#though it'll be slightly different probably

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[hhaechansmoless]

OFF THE GRID [TEASER]

pairing: f1driver!scoups x ex!femreader

genre: angst, romance, exes to lovers au, childhood bestfriends / neighbours au

description: Part of the Beyond The Grid series. Four-time world champion Choi Seungcheol has spent years at the top with Ferrari, but as the 2025 season drags on, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s not quite where he used to be. The competition is catching up, his team isn't what it used to be, and for the first time, he’s starting to wonder if he’s past his prime. By the time the season winds down, he finds himself back in his hometown, which isn't quite the same either. But the hardest race was never on track, and sooner or later, he’ll have to figure out what comes next.

warnings: strong language, stressful situations, descriptions of car crashes and physical exhaustion, f1 heavy, miscommunication

teaser w/c: 1.3k fic w/c: 46.5k . Part 1

glossary

a/n: While it is not required to read Lights Out to understand what's going on here, the first half of this fic runs parallel to it. I personally had fun writing the parallels, oh you know, the downfall of one, rise of another. If you've read lights out though, you probably know how this weekend ends, but shush! LMAO. This one's run longer than I expected it to, so it'll be divided into three parts. Again, the glossary helps, so do read it! you can sign up for the taglist here !

ITALY, AUTODROMO NAZIONALE MONZA

Saturday, Qualifying

The roar of the Tifosi is deafening, even from inside the garage.

Seungcheol sits in his cockpit, helmet still on, hands resting lightly on the wheel as the mechanics swarm around his car, making final adjustments. The session clock is still running, but for now, he’s stationary—P3 on the leaderboard, a tenth ahead of Jaehyun.

Outside, Monza is alive.

The Tifosi are everywhere, packed into every inch of the grandstands, a sea of red that stretches as far as the eye can see. Flags whip through the air, massive banners draped across the stands, their messages bold and impossible to miss. Monza is one of the circuits where the grandstands are sold out even during qualifying. There’s something different about this place. Something that doesn’t exist at any other circuit, something even the best drivers struggle to explain. It’s not just the speed, the history, the track itself. It’s this. The weight of expectation. The way Ferrari doesn’t just belong to the team—it belongs to the people. To the thousands in the stands who live for this weekend.

Usually, Monza is Seungcheol’s favourite track. He’s set impressive records here before and the energy of the crowd is always motivating.

Even through the layers of his helmet, his balaclava, and the deafening sounds of the other cars on the track, he hears them chant his name.

At least they haven’t given up on me.

His fingers tighten slightly around the wheel.

He sits in P3 for now. Ahead of Jaehyun, but still behind a Red Bull. A Red Bull on pole.

At Ferrari’s home race.

It’s an insult to their team, a disgrace on their part.

His gaze flickers across the garage, past the blur of engineers watching the monitors, past the mechanics murmuring updates to one another. No one looks at him. Not directly. Not long enough for it to mean anything.

But they’re waiting.

They won’t say it, won’t dare to speak it aloud but he knows what they need from him.

They need him to take back Monza.

They need him to put Ferrari back where it belongs.

Like always. Funny that they need me, now that their new star driver can’t manage to fucking qualify above P5 when it actually matters.

His race engineer's voice cuts through his earpiece, slightly more alert now.

“Track is clear. Sending you out now.”

Seungcheol scoffs, a humorless laugh against the inside of his helmet.

Right. Of course they are.

He presses the clutch paddle, lets the engine roar back to life, and rolls out onto the pit lane.

The television flickers, the glow of the screen casting soft light across the dimly lit living room. You keep the volume as low as possible. Your parents are sleeping, and you wouldn’t want to wake them up because of the commentary at this ungodly hour. 

You hadn’t planned on watching qualifying. It had been a long day and the last thing you needed was to be up at one in the morning, wet hair dripping onto your t-shirt after a bath, on the edge of your seat as you watched your ex-boyfriend qualify for his team’s home race.

You should be asleep, but instead, you sit curled into the corner of your couch, staring at the leaderboard on the screen.

P3 – Choi Seungcheol.

The commentators have been talking about him all session. About how this weekend is crucial, about how Ferrari needs a strong result at their home race. About how Jaehyun is only P5 and how Seungcheol is the only Ferrari in a position to fight for pole.

The pressure is unbearable even from here, thousands of miles away. You can only imagine what it must feel like there, in the cockpit, in that worrying little head of Seungcheol’s.

The camera cuts to the Ferrari garage, to Seungcheol sitting in his car, helmet on, hands loose on the steering wheel as he waits.

Your stomach twists as his engineer’s voice crackles through the radio.

"Track is clear. Sending you out now."

Seungcheol doesn’t respond. Just shifts into gear, rolling out of the garage onto the pit lane.

The commentators barely take a breath before launching into his out-lap analysis.

"This is it, folks. One final shot for Ferrari’s Choi Seungcheol. He’s currently sitting in P3, but can he challenge for pole?"

"He’s had a tough session so far, struggling with the car’s balance, but he’s pulled off magic laps before. Let’s see what he can do."

You exhale slowly, pressing your knuckles against your lips as the camera follows him through the out-lap. He’s weaving aggressively, warming up his tires, testing every movement.

And then, finally—

"Choi Seungcheol begins his final lap."

The screen shows his car flying into a long, sweeping curve, and something tugs at your memory.

"It’s trickier than it looks," Seungcheol had once told you. It was late, the two of you sitting in the dim glow of his kitchen after Monza in 2023. "It’s easy to take it flat-out, but if you misjudge the line by even half a meter, you’re screwed on the exit."

Your breath catches slightly as you watch him now, the Ferrari holding steady, perfectly placed, just like he described.

The timing screen flashes, indicating a purple sector.

The commentators react instantly.

"He’s improving! Seungcheol is on a great lap. Can he challenge for pole?"

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the blanket draped over your legs.

The car flies through the next sector, fast and on the edge. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. It’s pure instinct, the kind that only comes after years of knowing exactly where the limit is.

Purple again.

"He's still gaining! This could be huge for Ferrari!"

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath.

The final corner looms. The moment of truth.

"It’s deceptive," he'd said, "the Parabolica. The biggest mistake is to brake early. If you do, you lose all your momentum. You have to trust the car. Trust yourself."

His Ferrari dives in so late you think for a second that he’s overdone it. But who are you kidding? It's Seungcheol. Seungcheol who would never settle for anything less than a front row at Monza. He knows what he's doing.

As he crosses the finish line, the leaderboard updates.

P2.

The commentators erupt—a front row start for Ferrari. The camera cuts to the grandstands, where thousands of fans in red are screaming his name.

You exhale.

Not pole.

But at least he’s ahead of Jaehyun.

The screen flickers back to the garage. Seungcheol removes his helmet slowly, setting it down beside him. He doesn’t look at anyone, doesn’t react to the pats on his back. His expression is unreadable.

Seungcheol is disappointed. Yes, he's out-qualified Jaehyun. But a Red Bull still sits on pole. Another at P3. His teammate's stuck at P5.

He mentally scoffs, A championship contender, that boy.

It's been a hard weekend for Ferrari this year. The Red Bulls have been fast all weekend. All season, but this weekend matters the most and Seungcheol has a chance. To prove to the team, to prove to himself and to win for the fans. 

He watches as Jaehyun gets out of his cockpit, looking thoroughly frustrated for once. 

Good, Seungcheol thinks. He's not going to be able to fight for the championship always, but if Ferrari has any chance of challenging for the constructors then Jaehyun needs to start doing better. Needs to start being harder on himself. 

As his PR manager approaches him, Seungcheol thinks about what this year's driver’s championship winner would mean. If it’s going to be Haechan, which seems to be the most probable case, then that would mean the downfall of Ferrari again. If Jaehyun won against the odds, it would mean that Seungcheol lost to a teammate for the first time in his career.

Ferrari is going to start asking him to play the team game soon. He's not going to have the choice to deny that. He just hopes it doesn't start tomorrow.

He needs that win.

[dreamerimpossible]

Slasher Reaction When You're Not Interested In Sex

Warnings: +18 content, manipulation, obsession, unhealthy relationships, dark content, there is a hint of non-con in Art the Clown and Alex DeLarge (are you surprised?), angst, mentions of infidelity in some.

Characters: Michael Myers, Chucky, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Patrick Bateman, Hannibal Lecter, Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Leatherface, Art The Clown, Jason Dean, Alex DeLarge, Kurt Kunkle, Brahms.

Michael Myers

Does he really care about that stuff? I feel like you'd have to actively provoke him to get him interested in having sex with you. If you don't bring out that side of him, he won't care. Seriously, he doesn't care. It's quite likely that he won't even care whether or not you want to have sex. He'd rather have you have a bad side that you can't control, something that makes you more like him than anyone else. He'll enjoy that badness and chaos. Sex takes a backseat.

Chucky (Human Version)

I honestly don't think it would work. However, if he really wants to keep you for himself, you'll have to agree to let him have sex with other people. In that case, I think it would work. He'll try to convince you anyway, but he won't force you if you say no. But you'll probably fight, because he'll think it's personal and that you have something against him, and then you'll have an argument that escalates and you'll end your relationship in the worst way. After that they'll get back together and then break up again. And so on. Although, if we're being honest, that scenario is going to happen either way (Chucky is toxic).

Billy Loomis

Okay, he will. But he'll be very manipulative; he'll push you all the time about it, and it'll be much worse if you know he's Ghostface since he might threaten you, and his manipulations will be much worse than if he was pretending to be a good boyfriend. I think you'd eventually agree, but he'll get used to you giving it to him, and it'll be much worse when you say no. I think he wouldn't force you physically, but he'll pretty much use psychological manipulation to get you to do what he wants from you, which is still forcing.

Stu Macher

If you're just another low-level conquest, he'll cheat on you or leave you for someone else. If you're someone special, he'll stick with you even though he gets frustrated. He could be very loyal if you push his weaknesses correctly without Billy finding out. He will insist that you have sex with him in a silly way, acting innocent and playful, but you will be able to see his disappointed and upset face when you say no. However, if you play your cards right, I think he might continue with you without cheating on you; but you have to manipulate him, which will make your relationship even more toxic, but at this point…who cares?

Patrick Bateman

Tough scenario for you. If he thinks you are a person worthy of him, but you just happen not to want to have sex as often as he does, he will overlook that little flaw of yours. However, that doesn't mean it will be good. He wants you to admire him, to be the center of his life, to moan his name loud enough for everyone to hear. If he doesn't feel that way in the sexual realm as well, he will end up cheating on you with other people, but he will keep you by his side selfishly.

Hannibal Lecter

He doesn't care. Just give him control over you in all the other areas of your life. Give him the pleasure of watching you break down to the point of questioning your own morals and life choices. Make him play with your mind and show him your reactions. Tell him everything that happens to you so he can see if he can use it in some way. Give him a challenge and keep him entertained with your conversations. Provide him with a context that leaves him in euphoria and maximum exaltation. If you can do that…who needs sex?

Vincent Sinclair

He will be slightly disappointed, but he will respect you. He will not treat you differently or anything like that. He will not cheat on you or betray you in any way either. He will be very frustrated if Bo finds out and starts bothering him, but it is nothing he cannot handle. Other than that, I don't see any other problems. He cares more about your loyalty and that you follow the orders imposed on you. That's all.

Jason Voorhees

The best scenario for him. It will be much better if you do not want to have sex ever. He likes not having to fight those instincts that disturb him greatly. It's not even going to be brought up; just tell him you're not interested, and the subject will be forgotten as if it never even existed. This doesn't change your relationship at all. In fact, I think it will be better, because for Jason you won't be an unwanted temptation for him, so he won't have two opposing thoughts about you to deal with.

Leatherface

It's okay; he'll understand. He won't force you or anything like that. He won't treat you differently either. I don't think he cares about those things, if I'm honest. He's more focused on his family and loyalty. And that includes you too. He asks that you get along with his family and be okay with what they do. That you don't have a problem, basically.

Art the Clown

He doesn't care in the conventional way. But if he finds out that the subject is sensitive for you, he will use it against you. So it's best not to let it show or say anything to him, because this man is a fucking madman who enjoys other people's pain (you know that). If you don't say it, the subject will go unnoticed for a long time. If Art ever feels sexual desire towards you and wants to have sex with you, he will simply take you and use you. Seriously, he won't ask questions. He sees you as his toy.

Jason Dean

For him not to care, you would have to be crazy like him. In that case, he will overlook it, because he will believe that something as crude as sex does not have to hinder a love as perfect as yours. I think that at first he will feel personally offended by your refusal; he will try to explain to you that he feels rejected. If you explain it sincerely, he will understand and will not insist further. But he will use it against you in arguments to get you to give him more attention and spend more time with him, claiming that he does a lot of things for you.

Alex DeLarge

Uh… no. He wouldn't take you seriously if you didn't want to have sex as much as he does. He likes sex quite a bit; he's not going to give that up. I think he might keep you around if you like ultraviolence and enjoy it as much as he does. I don't think he'll leave behind a person to help him and follow his orders. But you two can't be a couple; it just wouldn't work. He'll actively try to provoke you into falling for it. In your case, it would be much more fun if you gave it to him consensually, because that would mean he has complete control over you and can make you do things he wants of your own free will. However, if he doesn't want you around him because he's not interested in you in any way other than sexually… then things get darker. We already know his tendencies.

Kurt Kunkle

If he doesn't feel rejected, he doesn't care. If he feels rejected, the relationship will be more toxic. He is manipulative and obsessive. He wants you to admire and love him; if he feels that you dislike him sexually, he will not force you, but he will be excessively controlling, and you will argue a lot. He uses it to victimize himself. There will come a point where he becomes a nuisance to you. On the other hand, if he does not feel rejected, that is fine; he will be toxic in other aspects of the relationship.

Brahms

He will take it personally, no matter what you tell him. He will manipulate you, and it will be emotionally draining for you. You will probably agree on several occasions to get him to shut up, or you will end up manipulating him with sex to obey you. He will obey you every time if you offer him sex. He would like to resist, but he is too hungry for contact and needs to feel the sensation.

[mahalachives]

Part 2: The Reluctant Villain

TW: Mention of suicide

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Genre: angst, romcom, humor, fish out of water reader, canon (ish)

Summary: Murdered after a late-night study session in the modern world, you awaken in Prythian—still yourself, but with Fae features and the infamous title of Beron’s cold-hearted and ruthless daughter.

Then, fate snaps the mating bond into place between you and the shadowsinger, Azriel—who rejects it so fiercely, even the magic recoils.

You died a healer. You woke up a villain. Now fate’s mated you to who wants nothing to do with either—you’ll prove them all wrong, one heartbeat at a time.

Between Two Fires - Masterlist

Morning came with amber light filtering through stained glass, painting warm patterns across your skin.

Your dreams had been filled with burning hands and screaming servants, but beneath the horror lurked memories of your real life—white hospital walls and the antiseptic smell of disinfectant.

"Rise and shine, my lady," Briar chirped, pulling back heavy curtains. Golden light flooded the chamber, making dust motes dance like tiny faeries. "Lord Eris sent word that the Night Court delegation arrives by midday."

You groaned softly into silk pillows scented with cinnamon and smoke. "Already?" The pillowcase felt impossibly soft against your cheek—another reminder of how different this world was from yours.

"Indeed! And he's arranged weapons training to help restore your... equilibrium." Briar's fingers trembled slightly as she laid out your clothing, though less so than yesterday.

Weapons training.

Exactly what every nursing student needed—instructions on how to efficiently disembowel magical beings. You thought of your anatomy textbooks and wondered if Fae physiology was similar enough for your knowledge to be useful. At least in a way that didn't involve killing.

"Can't I claim I'm still unwell?" you asked, your voice gentle despite your reluctance.

Briar's silence spoke volumes. When you looked up, her face was horrified, eyes wide with genuine fear.

"My lady," she whispered, glancing nervously at the door as if afraid someone might be listening, "never let Lord Beron hear you suggest weakness. Not after Lord Tallan."

You felt a chill despite the warm morning. "What happened to Lord Tallan?"

Briar shook her head minutely. "It is not spoken of. But the screaming lasted three days."

Right. The mysterious Lord Tallan. Probably set on fire for sneezing incorrectly. You made a mental note to never, ever show weakness around Beron.

"Of course not," you sighed, your lips curving into a small, wry smile. "How foolish of me."

"Lord Eris also said appearances must be maintained." Briar emphasized these words carefully, as if reciting them exactly as they had been told to her.

You noticed her fingers trembled less than yesterday as she helped you dress in supple leather training clothes that felt like a second skin. The craftsmanship was exquisite—another reminder that whatever else this world might be, its beauty was undeniable.

"What exactly happens when the Night Court arrives?" you asked, pulling on boots that laced halfway up your calves.

Briar's expression lightened slightly. "Oh, the usual diplomatic theatre. Thinly veiled threats, ancestral grudges aired like cherished heirlooms, and enough alcohol to make it slightly less excruciating."

You laughed softly, the sound surprisingly melodic in this body's throat. "You're funny."

Briar froze, her eyes widening in alarm. "I—I didn't mean—"

"Relax," you said gently, touching her shoulder with instinctive compassion. The same way you'd reassure a nervous patient. "I'm not going to hurt you for being honest. Ever."

Her expression cycled through confusion, suspicion, and cautious relief. She studied your face carefully, as if trying to read a language she only half-understood.

"You really are different," she murmured.

"Perhaps I am," you admitted. "But it'll be our secret. Otherwise..." You cast about for something appropriately menacing. "I'll turn your toes into... roasted chestnuts?"

Briar's lips twitched despite her obvious effort to remain solemn. "Not your best, my lady, but I appreciate the seasonal theme."

When her fingers brushed yours as she handed you a leather band for your hair, she didn't flinch.

Progress.

You caught your reflection in a mirror as you prepared to leave— Beautiful, but with a predatory edge that felt foreign to your gentle nature. No wonder poor Briar had been terrified of you.

The eastern courtyard blazed with autumn colors. Trees with impossibly vibrant foliage surrounded a training area of packed earth. The air smelled of woodsmoke and fallen leaves, crisp and invigorating.

Eris stood waiting, magnificent in training leathers that emphasized his lean, powerful frame. Unlike Beron's cold malevolence, Eris carried himself with calculating precision—a blade rather than a bludgeon.

"Ah, sister," he called, amber eyes assessing you with the same careful scrutiny as yesterday. "Ready to remember who you are?"

There was a double meaning in his words—a warning, perhaps, or a genuine question.

You wondered, not for the first time, how much he suspected.

"Always," you replied, approaching with graceful steps, surprising yourself with how natural it felt in this body. Your borrowed muscles moved with fluid ease, as if simply walking was a form of lethal dance.

Eris gestured to a weapon rack displaying an assortment of blades that gleamed in the autumn sunlight. "Choose."

As your eyes scanned the deadly array, one name echoed strangely in your mind.

Azriel.

An inexplicable warmth bloomed in your chest, like the golden hour of sunset captured in feeling. The sensation was so unexpected that you almost missed a step.

You selected the smallest dagger with a golden-leafed hilt, its weight unfamiliar but somehow right in your palm.

Eris raised an eyebrow. "The ceremonial dagger? Not your usual battleaxe?"

You tried not to show your alarm at the revelation that your body's previous occupant favored something as brutish as a battleaxe. It seemed fitting with everything else you'd learned about her.

"I'm focusing on precision today," you improvised, your voice soft but steady. "Sometimes the smallest wounds cut deepest."

Something flickered in Eris's eyes—not quite approval, but perhaps reassessment. "Indeed," he murmured.

Without warning, he lunged forward, his movement a blur of deadly grace.

Your body moved before your mind caught up, sidestepping with inhuman speed. The dagger felt suddenly right, an extension of your arm rather than a foreign object. Muscle memory, you realized. This body remembered what your mind did not.

For several moments, you let that memory guide you through an intricate dance of blades. Eris pushed harder, faster, and remarkably, you kept pace—until your human consciousness asserted itself, wondering at the physical impossibility of what you were doing.

The moment's hesitation cost you. You landed hard on your back, Eris's blade at your throat.

"Sloppy," he commented, though genuine confusion flickered in his amber eyes. "Your form was perfect until you... what? Forgot how to walk?"

"Momentary distraction," you murmured, accepting his outstretched hand. His grip was firm but not cruel—another small difference from what you might have expected.

"Distraction gets you killed," he replied sharply. "Especially with the Night Court. Their shadowsinger could slit your throat before you even sensed him."

Shadowsinger. The term sent another peculiar flutter through your chest, like butterfly wings against your ribs. A fleeting image flashed behind your eyes—hazel eyes flecked with gold, shadows coiling like smoke.

"Their shadowsinger," you repeated, trying for casual but hearing a note of interest in your voice. "Azriel, right?"

Eris gave you an odd look, his head tilting slightly as he studied you. "Since when do you struggle to remember the name of the male you once tried to burn alive?"

Your stomach dropped like a stone. "I—I did what?"

"During the war. You caught him alone near our borders." Eris's voice was matter-of-fact, as if recounting something unremarkable. "His wings still bear the scars where your flames touched them before Cassian intervened." He studied you, something calculating in his gaze. "You bragged about it for months. Said it was the sweetest sound you'd ever heard, his wings crackling."

Horror flooded through you, though you managed to keep your expression neutral with effort. What kind of monster had occupied this body? Your natural compassion recoiled at the thought of such deliberate cruelty.

"I just like to hear how others tell the story," you lied softly, fighting the urge to apologize for something you hadn't done.

Eris watched you for a moment longer, then stepped back into fighting stance. "Again," he commanded.

This time, you consciously surrendered to the body's instincts, letting your mind drift slightly. The result was immediate—your movements flowed like water, precise and deadly. Each strike perfectly balanced, each block timed with inhuman precision.

A small crowd of servants had gathered at a safe distance, their expressions ranging from fear to fascination. You noticed Briar among them, watching with wide eyes.

"Better," Eris conceded after a particularly complex exchange left you breathless but exhilarated. "Now, let's add fire."

His dagger erupted in golden flame that somehow didn't melt the metal or burn his hand. The heat washed over you like a physical caress, reminding you that elemental magic was as natural as breathing to these beings.

You stared at your own blade, willing flame to ignite.

Come on, fire. Burning. Heat. Nothing happened.

"Problem, sister?" Eris's voice carried an edge, but beneath it—concern?

"Just... conserving energy for the Night Court," you improvised quickly.

"Since when do you conserve anything?" Eris scoffed, though his eyes remained watchful. "You once set an entire forest ablaze because a deer startled you."

You suppressed a wince. An environmental disaster in addition to everything else. Lovely.

Closing your eyes, you searched for that wellspring of power you'd glimpsed yesterday. There—a warm current beneath your consciousness, pulsing in time with your heartbeat. But unlike yesterday, when fear had guided you, you focused on healing, on warmth that restored rather than destroyed.

Heat tingled down your arm like liquid sunlight.

When you opened your eyes, your dagger was encased in... pink fire.

Eris stared at the rosy flames as if you'd suddenly sprouted a second head. "Pink? PINK?"

"It's... hotter than regular fire," you improvised, smiling sweetly. "More efficient."

The flames seemed to respond to your amusement, reshaping themselves into a small, hopping rabbit with impossibly delicate ears and a fluffy tail. It pranced along the blade before hopping onto your wrist, leaving no burns despite its fiery nature.

A serving girl giggled, then clapped her hand over her mouth in horror at her own temerity. You beamed at her, making her eyes widen with shock. The pink bunny responded to your playfulness, performing a little somersault in the air.

"That's it," Eris declared, his own flames vanishing with a wave of his hand. "Training over. Go... meditate or whatever you need to do to remember how to be terrifying."

As he turned to leave, he paused, looking back at you with an expression you couldn't quite read. "Father would burn that creature from existence if he saw it," he warned, with strange protectiveness. "And then he'd wonder why his daughter was creating something so... whimsical."

You recognized the warning for what it was—perhaps the closest thing to brotherly concern Eris allowed himself to show. "I understand."

The pink bunny hopped up your arm to nuzzle against your neck before dissolving into sparks that drifted away like embers.

By midday, the Autumn Court was in frenzy. Hearths roared hotter, servants scurried with silver trays and decanters of amber liquid, and guards in burnished copper armor took up positions at every doorway. The air thrummed with tension and ancient power.

You paced your chambers, memorizing Briar's briefing about the Night Court while she wove actual flame into your hair—tiny tongues of fire that danced among your strands without burning.

"High Lord Rhysand," you recited for the dozenth time. "Most powerful High Lord in history. Married to Feyre, a former human."

"Excellent," Briar nodded, her fingers working with surprising confidence given that she was literally playing with fire inches from your scalp. "And his Inner Circle?"

"Cassian and Azriel—Illyrian warriors with battle wings." That flutter in your chest again at the shadowsinger's name, like recognition of something you'd never seen.

"Yes, my lady. The shadowsinger hears whispers from the shadows themselves. Some say he can step through darkness as others walk through doorways." Briar's voice had taken on a storyteller's cadence. "They say he was kept chained in darkness for the first years of his life."

Your expression softened, compassion rising unbidden. "That's horrible." No wonder you'd felt that strange pull—your nursing instinct responding to past trauma.

Briar glanced at you, surprised by your empathy. "Perhaps that's why he's so... reserved." She added softly, as she adjusted the ember-orange gown that made your skin glow like firelight, "You've always been especially hostile toward him."

"Why?" You couldn't imagine deliberately targeting someone who had already suffered so much.

"You never said. But there was an incident during the war..."

"I tried to burn his wings," you finished quietly, the words ashen in your mouth.

A horn blasted from the walls, its deep tone reverberating through stone and bone alike.

"They're here," Briar whispered, making final adjustments to your appearance. Sparks trailed behind you like a comet's tail when you moved, a dramatic effect that suited the intimidating persona you needed to project.

"How do I look?" you asked, studying your reflection. The female who gazed back was undeniably beautiful, but with a predatory edge that seemed at odds with the gentleness you felt inside.

"Terrifying, my lady," Briar assured you. After a hesitation, she added, "But... different. There's something in your eyes that wasn't there before. Something..."

"Good?" you suggested hopefully.

"Softer," she replied carefully. "Which may not serve you well today."

"What if I just... don't set anyone on fire today?" you suggested with a small smile.

Briar's eyes widened as if you'd suggested flying to the moon. "That would be... unprecedented."

"Maybe unprecedented is good."

"Lord Beron expects cruelty from you," she replied carefully. "The last time someone in this court changed unexpectedly, he had them examined by the Bone Carver for possession. And then... eliminated the problem."

Your blood ran cold. "Possessed? As in..."

"A different soul inhabiting a body." Briar's eyes searched yours with unsettling perception. "My lady, are you... are you still you?"

Before you could respond, the door swung open.

Eris entered, resplendent in formal attire of deepest burgundy that complemented his auburn hair. His gaze swept over you critically.

"It's time," he announced.

The Great Hall throbbed with ancient magic that made the very air shimmer with power. Tapestries depicting autumn hunts and conquests hung between tall windows of amber glass. Lord Beron sat on a throne that appeared to be made of living flame, your mother beside him, beautiful but tense. The tight set of her shoulders and the way her fingers gripped her armrest betrayed her anxiety.

Courtiers lined the hall in their finery, a riot of autumn colors—russet, gold, deep orange, and blood red. The anticipation was palpable, a current of nervous energy that made the flames in the massive hearths dance higher.

Eris guided you to stand at Beron's right—a position of obvious importance. You could feel your "father's" gaze on you like a physical weight, assessing and suspicious.

The enormous doors swung open with theatrical slowness. A wave of power—cool night air and starlight—washed over the assembly, so different from the fiery magic that permeated the Autumn Court.

The Night Court had arrived.

They entered like living shadows, bringing the night sky with them despite the midday hour. The very atmosphere seemed to shift in their presence, as if darkness itself had taken form and walked among you. At their head, a male of such breathtaking beauty that several courtiers gasped audibly. His power rippled before him like heat from pavement, midnight and stars and ancient secrets.

Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court.

Beside him, a female of extraordinary loveliness moved with lethal grace, her eyes scanning the hall with the assessment of a predator sizing up potential threats—Feyre, his High Lady.

Behind them came the Inner Circle—two enormous warriors with folded wings shadowing their broad shoulders, and a tiny female whose delicate appearance was belied by eyes of ancient silver.

But it was one of the winged warriors who caught and held your attention like a hook through your heart. Unlike the others whose expressions ranged from diplomatic neutrality to barely concealed disgust, his face was an impassive mask. Shadows seemed to bend toward him like faithful pets, writhing around his shoulders in constant motion.

Azriel, the shadowsinger. The name echoed in your mind with peculiar resonance.

When his hazel eyes finally swept across the Autumn Court assembly, they paused imperceptibly on you. The gold flecks in them caught the firelight like tiny stars.

For a heartbeat, you felt... seen. Truly seen, beyond the body you inhabited. The connection left you breathless, a moment of recognition that made no logical sense yet felt undeniably real.

"Night Court," Beron intoned, his voice betraying no emotion despite the flames at his fingertips that betrayed his agitation. "Welcome to the Autumn Court."

"Lord Beron," Rhysand replied, his voice cultured and smooth as dark chocolate. "How gracious of you to host us. Particularly given our... colorful history."

"History written in blood rarely fades," Beron responded, malice wrapped in silk. "The Night Court has cost the Autumn Court dearly over the centuries. Or have you forgotten the Massacre at Kharos Ridge?"

Tension crackled like lightning about to strike. Every member of both courts was poised on a knife's edge of diplomatic civility, centuries of grudges barely contained beneath polite veneers.

"Ancient history," Rhysand replied with a smile that didn't reach his star-flecked eyes. "Much like your claims to the northern forests."

Small flames licked between Beron's knuckles—the only indication that the verbal barb had landed.

"We have prepared refreshments," your mother spoke, her voice surprisingly gentle—a cool stream in a burning forest. "Perhaps we might proceed to more comfortable surroundings? The treaties of old demand hospitality, regardless of... past disagreements."

"A lovely suggestion, Lady," Feyre replied, though her eyes remained watchful as a hawk's. "We come in peace, after all. At least for today."

As the assembly moved toward the adjacent dining hall, your gaze was repeatedly drawn to the shadowsinger like a magnet finding true north. He moved with predatory grace, yet there was something contained about him—tightly controlled, as if holding himself apart from everything around him. His shadows occasionally formed shapes before dissolving again, like messages written in smoke.

You couldn't help but wonder about the child who had been chained in darkness, and how he had survived to become this warrior of shadow and steel. The thought made your heart ache with a tenderness that was entirely your own, not borrowed from this body.

In the dining hall, you found yourself seated between Eris and another brother, directly across from the larger of the two winged warriors—Cassian, with his brutal grin and assessing eyes—with Azriel seated silently beside him.

The shadowsinger kept his gaze carefully averted from yours, but you couldn't help noticing how the shadows around him coiled more agitatedly whenever your eyes strayed his way.

The elaborate feast was a masterpiece of autumn bounty—roasted game glistening with honey glaze, jewel-toned fruits arranged in spirals of artful decadence, pastries that steamed with cinnamon and nutmeg. Wine flowed freely from decanters that never seemed to empty, though you noticed the Night Court members barely touched theirs.

Conversation moved like a complex dance, pleasantries exchanged with the precision of blade work, double meanings layered beneath every comment.

"I must say," Amren remarked, as she reached for her goblet, "the Autumn Court is particularly vibrant this season. Almost as if the trees themselves are putting on a show for us."

"Nature recognizes power," Beron replied coolly. "As do we all."

"Speaking of recognition," Rhysand cut in, his voice deceptively casual though his eyes missed nothing, "we've heard reports of unusual magical fluctuations from this region. Any insights you care to share, Lord Beron?"

Every head turned toward the high lord, whose expression remained impassive despite the flames that flickered brighter in the nearest hearth.

"Nothing unusual," he replied. "Just my daughter's continued explorations of her considerable gifts."

Suddenly, all attention shifted to you.

Feyre's gaze was particularly keen, as if she could see beneath your skin to the human soul residing there.

"Is that so?" she asked, one perfect eyebrow arched. "What manner of explorations, if I might ask?"

The scrutiny of so many powerful beings made your heart race, though you managed to keep your expression serene. The unfairness of your situation—trapped in a body not your own, forced to pretend to be someone terrible—suddenly felt overwhelming.

"I've been studying the relationship between elemental fire and emotional resonance," you explained, your voice soft but clear. "Intent matters as much as power."

To demonstrate, you raised your palm, concentrating on the hollow ache of homesickness in your chest. A small flame appeared, dancing above your hand—not the violent inferno your body's previous occupant might have conjured, but a gentle, wavering light tinged slightly blue around the edges.

The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on your small, melancholy flame.

"How... unexpectedly poetic," Rhysand commented, genuine surprise in his violet eyes.

"And unlike you," Cassian added bluntly, suspicion evident in the set of his shoulders.

You managed a small, enigmatic smile in response, though your heart raced beneath your calm exterior. "Perhaps we all contain unexpected depths."

"Forgive my sister's sentimentality," Eris interjected smoothly. "Her recent... incident has left her somewhat philosophical."

Your eyes accidentally locked with Azriel's across the table. His hazel gaze had been studying you with subtle intensity, shadows writhing around his shoulders, reaching toward you before pulling back like waves uncertain of the shore.

Then it happened.

A golden cord snapped into place between you—a connection so powerful it physically rocked you backward in your chair. A rush of sensation flooded through you—warmth, recognition, belonging—followed immediately by confusion and alarm.

Azriel flinched visibly, his wings flaring slightly, shadows coiling in chaotic patterns. His normally impassive face registered naked shock for a split second before shuttering into cold neutrality. But not before you glimpsed something else—confusion, perhaps even fear.

The entire table had gone deathly still.

"Well," Rhysand said into the silence, his voice dangerously soft. "This is unexpected."

"What just happened?" you asked, managing to keep your voice steady despite the strange sensation pulsing between you and the shadowsinger like a living thing.

"The mating bond," Amren said, "It just snapped into place."

"This is some trick," Beron snarled, rising from his seat. Small flames erupted around his clenched fists, dancing in disturbing patterns. "Some Night Court deception."

"I assure you," Rhysand replied, his own voice tight as a bowstring, "this is not our doing. The mating bond cannot be manufactured or falsified. It is the Cauldron's will, not ours."

"Mating bond?" you repeated, a slight tremble in your voice the only indication of your shock. The term meant nothing to you, yet the golden cord between you and Azriel pulsed with undeniable reality.

"How convenient," Beron hissed, flames now dripping from his fingertips onto the priceless tablecloth, "that my only daughter should suddenly be bound to one of yours. What better way to infiltrate my court?"

"Father," Eris began carefully, "perhaps we should—"

"Silence!" Beron's command cracked like a whip. "I will not have centuries of careful diplomacy undone by... by whatever this is." His burning gaze fixed on you with terrible intensity. "First the strange behavior, now this. Perhaps we need to discover what exactly has happened to my daughter."

Your blood ran cold.

Azriel spoke then, his deep voice cutting through the chaos with quiet authority that commanded attention despite its softness. His face was completely closed off, his eyes cold as winter frost.

"There's nothing to worry about," he said, addressing Rhysand rather than you. "A mating bond can be rejected." He turned that cold hazel gaze to you, and the dismissal in his eyes made your chest ache anew. "I have no interest in the Lady of the Autumn Court. I want nothing to do with her. Not after what she's done. No bond can erase that history."

His words struck like physical blows. The connection between you—the mating bond, apparently—throbbed with pain at the rejection. You breathed deeply, fighting the urge to show how deeply his words cut.

Yet beneath that mask of cold indifference, something in his eyes flickered—a moment of doubt, perhaps. His shadows, despite his rigid control, stretched slightly toward you before he harshly pulled them back.

"I said, I want nothing to do with you," Azriel repeated, each word precise and final. "This changes nothing."

You rose with quiet dignity, despite the ache in your chest. "Please excuse me," you managed, and slipped from the hall with as much grace as you could muster.

"Stop her," you heard Beron command behind you. "Something is not right."

You moved quickly through the corridors, your mind racing.

The mating bond. Rejection.

Beron's suspicious anger. All of it spelled danger, but you had no idea how to navigate any of it.

You found refuge in a small garden courtyard, enclosed by trees whose leaves burned like living flame in the afternoon light. The beauty of it momentarily took your breath away, despite your distress.

A tiny pink flame flickered to life in your palm unbidden, forming a miniature bunny that hopped up your arm. The fearsome Lady of Autumn, reduced to creating cuteness while nursing a broken heart over a male who despised her.

The irony wasn't lost on you.

"My lady?"

Briar stood at the entrance, concern evident in her expression.

"What's a mating bond?" you asked, your voice carefully controlled.

"Oh... My lady..." Briar approached without her usual hesitation and sat beside you. "It's rarest and most sacred connection between Fae. It's said to be the Cauldron's way of identifying your perfect match. Two halves of a whole soul." She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with gentle fingers. "It can't be forced or faked. It simply... is."

"But he rejected it," you said softly, feeling the golden thread still pulsing between you despite his denial.

"The shadowsinger?" Briar asked, surprise evident in her voice. "Your reputation with the Night Court is..."

"Terrible," you finished for her. "I tried to burn his wings off."

"The bond doesn't consider past actions," Briar offered hesitantly. "It sees something deeper, something true. Perhaps your recent changes..."

You laughed softly, without humor. "My 'changes' are more significant than anyone realizes."

Briar studied you for a long moment. "You truly are different, aren't you? Not just acting differently, but... something fundamental has changed."

Your breath caught. Was it possible to confide in her? To tell someone the impossible truth?

"Briar," you began cautiously, "what if I told you I'm not who everyone thinks I am?"

Before you could continue, footsteps approached—measured, deliberate. Eris appeared at the courtyard entrance, his expression thunderous.

"Leave us," he commanded Briar, who squeezed your hand once before scurrying away.

For a long moment, Eris simply stared at you, as if trying to solve a particularly vexing puzzle.

"A mating bond," he finally said, the words falling like stones. "With the Night Court's shadowsinger." He shook his head in disbelief. "Of all the ways you could have disrupted negotiations, this is... creative, I'll give you that."

"I didn't do it on purpose," you protested, arms crossed protectively over your chest.

"Obviously not. The bond cannot be faked." He paced before you, agitation evident in every movement. "But why now? Why him? And why are you... different? You've never cared what anyone thought of you."

"Maybe I'm changing," you whispered.

"People don't change their fundamental nature overnight," he countered, echoing words you'd heard before.

"What if I'm not who you think I am?" The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Eris went still, his amber eyes narrowing. "Explain."

You hesitated. Beyond the courtyard, guards' footsteps approached. Your time was running out.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted behind you. Two guards appeared at the courtyard entrance, their faces tight with tension.

"My lady, Lord Beron demands your presence immediately. The Night Court delegation—"

Before the guard could finish, a flash of movement caught your eye. An assassin—dressed in nondescript leather—appeared on the garden wall, bow drawn.

The arrow flew—not at you, but at Eris.

Without thinking, you moved, pushing your "brother" aside. The arrow found your chest instead.

Pain—bright, burning pain—bloomed between your ribs. You gasped, falling to your knees.

"Sister!" Eris caught you, lowering you to the ground. His face, normally so controlled, twisted with shock and something that looked remarkably like genuine concern. "Guards! Healers!"

Commotion erupted around you.

Shouts, running footsteps, the rush of wings. Through blurring vision, you saw the courtyard suddenly fill with figures from both courts—Beron rushing forward with unexpected speed, Rhysand and his Inner Circle appearing as if from thin air.

"What happened?" Beron demanded, his power flooding the courtyard like midnight tide.

"Assassin," Eris growled, still cradling your head with surprising gentleness. "The arrow was meant for me."

A healer knelt beside you, hands glowing with golden light. But you could feel something already—the magic of this body failing, your grip on this world loosening. The arrow had struck true, poisoned perhaps, or enchanted.

Darkness swept in from the edges of your vision.

The last thing you saw was Azriel pushing through the crowd, hazel eyes wide with alarm—alarm that belied his earlier rejection—as shadows coiled frantically around him. Then nothing.

Beeping. Rhythmic, electronic beeping.

Your eyes flew open.

White ceiling. Fluorescent lights. The antiseptic smell of hospital disinfectant.

You gasped, trying to sit up, but pain flared in your chest—an echo of the arrow wound, though when you looked down, all you saw was a hospital gown and bandages wrapped around your torso.

"She's awake!" A voice—familiar, human. Your roommate from nursing school. "Doctor! She's awake!"

"What happened?" you croaked, your voice rusty from disuse.

"You were stabbed." Your roommate's eyes filled with tears. "You've been in a coma for three days. The doctors weren't sure if you'd wake up—the knife nearly hit your heart."

A coma. A dream. Relief washed over you despite the pain. The magical world, the borrowed body—it had all been some elaborate fantasy while your brain healed from the trauma.

"I had the strangest dream," you told your roommate. "I was in another body, in a magical world with fire magic and winged warriors."

Your roommate squeezed your hand. "The doctors said you might have vivid dreams. Just rest now. You're back. You're safe."

The stab wound ached whenever you moved, a constant reminder of your mortality. Yet you reveled in the normalcy of hospital routines, fluorescent lights, cell phones, and the absence of magic fire. The steady parade of modern technology—IV pumps, vital monitors, tablets with medical charts—all reassured you that you were home.

It had all been a dream. A vivid, incredible dream.

Until, It wasn't.

A strange warmth in your chest, radiating from your wound. A pulling sensation, like a golden thread tugging at your very soul.

"No," you whispered. "No, I'm home. I'm where I belong."

The warmth intensified, spreading through your limbs. You could almost hear voices—unfamiliar and familiar at once. Feel hands—not human hands—working over your body.

"Stop it," you murmured, then louder. "Stop it!"

The hospital room wavered around you, reality thinning like mist under strong sunlight. The monitors, the IV stand, the sterile white walls—all began to fade, replaced by a strange golden light that seemed to flow through your very veins.

"No! Please—"

"—don't take me back!"

Your eyes flew open to find yourself in a healing chamber rather than the courtyard where you'd been struck. Fiery amber light poured through stained glass windows, casting jeweled patterns across stone walls lined with shelves of potions and dried herbs. The air smelled of cinnamon and strange medicinal scents you couldn't identify.

You lay on a raised stone platform covered with soft furs, your chest burning with half-healed pain. Around you stood members of both courts, watching with varying degrees of concern and suspicion.

A healer—one of the Autumn Court's—pulled back her glowing hands from your wound, startled by your outburst. The magic hummed in the air, warm and tingling against your skin.

"My lady?" she questioned, confusion evident.

"I was home," you whispered, disoriented by the sudden transition. "There were beeping machines and fluorescent lights and doctors and—" You looked around wildly, finding both Eris and Beron nearby, along with the entire Night Court delegation.

Azriel stood in the shadows near the arched doorway, his darkness seeming to blend with the corners of the room as his hazel eyes fixed on you with unreadable intensity.

"Why did you bring me back?" you asked, tears welling in your eyes despite your effort to remain composed. "I was in a hospital. I was stabbed during a robbery. My roommate was there—"

"She's delirious," the healer said quickly, adjusting the bandages wrapped around your torso with gentle fingers. "The poison from the arrow—"

"I'm not delirious!" you insisted, struggling to sit up despite the pain that lanced through your chest. "I was home! In my world! With cell phones and subway trains and—and no magic! I was a nursing student, not... not this!" You gestured weakly at your borrowed body.

Beron's expression darkened dangerously, the flames in the room's central brazier leaping higher in response to his mood. "What nonsense is this?"

"I was there," you insisted, tears now streaming down your face.

Your distress triggered your unpredictable magic.

Small pink flames flickered around your fingers, forming tiny dancing animals—rabbits, deer, little birds—that hopped and flew in circles above your healing platform. They cast soft rosy light across the stone ceiling, making the runes carved there seem to dance.

Beron looked absolutely appalled. Eris seemed caught between concern and mortification.

"This is... unprecedented," the healer murmured, backing away slightly as one of the flame rabbits hopped curiously toward her herb basket.

"I think," Feyre said cautiously, "that the trauma of the attack may have affected her mind."

"Oh, Cauldron," Cassian muttered from where he leaned against a pillar, barely suppressing a grin despite the tension. "She's gone from terrifying to adorable. The little pink bunny things are actually... cute."

"It was real," you insisted, your voice growing smaller as reality reasserted itself. The pink creatures multiplied with your distress, creating a small menagerie of flame animals that darted between hanging bundles of herbs and crystal bottles. "There were cars and buses and no one had pointed ears or wings and—"

"Shh," Eris said, surprising everyone by approaching your platform and awkwardly patting your hand. "The arrow was poisoned. These... delusions will pass."

"They're not delusions," you whispered, looking directly at Azriel, whose stoic expression had slipped just enough to reveal confusion. "When I died, the mating bond took me home."

A collective intake of breath swept through the gathered Fae, the sound echoing against the stone walls.

"She probably lost the will to live after you rejected her," Cassian remarked to Azriel, whose face suddenly paled.

The shadowsinger's eyes widened fractionally, his shadows swirling in agitated patterns around the healing chamber, momentarily dimming the brazier's flames. For a brief moment, genuine alarm flashed across his features before he controlled it.

"I didn't," you started to protest, then faltered. "I mean... I did, but..."

Azriel stepped forward, his shadows reaching toward you before he visibly reined them in. "You should rest," he said stiffly, though his eyes betrayed something more complex than indifference.

Beron's patience finally snapped.

The brazier flames roared suddenly, casting the room in harsh orange light and sending your pink creatures scattering in alarm.

"Enough of this," he snarled, rising to his full height. The temperature in the healing chamber rose several degrees. "I believe it's time for the Night Court to take their leave."

Rhysand's eyebrows rose slightly. "Is that so? When your daughter has just revealed such... interesting information?"

"My daughter," Beron emphasized coldly, "has been poisoned and requires rest. Whatever delusions the venom has caused can be dealt with by Autumn Court healers."

"Lord Beron," Feyre began, stepping forward with diplomatic grace, "perhaps under the circumstances—"

"The circumstances," Beron cut in, "are that my only daughter has been injured saving her brother's life, and now requires peace to recover." His amber eyes glittered dangerously. "Or perhaps the Night Court would like to explain why an assassin penetrated our borders during your diplomatic visit?"

The accusation hung in the air like smoke.

Rhysand's expression cooled several degrees. "A baseless accusation, but not an unexpected one." He turned to his delegation with calculated casualness. "We'll take our leave. For now."

Your eyes found Azriel's across the room.

The shadowsinger stood motionless, his face once again a perfect mask of indifference. But his shadows betrayed him, twisting restlessly as they reached toward you before being sharply pulled back.

Something in your chest ached at the sight—a hollow feeling that didn't entirely belong to you. The golden thread of the mating bond seemed to stretch painfully as he moved toward the door with the others.

Azriel hesitated a moment, then gave Rhysand a single, tight nod. With one last unfathomable look at you, he turned and followed his High Lord.

You watched them go, your pink flame creatures dimming slightly as the Night Court delegation filed through the arched doorway. The last glimpse you caught was of Azriel's wings disappearing into the corridor's shadows.

Your heart felt strangely fractured, torn between relief at their departure and an inexplicable sense of loss. The bond pulled like a physical weight, making your healing wound throb in sympathetic pain.

Then, abruptly, a realization struck you.

A terrible, perfect clarity.

A small, broken giggle escaped your lips.

Eris and Beron both turned to stare at you, identical expressions of alarm on their faces.

"Sister?" Eris questioned cautiously.

The giggle blossomed into full laughter, slightly hysterical. The pink flame creatures danced faster around you, reflecting your manic energy.

"I know how to get home," you whispered, just loud enough for them to hear. Your eyes met Beron's, then Eris's, a strange smile spreading across your face.

Beron took a step toward you, suspicion darkening his features. "What did you say?"

But you just smiled wider, the revelation burning in your mind like the clearest truth you'd ever known.

I just need to die.

The thought should have terrified you, but instead, it filled you with a twisted sort of hope.

Die here, wake up there. So simple. So perfect.

You lay back against the furs, smile still fixed on your face, as one of your flame bunnies settled onto your chest directly above your wound.

"Nothing, Father," you said sweetly. "Just a passing thought."

Eris's eyes narrowed, as if he could somehow read the dangerous idea forming in your mind. "Perhaps the healer should administer a sleeping draught," he suggested carefully.

"An excellent idea," Beron agreed, still watching you with open suspicion.

As the healer approached with a vial of amber liquid, your gaze drifted to the doorway where the shadowsinger had disappeared.

If he didn't want you, and you didn't belong here anyway, what was there to lose?

The mating bond tugged painfully in your chest, as if in protest.

Just one more death, you thought as the sleeping draught was pressed to your lips. And then I'll be home for good.

Author’s Note:

This chapter had it all: fire bunnies, accidental war crimes, surprise soul-bonding, and one (1) medically inadvisable resurrection. Shoutout to Azriel for rejecting his mate like a dramatic Victorian ghost. See you next chapter—bring snacks and emotional support. 💀🔥🐇💘

Taglist: @circe143 @lunarxcity @willowpains @messageforthesmallestman @lreadsstuff

[tsuyalovebot]

new person, same old mistakes.

minors & ageless blogs do not interact.

xia yizhou / caleb x reader.

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting). slightly nsfw (suggestive scenes but nothing explicit). modern au (present times, canon divergent, no evol). military veteran & pilot caleb. non-mc fem reader (use of she/her pronouns at some point). mentions of drinking.

mimi's missive: hello... i am back. also, please disregard any typos or errors. i wrote this in one sitting, in one hour because i needed to get this off my chest. also, this is probably the closest thing to a non-mc reader piece that i will ever write. knight caleb is on its way i promise, i've just been so busy. please have these crumbs instead, idk if i'll expand on it though. U( . . U)

Fuck — that's the first word that comes to Caleb's mind when he wakes up in his apartment to the faintest smell of a foreign perfume on his pillowcases and the memories of you from last night.

Caleb doesn't sleep around. Even before he was drafted and entered the Air Force, he never once fooled around with girls in middle school, high school. The most it ever reached was something beyond friendship but less than lovers with a girl. With her.

Something tender yet never tangible. Slipping through his fingers like morning dew that disintegrates at sunlight's first rays, he never once dreamt of anyone that wasn't her. From childhood to adulthood, the chambers of his heart were distorted to pump her name in morse code. A childhood friend, something more.

When he returned from his service, years and years of continual deployment, what greeted Caleb wasn't the arms of the girl he kissed when he had to leave. He was greeted by her, sure, but there was another man at her side. And she'd been beaming, eager to introduce him to her boyfriend.

A boyfriend. A boyfriend he didn't even know of from the rare times he could contact her. And Caleb would contact her. How could she fail to mention that she's now entangled with another guy?

It takes a while before he could recover from the shock of it all. PTSD weighs heavy on a veteran's mind, years and years worth of service that exhausts him beyond the physical and mental. Not even from that alone, but the sheer heartbreak and emptiness that came with seeing who he thought was the love of his life find her happiness with someone that wasn't him. Years worth of yearning for a girl who was always in his reach yet he never latched onto. What could he have done when he was seventeen and entered active duty with dreams of glory and clouds on blue canvases?

But he gets back on his feet, at the insistent voice in the back of his brain.

It'll take a while before he can get used to the hollow sensation of emptiness around his neck, a silver necklace that sits somewhere in his desk drawer neglected. A long while, before he could rediscover a purpose in life that wasn't inherently tied to her smile. He's still young, honorably discharged from his service with talented piloting skills under his belt. A passion for the skies, a love for aerospace engineering.

He'd find that spark again. And he did.

Caleb goes into civil aviation after a couple of years. Becomes a pilot, laughs it up with his crew and the countless connections he's made in the industry whenever they'd ask about his past career. After all, it was probably the most cliche thing a person could do after being in the Air Force. Really? Airlines?

In his thirties, he thinks he's healed. She doesn't haunt him as much as she did years ago. His chest feels lighter in the rare occasion she'd cross his mind. He could even go out with Gideon and his friends without hesitation now — though it's an entirely different thing to actively seek out partners.

The most he could fathom was sexual partners. Even then, he doesn't quite get it. Not until you.

And you're his worst fucking nightmare. Meeting at a club, catching a few drinks together. You aren't alone; you had girl friends, a full squad that kind of merged with his own on a night of him and old military mates catching up. Hypnotic yet casual, the conversation between the two of you felt natural. Right, and oddly comforting amidst his painfully blank resumé in the romance department.

He learned you graduated from a nice university in the state, tourism management or something along those lines. Caleb tells you of his time in Air Force, the time he spent in piloting school for civil aviation preparation. Banter here and there, a few casual touches of skin. A dance to the strobe lights on the dance floor.

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking to him, maybe he was simply craving some sort of physical intimacy, but he sleeps with you. Jumps the gun a bit. Hours ago he'd been assured that he'd go yet another club night without sleeping with anyone or swapping spit. What a joke.

The next morning, you weren't in his bed. You most likely left far, far earlier than when he woke up, because your scent was practically fading away from the sheets when he sniffed the place where you slept. Totally not in a creepy way, by the way.

Truth be told, he doesn't remember every detail of that passionate night — the important tidbits, yes. The taste of you on his tongue, the softness of your body against his, how you looked up at him as you ran your mouth over his abdomen.

It was arguably the best night of his life. Ever. It was a thousand times better than what he ever dreamt of, the image of sex glorified and something he used to associate with her. But what transpired last night felt oddly intimate, shared breaths over ghosting lips. A rawness to a passion without bounds.

If it weren't for the several hastily placed bills on his bedside, Caleb would've gotten a hard-on right there at the memory.

You left money. Not even a note. Nothing else, simply money. Like he was some sort of cheap service worker pleading for a tip. Caleb scoffed a disbelieving laugh, yet he wasn't really mad about it, for some odd reason. He should feel offended at the implicit jab, but instead, he feels curious.

Unfortunately for him, not even Gideon nor his other friends knew your name. When he rang them up, they simply said stuff along the lines of you didn't even get her name before sleeping with her? or I got the names of her friends but none of their socials. It's disappointing, but he eventually gives up. Simply thinks of your face every now and then, fresh and memorable in his mind as the girl who rewrote some part of him in a one night stand.

But the thing is, he does meet you again. But it isn't at some club, late at night with a sultry ultramarine and fuchsia light glimmering over your face. It's a week or two after that night, when you're decked out in a flight attendant's uniform and he's the captain. He does a double take when his eyes land on you during the pre-flight briefing, stuttering momentarily when your eyes meet and his heart seems to pause.

Caleb doesn't know why he's panicking — he doesn't even know you. Isn't even sure if it's you, or if he's misremembering because you don't even bat an eye at him. Your gaze simply going to your fellow crew members, nudging elbows sometimes to exchange refreshing smiles with a tilt of your head and a windchime-like laugh.

His heart does that thing again. Arrhythmia. It is you.

Gideon laughs up a storm when Caleb calls him in a panic, and really, he isn't helpful at all. Caleb groans into the receiver, running a hand through his hair in exasperation as he paces around the crew room. Even then, he can't stop the odd smile tugging at his lips. He's found you. He doesn't know why that makes him happy — again, he doesn't even know you — but it does and he goes with it.

As per the airline, you all will be staying at the same hotel. Different rooms, of course, but same hotel nonetheless. More opportunities to potentially talk to you. He drowns out Gideon's harping laughter; the idiot was probably rejoicing over how Caleb was finally "getting some," as he so eloquently put it. Why were they friends again?

Regardless, after the flight, he does muster up the courage to talk to you. He walks up to you when you all are dropped off at the hotel lobby, his heart racing and mind spiraling despite his resolute expression. You're in the middle of talking to another flight attendant when Caleb taps your shoulder.

You earn a curious look from your friend, but you seem to take it in stride. You smile and accept his offer for a chat, telling your friend that you'll go up to your room in a bit. She leaves you, saying she'll go to one of the hotel cafes to wait for you, while the rest of the crew goes to the elevators. Leaving you and him in the lobby, your luggage in one hand and Caleb's luggage in his own.

Shit. His brain's blanking. What does he say?

"Ahem." He clears his throat with a cough, suddenly sheepish. His nerves claw at his nape in heated pinpricks, like the scalding sun. "Sorry to take up your time like this."

"It's nothing. Did you need something, Captain?"

The way you were looking up at him was polite, but dear God, it had Caleb thinking back to that damn night. Your smile of glossy pink, your eyes peeking from your lashes and your hand over his on the countertop. He wills himself to smile, albeit awkward.

"Uh, yeah, actually. It's— I'm not gonna ask you to do anything, of course," he rambles. God, he has absolutely no idea how to do this.

He clears his throat again. "But, I wanted to ask, have we met before?"

Caleb feels the visceral urge to gouge his own eyes out at that very moment. Really? Have we met before? The corniest sounding pick-up line in the history of flirting? He wants to cry, feels his embarrassment well up in a way it hasn't since he tripped over his own two feet in middle school but he somehow manages to keep his calm expression.

You, however, don't falter. Instead, you're remaining placid. Polite. Distant. He gets it — technically, this is still a working environment. But something about your nonchalance only exacerbates his flustered mentality.

You hum, tapping your nails on the handle of your luggage. "I don't think so."

His heart drops to his chest. Inhaling sharply, Caleb shakes his head despite the sting of rejection. His chest warms with newfound determination. "No, no. I think we have."

There's a bit of challenge in his tone. Something like assertion. It sparks something in you, clearly, because you narrow your eyes and something licks at the back of Caleb's neck at the scrutiny in your face.

"Then why'd you ask if you already had an answer?" You reply, dry.

Oh. Well. Caleb coughs, hacking like an old asthmatic man. He lifts a hand, rubbing the back of his head.

"It's just— I wanted to confirm. You look familiar, and I think we slept together?" He blurts out. Smooth, Caleb. Real fucking smooth. She's really gonna want to talk to you now. "And you kinda left money on my bedside table, so as much as I'm flattered that you think I was good enough to pay, I think I should return it, at least."

Your brows lift in surprise, like you didn't expect him to outright say it. Before you could reply, Caleb extends his phone to you with one hand.

"And I also wanted to ask if... I could get your number?" He adds your name on at the end, testing it from his mouth. He likes it. He's grateful to have learned it today by some odd serendipitous encounter in airlines and plane flights.

But then he notices it. The way your brows furrow deeply as you gaze at his phone, eyes flickering between something disbelieving and bitter before you scoff and look up at him.

"Are you serious right now?"

Caleb nearly flinches at your tone. It's biting, but he settles for a slight frown instead. "Did I say something wrong?"

The mysterious animosity comes off of you in ways as you cross your arms, pointedly glaring at him now. He feels like he's missing something, like he's forgotten something. Gone was the polite customer service smile, the warm look in those eyes of yours that drift in and out of his dreams. It makes him tense; you're looking at him like you can't stand him and he has absolutely no reason why.

You then sigh, breaking him out of his confused state. You turn your attention away from him, testing your grip on the handle of your luggage. "You know what, keep the money."

"What?"

"Keep it. You should put it into your therapy funds," you tack on, and Caleb feels some of his confusion fray into something more frustrated now. You aren't looking at him and giving him any answer.

"What are you— who are you to tell me that?"

You laugh, the sound grating on his ears. It isn't the charming one. Yet this one still feels as authentic as the other. Sparing him a glance, you take his phone from his hands and he's once again confused. Why did you seem so upset if you were just gonna put your number in anyway? Was this some new flirting tactic he wasn't aware of? Does he have that little game?

But then you're flipping his phone over, and in his clear phone case is a polaroid picture of him and her. He hasn't changed his case nor that photo in years. It was something as easy as breathing, someting natural and regular. Even though Caleb feels almost nothing when he sees it nowadays. He never once thought it would bite him in the ass like this.

His blood runs cold, blanching. Oh, fuck.

The smile you give Caleb is tight-lipped, not an ounce of mirth in your expression. "Next time you sleep with someone, try to not be a cheating asshole."

As you start to walk past him, you pat his chest while he stands there, dumbfounded.

"Maybe you could put the money into getting some Viagra too," you offer, faux sympathy and all. "They'll probably give you a discount if you mention how you moaned her name when you finished after fucking me, Cap."

The last thing Caleb thinks when you're long gone and off to the hotel café and he's finally snapped out of his mortification is, also, fuck.

[honeyslibrary]

Mood Swing | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Established relationship, pregnancy, that's it i'm pretty sure, edited once.

Summary; An installment of the Sweet Girl universe, but can be read as a stand alone.

Word Count; 1.1k

Author's note; Super short. If you have any ideas for this AU please hit my inbox (: -Honey

"Y/N is mad at me," Quinn says unenthusiastically, walking into the living room where his brothers are glued to the TV, fingers flying over their controllers as they battle it out in Fortnite. He drops into the recliner with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair.

Both Jack and Luke snort in unison, barely sparing him a glance as they keep their eyes on the screen. Jack, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, shakes his head. "Pretty sure she's been mad at you since the second trimester."

Luke chuckles, still mashing buttons. "Yeah, man. What’d you screw up now?"

Quinn throws his hands in the air. "I don’t know! That’s the problem. I don’t think I did anything."

He leans back, exasperated, as Jack and Luke exchange a knowing look, the kind only younger brothers can perfect. They both laugh again, this time a little louder.

"That’s what makes it worse," Jack says. "You probably did something without even realizing it."

Quinn lets out a heavy sigh, the kind that lingers in his chest before escaping through slightly parted lips. He scrubs a hand through his hair, fingers catching on a stubborn tangle, as he racks his brain for anything—anything—he could’ve done to set you off. But all he finds is a frustrating blank. Absolutely nothing.

He wasn't new to the emotional rollercoaster of pregnancy—he’d read the articles, joined the forums, even downloaded that one app to track your cravings and moods—but this? This felt different. Last night had been perfect. You’d snuggled into his side on the couch, whispering that you were craving that one burger—the one from that tiny roadside diner two towns over. Without hesitation, he’d grabbed his keys and hit the road, driving two and a half hours through winding backroads and humid summer drizzle just to get it for you. The way your eyes lit up when you unwrapped it? Worth every minute.

But this morning... you’d woken up with a scowl etched into your face like it had been carved there overnight. The moment he said “good morning,” you gave him a look—flat and unreadable, like a stranger on the subway. Like you couldn’t stand the sound of his voice.

"I'm ready for this to be over," Quinn groans, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, head hanging for a moment before he shakes it slightly, like he's trying to flick the thought away.

On the couch, Luke doesn't look at him—just flutters his eyes over briefly before refocusing on the video game controller in his hands. "How do you think she feels?" he mutters, his thumbs still moving, the flicker of the TV casting dull light across his face.

Quinn rolls his eyes and slouches back against the armchair. "Obviously I know she feels the same way. Worse."

From the corner of the couch, Jack lets out a low laugh, the kind that says he's been there before, even though he never has. "Just gotta ride the storm, brother," he says, lifting a beer to his lips. "It'll pass. They always do."

Quinn narrows his eyes at Jack, irritation flickering across his face. "I know," he snaps, sharper than intended. He opens his mouth to say more—maybe defend himself, maybe vent—but the sudden sound of your voice cuts through the room, yelling his name from upstairs.

His spine stiffens. The whole room stills for half a beat.

"...Duty calls," Quinn mutters under his breath, already rising to his feet.

"Good luck," Luke says, stifling a laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching as he keeps his eyes on the game.

Quinn flips him the middle finger over his shoulder without looking back, a lazy gesture that earns a louder laugh from both of his brothers. He takes the stairs two at a time, the familiar creak of the third step under his heel disappearing beneath the fading sound of their amusement.

At the top, the house feels quieter, but not heavy—just still. He walks down the hallway toward your shared bedroom, already picturing the look you’ll give him when he walks in. He knocks with the backs of his knuckles—just enough to be polite—then pushes the door open.

You're right where he'd left you this morning—nestled in a pile of pillows, a book discarded beside you, eyes trained on your phone. You hadn’t said a word when you banished him, but you hadn’t needed to. Your silence had done the talking, and your eyes had done the rest.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" he asks, voice low, careful.

Your brows furrow as you sit up, hands instinctively drifting to your baby bump, protective and automatic. "Why do you look scared?" you ask, your tone soft but skeptical, watching him closely.

Quinn blinks, caught off guard. "I don't—I’m not," he stammers, before catching himself. He crosses to the bed and perches on the edge, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. One of his hands reaches out, settling gently over yours.

"Just don’t want to get yelled at." he answers honestly, lips twisting into a small smile.

"I didn’t yell at you today," you say, tilting your head slightly, feigning innocence.

"You kicked me out of the room," he deadpans.

"I did not," you say, sitting up a little straighter, your tone defensive but not entirely serious.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "You just about glared a hole through my skull," he mutters, raising his eyebrows at you. Then, more gently, he lifts one of your hands from where it rests on your baby bump and threads his fingers through yours, giving it a small squeeze.

You pause for a beat, watching the way his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles, before your lips twitch into a pout. "I'm sorry," you say softly, though your expression is already giving you away.

He grins, wide and shameless, eyes lighting up with amusement. "No you’re not."

"No, I’m not," you admit, breaking into a giggle. "But I am tired."

He laughs, shaking his head. "How are you tired? You just woke up."

You give him a look—the kind that says really?—then smack his shoulder lightly. "Maybe because I’m turning food into a human?"

"Touché," he says, fingers rubbing at the spot you hit, as if it actually hurt.

"Do you want to nap with me or not?"

"You know I do, baby," he says, already kicking off his shoes. "Scoot over."

My Patreon, where you can find exclusive fics not posted anywhere else: HERE. Hoping to have my first post up on there sometime this week (:

[scribbledghost]

Inhuman!IV Headcanons

Note: Up next is IVy!! I really am enjoying all the world building I'm getting to do with these.

General:

The youngest of the vessels, and has only been officially converted for around 100 years, which isnt long in the grand scheme of things. As such, he hasn't quite been able to discover his specific "inhuman power" yet like the others have. He has the general powers (increased strength and vision, telepathic connection, etc), but not his specific one yet.

He's on the verge though - he can do as many growly metal screams as he wants and his vocal cords stay intact. So IV is pretty sure his go-to inhuman talent will have something to do with his voice.

His physical appearance is probably the most "human" of the rest as well: two eyes, and his canines are only slightly sharper than normal.

There's also a very small patch of skin on his chest that hasn't quite finished changing to the charcoal-black color (when a vessel converts, the black color starts on their toes/fingertips and spreads inward over time).

A bit of a troublemaker (the one most likely to get into Shenanigans with III), but also does his best to not overdo it. Deep down, he's afraid he'll make a misstep and be cast out. It'll never happen, but it's still something that keeps him up at night sometimes.

Has the mouth of a sailor. None of the vessels are adverse to cursing, but IV is on a different level. It's not quite as bad as when he first arrived simply because he's mellowed out a bit over time, but it's definitely there.

Cannot dance to save his life, but he loves doing it anyway. Sure, it's more of a "drunk uncle at a wedding" shimmy when it's just him, but that won't stop him.

Has a very deeply hidden fear of being abandoned. He's finally found a home, finally found his people, and he's subconsciously terrified he'll lose it all someday.

Fluff:

IV sometimes gets self-conscious about the little patch of non-painted skin on his chest. I am begging you to kiss him there whenever you get the chance. He may act a bit flustered and cranky, but he really loves it.

Dances with you a lot. He's a bit less awkward when he's with you as opposed to when he dances on his own, and is a fan of twirling and dipping you if you'll let him.

Like II, he tends to be more quiet in his affections. He absolutely has a soft spot for you, however, and that much is obvious if yo know what to look for.

Another vessel that takes advantage of the telepathic connection you share quite often. He doesn't mind saying things out loud at all, but sometimes he simply likes to communicate in other ways if he's sharing any words of affection. Bonus points if he's got his lips on yours at the time.

Always making sure you're taken care of. And if he's around while you're trying to do anything for yourself (like make yourself food or grab something off the shelf), he's immediately stepping in to do it for you if you'll let him.

If you ever get up and wander around late at night, it's usually IV who comes to find you. He always acts like its a coincidence, but both of you know better. He just gets worried sometimes that something's wrong, and if there is, he wants to be there for you.

His fear of being abandoned doesn't stop with the vessels, it extends to you, too. You can feel it sometimes through your mental connection. He'll never mention it, but you can tell by the way he holds you that much tighter or whispers soft words of affection to you.

The biggest cuddler!! He doesn't care who sees either. If you're around and no one else has started curling around you first, it's almost a guarantee that IV will fill the spot next to you and wrap his arms around you.

Smut (under the cut):

Very good with his hands, if you catch my drift. Loves to use them on you, too, because he knows just what to do to get you making the prettiest sounds. It only takes a couple of encounters for IV to be able to read you like an open book.

IV is more likely to be fast and rough. Not all the time, but often he's driving into you hard enough to leave bruises the following day. It's purely because he can't get enough of you, honestly, and most of the time if he tries to go slow, it doesn't last very long because he can't control himself.

Likely to switch up to different positions (read more about that here), but he's a sucker for a good mating press. Let him fold you in and be at his mercy and he'll have you seeing stars in no time.

Gets VERY growly when he's close to coming. As soon as his words start getting gravelly and low (if they're still intelligible by that point), you can tell he's about to fill you. It's as if his words start coming straight from the bottom of his lungs with how low they tend to get.

Speaking of, IV loves pumping you full. He hates the idea of pulling away from you when he comes, and on top of that he gets the added bonus of watching it drip out of you after - which usually leads to him helping clean you up with his tongue.

He's usually fast and hard, but that doesn't mean he can't be slow and gentle too. Sometimes he gets stuck in his own head and needs to show you how much he cares about you. That usually translates to a few hours in bed with him worshiping every inch of your body.

A HUGE tease. Loves to hear you beg him for more, and likes it when you're specific. Definitely the type to respond to you asking him to touch you with a sly "I am touchin' you" even though he knows damn well that's not what you meant.

Very big on dirty talk as well. Loves the feeling of you clenching around him when he tells you how good you feel, how much he loves being inside of you like this. He also loves including descriptions of what he'll do to you later in your foreplay.

[prone-to-fleeting-obsessions]

Dating Veritas Ratio hc's

Out of all the hsr men, I'd imagine he'd be the most irritated figuring out he has a crush

A crush? A stupid little manifestation of his irrational emotions???

He'll stew over it a while, picking it apart like the most complex of equations, his stoic expression not wavering

So what if he's around you often? So what if he unconsciously seeks you out, it doesn't mean anything...

He'll hammer that narrative over and over until it becomes truth, or as close to truth as his mind will allow

You'll act like a married couple, though

He'll scold you without any real irritation, eyes narrowing as he pulls you closer to just fix the problem himself

A leaf in your hair? Your sleeve unrolled? Coffee stain on your shirt?

Honestly, how could you be such a careless mess...

Wait, no. No don't go, you're his careless mess—

It'll become a new normal to just have him occasionally once over your appearance, looking for things he can fix and doing so without a word

He also takes it upon himself to make you a healthier and more rounded person

No you're not eating garbage calories for the third meal in a row, yes you are drinking a full glass of water as he reads you excerpts from his book on how quantum chemistry applies to theoretical engineering under Nous's 63rd law of imaginary quantum information science, and there will be a quiz after so pay attention

If asked about why he's often seen by your side, he'll usually answer with a glare and an insult, commenting on the lack of even borderline decent conversationalists around

You're probably not really going to get an actual confession out of him, because that would force him to admit defeat to those annoyingly persistent feelings that just won't leave him be

If you take the initiative of backing him into a corner, you get to watch him flounder a bit, an expression of agitation and a growing warmth throughout his whole body as he skirts the topic with overly complex excuses

He's a big fan of doing different things in the same space, talking isn't necessary

Occasionally, when he remembers you're still there, he'll glance up from his book to see how you're faring, before getting back into it

He has a bit of a staring problem, in a way

It's just that he's so up in his head often, usually easily loosing sight of his surroundings, and you just happen to be the most pleasing thing to keep his eyes on

He'll look away when he notices you staring back, but it's not long before you feel his eyes trained on you again, as if studying every little movement as he works out equations in his head

Of course he does need alone time, usually spent reading in the bath

But that period seems to be getting shorter and shorter as his focus is constantly broken by unconditionally looking around to find you while deep in thought

He will absolutely use you as a blank canvas to throw ideas and thoughts on if he can't work through something in his head

By explaining it to you in mind numbing detail, he'll usually run headfirst into the solution, and it's a treat to watch his eyes widen ever so slightly as he pauses, immediately thanking you curtly before moving straight to writing

Your sense of curiosity is his favorite trait, the one he wants to nurture and encourage you to feed

He's not expecting you to be as smart as him, that would be an impossible expectation, but he will not allow you to give in to ignorance, to get in the habit of complacency, as it is the enemy of growth

He's an intimidating figure to most, both from his status and sharp tongue, so it's not uncommon for low-level scientists with something to prove to seek you out

Sometimes to get information on him, sometimes to test your intelligence, as if trying to prove themselves better than the company the great Dr. Ratio chooses to keep

He's quick to nip that in the bud, though

His crossed arm stoic faced glare would scare away anyone who isn't keen on being picked apart verbally

He'll claim it's all to avoid tainting you with their idiocracy, and that you really shouldn't keep such company

Tries to use selfish logical excuses constantly to get things he wants from you

"I've already chosen your hotel room for this trip, it'll be next to mine so I don't have to travel as far to compare notes in the morning."

"Honestly. You're coming with me to dinner so I won't waste my time working around your schedule later."

"No. You are absolutely not going to get a closer look at those monsters because I'm not cleaning up the mess you'll no doubt get yourself into by being so reckless."

"You're really going to waste your valuable time entertaining those IPC buffoons? They have more credits than brain cells. Stay here, lest their ignorance rub off on you."

He means well, under the insults and unapproachable demeanor

And, at a certain point, he really can't imagine the rest of his life without you close by

[r3starttt]

ACHING TO TOUCH HER

- request

an: based on my experience, don't take it too serious, just some comfort for those insecure (specifically about the body)

ABBY ANDERSON

⋆ would learn to recognize when you're not feeling the nicest and would tell you immediately how pretty you look

"stop looking at yourself in the mirror, you look nice" your hands, resting on your stomach just som seconds ago, moved to the sides of your body. You didn't feel comfortable enough with the clothes you were currently wearing, there was something odd.

You shifted your eyes towards her, taking a deep breath "just nice?" "shut up, come here" her arms extended, making space for you to crawl to her into a very comforting hug, probably what you needed.

⋆ understands how stressful it can be to have those thoughts so she's always patient with you whenever you're having a tough day.

⋆ kisses on your temple whenever you seem off, zoning out while you look at yourself on any reflection, whenever you seem physically uncomfortable, whenever you say words not so nice about yourself. She finds her way to comfort you.

⋆ she's completely in love with everything that makes you, you. Your hair, eyes, nose, strength, size, height. Anything she adores about you because it's you.

⋆ notices the smallest changes on you and compliments them, always.

"your hair looks different today, I like it"

⋆ she knows you, a lot. Would always let you know what looks good on you, what you should try, what changes you should do. And would always be so tender with her words.

"Saw this the other day, though it'll look good on you"

⋆ finds your glasses the sexiest thing ever. Your hair, she adores it, she definitely learns to take care of it properly, to help you comb it, she takes her time with you. Your stomach, she can't help but put her hands on you whenever you wear tight clothes, the way it looks it's the most hot shit she's ever seen and she has to touch it. Thighs, ass, boobs, anything like that, no matter the size, she needs her hands on it, specifically on public.

⋆ has to let you know with actions how much she loves everything about you and your body.

⋆ she finds stretch marks hot so... yeah

⋆ any freckles and moles you have she counts them, memorize them, god she's in love with ur body.

⋆ "pretty girl"

DINA

⋆ she's always calling u lots of compliments. Ass gurllll so, wearing something tight? She'll let you know how hot you look and how much she adores you in that.

"What?" You murmured once you realize how she was practically eye fucking you. She just laughed, shrugging her shoulders "nice ass"

You kept on wearing those jeans, just for her.

⋆ likes showering with you and telling you how much she loves every inch of your body. Cuddling and resting her hands on your stomach or run her fingers trough your arms as she murmurs how gorgeous you are.

⋆ can tell when you're off but gives you space or directly asks you what she can do to help/ does something about it.

"Hey... babe, come here, yeah?" You've been a while just looking at the wall. Today had been exhausting, and looking at your reflection wasn't quite the best idea ever. You felt uncomfortable in your own body, and everything felt so overwhelming.

It wasn't until her arms embraced you, pulling your body towards her, that you realized how much everything was affecting you. What would you do without her?

⋆ Always ask u the reason, worried she said or did something even thought she knows she's never the reason.

⋆ late night talks about it. She wants to know what bothers you so much and what's the background of it.

⋆ eye to eye cuddling while she caresses every inch of your body.

⋆ kisses everywhere everyday all the time

⋆ doesn't allow any mean words to yourself "Hey, don't say that" accompanied with a slightly harsh tap on the side of your arm or over your shoulder

ELLIE WILLIAMS

⋆ always worried about you, the minimum you look sad or off or just not the happiness she's already asking you whats wrong, what happened, did she do something?

"What is It?" "Did I do something?" "C'mon babe" "shhh, it's alright"

⋆ hands and eyes all over your body, all the time

"Can't understand how you don't see how fucking hot you look right now babe"

⋆ learns about patience. She can be pretty harsh sometimes we know that, but she would never ever mess with your appearance, no matter what.

⋆ always takes her time to comfort you on hard days, hearing you without saying a word until you're done. Lots of hugs and kisses for u

⋆ tries to convince you you're the hottest person alive but eventually learns to actually support you based on what you find comforting <3

⋆ breaks her heart to see the disappointment on your face whenever you're not fully comfortable with your clothes, makeup, anything

⋆ always offers you help "want my hoodie?" "Wanna go home babe?"

an:

1- abby finds glasses hot

2- curly haired, fat, black, Latina women? They all drive them crazy, those are facts stfu

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

TERRITORIAL. | Pretty Baby

Who would've known that the big bad wolf isn't actually all that bad?

Tags/Warnings: Punk!Jungkook, Wolf!Jungkook, Good girl!Reader, Dom!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, Corruption kink, strangers to crushes to lovers, Fluff, Adult themes

Length: uuuh long idk

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Strawberry milk is your favorite.

It's always been a comfort thing for you- just like certain snacks or fabrics make you feel comforted, strawberry milk gives you that little bit of extra braveness at night after work has ended to finally make your way back home into the safety of your apartment.

But tonight, it's a bit different. Tonight, there's a group of vamps outside, clearly trying to agitate the wolves who've been ruling the streets for a while now.

It's not actual gang-behavior. They're not actively fighting or anything, there's never any guns or other violence involved- at least not on the surface. Underground, you're sure this must be a different story- but on the streets, the wolves play the tune everyone else dances to- the vamps only occasionally trying to provoke something, which never actually happens.

But that doesn't mean it won't tonight. Maybe tonight's the night it'll escalate.

And on nights like this, you sometimes feel like moving into the big city was a big mistake too, because this seems so normal to everyone else around you.

Back home in your little town, there wasn't anything like this at night. People would go to bed at reasonable times, you'd know every neighbor by name and house number, and you never had to fear going home alone. But here, things are different. Here, things are a lot more dangerous, especially as nothing but a human with no connection to either group.

You kind of want to stay neutral- even if, deep down, you feel more drawn towards the wolves with their more laid back approach to life.

Outside the small convenience store, you throw away the empty bottle of strawberry milk, before you reluctantly make a few steps- looks from a few vampires immediately making you retreat however, pulling out your phone to appear occupied. You can hear them snickering amongst each other already, laughing and talking, making comments about you.

You can't do this, fuck that.

You look around a little, when you notice someone from the nearby wolves looking back at you- a young man, golden eyes a tell-tale sign of what he is, as he sits on his bike that's perched up on it's kickstand. He's watching you, but not in an intimidating way- he's more so calculating it seems like, scanning the situation before he looks towards a friend nearby, who nods, some others nodding as well as they move closer.

He's got his hands in the pockets of his jacket, beanie hiding the slightly faded blue-ish strands of hair. Everyone of the tiny group appears relaxed and non-threatening. But there's a certain confidence in them that intimidates you a little as they walk closer.

That is, until he smiles at you-

and his black tail behind him wags, swaying from side to side.

"Alright guys, can we make some space here for the lady to pass through?" He asks towards the group of Vamps, who laugh, before they reluctantly make space for you to walk. The young man carefully moves to walk a little behind you, the other's shielding you just as much on the side that's turned towards the blood-dependent human variants. It just confirms to you that yeah, you're definitely more drawn towards wolves.

"There we go. Is your home far?" The young wolf asks, still keeping a respectful distance towards you.

"Uh.. no, not really." You deny, and he nods. "Thanks, by the way." You bow to him and his friends politely, everyone just waving it off- though you can see all their tails swaying a little. It's honestly.. cute, if they didn't all look like they could probably break your neck at a moment's notice.

But they don't. Instead, they all agree to your request to walk home now by yourself, and let you go-

though you can feel one person's eyes on you for a little longer, and when you turn around, he smiles that smile again.

A smile that's just.. genuine.

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You meet him again the day after at the convenience store, though he's sporting a fresh scratch on the top of his cheekbone. He doesn't seem to be in too much pain as he spots you however, having just bought your typical strawberry courage to go home tonight. "Do you always work this long?" He wonders, and you nod, sitting down next to him at the narrow table at the windows of the small store. He's been eating something, bowl now empty though, faint redness on his lips the last remnant of his meal.

"What happened?" You ask, pointing to your own cheek, when he seems surprised, touching his own before hissing at the sting. "No don't touch it-" You whine, before you look for something in your bag, opening another, smaller, makeup bag. "here- or... do you want me to help?" You wonder, making him nod and lean forward with a faint smile on his lips, hands holding onto the chair he's sitting on between his legs as he closes his eyes so you don't feel watched.

As you clean up the scratch and put a bandaid on, you kind of have to think about the fact that he seems awfully.. less threatening than you thought he'd be, considering he's a wolf from the big city. But maybe the one's you know from the smaller towns are just.. a little too full of themselves, pride getting the best of them.

"Oh-" You suddenly say, noticing the little cartoon fish on the bandaid you just placed on his cheek.

"What, 'oh'?" He wonders back, and you hold out another bandaid to him so he can take a look.

"I'm sorry, I didn't- I forgot I only have those…" You mumble a bit caught off guard by your own actions. But he just laughs, giving it back to you with a smile and shake of his head.

"It's fine- they're cute!" He simply shrugs, not bothered by it at all. "Thanks." He offers, tail swaying behind him. "So- can I ask what you work as?" He wonders, and you nod, putting your stuff back into your bag.

"Just data management. It's pretty boring." You shrug to yourself. "But I can work by myself and I like that." You explain, zipping your bag shut before you look at him again. "Although.. I might have to get myself maybe a dog, when I go home at night. A big, scary looking one you know? But they've got to be nice so I can bring them into the office with me.." You mumble, drinking the last of your milk as he turns his body to face more openly to you again, a playful smirk on his lips.

"How about I'll be your big bad dog then, huh?" He flirts, tail swinging side to side behind him. "Though I'm probably not allowed in the office.." He laughs, especially when you roll your eyes and still smile at his joking attempt at flirting. It was a joke.. right?

"Ha-ha." You say because of that, though he just widens his eyes, feigning innocence.

"Hey I'm serious!" He offers, leaning a bit closer. "I could take you home every night- and if I can't, someone of my pack could do the job instead."

"I- I'm probably not even gonna stay in the city for too long." You sigh, playing with the fluffy pom-pom ball attached to your bag. "I don't like it here very much.. it's too.. I don't know. I don't belong here.." You mumble.

"Maybe you've simply not seen the good parts of the city." He shrugs. "I could show you some."

"And by some you mean your bedroom?" You sigh, looking at him with a bit of an attitude- and he can't help but be intrigued by that little hint of spice you seem to have, underneath your pretty visuals and rather introverted appearance.

"If you'd like to visit, the door's always open for a pretty girl like you." he purrs, and at that, you clearly turn shy. "..And I don't ever open that door for anyone but myself, typically." He adds on, and at that, you look back at him, searching for the deeper meaning of that statement-

and you seem to find it, in the warmth of his eyes and the slight redness to his ears.

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"Have you ever been a backpack before?" Jungkook asks, as he waits outside of your apartment, one helmet on his bike and the other in his hand.

"Uh.. no-" you say, honestly never having heard the phrase.

"Would you like to try?" He asks, motioning towards his bike, holding out the helmet. "Got this one from a packmate. Should fit you." He says, black and grey tail wagging as you take it somewhat reluctantly. "And I'll drive extra careful too." He says, helping you put on the helmet properly before his hands adjust the strap under your chin.

"What if I fall off?" You worry, but he just laughs, putting on his own helmet. You notice that his hair seems freshly dyed- nor black.

"Not if you hold on to me." He explains, sitting on the bike after putting up the kickstand. "Hop on- I'll keep it stable." He reassures you, as you somewhat awkwardly climb onto the back of his bike. Only when his hands pull yours around his middle do you notice he's only really keeping you both and the bike stable with his feet alone.

And it makes you wonder how strong he might be.

"There we go. You'll figure things out as we go, trust me." He chuckles, small speakers in his head connected to his own too so you can talk properly. "Good to go?" Be asks, and you nod-

That is until his bike roars to life, and you instinctively cling onto him for dear life as he turns to drive off onto the main road.

He laughs. You're not sure what's so funny.

"Oh look at Jungkookies new passenger princess!" Someone jokes suddenly over the speaker, and you look around just to find three people on bikes as well at the same red light.

"Nervous?" Another voice asks, and Jungkook growls a little in front of you.

"You're making her nervous, hyung!" He complains, making the stranger's laugh. "Don't worry, they just want to mess with me.." he mumbles towards you, hand squeezing yours for a little in comfort.

"Yeah of course, after all Jungkook's finally all grown up!" The first voice laughs. "Finally up for an actual relationship now, fuckboy?" He asks, and at that, you grow a bit nervous.

Fuckboy? Relationship?

Just who is Jungkook really? You've got no idea. Sure, you've texted over the past few days, but you basically know nothing about him. He could just try and get into your pants, maybe that's his whole thing- maybe he likes them innocent and stupid to have a quick fuck and then drop them again. With looks like his that must be easy.

You're easy.

"Please don't listen to them, they're just assholes-" He tries to explain as the light finally turns green, but you're quiet, and Jungkook has a feeling that something's wrong. "You okay?" He asks occasionally, but you just nod and move on, not really up for talking anymore. He just wants to screw you anyways. Maybe he really is just a big city wolf down the line.

The scenery is nice, but you don't really feel like enjoying it too much as you just want to go home right away again. It's something you do- you hide from things, because confrontation just ends in you being at fault all the time. And maybe, this time, you are at fault.

You shouldn't just trust someone like that. You both barely know each other.

He parks at a gas station, turning off his bike in a more secluded parking area, before he takes off his helmet, and helps you take off yours too.

"What's wrong?" He asks, hair a bit wild, but eyes serious as they look at you, reflecting the light from the neon signs a little like mirrors.

"Nothing." You shrug, avoiding eye contact.

"He was just messing with me. They're always like that-" he tries to explain, and as you sigh, he knows that that's exactly what must've set you off. "Listen, I won't stand here and tell you I'm a church-going virgin because I'm not. Yeah, I fucked around, because sex is fun to me." He shrugs, and you're caught off guard at how boldly he says that. "But that doesn't mean I can't take things seriously." He offers, finally catching your gaze again. "And I want to take.. you seriously." He offers you, but you're not sure.

"...why?" You wonder. "Cause I'm pretty and innocent?" You jab at him. "Cause I'm the small town girl you can corrupt and then drop after you finally got into my pants?" You accuse. "Sucks to be you, I'm not a virgin anymore. I've had sex already, and for me it's not fun." You deny, crossing your arms almost defensively, though you quickly move your hands back on the bike as it moves slightly the moment he sits on it again, facing you however.

"I don't care about that." He tells you. "I won't lie that the corruption part isn't something appealing to me-" he chuckles, as he tests the waters, hands on your thighs not moving, just resting on the tops of them. "-But I'm not dropping you, if you ever let me have you." He purrs.

"What if I'm not ever letting you have me?" You respond, trying to act tough so he won't think you're easy.

"Then that's your choice." He nods.

"So if I say no right now, you'll leave me alone?" You ask.

"Depends on what you say no to." He shrugs leaning back a little, your legs feeling cold without his hands on them. "No to sex? Alright, we won't fuck then." He explains. "No to being with me? Cool, we'll just stay friends then." He goes on.

"No to me entirely?" He offers, eyes unreadable. "I'll accept that, and back off."

"That easy?" You ask a little caught off guard, and he nods. "So you're.. huh." You mumble to yourself, defeated. So he's not even up to put any effort in you. That's slightly disappointing, and honestly makes you feel a little ashamed even.

"So what is it?" He asks, and you shrug.

"I don't know." You answer honestly.

"Then how about I'll work for it?" He smirks, and you look at him now. "Let me take you out. Let's go on dates, I can take you to pack meet-up's so you can get to know those assholes better, hell, I'll even have you meet my mom if you want!" He excitedly proposes to you, tail wagging, hitting his bike occasionally. "Just- you seem really cool. Exactly what I've been searching for." He explains a bit softer now. "Let's try.. okay?" He asks.

"... okay." You answer, and at that his lips turn, part in a happy grin, before he gets up from the bike and punches the air once in his excitement before he returns.

"Okay!" He giggles to himself, helping you back into your helmet. "I know an awesome place to get some food-" he instantly rambles, kicking up the stand for his bike again before he drives off with you-

Eager to show you that he's the one for you.

[yukioos]

Hey kali 🎀🎀 wondering if you could do a sfw and nsfw alphabet for Wolverine

SFW ALPHABET

WARNINGS: mentions of logan getting into fights (not with you), alcohol, smoking, insecurity, not proofread

AUTHORS NOTE: logan howlett x reader // hi! sorry this took so long, and i probably won’t do an nsfw alphabet, sorry! i don’t feel comfortable writing nsfw and smut, only slightly suggestive hcs or oneshots. thank you for requesting! this is 2.0k words

a = affectionate (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

he’s very affectionate in private, his hands are always somewhere on your body. it’s different in public, though. he doesn’t show as much affection because he feels more intimate when it’s just the two of you alone. the most he’ll do in public is show affection by guiding you somewhere with a hand on your back, but he always stands near you. he just wants to keep you safe and have you in his eyesight. when it comes to food, he’ll show affection by sharing it although he at first says no.

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

it'll take a while to get him to trust you and get close to you. he’s very weary of you at first but starts to form a relationship with you once he realizes you’re not a threat. he becomes very protective of you, and you find out he’s extremely loving, of course, a person who sees him randomly wouldn’t be able to see that. he doesn’t talk much, so he always listens closely to your words. the two of you met at the x-mansion, and became closer once ororo introduced you to each other.

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

he loves to cuddle, it makes him feel so safe and secure with you. one thing he rarely does is lay on you, he’d love to but doesn’t want to crush you with his endoskeleton. he’s about 300 lbs, so he prefers for you to lay on him than reversed. he loves it when he wraps his arm around your back and you sorta lay on your stomach, and your arm is draped over his large chest. he will only cuddle in the privacy of your room or house, never in public where you’d be seen together. it’s not that he’s embarrassed, he just feels better when it’s you two and you two alone.

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he gets nervous when thinking about having children and a family with you. sometimes he believes he’ll mess up and become a terrible father, but you tell him otherwise. he feels like he could try the parent relationship after the reassurance. at first, he’s not the best at cooking, and he doesn’t think much of cleaning. he practices recipes in his free time so he can make food for you and himself, sometimes making them for your dates.

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

if he had to break up with you, he’d probably do it if he thought he was endangering you. he loves you so much and would do anything to protect you, even if it meant leaving you. he’d break up with you quickly, not wanting to see your tears that he would most definitely want to wipe away.

f = fiancé (how do they feel about commitment? how quickly would they want to get married?)

he’d be open to getting married, but wouldn’t necessarily outwardly make hints to get married. of course, he would love to label you as his spouse instead of girlfriend/boyfriend, but is fine with not getting married. he’d probably leave that decision completely up to you, so if you wanted to marry at a designated time, he’d immediately say yes. if you give hints about wanting to become married then he’ll propose, though.

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he’s so gentle with you, as he has physically hurt people in the past. he doesn’t want to do that again, especially with his s/o, so he’s always treating you like you’re frail, and could be broken easily. although he knows you can take care of yourself, he’s always gentle and careful around you. emotionally, he’s sometimes awkward when you need comfort, however, he’ll always try his best to make you feel loved.

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

he doesn’t like hugging much, it’s just too close for comfort. he only hugs you when he’s trying to comfort you and he knows you need one, or if you got hurt or almost killed during a mission. when he does, they’re passionate and loving, and his large arms engulf you in his grasp. while he hugs you, he’ll rub your back in a comforting manner, just to ease your feelings.

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

logan falls in love easily, but he’s scared to say the l-word. there’s no doubt that he does love you, but bad things happen to people he loves. despite all that, he tells you he loves you after you’re in a dangerous situation. he realizes you could lose your life at any second, and he shouldn’t waste his time not verbally expressing his love for you.

j = jealous (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

he gets jealous often, but of course, it’s because of his insecurities. he thinks eventually you’ll leave and find someone better than him, as he doesn’t think of himself as a good person. he’ll put an arm around your waist and rub it gently, trying to get the other person he’s jealous of to back off. if they don’t understand his intentions, he’ll just voice it and tell them to leave.

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

his kisses are so needy. most of the time they’re rough, because he’s pent up, but sometimes the kisses are soft and passionate, like you have all the time in the world. he’d kiss you everywhere, he likes to kiss you on the neck because he loves to hear the giggles from your mouth. he loves to be kissed on the cheek, he thinks it’s adorable how you gently grab his shoulders and place a soft kiss on his cheek.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

he’s a professor at a school, so he’s great with children. he’s naturally hard on them because he cares about them, as shown with laura and rogue. kids love him, and especially at the school, see him as their guardian and overall protector.

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

mornings with logan are so slow and sweet. he almost always wakes up before you because he loves watching you slowly wake up. he’ll slowly wake you up by placing soft kisses on your body, and greeting you when you wake up. sometimes he’ll wake up earlier than you so he can make breakfast or exercise.

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

he’s not comfortable falling asleep before you, it warms his heart to know that you’re safe and peaceful. he always gives you kisses before you sleep because he never knows if it’ll be the last time you wake up, and he loves you so much. he’ll slowly fall asleep as he holds you in his arms, reminded that you’re alive and breathing.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he rarely opens up to you, and it takes a while for him to say anything about his past. he hardly trusts anyone else with the information, but trusts you with it. he knows you won’t tell anyone, he’s just nervous about telling someone in the first place. most of the time, he doesn’t say everything all at once, he takes a while to tell his full story.

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

he gets angered easily, however he tries to put his temper aside while he’s with you. sometimes he’ll get annoyed with you if you accidentally get hurt, otherwise, he hardly feels annoyed with you.

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

he remembers so much about you! he’ll tease you about something you told him you did a couple of years ago because he loves seeing your flushed face. he always remembers your favorite plant, food, piece of clothing, favorite mug, etc.

r = remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

his favorite moment in your relationship is when he felt comfortable enough to cuddle with you. it was the first time he felt so safe, and he had you in his arms. he felt so warm and comfy, and he thinks about that moment whenever he’s away from you.

s = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

he’s overprotective of you, although he knows you can handle yourself. he won’t hesitate to hurt someone or unleash his claws if someone’s putting you in danger. he feels as if he doesn’t need to be protected, considering he has a healing factor and adamantium claws. he appreciates it when you fight others to protect him, but you both know he doesn’t need you to put yourself in danger just to save him.

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he tries to be nonchalant about it, but secretly puts so much effort into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and day-to-day activities. he wants you to know that he loves you with his whole heart, and it helps him know that he’s capable of loving and caring for others as well.

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

he knows you hate it when he smokes. it’s unhealthy but doesn’t destroy his lungs, and the alcohol he consumes doesn’t destroy his liver. he hasn’t tried to stop but instead sees it as a coping method because it doesn’t hurt him.

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

he’s not insecure about his looks at all. he knows how good he looks, and how he can pick up girls and guys without even sparing a glance at them. he prefers to keep a routine and stay fit though.

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

he’d feel so incomplete without you, like there is no other person he’d rather be with than you. your memory and words would scar him forever, and he’d live his whole life, watching people pass day after day, just missing you and your sweet face.

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them)

he loves to take you out on late-night rides, whether it’s on scott’s motorcycle or one of the cars. most of the time, it’ll be late at night when neither of you are able to sleep.

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

he hates people who lie. he’d prefer his partner to say the most vile words known to mankind and mean it, rather than to say a single lie. he loves people who are sometimes too honest, but are only willing to lie if it keeps them safe. he would hate to have someone manipulate him again, considering his dark past and relationships with others.

z = zzz (what are their sleep habits?)

he doesn’t like to fall asleep before you, it always comforts him to know you’re safe. although he has bad nightmares, sometimes he’ll ‘accidentally’ make biscuits on the sheets or your stomach when he feels safe.

[auchrauch]

A (not so) detailed post about the current project I'm working on

Bringing here a slightly more extended version of my post from bluesky.

Please be nice because I might have one more thing to share with TGCF fandom.

I want to make a short visual novel featuring hualian in post-canon. Emphasis on "want to" because with a project of this scale I can't guarantee that it'll end up as a fully finished thing.

The original idea behind me starting this was simply "hualian having a wholesome day", though the mood slightly shifted towards something a bit more melancholic after I picked up a poem after which I named the game. (The poem's "Spring morning" by Meng Haoran). There is no continious heavy plot, just various SFW and NSFW routes which aren't connected between themselves (or are they?)

I tried to include different dynamics, so you can expect to see the classics (Top HC/Bottom XL) as well as versatile hualian (these routes can be hidden if someone doesn't fancy it). I also should mention that my understanding of characters and their dynamic can differ from what's considered the "norm" in the fandom, but I refuse to slap OOC label on my work because that's how I perceived these characters while reading the book and I'll be sticking to it. Oh, and I'm also following the revised version so there could be offhand mentions of events from the new extra or other small details like that.

I'm planning to release the final SFW version of the game for free (if it'll be finished at all), though I'm still not sure if I should hide NSFW version behind a paywall. Maybe I'll make one-time purchase posts for intermediate beta-builds too, so people can have a glimpse of what is in the works. Ideally I'd like to have at least some monetary support while working on this project, but providing consistent updates and materials in the patreon format wouldn't work for me, since, aside from commissions to pay my rent, the other project I'm involved with as an artist already takes a lot of my time.

So I can't give any dates and promises and will be simply working on this at my own pace.

So far, I have a complete (not proofread and not fully edited) script for all the routes as well as a working base for the game in renpy. I'm also almost done with UI and I made a couple of backgrounds, but that's nothing compared to how many more of them I still need. (You'll be subjected to looking at the picture attached to the post over and over again at the every start of the game).

For the next step, I'll probably focus on one route at a time and start filling them with visual assets.

I also can't decide whether I should stick to British or American English because:

1) This stupid gaijin can't differentiate between the two anyway.

2) I already started using "arse" yet I lost all the "u"s from my "ou"s and now I don't know which to change.

I'd like to hear which one people prefer more.

If you want to help in some way—I'm having trouble with sound design part as I'm locked out of purchasing anything from international sites/commissioning someone from overseas, and I don't want to risk commissioning assets for a NSFW lgbt game from anyone local since it' simply not a safe move. If you know any good resources that distribute sfx/sounds/music under a free flexible license please share! I'm using GDC royalty free archives but this obviously doesn't cover all my needs.

Idk what else to say here. Send help? Prayers for my sanity? Donations so I can pay my rent??? God, what am I even doing.

Here's the assortment of some early wips I already shared elsewhere:

[yuechicake]

i find mhin's relationship with the other cast members fascinating, so i'm compiling my thoughts here in regards to how mhin discusses the others!

what is most prominent in regards to kuras is how highly mhin talks about him--a rarity, considering their usual acerbic tone. what makes kuras so different is how much mhin likes his kindness and goodwill. mhin values goodness and the sanctity of life as a scientist themself, but at the same time, they're wary of kuras's ulterior motives and thus can't let themself get too close to him--such altruism is frightening because it's simply too good to be true, and might mask other, more sinister intentions.

vere is someone who mhin speaks about with unrestrained vitriol, and there's no reluctant compliment or cool observation to be found. what mhin despises about vere isn't just the attempt on their life (though they aren't above personal grudges), it's vere's blatant disregard for others and his selfish actions that have no justification other than "he wants to act this way." vere's actions reinforces mhin's own notions about monsters, so what you see with vere is what you get--of course vere has done something terrible enough to warrant containment by the senobium. mhin has no pity for him, and assumes the worst of vere by default.

mhin is fond of leander for the same reason they're fond of kuras. they're slightly smitten by the idea of leander as the people's savior, and they're probably smitten by leander in general, as i think mhin is more susceptible to charisma and the persona of a good samaritan. at the same time, i think they also enjoy that leander is persistent and isn't put off by mhin's prickly demeanor. it might seem like a contradiction, but they enjoy when people try to get close to them despite how they act. it's a taste of the connection and vulnerability they long for, even if they will still deny it to themself at the end of the day. it's also why they're so quick to put distance between themself and leander, by immediately dissuading any notion they're part of the adderstones.

though all of mhin's relationships are interesting, there's something fascinating by how they view ais and the insight it gives to their mindset. ais, in mhin's own words, hasn't "done anything yet"--which means they're waiting for him to slip up and prove himself to be the monster mhin thinks he is. they expect ais to disappoint them and suspect he's the same as vere deep down. mhin's vitriol for monstrosity might be rooted in self-loathing, but it's interesting how they believe it to be inherent, not learned, which is why they're already bracing for the worst case scenario. what mhin hates about monsters the most is their disregard for others, when mhin has been shown to be someone who cares deeply about other people.

perhaps mhin wants ais to act differently, but they'll resent ais all the more for not choosing to be anything but a monster in the end. he can't be anything but his nature, so it'll be their fault for having any hope ais would be different, as possessing a monstrous nature only ever has one outcome. it's also possible there's some resentment if mhin's own monstrosity is inherent, while ais chose to make a deal with ocedeus, so mhin would despise ais for choosing to be monstrous instead of walking away, like mhin is unable to. at the same time, i wonder if mhin is ever jealous of ais and vere for their lack of restraint, when they're so cautious all the time in comparison.

[silverynight]

Omega state

"Alpha!"

Katsuki is having that dream again; it's amazing, and it helps him wake up in a good mood. However, this time is slightly different. Usually, whenever he dreams about Izuku being his mate and calling him alpha they're older, they have a whole apartment for themselves and sometimes, when the dream is extra indulgent, Katsuki can see Izuku's baby bump the moment he walks in.

This time, the dream is in the present; Izuku is in the common room, sitting on the couch, making grabby hands at him and calling him alpha a couple of times.

The omega looks absolutely adorable, so Katsuki can't actually complain.

"What is it, baby?" The blond alpha smirks because he won't let an opportunity like that one slip through his fingers, even if it's just a dream.

However, when he sits next to Izuku and pulls him into his lap, like he usually does in his dreams, he notices that the omega's eyes are completely white.

His instincts have taken control of him.

"I'm glad you're playing along, Bakugo," Round Face says then. If he's being completely honest, he hadn't noticed her at all. Ponytail and the class president are there too.

"What happened?" He asks them, trying not to get distracted by Izuku pleased purr or the way he's nuzzling against Katsuki's chest.

It's almost impossible not to nuzzle him back, but he has already figured out this is not actually a dream (he should've guessed it earlier, the pain on his back is still there from yesterday's training) and Izuku probably needs his help.

"Recovery girl said it was triggered by stress and negative emotions," Round Face says, sighing. "You know how Deku-kun is; he's probably keeping all those negative thoughts about himself for a while. He has refused to have a serious conversation about how he feels after the war."

That sounds like the Izuku he knows.

"What should I do now?"

"Recovery girl said he'll go back to normal on his own, but it'll be good if we just played along with whatever he says," she continues. "I'm glad you did that. I know you two are good friends now, but I wasn't sure how you were going to react."

She has no idea. This is literally a dream come true for Katsuki; of course, it's not actually real even though he knows he's not dreaming and it'll probably break him a little as soon as Izuku goes back to himself, but Katsuki will do anything to have this even if it's just for a while.

The omega nuzzles against his chin again and Katsuki can't stop his inner alpha from letting out a very loud, pleased purr.

Izuku purrs right back.

"Alpha, you smell really good!" The green haired omega beams. "I like your scent."

"I love your scent, baby," Katsuki whispers back, pressing his lips against Izuku's soft curls. "It's the best thing in the world."

The sincerity in his voice is so evident to him that he hopes none of his classmates notice.

"Alpha..."

Izuku keeps repeating that word a lot, and even though Katsuki loves to be Izuku's alpha, even if it's just for a little while, he wonders if the fact that he hasn't called him Kacchan, not even once since he saw him this morning, means that the omega doesn't actually know who he is and just acts like that around him because of his strong scent.

Katsuki knows he's a prime alpha, and he's aware that his scent is more powerful than any other of his alpha classmates.

Well... not all of them.

"What is going on?"

He senses Half and half a few seconds before he walks into the common room and Katsuki immediately tenses and pulls Izuku closer to himself.

He's aware that the best thing for the omega right now is to go along with whatever he wants, but Katsuki honestly doesn't think he can stand the thought of Izuku pulling away from him and going towards Half and half instead.

If he starts calling him alpha too, Katsuki is going to lose it.

He shakes his head. No, he should do whatever is best for Izuku, it does matter if it hurts him like a deep cut.

"Why is alpha upset?" Izuku looks at Katsuki, nuzzling against his cheek like a good omega would. "Please, don't be upset!"

The blond does his best to relax; his scent must smell sour to Izuku's cute little nose at the moment; it won't help the omega at all.

"I'm... feeling better, don't worry," he assures him and it's true, mostly because the omega hasn't looked once at Icyhot since he got there.

Said alpha narrows his eyes a bit.

"Deku-kun is in omega state at the moment," Round Face takes care of the explanation, and Katsuki is glad for it. "And he thinks Bakugo is his alpha. Recovery girl said we should play along."

After a tense moment, Half and half nods, but sits on the opposite couch to theirs, which Katsuki doesn't appreciate.

"I want to help," Icyhot says.

"I'm hungry," the omega says then and Katsuki has the need to make the best meal he has ever tasted.

"I can bring him something," the alpha with mismatched hair blurts out.

"I'm his alpha. I can do it," Katsuki tries not to growl, but he really wants to. His inner alpha is not happy with Half and half at all.

"You're not actually his–"

"Maybe you could use some help, Bakugo," Ponytail cuts Icyhot off and stands in the middle of the common room. She looks like she's trying her best to avoid conflict of any kind. "Midoriya won't like to be away from you at the moment."

She has a point. Just to make sure, Katsuki tries to move the omega off his lap carefully. Izuku pouts.

"I need to go to the kitchen to make you breakfast, Izuku."

"Don't leave me! Alpha, please!"

"Maybe we can all make something for him while you stay here!"

Katsuki is truly grateful for the Class president, but he truly wants to be the one to take care of Izuku.

Even if it's just while this thing lasts, he is Izuku's alpha.

Good thing he has gone to the gym and trained extra hours for this exact purpose. It's one of his dreams too.

"Alright, nerd," he smirks. "Hop on my back."

Once the omega is with his arms and legs all wrapped around him, Katsuki walks towards the kitchen like he's not carrying a happy omega on his back at all.

He makes breakfast while his Izuku nuzzles against the back of his neck and his cheek as he purrs.

It's honestly the best day of his life. He gets to take care of Izuku, make meals for him, cuddle with him and give him one of his hoodies because the omega wants to wear something with Katsuki's scent on it.

Too bad it lasts only a day. Izuku goes back to himself at night, just as Katsuki is planning to take a couple of his sheets and pillows to the common room so they could sleep together.

"Kacchan, what happened?" Izuku blinks a couple of times, looking so tiny in that hoodie it makes the alpha purr. "Why am I wearing your clothes?"

It's painful to go back to reality after living on of his most beloved dreams for a whole day, almost a day...

Katsuki sighs and sits next to him before calmly explaining everything that happened to the omega.

Izuku's cheeks turn completely red and he eventually hides behind his own arms in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Kacchan."

"Don't apologize," he says and he means it because it sounds like it was something bad. Like his Izuku was wrong for believing Katsuki was his alpha.

Katsuki wants to be his alpha.

"Thanks for playing along," the omega mumbles, looking away from him.

It hurts Katsuki.

"It was my pleasure." For the first time, the blond hopes Izuku can hear the truth in every single one of those words.

It doesn't look like he does, judging by the snort that comes out of his beautiful lips.

"Sure!" He chuckles, but there's no light in his green eyes and Katsuki hates it. "I just hope it wasn't too annoying for you."

"It wasn't annoying," he insists, taking a step closer. "I enjoyed it."

"Kacchan, I know you're trying to be a good friend, but please don't lie–"

"I have never lied to you," he hisses, getting slightly irritated. If Izuku was looking at him instead of the floor, he would see how much Katsuki means every single word. "Izuku... do you think if... I was a better alpha you'd want me? For real?"

He shouldn't have said that; he's not ready to tell Izuku he loves him.

He's not ready to ruin their friendship and he's certainly not ready to lose him.

"What do you mean better?" This time Izuku is the one who looks irritated. He's finally staring into Katsuki's eyes. "You're perfect, Kacchan!"

The blond rolls his eyes.

"I'm the farthest from–"

"You're not actually listening!" The omega growls and even though they're having a discussion, Katsuki likes when Izuku gets all passionate about something, it doesn't matter if he's mad at him. "You don't understand! You're perfect to me!"

But that, that makes him freeze and look into Izuku's green eyes; he's tearing up.

"Izuku..."

"I want you to be my alpha!"

Then he stops too; he blinks as he realizes what he just said.

"But only if you want to, Kacchan..."

"You have no idea how many times I have dreamed of you saying something like that," the alpha is tearing up too, but he doesn't care because Izuku wants him, he actually does.

Izuku is still wearing his hoodie, he still smells like Katsuki and the alpha can't take it anymore.

He pulls the omega into his arms and kisses him on the lips. They're both so inexperienced the kiss is so messy, but Katsuki doesn't care. To him, this is perfect.

"I'll be your alpha, Izuku."

The omega nods, absolutely happy.

Maybe Katsuki's dreams aren't only that, after all.

Perhaps they're a glimpse into the future. One in which they're both mated, married, have their own apartment and Izuku is pregnant with their pups.

Katsuki would like that more than anything, but for now, he'll take Izuku on as many dates as he wants.

***

Patreon

[spearsillustration]

🎶 Jazz X Human Reader

Notes: This oneshot is a guilty pleasure fic for me. It has been a while since I wrote so it'll be a little rusty so forgive me if It's kind of bad. But for now, it'll be short and sweet. 

Word count - 1,015

-----

I was staying the night at the base while all the bots were shutting down for the night. Well except the ones who took shifts staying awake to keep guard at night. I was sitting in one of the spare rooms that Optimus offered for me to stay in. Well, the corner of a large "storage" room. I had my own little space with a bed and desk. I decorated it was some things from home to make it a bit more comfortable. 

It was getting pretty late and I couldn't do anything to fall asleep, I've tried anything in the book just to get some rest. It's probably because it was my first time staying the night at the base. 

"Pretty little thing, Can't sleep?" I heard a voice from the door, there standing was Jazz. 

I jumped a bit when his voice broke through the silence.

"Oh Jazz you scared me, um yeah can't sleep," I said scratching the back of my neck, slightly embarrassed. "What are you doing up though?"

He chuckled softly as he walked up to the side of my bed, still having his usual playful grin on his faceplate.

"Just doing my rounds, checking up on the others. But why can't you sleep?" He stared down at me, with both hands on his hips, waiting for your answer.

"I'm just having trouble trying to sleep tonight. I was about to listen to music actually, that and reading helps me sleep most of the time. But I wouldn't mind the company." I answered with a nervous smile. 

He nodded in understanding as he sat on the floor across from my bed and looked at me again. 

"Well, what kind of music do you like listening to?"He asked in a curious tone

I knew he was very fond of music, he could probably speak with other bots about it for hours.

"I listened to pretty much everything really," I said without much thought.

He scooted a little bit closer, his attention was completely glued to me not wanting to break the eye contact. "You can't expect to tell me you like every type of music and leave it at that, I need to know what's your favorite!"

He seemed pretty excited about talking with me about one of his interests, it was kind of adorable. 

"Well, it's so hard to choose right off the bat." I paused to think for a moment. 

"I enjoy rock, some oldies, though I love romantic songs. But there are so many different things to choose from it's almost impossible to pick favorites." 

Jazz listened carefully as I listed off my favorite types of music, his head nodded in agreement with my opinion, but his expression changed when I mentioned romantic songs.

"So you're telling me you're a sucker for romance?" He teased with a playful smile, his voice was now filled with mischief.

I blushed a bit in embarrassment. "Guess I can be...a bit."

He smirked "So you're probably a sucker for slow dancing under the moonlight then?" He asked with a cheeky look, but it was also.. A bit flirty-ish.

"It sounds nice," I said breathlessly without thinking. "But that's just the kind of music I enjoy," I said trying to change the topic to something lighter. 

It seemed that Jazz caught on to what I was doing pretty quickly. He let out a small chuckle in amusement.

"Well, I'm not gonna go around asking if you like candlelit dinners or flowers, you've proved my point by being flustered over a harmless question, It's adorable by the way." He said as he moved a bit closer, now sitting only inches away from you.

My eyes widened slowly as I covered my face slightly and avoided his gaze. Was he flirting with me, he was flirting with me. I was completely taken aback and slightly panicking inside. 

"Hey, don't hide, It's cute." He said as he poked my hand that was covering my face gently.

"S-stop," I said completely embarrassed with my lack of emotional control. I was an adult, why did I have to get flustered so easily? 

I was like an open book right now, he knew he got me flustered. He gently grabbed my wrist and moved it away from my face, forcing me to look at him and not hide. 

"You're even cuter when you're flustered, just saying\~.." He said it in a teasing tone while staring at my flustered face with a cheeky grin. 

I playfully pushed him away. "I always get flustered easily."

His grin grew wider as I pushed him, he was trying to get on my nerves at this point, but it was in a harmless, playful way.

"I'm pretty sure everyone gets flustered when they're being flirted with, don't worry about it." He said as he scooted closer once again.

"Ha ha..." I was silent for a moment like an idiot. "Wait are you flirting with me?!"

I realized I might be a bit dense.

He blinked as he let out a small but amused chuckle from my question.

"I thought that much was obvious by now, what, do I have to spell it out for you?" He teased as he poked my cheek playfully.

"Yes." Oh my god, I was overthinking, overheating, and completely overwhelmed.

He paused as I said that, he was expecting some sort of sarcastic comment back, but it was replaced with me asking for him to say it.

"Well then.." He said as he grabbed my small hand and held it within his larger one. 

"I am flirting with you, Is that direct enough for you?"

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Divisa; Four

Pairing(s); LADS OT4(?) x Reader

Word count; 2,356

Themes; reality hopping, alternative universe (same universe, just things are a little...different), doppelganger, multiple endings, slow-burn

Warnings; excessive swearing

Notes; It's finally here!! I'm so sorry it's so late 😭 I got really caught up on writing my Caleb fic and I lost track of time. I'm about half way through chapter one? I already did the prologue, and I know i said it wouldn't be as complicated as ToF but complicated is my middle name! (I'm literally googling day calculators to figure out how many days to another day. It's insane). If you're interested, I'll add some more details at the end after my author's note! 💜

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☆ masterlist ☆

Heavy breaths escape from your lips as you lean against the brickwall of the alley you were previously hiding in. You felt so nauseous, so dizzy, so...You wrinkle your nose up and quickly shake your head to dissipate those thoughts — if not, you might actually throw up. 

Was this reaction because you were nervous or…was this the after effects of using someone else's evol?  

Eh, at this point, it doesn't matter. At least you avoided meeting up with your doppelganger – this time. 

You'll definitely have to be more careful in the future. 

Leaning back against the wall, you pull your mask down under your chin to take in the crisp autumn air. “Alright…Next on the agenda, a cheap phone for a GPS and then job hunting.” You mutter to yourself, lifting the mask back to its proper place before you step out from the alleyway, tentatively looking around to make sure Tara and any other hunters around are gone.

You're not sure where exactly you're going, you might even be lost, but you continue to wander aimlessly until you stand in front of what you believe to be an electronics store? 

It's near the large fountain in Azure Square, so that means it's near The Nest and…Jeremiah's shop, ‘Philos’. 

As you step inside, you're suddenly hit with an overwhelming scent of flowers and realize you might’ve made a mistake. 

Philos and the electronics shop are…combined? Kind of like those reading cafés, but flowers and electronics? This definitely wasn't a detail from the games…

That's certainly an odd combination, but rather fitting since you recall Jeremiah being good with both. 

Maybe with everything being so different, even Jeremiah won't recognize you! At least, you hope as much. 

As you slowly walk toward the counter, you spot a familiar head of wavy light brown hair – the person under that head of hair turns to look at you with a gentle smile.

“Welcome to Philo, I assume you're not here for flowers, right?” 

You clear your throat as you nervously glance around the store, on edge that Xavier could somehow be nearby even though he's probably still at work.

“Ah…yeah. I need a new phone. Just something with the essentials, so do you have anything cheap?” While you did have a lot of money, it's not in your best interest to blow it all on a phone that probably won't work when you go back home.

However, it'll definitely be a nice souvenir! Maybe even a family heirloom–

If you ever make it back home, that is. 

“Cheap? Hmm…” Jeremiah pauses to think for a moment before he snaps his fingers. “Right, I should have something that fits the bill.” He reaches down to grab a small box from under the counter and holds it out to you. “Is $30 cheap enough for you?”

“That's actually perfect.” But as you go to reach out for it, Jeremiah tilts the box just slightly out of your grasp.

“Didn't you just get a new phone, Y/n?”

“No…I don't think so—” 

You freeze mid-sentence. Your brows knitting together as you mentally play back what he just said.

Wait a damn minute…

You feel your heart sinking low in your chest as dread pools within your stomach, churning, and you quickly shake your head. Your hands raising up as you frantically try to backpedal on your words, “Wait, I meant—”

“I'm just kidding! Seriously. You look too frazzled to be the girl I'm talking about. You two must share a name though, considering how shocked you are.” Jeremiah chuckles, scanning the box for you before he finally holds it out for you to take.

“Since I gave you a little scare, I won't even charge tax. Just for today though!” 

“Oh, thank you.” You place a hand on your chest, letting out a sigh of relief as you pay for your phone. Once you opened the box, you noticed it was a bit on the small side, but the size doesn't matter since you only needed it to navigate through this world since your old phone can't.

But before you leave, you decide to make your job search just a little easier. 

“I have one more question.” 

“Oh? Ask away, I'll try to help as much as I can.” The man places his elbows on the counter and leans forward, tilting his head slightly to the side. 

Did he always appear this charming in the game? He's definitely always been cute, but something feels a bit off. Like he knows more than he's letting on.

Why else would he test you by ‘pretending’ he thought you were Gemini? 

There's no use in wasting your energy on weird shit. Just ask him your question and leave. Should be simple enough.  

“So…I'm new to Linkon City and I was wondering if you knew of any cafés that might be hiring?” You didn't want to bother Jeremiah too much, but the shop didn't seem too busy at the moment and he did owe you one for giving you such a scare. 

“Does it have to specifically be a café?” He ponders your question before he continues his sentence. “Well, if it has to be a café, I can think of one off the top of my head. It's not too far from here actually. You should've seen it on your way here. Sugar Spoon, I think it was?” 

“Really?”

Hmm…you must've gone right past it! Either way, that's perfect. Thankfully it's close to where you're staying and it's near many important places – and it's also an hour away from Gemini and Xavier's apartments.

“I'll head there now! Thank you so much.” 

Though as you turn to leave, Jeremiah gently catches you by the wrist.

“Hold on, I promise it won't take long!”

He races off toward the floral section of his store, before returning a few minutes later with a flower in his hand. 

“Since you said you were new to Linkon, I thought a hyacinth would be a perfect gift. It basically means a fresh start…Think of it as the flowers are cheering you on in the hopes you get the job.” He smiles as you take the purple flower from him.

You honestly ponder where to put it, but ultimately decide to tuck it behind your ear. 

“You've been such a great help. Thank you so much, Jeremiah!” You say once again, trying your best to smile with your eyes as you turn to leave.

Finally walking out the door before you realize you've made a mistake. 

Did Jeremiah ever tell you his name? 

Thinking back on it…no. He did not. 

Well, that's a problem for future you to deal with. 

You toss the empty box, that used to contain your new phone, in a nearby trash bin and tuck the charger into your back.

Maybe if the café has wifi, you can set your phone up in there too.

Barely even a few blocks down, you find the café Jeremiah told you about. 

It looks so out of place within the confines of the futuristic Linkon City. It seems more modern and…feels like home once you step inside. 

“Good after– morning! Good morning, I'm sorry!” The employee behind the counter profusely apologizes even though you haven't said a word after stepping inside.

Her cheeks are red in embarrassment as she tries to hide her face within her wavy dark brown hair. 

“You're fine–” you can't help but laugh at her reaction, finding it a bit endearing amongst everything else you've experienced in the past day. “I saw that you're hiring?” 

You spot her blue-grey eyes peering at you from behind her hair and she takes a few seconds before replies. “Oh, right! Uh—” she turns her head, cupping her hand around her face, “Ma, come here! I need you to screen an applicant.”

Then, she looks back at you, anxiously, seemingly a complete 180 from her previous behaviour. 

Was she just nervous around strangers? 

A short woman, about the same height as her daughter, comes walking out from a door behind the counter. Her bright red hair was the first thing that stood out to you and she honestly looked a bit mean, so you were starting to feel less confident in getting the job – but the other employee lightly swats at the older woman.

“I've told you before you're going to scare away new hires with your face like that! Can't you try and smile?” 

“It'll be fine, Aster. You should pay attention to yourself, you've got customers.” The mother waves her daughter away and motions for you to come behind the counter. “We'll have the interview back here.” 

Once you're both sat down, the boss takes some papers out, and looks you up and down. Her gaze lingering on your eyes before she hums under her breath. “Your name?” 

You hesitate, but ultimately decide that even if Gemini exists in this universe, you still want to be yourself. 

“Y/n L/n.” You say, as confidently as you can. Still nervous that someone, anyone, would call you out for pretending to be the main character. 

“Y/n…Wait, L/n?” 

Hmm? Why was she surprised by your last name? 

“Does your mother happen to be M/n?” The woman sets the papers down, holding her hands together as she waits for your answer with baited breath. 

Why was everything so serious all of the sudden? 

“Yes….why? Is there a problem?” Suddenly, it was beginning to feel hot under your mask. You knew your mother had been here at one point, the evidence was clear with how even Rafayel painted her, but just how much influence did she have? 

“No, no…” she laughs, a smile tugging at her lips. “I just can't believe I'm meeting an old friend’s daughter. I was so terrified when we went missing, but now– seeing you, I know she's just fine. She's the one that helped me build this café from the ground up.” 

So that's why the café felt so modern. It makes a bit more sense now. 

You lightly tap your nails against the table and sit back in your chair. “So…as an old family friend, can I call you boss?” You try to act as nonchalantly as you can, but internally you were a mess. “Boss?” She shakes her head as she laughs, “No. Never. Call me Auntie Taryn and we have ourselves a deal.” 

A smile tugs at your lips and you decide to pull your mask down. “It's a pleasure to work with you…Auntie Taryn.” 

“Oh, you look just like your parents…” she reaches her arm out to gently squeeze your hand. “Please, tell me if you need anything and I'll try my best to help you out. And Aster too. She'd love a girl friend her age. All she's got so far is Ca–”

“Ma! I thought we agreed to not talk about the part timer on his days off.” The frizzy haired girl pokes her head into the room. “He said this was like his super secret side job or something. We can't be ruinin’ that for him, you know?” She has a hand on her hip before her eyes pause on your face.

Your hand twitches, wanting nothing more than to pull your mask back up. Anxious that they'd recognize you. Nervous that they'd ask questions you don't have the answers to. Worried they'd wonder if you were Gemini's twin or something, but instead–

“Ohhh, so that's why you had your face all covered up. You're so pretty! If you had your mask down, you'd probably have all kinds of guys askin’ you out.” Aster clasps her hands together in excitement, moving further into the room. “If you wanna keep your pretty face hidden, I'll definitely help out! All you've got to do is pay me.” 

“Pay you…how exactly?” You hesitantly ask, a little worried about your money, but she quickly dissuades your anxious feelings.

“By letting me see your face from time to time, of course!” She grins and it's somehow cute. You notice her crooked teeth, her uneven canines as if one never grew in.

…She almost reminds you of an overexcited puppy. 

“Whenever we clean up for the day, just pull your mask down as you wipe tables or mop, and that would be wonderful! Ouch– what the hell was that for, Ma!?”

“Don't scare off the new hire before she's even started her first day, ya oddball! I swear she's not usually like this.” Taryn playfully pops Aster’s back a few times. “Now get back to work!”

The older woman sighs, rubbing a hand down her face, “I'm sorry about her. She always says she's got ‘an eye for people’, whatever the hell that means…she means well though.” 

“She's a bit…”

“Overwhelming?” Taryn finishes your sentence for you and you quickly nod while she descends into laughter. “She takes a bit to get used to, but I'm sure you'll get along well. I'll give you both our numbers and let me know when's a good day to start.”

“Can I–”

Taryn holds a hand up in the air and shakes her head. “Not today. Tomorrow at the earliest. I assume this is your first time visiting Linkon, yeah? Take in the sights, go to the arcade, you know? Take a load off before you throw yourself into work.” She stands up and gently pats your shoulder.

“Maybe you can catch up with your pa, if he's not busy. He should be at the Nest drinking his life away. Or you could go to an art exhibit. They should be showcasing Lafayette's new paintings.” 

“Uh…do you mean Rafayel?”

“Yeah, yeah. Same difference.” Taryn squeezes your shoulder with a small sigh. “But seriously, think about what I said. Don't just go home and wait for work tomorrow. Don't be like your ma. I don't think I ever saw a day where she was relaxin’...well, besides the days Ezekiel had to drag her out of the café to go on dates.” She chuckles, reminiscing about the past. 

“I…I think I'll take you up on your offer.”

I did not originally plan for yall to meet Jeremiah, but 🤔 you know, it just happened– is it weird that I have zero plans when updating this fic in particular, and just come up with stuff on the fly?

To be honest, I think that's what makes writing enjoyable. It's always tiring to have a set plan for everything that you do, or copy stuff verbatim from an original text (me with “Twist of Fate” and I just know that's got to be bothering some of yall 😭).

Also since I'm can't be bothering with using an original name, the café “Sugar Spoon” from my Caleb one-shot is making a return (I know it's basic to make yall work in a café, but it seems like Linkon has a ton of cafés tbh.) i might also get yall a cat 🤔 Estelle might make a return.

Wait, no– You're getting a dog, I've decided just now! We need equal pet love here. And since I'm a sucker for chichis, you're getting a chihuahua (but wait…who's going to take care of it when you leave 🥺 aww man, now I'm sad).

Another thing, this is a bit self indulgent but I made two characters similar to myself and my mother. I know it's not much, but I'll be your hype man for this fic 😤 (and I hope I'm not annoying in the fic –)

Anyways, now if you're here for the Caleb stuff — Hi, how are you! I hope you're having a good day <3

So the fic will be called "The Moon and The Sun", my idea for the name comes from a myth called "The love story of the sun and the moon", which is a cute little story about how the two are in love and the Gods created a way for them to see eachother – The Solar Eclipse. I just really think Y/n gives moon vibes (she's Xavier's moon, Zayne says "the moon looks beautiful tonight" instead of "i love you", the moon looks beautiful over the ocean, Sylus is a night owl so he sees the moon all the time...) and Caleb fits with the sun.

Anyway, it'll be 4 Acts, each with however many chapters i plan on including! I have the prologue and half of chapter 1, act 1, done so far. The different acts will be based on different points in time. The first "The Subject and The Donor" will be based around Caleb and Y/n's time as experiments at Ever/Gaia Center up until the Catastrophe. I also took creative liberties and actually gave Y/n parents (unnamed ofc), but i gave them jobs and Evols (since I learnt Evolvers were secret before the Catastrophe. They weren't well known by the public just yet). I did the same with Caleb's backstory, especially since he's a "donor" and not a subject like Y/n.

I also decided to have them stay with Ever for a whole year instead of just 49 days (since Y/n had 49 observation logs and the Catastrophe happened on the 49th, I assume she's only been there for 49 days). I set the Catastrophe for December 15th, 2034 since it had to happen late in the year for the Hunter's Association to form in January of 2035.

Other than that, I'll keep it short and sweet. The 2nd Act "The Yin and Yang" (yin is fem, yang is masc) is about their teen years all the way until the explosion. There may be some sexual tension + them doing slight sexual acts when they're of college age(!!). The 3rd Act is "The Hunter and the Colonel", which will be Y/n navigating through her grief, a brief synopsis of her travels through the N109 Zone to get the other half of her Aether Core, all the way until after reuniting with Caleb and then some.

The final Act would be "The Dove and The Hawk", the name seems so out of place, but trust me, it fits. Dove and hawk personality and behavioural traits fit perfectly with Y/n and Caleb (I go into more details on my previous post!). This one will basically be them working together to take down Ever, get rid of Caleb's chip, etc. But i haven't decided on the how just yet. Thankfully, I don't need to since it's so far away 😭

So that's it. I hope you enjoy this chapter of Divisa and are excited for "The Moon and The Sun"!! <3 (a tinnnny sneak peak at the very bottom)

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