the target noticed? Was that good enough?”

König chuckles

König-“sadly maus, the target wasn’t here today, he will be here tomorrow though”

Your mouth falls agape, you did all that and he wasn’t even here!

Reader-“what do you mean he wasn’t here? Our intel said he was supposed to be”

König-“yeah, but I asked around and was told he and his wife are having dinner today, I know, it’s Scheiße, but it was good practice no?”

You scoff, your target has a wife yet he rents out guys at a club, funny. Before you have time to respond könig grabs your bulge.

Reader-“w-what are you-“

König-“I saw you on stage, it seems you have some talents I didn’t know about. I saw that…how do you Americans say it…fat ass shaking, and Mein Gott, that was good, so I rented you out for a bit”

He says with a grin as he bites his lip. You can’t help but feel a bit flattered, I mean…your ass is fat, but it is a bit demeaning that he payed for you.

Reader-“you didn’t have to pay, we are still partners. Makes me feel like a slut”

König laughs

König-“well honestly maus, for the next little while, that’s exactly what I want you to be”

He pulls up a chair and sit down, legs spread. You bite your lip as you contemplate if you wanna do it…You do. You definitely do.

You start giving him the best lap dance of his life, you’re just an absolute natural at it. Your twerking, your grinding, you even feel up his cock through his pants a bit. He smacks your ass making it jiggle, with that he laughs and pulls his pants down, letting his throbbing cock spring out as he strokes it. You moan as he pulls it out, you immediately start grinding on it again, sandwiching it between your ass cheeks.

Reader-“you like it? My fat ass on your cock?”

You say confidently after seeing the look of euphoria on his face.

König-“fuck yes”

He growls out, clearly getting more and more horny as his precum starts to flow out. He grabs your speedo and tears it off you, then rubs his tip against your hole, making it slick with his juices.

Reader-“oh you really like it. Go ahead, fuck me”

With that he grunts and thrusts into you, making you yelp in pleasure as his cock buries itself deep in your guts, and his full balls slap your ass. Your own cock flops back and forth as he plows you as hard as he can, the room is filled with noises of pure euphoria and pleasure

*insert sloppy, raunchy gay sex sounds here*

Reader-“holy shit, your cock, it’s so fucking deep”

He smacks your ass again, making it jiggle as his cock goes in and out of you, your asshole clinging onto it every time, not ever wanting it to leave. His fingers dig into your hips as he drives himself in even harder, leaning over you in the process.

König-“I-I’m gonna cum”

He growls as he picks up his pace, hitting your prostate every time, causing your cum to leak out as well.

Reader-“cum, cum in me”

As if you just pressed a button, he slams his hips into yours one more time as you start to feel his seed filling you up, painting your insides, in this moment, you wish you could get pregnant. He falls back into the chair, with you on his lap, his cock still deep inside you.

König-“let’s just-let’s just sit here for a minute.”

Reader-“y-yeah, sure”

You say as you lean back into him, your head on his shoulder. You turn your head and kiss his cheek. He smiles a bit with his eyes closed as he catches his breath. Maybe this spy gig isn’t that bad

[sysig]

Strictly professional showering (Patreon)

[atalana]

having one of those nights where i'm just. extremely frustrated about fatphobia's existence and the fact that whatever i do to try and change it will be a drop in the ocean and there'll always be people who think i'm just saying this because i'm lazy

[cimicherrychanga]

btw u guys have to promise to not be mad at me for becoming ur turtle mutual. please

[klutzytomb]

y'all, some people are so rude 😭

like goddamn, im doing these requests for free, WHY ARE YOU INSULTING THE PRODUCT????

[satoruhour]

geto reaction to you wearing only his shirt

OVERSIZED NEVER LOOKED THIS GOOD

a/n: lore. a lot of lore. i always cannot help but write backstories. ure gonna have to bear w/ me SORRY !!!! based off of this drawing that i wanted to write sum about but then i thought why not combine it w/ this prompt. i went a little insane on this mb / tagging @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @hyomagiri @slttygeto, who else r geto fuckers

wc: 2.9k

warnings: roommate!geto, soft dom!geto, mutual pining, reader steals one of geto’s shirts, geto is also a little bit of a pervert, mentions of panty sniffing but geto doesn’t do it, m! and f! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, slight nipple play, spitting (on ur pussy), finger sucking, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

geto was a sweet roommate.

he’s always topping up on supplies when you needed things, pushing away your hand whenever you wanted to pay. where he got all his money, you weren’t even sure. geto cleaned the house, he cooked dinner, hell, it was like you two were married at this point. even gojo had asked if he would get together with someone who wasn’t you (and of course, in classic gojo way, he was skilled in asking it in a roundabout way), geto’s firm and abrupt “no” was enough to make gojo grin from ear to ear.

even he wasn’t sure when it all started — you were always friends with the three of them, gojo and shoko and himself, participating in their antics and getting in trouble in high school. there was hardly any dull times between the four, looking at you through the lens of a friend. but when those lens started to turn blurry and black, seeing you in a new light of tighter outfits and a sweet smile that looked like it contained something hidden, suguru genuinely hoped it would all go away.

it’s not like he thought he was unattractive, but you wouldn’t go for a guy like him, someone hidden behind gojo’s bright personality or shoko’s satirical, cool demeanour. he was oh so oblivious, however, turning an unintentional blind eye when you’re hanging with gojo for the day but only because you wanted to know what birthday present would be best for him, or having a movie night with shoko only to disregard cher horowitz on the television just to ask if geto would like your new nails and hair.

the two of you were so dense when either of you were hanging with them, going on for so long even after taking a gap year for shoko’s overseas med school attachment. they assumed the two of you would’ve done something then, but it was stagnant, dry, that gojo almost wants to take matters into his own hands; so when you’re begging geto if you could room with him, since he lived near the university you were all attending together,

“suguru, pleasee— i wouldn’t wanna travel for hours on end just for like a two hour lecture.”

shoko smiles, gojo laughs, slinging an arm around you, “help your poor friend out, suguru.”

gojo torments him to no end. he doesn’t regret it one bit when your arms are thrown around his neck in a bear hug in thanks, feeling himself get hard just from the way your breasts press against his chest.

“yeah,” it’s said breathily, softly, “it’s no problem.”

suguru thanked god you hadn’t wanted to move in that very same day, cause all that could be heard throughout the small apartment was him pumping his cock to a polaroid picture of you, calling out your name softly as he came all over the photo of your bright smile. he didn’t need the fan that night, the guilt was enough to burn him alive. and after, he acted like nothing happened, except the many, many times he’d think of taking you on every surface of the house, suffering silently for an entire year as the two of you fell into routine day by day.

today might change, however, when geto hangs the last piece of clothing, something that was hardly a difficult task, but it proved to be the hardest thing to date when he’d spot the bras and underwear lying at the bottom of the basket each time he prepared to do laundry. geto wills himself to wash, hang it, and get out but he cannot tear his eyes away from the unmistakable dark spot at the centre of your panties before it’s thrown in, taunting him to just pick it up to breathe in your scent, to do something to defile it, to let his desires take over. but he wasn’t gojo, no, he’d wait all the time in the world for the right time, even if it was at the expense of a throbbing cock and flushed cheeks.

“(y/n), ’m going to the store, you want…” his voice trails off when the drawer before him shows only one clean shirt left, sighing when his favourite shirt has gone missing, again. he knows it simply by the missing tag on the top, cut off terribly by your hands on a drunk movie night. he was thankful you missed his skin by an inch, but he cherishes that shirt and night dearly. geto simply brushes off the mishap, grabbing a sweatshirt instead.

there’s a rap on your door that quells all movement from your side, fabric clutched tightly between your fingers that it hurt just a little.

“(y/n)? love? you okay?”

“y— yeah, i’m fine sugu. what did you say earlier?”

“i’m going to the store. it’s grocery day so i’ll be there for a while — need to stock the fridge up for the week. you want anything?”

geto wishes so desperately to see your face now, asking if you could go and holding a reusable bag by your side, but strangely you don’t even make a move to open the door.

“no it’s fine, and okay! i’m— uh, busy with something,” you look towards the door and back to the article of clothing in your hand, “so i’m sorry i can’t help today.”

geto’s disappointment is brief, but he recovers as soon as he hears your apology, in that sweet, honeyed voice you love to use on him, as oblivious as you were of its effect.

“’s fine, see you later!” there’s a weird and panicky bout of feeling geto gets, but he’s satisfied with the hum you sound through the door. and once the door clicks behind him, you’re unlocking your own door softly, ensuring your surroundings are safe.

geto wasn’t the only one. between your fingers were his favourite shirt, straight from the dirty laundry of last week’s load; it’s been a reoccuring thing these few weeks after realising you maybe want geto to fuck you silly. you’re sneaking around undetected with it, holding it to your nose, breathing in his natural musk. it was the one shirt you liked on him — always put on when with you — it’s like your secret little joke from that night. and it was so sinful, the way your breath hitches from just his scent, the way your panties pool with arousal.

what would it be like to actually wear it?

the thought crosses your mind and leaves just as fast, heart pounding in your chest when you realise you’ve never tried that before.

peeling off your top, you slip it on carefully, swallowing from how much larger he is than you. the sleeves extend past your elbows by a little, so much cloth on you that you’re a little lightheaded by the possibility of being geto’s, belonging to geto.

“oh god…” you sigh, feeling your pussy throb at the thought, and your hands are shy when they creep in between your thighs. they rub at your clit gently, imagining geto was doing the work instead. he’d be so gentle with his hands, cupping your thighs, spreading your legs.

you’re whining when your fingers find your way into your cunt, nose filled with the scent of geto and head filling with the repeated runnings of his tongue on you, his cock in you, his whole person devoted to you. it’s cute how you don’t know that’s already the case. your fingers are lacklustre as you pump them in and out while your other hand is busy with your clit and you look like a goddess: spread out on your bed in nothing but your roommate’s shirt, a soft, slow melody playing from your phone.

you’re so entranced by the sensations you don’t hear the front door opening and the rustle of the plastic bags (he forgot the reusable bags) containing your groceries, distracted by the phone call he’s having with gojo who teases him through the line. his best friend says stupid crap like she’s definitely into you, too. what her panties smell like? have you guys fucked yet?

the last two was enough for geto to whisper a soft satoru!, clearly displeased with the way he was asking about you, about you both that he only rolls his eyes, muttering an annoyed “i’m hanging up, you pervert. i’ll talk to you later—”

setting down the bags, he frowns again upon seeing the closed door, although not as closed you thought you left it.

“suguru— f-fuck, right there—” geto chokes on his saliva at the moans coming from behind the door, careful not to step on the wrong floorboard below him as he lines up with your room door — a terrifying feat rewarded by your needy whines begging for him. he can hear the wetness of his roommate’s cunt, and he wants to take a peak so bad; so he does just that and stiflies a groan at the sight.

your hair is splayed out all around you, pussy facing the entrance of the door just perfectly and his shirt draped over your body. it sends him into a frenzy, head reeling at seeing his shirt so oversized and so perfect over your body that he swears he cums a little at the display. your cute face scrunched up in pure pleasure, your toes curling around the bedsheets he changed for you.

oh, shit.

and geto panics when your head shoots up, eyes meeting his and your hands halting.

fuck, did i say that out loud?

you’re speechless although your reflexes cause you to close your legs immediately, scooting up the bed like you’ve just got cornered by a predator. it was similar — geto with his big, brooding self, moving slowly into the room with both hands up and a dazed look behind his eyes, you, exposed in the eyes of a hungry man who’s craved you for so many months. you like it.

“you’re— you’re wearing my shirt,” geto gulps, causing you to let out a nervous laugh.

“yea— yeah…”

geto thinks that maybe this is it. this was the moment he’s been holding back on for so long, and so he crosses that boundary into your space, stopping right at the footboard of the bed. you follow suit, going onto your hands and knees and crawling to him that he tilts his head back. everything you do drives him crazy.

suguru’s words is heavy, “you think you’re cute, hm? stealing my shirt and then moaning out my name and fingering your pussy like that…”

your breath shakes, ascending to your knees so you’d reach his height, but not quite. he tugs you closer to him.

“yeah.” it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “been wanting you for a long time.”

your roommate hums, lips hovering over yours just by an inch. you’d probably pass out if not for your racing heart and pulsating core.

“yeah?”

you’re finished with words, resorting only to a shy nod before geto crashes his lips onto yours, wrapping the other arm around you as yours go around his neck. it’s messy, filled with drool, devouring you on the spot for teasing him for so long, mouths moving in sync with each other. there’s a soft moan that escapes your mouth when you feel him manhandle you with ease, picking you off the bed to set you down on your back gently.

“c’mon, let’s see the mess you made,” you mewl at the words but your legs are stubborn, still in disbelief at the way suguru treats you, but you let him pry your legs apart after some gentle praises. you stifle a smile when you see how geto exhales at how beautiful your pussy is, leaking from your hole while your puffy clit is begging to be touched.

“oh, she’s so fuckin’ pretty…” your roommate mumbles, intoxicated on your scent as he bends down, giving your cunt one last loving look before he looks to you with a small grin. it’s clear he cannot wait, but he pauses for the words he wants to hear.

“wan’ you to eat me out, sugu,” you’re mumbling and suguru thinks it’s so cute, only responding by giving you a peck on your inner thigh, a soft yeah? before he goes down on you.

geto’s tongue on you is slow and cautious, drawing languid circles around your clit as he plays with your thighs, moaning softly into your core.

“s’damn sweet,” you can feel the stretch of a smile before he resumes, drawing you in slowly with each lick, each suck. geto doesn’t let your arousal go to waste, using a finger to scoop up your juices before he rubs the area around your hole and then the first push into your pussy makes you let out a loud, wanton moan.

“oh— your fingers, sugu, they’re—” they’re so much thicker and longer, everything that you couldn’t feel before now feels too much and yet your cunt gives him his answer by clenching around his longer finger.

“better than yours?” he asks with a lopsided smile.

you huff in indignance — not your fault you had shorter fingers, “yeah.”

“i’ll make full use of ’em, baby,” geto gasps softly when he pushes his finger right to the hilt, obsessed with the way your hand closes around his wrist. “too much?”

you shake your head, “n-no, just— feels too good.”

your roommate laughs softly, “princess is just too sensitive.”

he’s tempted to chuckle again when he sees how the pet names affect you, but soon he’s adding a second finger and pushes in, moving at a slow speed. and then when he adds his mouth into the mix, you’re begging for him to hurry; his eyes flutter close, getting lost in everything that you dish out.

geto’s pace is routine like his life, but it’s not any less pleasurable as he curls his fingers upwards, stretching you out and hitting your spot repeatedly. he continually flicks his tongue and sucks and slurps, tasting your essence once and needing a second, third, fourth, umpteenth taste, bringing out the most delicious moans to fall from your lips. it’s like hearing aphrodite sing, and yet you cross her by miles both in beauty and voice. surely, he shouldn’t mention that out loud, but eros can’t possibly help the arrow puncturing his heart, and looking at his psyche now, he thinks you look absolutely flawless.

“f-feel so good, mmh— so deep, suguru—!” his eyes snap open to look at you with hooded lids, sending you a cheeky wink before he starts to suck on your bundle of nerves, keeping his mouth latched around it as his fingers speed up. the noises of your cunt sucking him in paired with your whines just sound so good, and the scent of his shirt is dizzying, pulling it higher and higher till it pools around your chest. you watch as geto pulls away for a second, gathering saliva in his throat before he spits on your pussy, and the action is so lewd your jaw drops and your hips start to hump against him. 

“ya like that? filthy girl,” geto smiles, rubbing his thumb into your clit and there’s that distinctive build-up in your stomach, coiling and burning until lays his tongue flat onto your cunt, pressing it deep along with the fingers that curl up in your pussy.

“su—” you don’t even have time to tell him, cumming all over his fingers and soaking the sheets, flustered at the in-awe look geto has on his face at how the shirt had ridden up, at how your hands cup your tits and play with your nipples, at how your cunt gushes so sweetly for him. he continues to pump his fingers to let you ride out your orgasm, relishing in the whine you let out when he removes his fingers.

“patience, sweetheart,” geto moves up to reach you, fingers waiting inches away from your lips. you’re taking his fingers into your mouth, keeping eye contact as you wrap your tongue around them and sucking your cum off of him, swearing lowly when you grab his wrist and shove them deeper. “but then again, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long, now.”

you smile at his allusion to the many times that the what-ifs could’ve come true, and yet now you’re tangled up like this in his shirt.

once geto’s underwear comes off, you’re gaping at the cock that he pumps, clearly looking intimidating enough that geto has a hand to your knee and kisses it gently. “we’ll make it fit, alright?”

you nod a little timidly, taking his hand off and twining your fingers, “yeah, i trust you to take care of me.” you make a quick move to remove his shirt but he stops you, saying something embarrassing about wanting to see how cute and small you look in his shirt. you’re scoffing and pushing at him later, you’re just too tall.

he takes care of you perfectly fine — when geto fully sheathes himself in you, he can only focus on your gummy walls that wrap around him fully, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and you’re grasping at his hands that grab your hips so hard. your roommate fucks you so well, your body limp and your pussy begging to milk him dry that it spills out so much — geto groans into your neck with reddened cheeks at that later.

you’re receiving a noise warning the very next day, alongside a QR code that takes you to a link for soundproof foam, and all you can do is laugh at each other. like routine, geto is already gathering the ingredients for an apology cake, beside him right in that little kitchen in another shirt of his that starts to smell more and more like you—

as his roommate and maybe now, something more.

part two ♡

[euqinim0dart]

Some positivity in these turbulent AI times

*This does not minimize the crisis at hand, but is aimed at easing any anxieties.

With every social media selling our data to AI companies now, there is very little way to avoid being scraped. The sad thing is many of us still NEED social media to advertise ourselves and get seen by clients. I can't help but feeling that we as artists are not at risk of losing our livelihoods, here is why:

Just because your data is available does not mean that AI companies will/want to use it. Your work may never end up being scraped at all.

The possibility of someone who uses AI art prompts can replace you (if your work is scraped) is very unlikely. Art Directors and clients HAVE to work with people, the person using AI art cannot back up what a machine made. Their final product for a client will never be substantial since AI prompts cannot be consistent with use and edits requested will be impossible.

AI creators will NEVER be able to make a move unless us artists make a move first. They will always be behind in the industry.

AI creators lack the fundamental skills of art and therefore cannot detect when something looks off in a composition. Many professional artists like me get hired repeatedly for a reason! WE as artists know what we're doing.

The art community is close-knit and can fund itself. Look at furry commissions, Patreon, art conventions, Hollywood. Real art will always be able to make money and find an audience because it's how we communicate as a species.

AI creators lack the passion and ambition to make a career out of AI prompts. Not that they couldn't start drawing at any time, but these tend to be the people who don't enjoy creating art to begin with.

There is no story or personal experience that can be shared about AI prompts so paying customers will lose interest quickly.

Art is needed to help advance society along, history says so. To do that, companies will need to hire artists (music, architecture, photography, design, etc). The best way for us artists to keep fighting for our voice to be heard right now is staying visible. Do not hide or give in! That is what they want. Continue posting online and/or in person and sharing your art with the world. It takes a community and we need you!