#i should try and go back and answer the rest of those bc i have so many new and diff followers now

[sexygaywizard]

So uh... Those "describe your gender" posts from a little while back started to make me think and I realized I'm not actually as Cis as I thought I was... In fact I'm Genderfluid and I'm going to be getting a binder. Thanks for starting me on that path <3

Yessssss I love hearing this!!!! This is the trans agenda. We are out here transing genders. So happy for you king!!!

#literally i did those bc i wanted people to talk about their varied experiences with gender #and for other people to see how different and unique everyone can feel about their gender! #i dont think any 2 people really experience gender in exactly the same way. even cis people #i should try and go back and answer the rest of those bc i have so many new and diff followers now #and theyre good for people to see i think #i answer #tell me about your gender #<- click these to see all the old asks if you're interested!

[peaktora]

𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ˚◞♡ ⃗ satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ your husband is unbearably clingy.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. no pronouns used or specified gender for the reader. intended lowercase. established relationship (#married).

a/n. — i’m warning u guys right now that this is not proofread 😭 .. i literally just typed this up rq and posted it bc it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something on here

p.s. the prompt was in my notes from a longgg time ago, but i believe it’s from @/creativepromptsforwriting .. if not please lmk !!

"c'mere, hold my hand," satoru pleads for what has to be the third time. he pouts at you, who’s sitting on the countertop.

your brows furrow as you look up from your phone, "but, you're washing the dishes?”

he twists the faucet handle, and a steady stream of water flows down. after a brief glance at you, he places the plate beneath the water and says, "i know how to multitask, baby."

clinginess is defined as “the tendency to stay near someone for emotional support, protection, ect.” but there has to be another term for what satoru is, because you can't give any of those things while holding his hand right now.

you let out a deep breath and turn off your phone, watching as the screen fades to black. "satoru, there's no way i'm sticking my hand in that dirty dishwater," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket.

he practically shoves the plate into the drying rack. "i can't believe this," he huffs. "we literally had vows."

“what are y—“

“we had vows that said you’d love me in sickness and in health.”

"well…are you sick?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

he pauses his task of washing dishes, leaving them untouched. leaning over the sink, he rests his arms against its edge. he steals a furtive glance at you, only to find your gaze locked onto him. with a hint of hesitation, he softly mumbles, "no..." before you can respond, he interrupts, "but i’m in health, and the vows said that you have to love and cherish me in this state too."

you lean back, searching your mind for what the alternative of holding his hand would be. because in no world would you hold his hand in dishwasher. then, it hits you. "for now, would a hug make you feel better?"

he answers your question with a hum, and you can't believe he's debating whether or not to accept your offer after all that drama over holding hands in dishwater. even so, he adds, "i'll have to give it some thought."

two can play that game.

“it’s okay,” you say, gracefully hopping down from the counter. a smirk spreads across your face. “i could just go—sit on the couch?” slowly, you start to walk in his direction and make your way over to the living room.

he doesn’t say anything, letting you do as you please. it’s not until you start to pass by him, that you get the reaction you wanted.

or atleast, somewhat similar to what you wanted.

"on second thought—" he exclaims, and the dishwater swirls around him as he turns around, his hands still wet and dripping.

you cringe as small puddles gather on the tiles. "hey—" but he interrupts you as he reaches out to grab your wrist. “ew—I—what the hell?”

you instinctively try to pull back, but he slips his wet hand in yours; sealing your fate.

“satoru—”

“what happened to nicknames?”

“satoru.”

"’m not sure who that is. i go by a lot of names, but not that one. lets go down the list, yeah?” he clears his throat. “i go by "babe, baby, swe—"

"you should consider adding "gojo" to that list."

"now, when have you ever called me gojo?”

"right now, in exactly ten seconds.” your husband gasps, hanging his mouth open. “satoru go—"

“woah woah woah—what’d i do to deserve this treatment?”

“you put your dirty dishwater hand in mine.” you jerk your hand back, struggling to escape free of his grip.

his grip tightens on your hand, “if you’re feeling like not loving me today then just say that.”

“hey—don’t discredit me. i offered you a hug and you said you had to “think” about it.”

“cause holding your hand ‘s better.”

you sigh, “after you’re done with the dishes, you can hold my hand as long as you want.“

he lets out a soft, thoughtful hum—the same hum that got you both into this situation in the first place. at the same time you shake your head, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and a smile twists onto the edges of his lips. "deal" he says, shaking your hand. “but before-“

you tsk, making him drop his excuse.

“wh—“

"the quicker these dishes get done, the quicker you’ll be able to hold my hand. so get on with it—go," you playfully command, and his grip loosens in response. seizing the opportunity, you slide your hand out of his grasp. you look down at it, seeing bits of food that’ve stuck to your palm. gross.

you walk over to the sink, feeling the cool water flow over your hand, washing away the food and dirt that clung to your skin. as you stand there, you hear satoru's voice grumbling from behind, "i hate doing dishes,” and you can’t help but snort.

before you know it, you feel his presence close behind you, his body pressing against yours. his arms encircle you, creating a cozy pocket of space between the counter and his body. satoru leans over your shoulder, gets a sponge from the soapy water, and starts washing a bowl. you simply lean back and look at his features.

the sight almost makes you want to stay in his arms forever. that is, until you realize the predicament you're in.

“you did not,” you whine. you desperately try to break free from the cage he’s trapped you in, but your attempts prove more and more pointless.

"oh, yes, i did," he declares with a smile. “what did you say earlier?" he clears his throat before proceeding. "the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you'll be able to hold my hand," he says, mockingly imitating your tone. "so, the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you can leave and do anything you want."

you sulk and moan while you reluctantly grab a dish and a spare sponge from the sink. “i hate you.”

“i love you more.”

#(っˆ ³(ˊ ᵕ ˋก ) ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 ࿐ྂ #i have a essay due in a couple hours and i’m over here writing fics .. 😣 #gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo headcanons #gojo scenarios #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen headcanons

[pix3lplays]

Hello!! I know some people get squicked out by this subject so don’t worry about answering if you don’t want to, but can I request HSR men (Welt, Sampo, Jing Yuan, Gepard, anyone else you enjoy writing for) accidentally getting their s/o pregnant?

I imagine Natasha would hunt down Sampo and drag him back to the clinic to talk bc s/o came to her crying and doesn’t know how to tell him. The rest of the boys I feel like would roll with the punches and handle it just fine.

✨ may your 5 stars be early :D ✨

Hey there! Yeah I have no problem with this prompt, I’m eager to write it, thank you for sending it in!

And thank you so much hehe, may yours be as well!

Cw! Pregnancy

-Honkai Star Rail men accidentally getting their s/o pregnant-

Welt Yang: Welt Yang I feel would notice the signs that something’s not quite right with you, but I doubt he’d suspect he accidentally got you pregnant. He just assumes your feeling a little sick or something. Until you decide to take a test because…what if? And wouldn’t you know it…pregnant. Oh he feels bad about it. He didn’t mean to. He wanted to sit down and discuss having children with you and now he’s shoved you into this parenting thing without consulting you. The man wanted to have children, but he didn’t want things to happen like this. He’ll ask you if you want to keep the baby, but deep down he’s hoping you’ll say yes, though he’ll respect your decision either way. And when you do say you want to keep the baby, he feels…warm inside. It was an accident, but your family is growing a little bigger, and the Astral Express crew is so excited by your announcement. Welt and the crew eagerly await the arrival of your baby, and you almost forget that things weren’t supposed to happen quite this way. Welt would feel like he has to make it up to you for accidentally getting you pregnant, even if you insist he doesn’t. He does all sorts of things to take care of you during your pregnancy, and he’ll always be there for you. Just call his name.

Sampo Koski:(I’m just gonna use your idea, I loved it, I hope you don’t mind!) You had no idea what to do. You knew Sampo didn’t want kids, but now here you were…pregnant. So you go to Natasha to confirm the results, and while you’re there you can’t help but break down in front of the doctor, crying because you want to have this baby, but you don’t know what Sampo is going to do. Natasha agrees to go find him for you. And when she explains the situation and brings him to you, he’s not happy. You…actually want his accidental baby? Well he doesn’t. He’ll try to encourage you to get rid of it. No need to have a child disrupting what you have, right? What you have is so good. Just you and Sampo against the world. He doesn’t need the responsibility of raising a child. But you’re determined. And you try to tell him he might like fatherhood, though he’s hard to convince. Your pregnancy is one of those rare moments where you get to see Serious Sampo, and it’s a little…bizarre to be honest. To see him so…genuine and sincere about what he wants. And what he wants is to not have a kid. But he’ll take care of you. Even if he disagrees with what you’re doing. He doesn’t stop trying to convince you to get rid of it, but once he realizes your mind really is made up, he’ll drop it and give up. There’s no point fighting with you. Your much more stubborn than he is.

Jing Yuan: Jing Yuan prefers for things to be planned out, but he’s also excellent at improvising. And you’re essentially ordering him to improvise when you announce he accidentally got you pregnant. Well he takes the news very calmly, very properly, like a newly expecting father should. “Ah, my bad…” is what he says, with a charming smile that suggests he isn’t really sorry. I think he would encourage you to keep the baby. He’s wanted to have children with you for a while now, maybe this was fate… And he’s overjoyed when you agree that you’d like to keep the baby. He’ll treat you very well. Yes, this was an accident, but the way he behaves makes it seem like he’s been prepared for this for a long time. Truthfully he’s been wanting to have the kids discussion with you, but this works too. He wants you to know he’s fully on your side and supportive of you during your pregnancy. And he lets you know just how excited he is to meet his child. (Yanqing doesn’t know how to feel about getting a sibling lolol)

Gepard Landau: OH this poor man. He apologizes so, SO profusely, begging for your forgiveness, telling you he didn’t mean to, that it was just an accident and when you reassure him that it’s OK, he asks what you want to do next. Well. You’d like to keep the baby, to be honest. The two of you have only talked about it a bit, but you both agreed you’d like to be parents should the opportunity ever present itself, and here it was. Maybe not how you were expecting it, but it still works, right? Gepard is excited! He’s been wanting to be a father for some time now, and even if this was happening all too suddenly, and because of an accident, at least it was Happening finally! He does his best to take time off work so he can take care of you, but he’s still a busy man. He does his best though, for you, and your future child.

Luocha: doesn’t want kids. But you couldn’t possibly know that. Not from the way he smiled so calmly at you and congratulated you for your pregnancy, even if it was an accident. But inwards he’s screaming at himself. Why did he have to be so careless, and get you pregnant?! But you seemed so happy, so he’ll bite his tongue. He takes great care of you during the pregnancy process. His medical skills means he’s extra prepared for this scenario. He’s always smiling, asking how you’re feeling…he doesn’t even subtly encourage you to not want the baby or anything. But oh, deep down he’s not happy. But you’re happy. You’re more important to him. So he’ll be a father to his child. He’ll take responsibility for his actions. He sees fatherhood more as a duty…a responsibility than anything else. (Now I’m imagining a scene where he gets frustrated at his kid and tells them they were an accident and he never wished for them to exist :0) (I’m just very convinced Luocha doesn’t want to be a father)

Hehe this was a fun one…I’ll do some more guys if requested!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #my writing #Welt Yang #Welt Yang x reader #hsr Welt Yang x reader #Honkai Star Rail Welt Yang x reader #Sampo Koski #Sampo Koski x reader #hsr Sampo x reader #honkai star rail Sampo x reader #Jing Yuan #Jing Yuan x reader #hsr Jing Yuan x reader #honkai star rail Jing Yuan x reader #Gepard Landau #Gepard Landau x reader #Hsr Gepard x reader #honkai Star rail Gepard x reader #Luocha #Luocha x reader #hsr Luocha x reader #honkai star rail Luocha x reader #pregnancy

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Triad Part 2 — Aftermath of the Mating Bond

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

Masterlist

A/N: Here’s another part of my Cazriel x Reader headcanon universe that probably needs a better name if I’m gonna keep up with it. Validation works everyone!!! Also you’re def in Mor’s room because they couldn’t agree on whose room to go to and had to take you to neutral territory bc they are big dumb idiots.

PART 0 PART 1

You wake up at the Townhouse, in Mor’s room, completely alone. It feels like you’re being torn in two from the inside out.

In the hallway, Cas and Az sit with their backs against the wall on either side of the door, arguing in barely-audible whispers.

“We can’t go in there,” Az hisses.

“It’s been fourteen hours! We should at least try to use the bond to help,” Cassian grumbles back.

Yet somehow you can hear them through the wall; a ghost of their words kisses your ears.

“It’s Y/N’s choice whether to accept or not. We cannot take that choice away from her.”

“How long are we going to wait out here? Until she dies?”

You curl up on your side and press your hands against your ears. Your body shakes with the conflicting magics rumbling through you.

“Amren and Mor are digging up everything they can find about Triad Bonds. If there’s anyone I trust to track something down, it’s those two.”

“How long will that take? A week? A month? A year? I can’t sit back for much longer. Not all of us have mountains of patience like you.”

“No, some have thimbles.”

Fighting. They’re fighting and, somehow, your magic is fighting alongside with them, split from a deep violet into strings of blue and red that battle for dominance. Surrounded by golden flames that burn through your veins, filling them with the sharp sting of lightning.

“Clear your mind, like I told you. Conjure up your shields.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, like it’s that easy.”

“STOP!” You scream. When the boys burst in, your back is arched so far that only your fingertips and your toes are touching the bed.

“Y/N,” Cassian shouts, diving for you. Azriel’s shadows reach you first, swirling up your legs and arms. Cold snakes its way towards your heart, soothing your burning magic like putting a hot bath on an aching muscle. It can only dull what’s already there.

Cassian pulls you to his chest and falls back onto the bed.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispers, shoving the sweaty hairs off your forehead. “We’re here, Angel.”

The red magic is swallowed back into purple and the pain eases up a little bit, freeing your mind from the hazy fog covering it.

“Wh-what’s happening to me?” You ask, words wobbly as they escape your trembling lips. “It’s like my magic is… tearing me apart.”

Cas’s head whips around and in an instant, Azriel is behind him. It hits them both at the same time, that your pain is their fault. That if they were feeling such strong emotions it must be doubled for you.

Your body is flooded with guilt and shame for a second, and then the golden flames die down as the blue magic is folded into the violet. Collapsing against Cassian’s chest, the golden magic reaches out for Azriel, mirrored by your hands. It takes a second for you to realize that they’re clutching the front of his jacket, pulling him flush against Cassian’s back.

Realization hits you like a blow to the chest, rattling your heart.

“Is this the mating bond?” You ask, pulling back just enough to see two pairs of eyes full of conflicting emotions.

“Yeah, baby, it is,” Az says, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. He wraps his arms around you and Cassian and the golden magic settles over you like a thick wool blanket. You open your mouth to speak but Az shushes you. “It’s okay, we’ll talk about it tomorrow. For now, you need to rest.”

Despite the part of you that aches for answers, you can’t help but drift off to sleep to the steady rhythm of their hands on your body, soothing you to sleep with gentle touches.

Answers will come eventually; for now, you’re completely content.

#acotar imagine #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #cazriel x reader #cazriel #cazriel headcanon #cassian headcanons #cassian x azriel x reader #cassian x you #cassian x reader #azriel headcanons #azriel x you #azriel x cassian x reader #azriel x reader #headcanon #headcanons

[lexisecretaccx]

High School Sweethearts pt.9 - Chris Sturniolo

PT1, PT2, PT3, PT4, PT5, PT6, PT7, PT8, PT10, the rest of the parts on my Masterlist!

(Fem reader x Chris Sturniolo, smut..😍, male!recieving, p in v.. praising)

A/n: you’re welcome, (I felt bad for y/n so I had to give her smth nice) this part is slightly longer bc of the smut.

“Mom I’m sorry.” I keep repeating myself as we get into the car, she hasn’t spoken a word to me since she saw me. “Mom I’m..” “sorry? I know you keep fucking saying it.” She interrupts me as soon as we get in the car. “Jesus y/n, beating up that poor boy?” She pinches the bridge of her nose.

“He’s not a poor boy mom he started it, and then made me more angry by bringing up dad.” She turns to me, her eyes widened. “What did he say.” She asked coldly. “He said I was just like my father, those words should be familiar to you.” I answered her, turning my head away and looking out the window. She sighs.

“You know I didn’t mean that.” She whispered as she starts the car. “Where did you go after..” I interrupt her “after you kicked me out the house in the pouring rain? Maybe I went to a party and got drunk!” I sarcastically smile, “did you?” She asked surprised, pulling the car out of the parking space and driving out the school.

“No of course I didn’t, I cried on the sidewalk for half an hour in the pouring rain until my boyfriend had to come and take me to his house.” I swallow nervously. “Y/n.. you didn’t.” She had a sense of empathy in her voice, a tone I haven’t heard in quite some time.

I nod, biting my lip. The car ride was silent for 5 minutes, “how bad was it? The fight I mean.” She broke the awkward silence, “don’t think you can call it a fight if he just lay there and took it.” I laughed lightly, I swear I could’ve heard her chuckle but she quickly suppressed it. “It was bad, his nose is broken.” I add on and my mother shook her head in disappointment, a look I knew too well.

We arrive at the house and my mother turns to me, “I have to go back to work but, wash yourself up and try to relax.” She try’s to smile comfortingly but that’s just not our dynamic. I nod before getting out and walking into the house.

I head upstairs and get in the shower to wash myself up and also ‘relax’ as my mother said. Once I’m out the shower I walk into my room and throw on a baggy tee and Chris’ sweatpants I left here earlier. I sit on my bed and scroll through my phone when I get a notification from Chris. “Look out your window..” I put my phone down in confusion and mumble to myself “not creepy at all..”

I look outside and see Chris waving up at me from my backyard. I open the window and pop my head out, “how are you in my backyard?” I shout down, “I climbed in!” He replied proudly, “can I come in?”.

I laugh and nod before going downstairs and walking to my back door, as I open it Chris wraps me into a hug, “how are you feeling?” He whispers into my ear before placing a kiss in front of it. “Could be better.” I sigh. “You smell great,” Chris takes a deep breath in on my shoulder, which makes me laugh, “well I did just shower.”

“You look so good wearing my sweatpants aswell,” he grabs my waist and places a kiss on my neck, “keep it in your pants Chris I haven’t even closed the back door.” He moves out the way and I lock the back door up before going to my room. “Did your mom yell at you?” He asks me as I close my bedroom door, I shake my head and lay back on my bed.

“She was.. kinda nice to me.” I reply and Chris lays back next to me. “Wait..” I sit up, “aren’t you supposed to be in school?” I tilt my head and he smirks at me, “I couldn’t wait that long to see you.” He also sits up. “Chris it’s a few hours.” We both laugh.

About 20 minutes pass of me and him talking about the day so far and other stuff in general. “Can we like make out? I’m bored.” I ask. Chris places his hand over his heart, “I’m boring you?” He fake pouts, “no I just wanna.. do something interesting.” I shrug before Chris grins and grabs my face, we start to kiss and it quickly becomes heated, our tongues fighting for dominance.

I feel the ache between my thighs becoming stronger. I notice a bulge in Chris’ pants and I palm it through his jeans, “fuck..” he mumbles into the kiss. “Do you want me to.. you know.” I break the kiss, implying that I suck his dick. “Don’t feel forced into anything.” He breathed out, “only do what you want.”

“I want to suck your dick, I know how to do it, that’s the only thing I’ve done before.” I smirk at him. “After that do you want me to use my fingers or..” he asks me. “No.” I blatantly say, “could you be my first time?” I whisper looking at his lips, his eyes widen and he smiles, “yeah of course.” He replies, placing a quick kiss to my cheek.

I get off the bed and he stands up, I start to unbuckle his jeans and he takes over and does it for me, I pull his jeans down to his ankles and he pulls his boxers down, his length springing up to his stomach, my eyes widen at the size of it and I get down onto my knees. He pumps it a few times before allowing me to take over.

I put my mouth around his cock and wrap my hand around what I can’t fit, I start to suck and I look up at Chris through my eyelashes, he gathers my hair into a makeshift ponytail to keep my hair out my face and to guide me. I feel his dick kiss the back of my throat and I suppress the feeling of choking.

“Fuck.. look so pretty around my cock.” He groaned, starting to push my head further onto him slightly. I grab onto his thighs for stability and his head is back as he suppresses his moans, “shit I’m gonna cum..” he pulls out of my mouth. I look up at him confused, “I didn’t know if you’d want me to cum on your mouth..” he breathes, my hand still pumping his length.

“I want you to” I smirk up at him before taking his cock into my mouth again, his hips buck forward and he lets out a loud groan as I feel his hot cum shooting down my throat. I swallow it and he lets go of my hair.

He lifts me up so I’m standing up and he pulls my face into a kiss, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.. okay?” He reassures me and I nod. He steps out of his trousers and boxers and I take off my sweatpants leaving me in my shirt and panties. “Do you wanna take your shirt off?” He asks me softly. I shrug and lift it off revealing my pink bra.

“I don’t wanna take my bra off, if that’s okay?” I cover up my stomach with my hands and Chris places his hands on my arms, “of course it’s okay, you’re so beautiful.” He plants a kiss on my neck. Causing goosebumps to prickle on my skin.

I lay back on the bed “can I?” Chris asks, his hands resting on the hem of my panties. I nod, he pulls them off in one quick motion, “if you want me to stop just say stop and I will. I promise.” He smiles at me and I smile back, “wait we need a condom, I don’t have any with me.” Chris says in a panicked tone, “I’m on the pill.” I reassure him and he sighs in content.

“You’re already so wet,” Chris whispers, leaning down and planting a kiss on my forehead. “Gonna need you to spread your legs, like this.” He moves my knees up to my chest and spreads them out gently. His tip rests at my entrance, “I’ll push in, it might hurt at first but if it’s too bad I’ll stop.” He holds my hand, “okay..” I breathe out.

His tip pushes into my entrance, stretching it out, it’s painful at first but I wait for him to fully be inside of me, “I’ll let you adjust, tell me when to move and I’ll start off slow.” He kisses just below my ear. “You can move.” I say quietly, he moves his dick slowly in and out, constantly checking my face for any signs of discomfort, I bite my lip as the pain turns to pleasure.

“Oh my god..” I breathe out and he stops his movements, “you okay?” He moves a strand of hair out of my face. “Yeah, it feels good.” I smirk. “Good girl.” He whispers and resumes his movements. “Can you go faster.. please.” I lightly moan out. He nods before fastening his pace.

I grip onto my bedsheets for stability the room is filled with just mine and Chris’ various moans and noises, “feels so good..” I moan out loudly, gripping Chris’ arm. I feel myself clench around him and he lets out a soft moan. His tip hits my g spot causing me to arch my back and I moan his name. “Sound so pretty moaning my name, let everyone know who’s fucking you so good.” He says through his own moans.

I feel a knot in my stomach, a familiar feeling from the other night. “I’m.. gonna.. close.” I whine. “Me too mama.” The nickname causing me to travel closer and closer to my climax, “you like that name huh? Doing so good.. so proud..” he slightly whimpers as he’s close.

“Cum all over my dick baby..” he whispers in my ear biting his lip as he continues to desperately fuck into me. “F-fuck..” I cry out as the knot in my stomach snaps and I feel myself dissolve into the pleasure. My arousal leaking around his cock, slowing his pace to help me through my orgasm.

He thrusts in slowly and gently, “can I cum on your stomach?” He asks me, whimpering and groaning slightly as he’s close to his climax too, I nod rapidly and he pulls out before releasing his cum onto my stomach in white stripes with a loud groan.

He flops onto the bed next to me his chest rising and falling. A second later he sits up and a massive grin creeps across his face, “what?” I smile back still breathing heavily, “you did it!” He says happily. I smirk at him, “I did!” He stands up off the bed and puts his boxers back on, “I’m gonna grab the flannel we used to clean you up last time.” He smiles, “yeah I washed it and cut the label off so you know which one.” He walks out the room and I hear the tap run.

He walks back in with the flannel, slightly damp to help clean off anything. He wipes my stomach and around my entrance. “I am so proud of you.” He kisses me. I sit up, “thank you, for doing that.” I sit on my bed, almost fully naked as he goes over to my drawer to grab me some clean panties. “I practically wasted those ones I had them on for less than an hour.” I point at the underwear I was previously wearing crumpled on the floor.

“It’s okay, and you’re welcome.” He puts the clean underwear by my feet and slips them on me. I stand up and he stares at my practically revealed body, “what?” I breathe out anxiously. “You’re just so perfect.” He walks up to me and wraps his arms around me and we start to kiss. I hear my front door unlock and my eyes shoot up to Chris.

His eyes widen and we hear my front door open, “shit my mom’s home early..” I whisper. Me and Chris are just standing in my room in our underwear. “Get your clothes on..” I whisper yell and Chris nods, “can I wear these?” He points to his sweatpants I had been wearing and I nod, “and this?” He grabs his hoodie from this morning. “Yes!” I said softly.

I open my drawers and get on a new baggy tee and I find some of my own sweatpants. I pick up our messed up clothes and hide them in the corner underneath a box of shoes. “Y/n? Are you here?” My mom calls as I hear her coming upstairs, “shit I’ll sit at my vanity and you can sit on the bed, just act casual.” I murmured to Chris and he nods, grabbing his phone and opening TikTok.

“Yep we’re upstairs!” I call, saying we so my mom knows someone else is here, I notice myself in my mirror, my hair is fucked up, I quickly brush my hair and my mom knocks the door. “We? Can I come in?” At least she asked. “Yeah.” I say. She opens my door and I smile softly. She looks between me and Chris.

“You must be Chris.” She spoke to him. “Yes ma’am.” He replied, saluting with his hand. Causing me to scoff and roll my eyes. “What were you guys.. up to in here?” She asks, I can tell by her face she suspects something. “Just talking about today, and stuff..” I hesitate. She nods awkwardly. “You’re home early from work.” I break the silence.

“Yeah they let me go early because of your.. one sided fight..” she smiles slightly. “Yep.” I say.

The air is tense in the room and Chris clears his throat and me and my mom look at him, he looks around at my room awkwardly. “Do you like the colour pink?” He asks my mom motioning to my room, obviously not knowing what to say. “Not really a fan but it’s not my room.” She replies and he nods looking over to me.

“I’m gonna go back downstairs.” She says to me and she smiles at Chris, “nice to meet ya.” He says as she walks out my room.

“Do you like the colour pink?” I mimic him, he puts his hands out in confusion, “what was I supposed to say? Oh hey there I just took your daughter virginity!” He does an overly happy wave. I laugh, “you’re stupid.” He chuckles.

“I don’t know why she’s being so.. nice?” I say, moving off of my vanity chair and onto the bed next to Chris. “Maybe shes become a nice person?” Chris says in a tone where you can tell he doesn’t even believe himself. I scoff.

“That woman switches up so quickly I don’t know what to expect.” I whisper as I lean my head on his chest. “Maybe she’s bipolar?” Chris asks, “don’t joke about that Chris.” I look up at him, “no I’m serious like does she have something?” He grabs my hand. “I don’t know.” We lay there cuddling and talking for a good 15 minutes.

“I should return to school for my last lesson at least.” He smiles at me, “you do that, I’ll walk you to the door.” He looks over at the box covering our clothes, “do you want me to take my clothes?” He asks.

“I don’t mind washing them for you, when my mom’s not here.” I grin at him, “okay.” He breathes out and kisses me on the forehead.

We walk downstairs and my mom is asleep on the couch, I open the front door and walk out with him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He smiles, “yeah.” I nod pulling his face down to mine and kissing his pink lips gently.

“Tell your mom I said bye.” He says as he walks away, “will do.” I wave to him.

I turn around and open the door, going to walk upstairs. “He seems sweet enough.” My mom spoke from behind me and I turned around to face her. “Yeah.” I smile.

A/n: why is this so sweet tho and smutty.. (y’all we cannot trust y/n’s mom..) anyways I love making this series and I think there will be a few more parts left! Love yall!

Taglist: @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @sturniologurl4l2008 @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosmind @accio326 @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @stingerayyy2 @freshsturns

—💋——📷——‼️——💌———��️———💌——‼️——📷——💋—

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolos #smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt

[indouloureux]

Can you make one with joseph quinn where they are dating since season 4 started shooting and now they are invites to the brazil party with jamie and tbey are one of those couples thag are never serious and act goofy instead of toucht which they are and they sing snd dance together and also are like hugginf and kissing but not much and the reader and jamie are like best friends and vibing together there and later on when they are back in their hotel room they make loce cause tbey havent had much timw together since fhe whole partjes and interviews and stuff? :)

ALRIGHT IM IN LOVE. sincerely apologize if this doesn't meet your request entirely. i apologize that i won't be writing joseph smut bc i'm still getting used to writing him. but i will be writing it in the near future!

you can't keep a straight face as joseph goes into a deep talk about how his vecna song is up and down by venga boys.

the thing is, he looks so fucking passionate talking about a euro trash song. but you can see the playful twinkle in his eyes as he does so, ever so often shooting you a quick glance to tell you that he's never serious when it comes to venga boys.

you hide your laugh in his arm, turning away from the person he's talking to and you hide it as a way that shows you're shy. joseph's got a secured arm around your shoulders, rests his cheek on top of your head as you nestle your face deeper into his blazer to cover your laugh.

perhaps you'd drunk too much of that drink.

"you should listen to it," he tells them. "it's so funky and amazing. it'll definitely help you escape vecna. i mean, i'm sure he'd like it too."

jamie's behind you, a drink close to his lips, and it looks like he's hiding his laughter with you. 'coz at this point joseph's talking about the meaning of the song. "see i chose it because it's up and down. y'know, because of the upside down. up...and down....upside down?"

you're thanking vecna it didn't last more than eight minutes.

"i'm sad no one has asked me what my vecna song is," jamie sighs. joseph still has an arm around your shoulders, swaying you both side to side to a music you can't understand but vibe to. "i mean, i'd like to talk about how fearless is my vecna song."

"how will you have a vecna song if you are vecna?" the question doesn't make sense, you think, but maybe it's the inebriation that took over your thoughts. "what, is he like, trying to escape himself!?"

"definitely," your boyfriend quips. "he needs therapy. he can't go off killing children."

you take joseph's right hand when he places his glass on a nearby table. and you find your fingers twirling the ring on his hand as a form of distraction, maybe a bit of boredom as jamie goes on a rant about how vecna still needs a vecna song

joseph's fingers fiddle with yours, a silent answer that says he's also getting a bit bored now. he argues still that vecna needs therapy not a song.

"hey, 'y hear that?" joseph whispers in you ear. you'd gotten too distracted from playing with the ring on his finger. "its head over heels, baby."

you look up at him, removing your cheek from his bicep. "tears for fears?"

"head over heels."

you squeal. you place your glass beside joseph's and take his hand, bringing him right in the middle of the bright multicolored floor. he's more than happy to come with you, holding your hand with just as much fervor as he spun you around until you're in his embrace, hands around your waist and swaying you to the song.

with hands around his neck and fingers pulling on the curls from the back of his head, you drunkenly smile up at him. joseph takes note of your intoxicated state, remembers not to trick you into thinking the glass was alcohol but really was just water.

"y'know, this would be my vecna song," you tell him, breath fanning over his face. joseph nudges his nose with yours as a gentle kiss, looking like two drunk teens at prom. but he doesn't care.

"still doesn't beat up and down,"

"ugh, shut up!" you throw your head back, whining a bit louder than you're supposed to. he laughs and his hand comes up over your mouth. "we both know you only say that for shits and giggles."

"you're right, lovie." he chuckles. he straightens your hair, hand coming up from your waist to your shoulder, dragging down to raise your interlocked hands. "you wanna know what it is?"

"to make myself stop laughing everytime someone asks you what your favorite song is, yes please baby," you smile at him.

joseph spins you around, eyesight blurred by the quick spin until you're back in his arms and your focused fixates on him and him only. "it's golden years by david bowie."

you beam. "really?"

"yeah!" he furrows his eyebrows for a second before he's smiling again. "i'll stick with you, baby, for a thousand years. nothing's gonna touch you in these golden years,"

"sap," you tease him, but press a kiss to his cheek because why not. "simp?"

"simp."

"oi," jamie cuts in between the two of you and hugs joseph, a similar pout on his face. his face is a bit pink, you observe. "i miss my girlfriend. wanna dance with you guys."

by the time the song ends (with jamie holding both you and joseph's hands as he sways to the song), the party does too. you're tripping down the carpeted floors of the hotel hallways, barefoot with your heels held by joseph who's leading you to your shared hotel room.

"i can't believe we're in brazil," you giggle at him. joseph shuts the door behind, placing your heels carefully on the side for you not to accidentally step on them. "ah, correction brazil!!!"

you mimic him from earlier, where he'd trilled the word 'brazil' for an interview. joseph shushes you by placing a hand over your mouth, lipstick staining his palm as he does so.

"you gotta keep quiet, baby," he warns you. joseph sits you down on the bed, goes to the other side to pour you a glass of water, and comes back with a slightly concerned look. "drink up, dove."

too tired to protest, you drink the water from the hotel glass, joseph holding it for you. you don't realize as soon as you swallow the drink you'd fallen down to the bed with a small pout.

"what's up, darling?" joseph discards his blazer, unbuttons the first three of his dress shirt and places his shoes aside next to yours. "tired, huh?"

"yeah," you exhale. "y'know, i saw a puppy down the hallway earlier. maybe we can shout at it and ask why it didn't come near you back at buzzfeed."

joseph's chuckle warms your befuddled heart. "we shouldn't shout at puppies, baby." he takes your hand into his and pulls you up. "now how 'bout a shower then i'll love on you, yeah?"

your eyes widen. "sounds like a great idea."

reblogs are highly appreciated <3

tagging @kellysimagines tysm for the request baby!

#joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction

[vivalas-vega]

Oooh my, your requests are freaking open???? I've got an idea in my head for a long time and now I give it a try and send it to you. I'm obsessed with Jake (and Bradley) x Roomie (fem reader or oc) trope, so apologies in advance for this one (also a sucker for hurt and comfort 😬). I try to keep it as short as possible: Rooster's and Hangman's new roomie has a sad past. She has sleeping issues and bad nightmares. They hear her whimpering and crying in her sleep. The guys are worried but she plays it down, feeling bad for waking them up with her shit. Maybe she starts to sleep walking and unfortunately hurts herself during this episode. The guys find her in the middle if the night hurt. And she opens up to them telling them about her dreams and her past.

ahhhh !!! I'm so glad to finally get this one posted, I'm so sorry it took so long ! I am such a sucker for the roommate trope, and I love writing stories that are strictly platonic, just focusing on lovely friendship vibes bc those are just as important as the romantic ones !!! I hope you enjoy!

(this doesn't have a title yet bc it's admittedly the thing I'm the worst at when it comes to writing fics)

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some suggestive humor, language, brief and vague mentions of death, lmk if I missed any

“Are you going to eat these leftovers?” you asked Bradley, who was sitting at the kitchen island keeping you company as you cleaned out the fridge and he stared at the tupperware container for an infuriatingly long time, contemplating his options before you let out an exasperated sigh. “Bradshaw, it’s pasta. Yes or no?”

“No,” he finally answered. “You’re in a mood.” 

“No mood, it would just be nice if you could be snappier in your responses while you just watch me clean the kitchen.”

“Yeah, definitely not in a mood,” he muttered under his breath but you heard it anyway. “Do you know where Hangman is?”

“You two share a bathroom and you still can’t call him by his name?” you asked with a chuckle. “He’s at the gym, should be back soon.”

“We only share a bathroom because you got the master,” he protested and you laughed again.

“I needed the bigger closet,” you shrugged. “I told you you’re welcome to use mine anytime.”

“After you reamed me for using your face wash? Thank you, but no thank you, I haven’t been yelled at like that since I borrowed my moms car to take Cindy Daniels on a date.”

“I only yelled because you used a forty dollar cleanser as body wash and somehow managed to use half the bottle. Besides, your mom was right to yell at you too, you stole her car and you were thirteen.”

“I was covered in grease! And my date with Cindy is none of your business.” 

“Are we having the face wash fight again?” Jake asked as he came in through the garage, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he reached around you to grab a bottle of water, but you only pushed him away, muttering something about keeping his sweat away from you. “Take the blame, Chicken, you wasted half a bottle of Drunk Elephant, you’re lucky she didn’t put you on the porch for the night.”

“See, the craziest thing about this whole situation is you were just as outraged as she was.”

“Good skincare is not just for women, you might want to invest in a routine of your own.” he smirked before disappearing down the hallway and you heard the sound of the shower turning on.

“You working tomorrow?” Bradley asked, getting up to wash the containers you’d placed near the sink.

You shook your head, “a Friday and Saturday off, Penny was feeling extra generous.” You’d met the two of them, along with the rest of the team, when they’d first gotten to town for the infamous and secretive mission that almost claimed the life of the man currently donning cherry-printed cleaning gloves and scrubbing pasta sauce out of tupperware. You’d all become fast friends, they’d coax you out from behind the bar on your breaks or when your shift was over for darts or pool, and when your lease was up just as they received word of a permanent assignment it seemed to make sense for the three of you to find a place together. It was a godsend for you, it got you out of your cramped apartment with dismal lighting and into a beautiful craftsman only a few blocks away from the beach. Even with arguments with Bradley about face wash and a sweaty Jake, it was a no-brainer.

“Could we convince you into coming to your place of work on a night off? These new recruits are testing our patience, Phoenix wants a fun night out to blow off steam.”

“I could potentially be persuaded,” you replied, shutting the fridge after deeming it was as cleared out as it was going to get. 

“Which translates to as long as I’m not mixing them, I’ll always show up for drinks,” Jake said, walking back into the kitchen with freshly washed hair. “Do I get any kind of welcome home now that I’m not sweaty?” 

“No, because now you’re wet, did you even dry off?” you asked, snapping him with a dish towel before he rounded the island and wrapped his arms around you.

“Enough,” he answered, squeezing you tight as you pretended to hate it. Really, you loved living with these two. Being on your own before was starting to take its toll on you, and they reminded you of a different time in your life, one that felt like it was ancient history. “Not to dampen the mood, but… we did want to talk to you about something.”

“Sounds serious, should I break out the house meeting wine?” you asked, eyeing them skeptically as they shared a look with each other that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“We just wanted to… check in,” Bradley started and you raised your eyebrows. “The past few weeks we’ve heard certain sounds coming from your room and-”

“Okay, first of all,-” you started to cut him off, eyes wide at what you thought he was insinuating.

“Not like that, sweetheart,” Jake interjected. “But feel free to get louder when you do,” he half-joked and you hit him with the towel again. “What bird boy is trying to say is sometimes we hear what sounds like nightmares coming from your room and it’s happened enough that we just want to check in and see if everything is okay.” You suddenly felt nauseous. 

“If there’s something going on, or you need someone to talk to, you know we’re here, right?” Bradley asked and you nodded softly.

“I know, everything is fine, I’m sorry if I woke you.” you said, trying to dismiss their concerns altogether as you occupied yourself with looking over the mail.

“It’s just… it doesn’t sound fine, if you don’t want to talk to us we can help you find someone else to talk to, we just want to make sure you’re okay.” Jake tried and you gave him a forced smile.

“And I am, but I’m glad the two of you finally found something to agree on.” You tossed some junk mail in the garbage before turning to face them again, “I have some errands I want to run early tomorrow morning… text me if you need anything from the store but I’m going to turn in. Goodnight,” you said with another forced smile before heading down the hall and letting out a sigh as your back pressed against your closed bedroom door. You thought that things had gotten better… that enough time had passed. They seemed to be happening less and less, but maybe that wasn’t as true as you once thought. 

Your footsteps down the hallway were an unusual sound for this time of night… nightmares or not, once you went to bed you weren’t seen until the following morning and it was enough to stir Jake from his slumber. You on the other hand, were completely unaware of what was going on, still stuck in a dream, stuck in a fluorescent lit hallway with tears streaming down your face only you weren’t… you were in your living room, walking straight into the console table and falling onto the broken glass of the picture frames and vases you’d knocked over which was enough to jolt both of them out of bed. 

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Bradley asked, crouching down beside you as you came to.

“Mav- Maverick?” you asked, voice hoarse as you struggled to place where you were, the images from your dream still fresh in your mind. He looked at Jake confused who was on the other side of you and carefully pushing glass aside.

“No, it’s Bradley… Honey, what happened?” You blinked a few times, finally recognizing you were on the floor of your living room and the searing pain of broken glass in your palms and knees.

“I don’t- oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you winced as you tried to stand but Jake was quick to scoop you up, holding you tight as he walked to the kitchen and carefully placed you next to the sink while Bradley grabbed the first aid kit. “I- I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m okay, you can go back to bed.” He just frowned at you and when Bradley returned he started pulling the shards from your palms while Jake worked on your knees. Silent tears were still streaming down your face and they were both trying to figure out how to ask you what was wrong, but one thing they knew for certain was no one was going back to bed until they got to the bottom of what was going on with you.

“Sweetheart, do you want to tell us what’s going on?” Jake asked softly, looking up briefly to meet your eyes before gently running his thumb along your cuts, making sure there weren’t any pieces he missed. 

You shook your head as you wiped your cheeks, “nothing, I just… I don’t know, I guess I was half-asleep? I’m really sorry I woke you,” you said and they both looked at you like they didn’t believe a word of it.

“Alright, I was willing to maybe let it go before but you could have been seriously hurt tonight. Something is going on with you,” Jake said, voice firm as he stopped what he was doing to wipe a few of your tears.

“Whatever it is, you can tell us. Why did you say Maverick’s name when you woke up?” Bradley asked and you closed your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath before letting it all out. 

“I uh… there’s something I never told you about me.” you started, taking a moment to breathe as you felt your throat tighten. They stayed quiet, both carefully dabbing at your cuts with a damp cloth or rubbing aquaphor over them before bandaging them. “I wasn’t a teacher before realizing I liked bartending more, I was a pilot.”

“Wait, what?” Bradley asked, shock evident in his tone and Jake elbowed him, eyes silently pleading for you to continue. 

“My callsign is- or was Flash… like the superhero,” you chuckled but there wasn’t much humor in it and both of their eyes widened. “I was on a mission that went south really fast,  we were outnumbered and outgunned, we ran out of resources quickly. I was hit, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t save it, I couldn’t save him.” you choked out.

“Who?” Bradley whispered, you were all cleaned up now and they were both focused solely on you. Jake was rubbing reassuring circles on your thigh as Bradley held one of your hands in his own.

“My wizzo, we called him Genie… we both got to our squad at the same time, and on our first night out his icebreaker was if you had three wishes, what would you wish for?” You laughed again, but this time it was genuine.

“I’ve heard of him,” Jake said, noticing your breathing quicken just at the mention of him. “Both of you, actually, from what I’ve heard you were a hell of a pilot.”

“He couldn’t eject, something went wrong with the handles… I’d already pulled mine when I heard him say they were stuck and the next thing I know the jet is crashing into a hillside below me. I thought the dreams were getting better, and that I was maybe starting to move past it… I don’t think I really registered that it was happening again, or maybe that it never stopped.” 

“Honey, why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Bradley asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and you focused your gaze on your hands.

“I just… I didn’t want you to know that I failed my wizzo,” you choked out. “Or that the last time I was in a cockpit I nearly crashed again and Mav had to talk me through landing a plane I’ve landed thousands of times before because I panicked. I didn’t want you guys to censor yourselves when it came to work stuff out of pity for me being a failed pilot, and I guess… I just didn’t want you guys to look at me differently.”

“Hey, what happened wasn’t your fault,” Jake said, squeezing your thigh gently and prompting you to look up at him. “And we would never look at you differently for that, we understand.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that… and just know that we don’t think of you as a failure. We’ve both heard about that mission, there was nothing you could have done. Faulty equipment and being outgunned is not your burden to bear.” Bradley added, running a hand along your back.

“What is it that you say sometimes? It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot?” you asked, sadness seeping into your tone and he just pulled you into his side and pressed a kiss to your head.

“There’s not much the pilot can do if the plane fails them.”

“You went through a trauma, we would never fault you for not flying again after that.” Jake said and you smiled softly.

“Mav could… god, he tried so hard, he was really there for me after it happened, but… when I finally got back into a plane I just couldn’t shake it. It was like I could still hear him in my backseat even though he wasn’t there.”

“Just because Mav could, that doesn’t mean you’re a lesser pilot or a lesser person for not being able to, if anything I think it makes you stronger. You knew your limits, and instead of pushing through it when you couldn’t trust flying again you took a step back. I know a lot of people who wouldn’t make that same choice.” Bradley said, nudging Jake and you let out a laugh as you wiped your face again.

“Yeah, I thank my lucky stars I never crossed this one’s path when I was still flying,” you said and Jake’s face twisted up in shock.

“Hey, why are we ganging up on me now?” he asked and you laughed again. 

“You make it so easy,” you teased and they both smiled, happy to see you coming back into yourself a little.

“We’re here for you, okay? So is everyone else,” Bradley said, pulling you into him again and you let yourself wrap your arms around him as you laid your head on his chest and Jake kept rubbing circles into your skin.

“No matter what, you can always come wake us up if you need someone.”

“I love you guys, you know that?” 

You could hear the smirk in Jake’s voice as he said, “oh, we know.” He wrapped himself around the other side of you as the two of them squished you between them. “We love you too.”

taglist: @callsignspirit @thegodessc @failuretothrivestuff @olliepig @cruelmissdior @underaveragefangirl @grxcieluvr @amatswimming @camilaricci @nolita-fairytale @dempy @pinkpantheris @aviatorobsessed @tiredqueen73 @pono-pura-vida @binnieslove @nik2blog @waklman @abaker74 @halstead-severide-fan @percysaidnever @memeorydotcom @eli2447 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @djs8891 @Genius2050 @stargazer-88 @chloeforde @kmc1989 @casa-boiardi (if your name is struck through, it means I couldn't tag you - sorry!)

#your honor I love them #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin fan fiction #jake hangman seresin fluff #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fan fiction #jake seresin fluff #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman fan fiction #hangman fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw fan fiction #bradley rooster bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fan fiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

[iztea]

They still feel off specially the eyes i could feel them about to manifest their own life and run off

Even my linework is ... Idk what's wrong and it's the problem maybe I'm staring too much but I don't think so

Sorry for bothering alot but i loved your last advice ty

i think the main problem with the first picture has to do with the proportions and anatomy of the lower body area aka the neck and shoulders. i'd make the shoulders wider and add some sort of form to the neck so that it looks believable instead of a flat rectangle shape ( maybe make it slimmer a bit too? although that might be just a stylistic choice so you do you). That's the first thing i'd fix because otherwise the head looks too big in comparison to the rest of the body, and it can throw you off

I actually think you did a great job with the eyes, they have a lot of life and that comes from the fact that they are the most rendered part of your piece, which is not a bad thing. The thing is, while it is true that the eyes are the main focal point of a face and portrait in general, that doesn't mean you can neglect the other parts, so i think it is also a consistency issue or not figuring out exactly what sort of style or rendering you want to go with that holds you back (which is totally fine and normal ofc). So let's pick a semi-realistic stylized rendering style for this since this is the vibe i'm getting from this piece.

If that's the style we're going for, then the face should have a bit more form. You have to remember that our facial features ( eyes, nose, lips) are connected with each other via the planes of the face, right? So, for a semirealistic style, revisit your reference and try to idenitify what those planes are and how they connect to those features, and most importantly, where the shadows hit, and just accentuate them more, because at the moment they look like 3rd forms plastered over a 2d surface which is not right, our skin has form as well. Color-wise, don't be afraid to go darker with the shadows, they really make your drawings pop. Without looking at a reference, i'd def add some shadow under the lips, a bit where the lips connect to the nose, under the neck, and in the lower body area.

I'm really trying to avoid the most basic answer which is " practice anatomy !!1! " because everyone can say that however, at the end of the day, this is the main thing the face lacks. And tbvh you don't have to actually know anatomy, you just gotta know some proportions things that make the face look believable enough. I feel like the features are mostly just drawn from the reference without an understanding of the structure behind it. Something tells me that in the reference picture, the person had their head tilted a bit upwards, but here it's kinda flat and the features are just painted without following the motion. Try to draw over your reference picture the vertical and horizontal lines and make up the head shape behind it to figure out the way it is tilting and facing, because the lips, eyes nose, etc will follow that same sort of flow, they're not stationary. I'd also make the eyes a bit smaller, or maybe make the skull bigger bc i think they are touching the outer edge too much now, and also narrow the distance between the nose and lips just a bit. Kinda hard to explain without actually doing it myself. But really, try to play with that, and try getting comfy with drawing 3d forms i know it's easier said than done but..... there really isn't any shortcut unfortunately As for the lineart drawing, yes it's actually pretty solid, i like that duplicate blur thing you did, i'm familiar with that technique and it def has its perks so that's great. Im not an expert on lineart, however here i think there are too many " unnecessary" lines that could easily be omitted (purple). Less is more and all that~ The hair strands at the end feel too stiff and identical (green). If you notice, they all just end in this " V" shape and they rarely overlap thus making the image look flat. Try to break this pattern by introducing more spontaneity aka random hairflies, making the strands overlap, adding more shape variety etc

Make sure that the lines connect properly whenever they meet, and also although you already did it and i think that's great, you can make some lines even thicker, go even further and add even more lineweight. As a general thing, usually, the exterior or contour lines are thicker and whatever it is inside is thinner so experiment with that, you can start from the nose- thicker lines for the nostrils thinner for that nose tip i forgot what it's called and also add thin lines that just hint at the form. Lineart is hardd so i don't blame you, but if you're gonna keep the lineart in, try "shading" with black blocks so to speak, make sure the lineart layer can stand on its own, and pay more attention to the lower part area (neck and shoulders) even if it is less exciting to ink

#ok i lied it's long again #these are pretty fun to do can u blame me #ask iztea #you should also check in with other people don't take my word for everything #but since you asked my personal opinion here u go #sorry for any typos if there are any i'll fix them later #long post

[viridianevergarden]

So it seems that one of the main gripes that antis have about elriel is the way Azriel worded his big question to Rhys. That the way he said it screams entitlement to Elain? I’m going to break this down a little.

"The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another."

I really don’t think anything is wrong here.

Consider how Azriel is for a moment. He is of a more sophisticated character and he talks that way normally. The sentence is structured poetically, yes? Azriel is of a poetic sort, as we have seen on many occasions.

Azriel is referring entirely to the numerical imbalance that is present between the 3 to 3 ratio because that’s what it is. A numerical imbalance. Thats why Elain is referred to as “the third”. Weren’t Nesta and Feyre referred to as the “two”?

But it’s only wrong that he referred to Elain as the Third? Okay.

He wasn’t specifically referring to the sisters individually. He was referring to them alongside his brothers as a group. Of course she is the Third, because that is what she is. You’d think an English class would teach that.

This doesn’t mean that he sees her as an object.

Its quite the opposite that he sees her as such, given the fact that this man -across 4 books- has risked life and limb for her, spent time with her, gave her his dagger for her own safety that no one else has ever touched, actively sought her out on many occasions, and defended her against Nesta and *Lucien? Come on now. Let’s be real.

*Voicing that she doesn’t even want him in the BC is a defense in her stead.

No one does all that to slip under someone’s dress or get into their pants. Across 2 years mind.

The “given to another” line really isn’t serious just like the aforementioned.

She practically was given to another. She was thrown at Lucien, as per Lucien’s pov, since he’s oh so important. The cauldron shackled her to him as he is to her. It’s merely an observation. No entitlement.

The way Azriel spoke about Lucien regarding the blood duel, fighting him and beating him, etc. People think that Azriel is screaming entitlement by merely stating that he’d beat him? Oh lord. After Rhys and the narration confirmed that it was true? Spending precious page space to make that known?

Not entitlement. Merely stating the obvious, an observation just like the rest. A truth that SJM was trying to convey.

And don’t start with the “He’S a HiGhLoRd’S sOn, He’D bEaT AzRiEl.” Respectfully, silence. Highlord power is passed on by the death of the current highlord. Highlord esc dominance ≠ highlord power. SJM spent page space to make the fact that Az would win known, get over it.

Then they have the matter of “well why didn’t he fight Rhys back and confess his love for Elain then?”

There’s three answers I can give:

This is a BC, he won’t do that until it’s in a book that he actually stars in as a main character, which obviously is the next installment.

Azriel, as a person, feels he should not love her. That he does not deserve her. That he taints her very being. And that she is too good for him and Lucien. So that statement would be completely out of character for him to do so here. This man hates himself so much that he feels he doesn’t have the right or reason to fight for his love for Elain. So he won’t.

Rhysand himself.

The explanation on Rhysand:

Rhys shut him down as soon as he walked in

Taunted and antagonized him

Threw wild assumptions at him

Instigated

Threatened him

And then immediately proceeded to shut him out

He effectively gave no room for Azriel to open up. He didn’t even ask Azriel what was happening or what he felt. It was an immediate attack as soon as he walked into the office.

“Are you out of your mind?”

Being shut down instantly

“What of Mor?”

Antagonized and taunted

“you think you deserve to be her mate?”

Wild assumption

“So you’ll what? Seduce her away from him?”

Instigated + assumption

“Snarl all you want. But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.”

A threat

“Get out.”

And shutting him out

After throwing knives of assumptions at Azriel, trying to bait him with Mor, he threatened him and then kicked him out.

Rhysand is at fault for not creating a safe space for his brother to explain. Azriel merely gave him curt answers in response because that’s all he allowed him to do.

It’s only salt in the wound that we know that Rhys knows of Azriel’s self worth/esteem issues and still treated him this way. But given the time this BC took place, I’m cutting Rhys some slack.

Again, keep in mind that Azriel won’t fight for his love because he feels he has no right or reason to. Not right now.

Could his question about the sisters and the cauldron have been worded better? Sure. I think it was worded well enough though because it explicitly states the disparity that he sees in a logical fashion.

Azriel isn’t entitled, he doesn’t feel entitled.

The irony of it is that some people think he is all the while the man feels as though he doesn’t even deserve to be in any close proximity to Elain. To be around her and to see her light.

People fail to consider the emotional and mental state of Elriel, completely ignoring their words that made it so obvious of what they’re thinking and feeling and wanting all so they can determine what they want them to do instead.

Very ironic indeed.

#The irony that surrounds Elriel and their haters is insane #Literally everything they think and feel in the books is interpreted the exact opposite of what they are saying #every damn time #elriel #acotar #pro elriel #pro azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elain x azriel

[thatoneapollokidevan]

If you still have writer's blocked I am here to help, imagine pav has been super busy lately with missions from and he hasn't had time to see reader and even though she understands he feels guilty [and a bit jealous] when he sees her cuddling with the bear he got them for Valentine's Day

Thank you for the request <3

I’m assuming that you meant fem reader but there will probably not be so many pronouns used probably none

this will sadly be short bc I’m uncreative :(

• You’ve been dating for about six months

• Since you’ve been together for a pretty long amount of time he thought he should tell you that he is spider man

• even when you knew this you were still a little salty

• but you couldn’t just say “hey, love can you stop saving those innocent people and hug me”

(bc you aren’t a d*ck)

• but you knew that he was trying and that warmed your heart

• lately he was even more distant

• with both school and heroing there weren’t that much time for you to be together

• and you really just wanted to cuddle him bc of all the schoolwork and tests

• you’ve been studying for so long that you didn’t even remember the date

•and since you both lived in Mumbatten it you couldn’t really tell by the weather bc it’s like hot almost all year round

• but Pavitr remember

• he also remembered that hit was Valentine’s Day in a week

• he was like a child one week before Christmas

• flash forward to 14/02 (valentines day)

• You were very tired until you heard a knock on your window

• You weren’t really surprised when you saw your dorky bf

“Hii, बच्चा (babe) i tried to knock but you didn’t answer and your parents don’t know we’re dating”

• you couldn’t help but smile seeing him

• i mean how couldn’t you

• he was like a living ray of sunshine

• he was your living ray of sunshine

• he crawled through your window

• you then noticed how he was hiding something behind his back

“Love, what is th-“

“happy Valentine’s Day” He practically shouted holding a teddy bear

“that was today?! Oh now i feel like such a jerk” you said bc you completely forgot about it

“it’s fine don’t worry i only want one thing from you” he said

“and what may that be?”

• you were then pulled into a hug that almost suffocated you (but in a good way) by your dorky boyfriend

•you then laid down on your bed cuddling for the rest of the day (until he had to go home to eat)

#im very proud of this :) #spiderverse x you #pavitr x reader #pavitr my beloved #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr prabhakar x you

[missuswalker]

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧 || 𝐤𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♰ summary: your husband, kit, convinces you to stay up with him by promising that you two can sleep in tomorrow morning - KIT SMUT!!!

♰ warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), piv - short bcs i’m still trying to get back into writing + not proofread because i literally cannot

♰ notes: i’d roll over, speak, shake, play dead, sit, and fetch for kit, he’s such an angel (don’t ask why i always put pictures of half-made beds in these, i asked myself the same thing)

“this is great, hun’,” kit compliments, taking another bite of tonight’s dinner. you give him a tired smile, sipping on your glass of water. he quirks an eyebrow, setting his fork down. “you’re quiet tonight. what’s goin’ on in that pretty head,” he asks, his tone playful and light. you breathe out a laugh, shaking your head. “nothing at all, just a long day.”

kit hums in response, standing to take your plate to the sink. when he returns, he takes his place behind you, gentle hands rubbing your arms. “let me take care of you, suga’. wake you up a little,” he mumbles, lips pressed against your shoulder. you shake your head, pushing his face away. “kit, it’s late, we already took too long on dinner, we should get ready for bed. you have work tomorrow and i gotta visit my mother.”

he massages your shoulders, resting his chin on the top of your head. “i’ll call off work. you can go see your ma next week, you know it won’t be any different to her,” he coaxes, persistent to simply just please you. though with a sigh, you can’t help but smile, knowing he won’t be giving up anytime soon. “you are horrible, kit walker. cancel plans with my mother to have sex with you instead?” you tease, turning to look back at him

“sounds like a more-than-fair trade to me,” he responds, pretending to think about it for a moment. you scoff, standing from your seat at the table. “alright, you win.” with a cheeky grin, he’s off, pulling you with him into the bedroom, and shutting the blinds. “i knew you’d cave. you always do.” he had that stupid smirk, the one that you hated and loved all at the same time.

“i do not, you shut your mouth,” you laugh, kicking off your shoes and letting down your hair, setting the endless bobby pins on the bedside table. he wiggles his eyebrows at you, a dorky but endearing action, as he crawls into bed. his lips immediately find that spot on your neck that makes you go weak as if it were second nature to him. “i’ll shut your mouth as long as you open yours,” he jokes, pushing you back into a laying position. “god, kit!” you laugh, rolling your eyes at his words.

“i’m just kiddin’, tonight’s about you.” with that, he slowly unbuttons you blouse, lips trailing down to your collar bone. “i will neva’ get used to how beautiful you are,” he praises, unhooking your bra and sliding the thin straps down your arms. “so, so pretty,” he continues, cupping your tits, now bringing his kisses to the valley of your breasts. his mouth is wrapped around your nipple soon after, a hand finding it’s way under your skirt.

he revels in the whine you give him as his calloused thumb meets your clothed pussy, rubbing slow circles around your clit. “and to think you wanted to go to bed, but here you are, all wet from just a couple of kisses. what do you have to say fo’ yourself, sweetheart?” he teases, removing his hand, and working to get your skirt down your legs, bringing your panties with it. “i need you kit, i do,” you answer, giving him those eyes that he can’t resist.

that was all he needed, his head dipping between your thighs, tongue running through your slick folds. he groans at the taste of you, pushing his already had cock into the mattress. with your head thrown back, you couldn’t see that his eyes remained on your face, though you could feel his stare as you moaned, rolling your hips on his face. his nose brushes your clit, bringing another sweet whine from your lips, almost enough to make him cum his pants.

“you’re driving me insane,” kit says, sitting up and bracing himself with his hands on your knees. he drops his belt and pants to the floor, palming himself through his pre-cum stained briefs. “look what you do to me,” he grunts, grabbing your hand and placing it over his hard-on. “please kit,” you beg, giving him those eyes you know he can’t resist. he decides not to give you anymore trouble, much to your delight, and slides his briefs down to his ankles, kicking them off and wedging himself between your legs.

his painfully hard dick stands against his toned stomach, kit’s hands spreading your legs, gentle as can be. “so, so pretty, all f’me,” he says, lining himself up with your entrance, giving himself a few pumps. when he finally begins to slide in, the both of you moan, kit having to keep your legs open as you squeeze around him. “god, i love you,” he huffs, bottoming out. kit certainly was a bit of a chatterbox during sex, but it was something you liked about him.

“i love you,” you reciprocate, biting down on your lip as you watch his hips slowly start to move, his fingers trailing down your thigh. his pace remains slow, the moment sweet and sensual, the heat between the two of you suffocatingly warm. his grunts are so pretty, though your loud whines outshine them. “you are an angel sent straight from heaven, i swear,” he says, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he brings a finger back down to your clit.

squeezing around him, your eyes roll back, a long string of moans and his name falling out of that pretty mouth of yours, and it’s not long before he buries himself deep within your cunt, filling you up like you were meant to be. once he pulls out, he lays down next to you, pulling you into him and kissing your forehead. “so good to me,” he whispers, pecking your lips.

“i need to shower, kit.”

“just lay here with me for a minute.”

erm, i’ll do better next time 😋

#x reader #evan peters smut #evan peters x reader #ahs kit #kit walker x y/n #kit walker x reader #kit walker #kit walker smut #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x reader #kai anderson x reader #james march x reader #kyle spencer x reader

[the7thcrow]

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 07

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Seven: an orphanage, an elemental, and comfort

series rating: 16+

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)

summary: as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.

chapter details beneath the cut ->

chapter wc: 13.2k

extra chapter warnings: n/a

chapter summary:

“Have you ever killed a person?” You ask, and Wooyoung finds he isn’t surprised by the question. He doesn’t want to answer it, but he isn’t surprised by it.

He also believes the answer is something you should hear.

“I have,” he replies. “But sometimes people are monsters too.”

a/n: gave up on nanowrimo bc big surprise, i don’t have the time! everyone act shocked! plus side is y’all get this a bit earlier. this chapter’s a bit of an odd-ball. different, but i think it’s important. enjoy!

“I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you-”

When Wooyoung awakens, it’s with a start. Flying upwards from his place atop the pillow as if forcefully pulled by an invisible string, he holds himself on the back of his hands, arms trembling as they individually steady on both sides of him.

The tent is dark, too dark. The moon having disappeared beneath a cloudy blanket for the night, he can’t see anything amidst the blackness. The only indication of San’s presence is the sound of his breathing, and Wooyoung acknowledges the steadiness of it. He’s sleeping well, soundly. The pattern is rhythmic, and it’s a relief. Wooyoung knows that the swordsman hasn’t had a solid rest since Gloria, having overhead as San has fearfully muttered Jay’s name in his sleep.

He’d reach out to touch him, to try and comfort him, but San has made a point of sleeping on the opposite side of the tent. Wooyoung has accepted that this is just the way it’s going to be for now, until San decides to tell him why exactly he’s been so angry with him these last few days. Wooyoung thinks he might be embarrassed from his breakdown after Gloria, but while that would explain the evasiveness, it wouldn’t justify the coldness the swordsmen has been inflicting on him.

It irritates Wooyoung, but maybe San just needs time, and he doesn’t have much choice but to grant it.

Even so, it remains true that he’s glad that San is finally sleeping peacefully. However, Wooyoung is not as fortunate. His chest heaves, each breath requiring an almost gruelling amount of effort. His palms are clammy, forehead drenched in sweat. His clothes cling to him as if threaded through his flesh.

It’s been a while since he last dreamed of them. Almost a month to be exact, but no matter how long it’s been, the nightmares always leave him feeling as if his skin has been turned inside out.

Bringing up a hand to wipe the hair that clings to his forehead, his fingers are almost too shaky to manage the task. Falling back onto his pillow, he stares up into the blackness.

Amidst it, Wooyoung sees a face. His face. Those mischievous, affectionate eyes. He sees the blood. He sees the burnt flesh.

Then he sees her. He sees her unbridled, agonizing tears. He hears her broken sobs.

Wooyoung needs to get out of this tent.

Pushing himself back upwards, it takes far more effort this time around, his body wishing for nothing more than to shut down. Yet, he manages, tossing the blanket off of himself - which has begun to feel far too hot, anyway - he rises to his feet. Keeping light on his toes as to not awaken the swordsman, he steps over him, lingering only a moment to gaze upon San’s sleeping form. It’s barely visible through the darkness, but Wooyoung can swear he sees the hint of a smile on San’s lips.

If it weren't for the way it currently feels as if he’s suffocating, Wooyoung would have the urge to smile too.

Sucking in a tight breath, the elemental slips through the tent-flap, out into the brisk forest air. After days of what has felt like endless struggle, the group of you have finally made your way out of the Calanthian Desert and into the outskirts of Morrow Forest, soon to be followed by the Burovian Mountains.

Wooyoung is immensely relieved. He’s considering approaching San and Seonghwa with the idea to take a different path on the way home from Kuroku. Even if avoiding the desert would lengthen the trip almost double-fold, he thinks they’ll all be in agreement that they never wish to touch another grain of sand so long as they live.

The wind of the forest is stronger than he’d expected, its brisk chill almost stinging against the sweat that beads along his forehead. He welcomes it, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself. It almost works.

Turning towards the make-shift fire pit, he fashions a ball of flame within his hand, hoping to reignite the campfire. However, upon turning around he finds that the fire he’d started earlier in the evening continues to burn brightly, sparks flying as the large flame contests the sharp wind.

You sit, bundled in a woolen blanket as you cling closely to the fire’s warmth, hand resting on yet another log to feed the flame. You don’t notice him.

Wooyoung attempts to take a quiet step backwards and towards his tent, but the branch that crunches beneath his foot betrays him. Echoing throughout your campsite, he grimaces as your head whirls around, eyes locking with his own almost immediately.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Eventually, it is you who speaks. “I thought you went to sleep.”

Wooyoung doesn’t move, neither closer to his tent or towards the fire. “I did. I woke up.”

You hum at this, gaze drifting from his own and back towards the flames. You toss another log on top of them, and the fire crackles in appreciation, sparks billowing from beneath the wood. They dance around you, the growing flames casting a rich auburn glow over your face. It’s only then that he realizes you’ve been crying.

He swallows deeply, and despite himself, he takes a few steps towards the fire. His mind is not fuzzy per say, the nightmare enough to shock his brain into awareness, but in a way it feels as if he’s still dreaming. As if his body is being led rather than consciously moved.

“What time is it?” He asks, standing before the flames. He extends his hands out to warm them, although he strengthens the fire while doing so, feeds into its energy. It’s not a conscious decision, but instinct. A calling towards the element, a need to wield it. Seonghwa has described his gift the same way.

“A few hours near sunrise, I think” you reply, not looking up at him. Instead, your eyes reflect the flames as he bends them, there’s a certain emptiness to them.

Your eyes have held that emptiness since your run in with the mimic yesterday morning. You haven’t spoken much since then, and as much as Wooyoung wants to pretend he doesn’t, he feels for you.

He gets it, that helplessness. The realization of what horrors you are capable of. The fear that you would do it again.

Or worse, the knowing that you would do it again.

“You couldn’t sleep?” Wooyoung asks, and you laugh, although it’s more of a humourless exhale through your nose.

“I didn’t try,” you reply plainly. He isn’t sure what to say to this, so he remains quiet. After a tense moment, he sighs. He wants to be alone, to bend the flames until his mind slows down to settle back into a weak sort of half-rest. But now you’re here, and that doesn’t appear to be an option.

He can’t bring himself to resent you for it. He thinks that tonight you may need the company of the flames even more than he does.

When you finally speak, your voice is hollow. Defeated. “I killed a person.”

“You killed a mimic,” Wooyoung amends. He knows it won’t ease any of the pain, but he figures it’s worth an attempt. It’s a fact after all. “You killed a monster.”

“He looked like a person,” you reply, before shaking your head. Wooyoung fears you may begin to cry again, but you don’t, simply allow your eyes to fall shut. “He talked and breathed like a person. He bled like a person.”

There was a lot of blood, Wooyoung cannot deny that. Still, the statement rubs him as wrong, and he presses a little harder. “Yes, but he wasn’t a person. He was a monster.”

You don’t acknowledge this. Instead your eyes flicker open once more, staring into his own rather than the flame. “Have you ever killed a person?” You ask, and Wooyoung finds he isn’t surprised by the question. He doesn’t want to answer it, but he isn’t surprised by it.

He also believes the answer is something you should hear.

“I have,” he replies. “But sometimes people are monsters too.”

You blink at this, chewing on the corner of your lip as if mulling over his response, not entirely satisfied. “Does it keep you awake at night?”

Wooyoung does not have to consider the question before answering. “Somewhat,” he says, finally pulling his gaze away from you and up towards the sky, to the blackness hanging above him, to where the faces of his ghosts come alive.  “It’s a part of why I’m awake tonight.”

He thinks you may accept that as answer enough, but you do not. “Talk,” you say softly, and he can feel your eyes still on him even if he can no longer see them. “Tell me about it.”

“With all due respect, Kuroken,” he sighs, shaking his head. “We are not friends. We had an understanding yesterday, a mutual interest. Do not read any more into it than that.”

He thinks you may get angry at his dismissal, but instead you laugh. Genuinely, as if something about what he said was amusing.

“Do not mistake what I say as kindness,” you cut back, bringing your legs upwards and shuffling yourself backwards to lean against the log behind you. A far more comfortable position, as if you’re preparing to be seated there for a while. “I do not wish to comfort you, I wish to comfort myself. I figure since I am hardly more than a stranger, and will be out of your life forever in less than a week, you may be able to grant me that.”

The reasoning is strange, and Wooyoung looks over at you. Eyebrows furrowing together, he scans your expression in search of ill intent, of any falsity. You watch him in return, and your face gives nothing of the sort, only sincerity.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t make you,” you say, accompanied by a small shrug. “I just need a distraction. Maybe someone to relate to.”

If you had asked Wooyoung for anything similar yesterday morning, he would have laughed in your face. He would have told you to piss off, to leave him alone and talk to Seonghwa, or someone else who cared.

But Seonghwa wouldn’t get this, and San wouldn’t either. Neither of them have killed from fury, from unbridled anger and vengeance. Seonghwa doesn’t even kill the beasts they hunt, merely wounds them with his arrows. San does, but not humanoid beasts. Nothing that can speak to him. San had offered for them to kill the mimic yesterday morning, but Wooyoung knows that he would have been the one to do it. He would have been the only one who could.

Well, other than you. You did it, and you did it with a thirst. Passionate hatred, followed by agony.

And for the first time - not only on this trip, but in the years since the orphanage - Wooyoung saw himself in somebody. The darkest part of himself that he pretends does not exist, the part that would burn Jay alive if he had the chance, that sadistically screamed with a vengeance on that fateful night so many years ago. The part that haunts him with the horrors of what he has done, that keeps him awake on nights such as this one, he saw it in you.

It scares him to know that something so dark resides in you. A rich and pampered girl from Kuroku, who has known little of the danger they have all faced, whose mind is somehow a home to a fury so horrid.

It scares him equally as much how it comforts him to know that he is not alone.

“I don’t know, Kuroken,” he says, shaking his head. A part of him doesn’t understand why he doesn’t automatically decline. He does not talk about his dreams, just as he does not talk about his past. Partly due to the fact that he fears digging up old woes may only give them strength, will only cause them to fester. Best to keep the past buried, where only the subconscious of the night can touch them.

However, his avoidance also has to do with the fact that he doesn’t think San or Seonghwa would understand. They don’t carry that darkness with them, that same thirst for vengeance that he does. Seonghwa longs for his home in a way that reminds Wooyoung of a sailor, dreaming for a past land even though the sea carries him in the opposite direction. Even San, who has been wronged in the most horrific and deprecating of ways does not talk of killing Jay, only escaping him.

They would not relate to his history, nor would they respond to it the way Wooyoung wishes them to.

Which perhaps is why he now hesitates. You will relate to his history, to the horrors of his actions, at least a little more than they would. You would also not comfort him, not take his feelings on as your own responsibility the way they would.

His buried past has always been just below the surface, clawing at the dirt above, poking out a greedy hand whenever he has let his guard down. Maybe now is a chance to dig them up without the consequence, without the immense vulnerability. If he tells you now, in a week's time you will be gone, and then he can pretend as if he never did. Maybe then the ghosts will leave him alone, if he finally takes the opportunity to cast them out.

When he begins, he approaches the admission like descending into a free-fall.

“I grew up in one of the Libaiyan elemental orphanages,” he says, practically bracing himself for the spews of sympathy he’ll surely be given. Instead all he receives is silence, and when he glances up at you, he’s met with a bewildered look.

“The…what?” You ask, and he almost laughs. You must be joking.

“Come on,” he starts, raising an eyebrow as he snorts. He’s still not sure if you’re being serious, even as your confused expression does not change. “You said you’ve been working in the Libaiyan castle for the entire summer, surely you must have heard about the orphanages.”

“No,” you begin, hesitant. He’s not sure why, but the statement seems to strike you deeply, as your frown worsens. When you speak, your tone is almost defensive. “They don’t make orphanages strictly for elementals.”

At this he actually does laugh. “They do more than just that,” he replies, and when your frown deepens, jaw opening in something of shock, he pauses. “Do you actually not know what I’m talking about?”

Your lack of response is answer enough. Wooyoung blows out a puff of air through his lips, realizing that this may be more daunting than he’d expected. When people hear “Libaiyan elemental orphanage”, they’re prepared for the horrors they may hear. They know what to expect, and those are details that are anything but pleasant.

“Alright, Kuroken,” he sighs, finally relinquishing his standing position to seat himself beside you. “Brace yourself.”

“Wooyoung, put that back!” Winter spits, although her voice remains a hushed whisper as to not alert the warden. Reaching out to grab the extra breakfast roll, Wooyoung lifts it up and out of her reach. He’s not much taller than her, just the perfect amount that even as she rises onto her tip-toes, the bread remains just out of reach.

Wooyoung chuckles, pulling the bread back down and shoving the entire roll into his mouth. Winter glowers in response, and he laughs through the bite, little pieces of bread flying out with every individual chuckle.

“You’re a pig,” she mumbles, reaching forward to grab her own breakfast roll from The Caf’s counter. She doesn’t mean it, not exactly. After all, the singular breakfast roll they’re permitted is certainly not enough for any growing child. While she criticizes him for taking another one, she doesn’t truly perceive it as gluttony.

Wooyoung knows that she worries for him, she just doesn’t want him to get in trouble… again. He feels a little bad for the amount of stress he puts her through, as he always seems to be in trouble for something or other these days.

“Do you want me to grab you an extra one?” Wooyoung asks, and before she can irritatedly decline, a voice over Wooyoung’s shoulder answers for her.

“What, and drag her down with you on your quest to royally piss off every single warden?”

Wooyoung is already grinning before he turns around to meet the boy's eyes.

Despite his words, Yeonjun is smiling when Wooyoung turn’s to face him, looking down at him with affectionate eyes. Yeonjun is tall for his age, much taller than Wooyoung. It makes Yeonjun’s grey slacks fit better than his do, more fitted to his body compared to the way his own sag slightly. He isn’t sure why, but something about that makes Wooyoung feel lighter, his cheeks warm.

“Hey, I’m making progress,” Wooyoung chirps, walking past Yeonjun to grab a cup of water. It’s made of paper, as to not grant the children any possible weapons should they break them. The cups are also only half-full, so should they choose to wield their gift, there wouldn’t be enough water for them to do any damage, either.

It’s smart, fool-proof. They’ve had over a decade to perfect the system.  

“I think I only have a couple left,” Wooyoung boasts, waiting for Yeonjun and Winter to grab their own cups of water before making his way over to a spare table. “Well, maybe more. This guy is new, I think.”

Wooyoung nods over to the new warden in the far corner of the room. He looks just like the rest of them, adorned fully in white armour, the Libaiyan sigil across his breast-plate. The only way to differentiate him from a regular soldier is the fact that the majority of his face is covered, an embarrassingly large helmet to hide all of his facial features but his eyes.

When he was younger, Wooyoung didn’t understand why they wore that. It looked ridiculous, especially considering they were tasked with watching and disciplining children. Even if they were elementals, it’s not like they were given access to any elements to bend. Well, unless they were more-so air affiliated like Yeonjun, but even then you quickly learned the repercussions of wielding the elements anywhere outside of practice.

Wooyoung now understands that it is to make them look inhumane. Soldiers, not to be mistaken as care-givers, or a replacement to a parent. They are not here to love the children, they are here to shape them. Discipline them, turn them into the soldiers they are meant to be.

It makes Wooyoung feel sick.

“Well, I’m sure it won’t be long until you can check him off your list,” Winter says, and despite the way she rolls her eyes, Wooyoung can detect a certain amount of fondness in her tone.

“That’s the spirit,” Wooyoung grins. Taking a sip of his drink, he reaches forward to try and sneak a bite of her breakfast roll, to which he’s met with the water in his cup spontaneously flying up at him and into his nose.

Spluttering, he pulls his hand away, and Winter giggles to herself. Bringing her own hand - the culprit to the water’s sudden attack - back down, he hadn’t even noticed she’d raised it in the first place. After all, she has to be sneaky about it, if she doesn’t want to get caught. “Nice try,” she snorts, taking a large bite of the roll, wrinkling her nose at him in a teasing fashion.

“Mean,” Yeonjun says, reaching over from his place beside her and ruffling her dark hair. Winter whines, shoving his hand away. Yeonjun often treats her as the child of their trio, even though she’s only a couple months younger than Wooyoung, who is only a few months younger than Yeonjun. As of now they’re even all the same age, thirteen.

Winter despises it when Yeonjun teases her, which Wooyoung finds amusing.

“How are you feeling, by the way?” Yeonjun asks, shifting his attention to Wooyoung. When he raises an eyebrow, Yeonjun clarifies: “It’s the first day of the autumn season.”

Wooyoung groans, having completely forgotten. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbles, dramatically burying his face in his crossed arms resting on the table.

The first day of the autumn season, or in other words, Assessment Day. The day in which the Libaiyan King makes sure all his little soldiers are being bred and trained to perfection. It’s a day of challenges, of performing different functional tasks and sparring against the other orphans.

For most, Assessment Day is gruelling and tiresome. For kids like Wooyoung, who can barely use their gift, it’s utter hell.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll get it this time,” Winter offers. She’s trying to be kind, but Wooyoung just feels patronized.

“Or maybe I’ll sprout wings and fly us all out of here,” he mutters, and he doesn’t miss the concerned glance Yeonjun and Winter share between one another. They’ve been watching him get his ass-kicked and confidence beaten down on Assessment Day for years now, and Wooyoung can tell that they’re starting to feel as dejected as he does.

“It’ll be alright,” Yeonjun says, reaching over and holding Wooyoung’s hand on the table. The gesture makes Wooyoung’s heart beat a little faster. “You could surprise yours-”

Yeonjun isn’t given the chance to finish the sentiment, as he’s cut off by a loud banging noise. The pounding echoes loudly throughout The Caf, the sound bouncing off its thick concrete walls, and Wooyoung’s hands fly up to cover his ears.

“Chit-chat is over!” A voice announces, followed by another fit of banging. Wooyoung turns to find that the source of the noise is the warden, the new guy. Not necessarily a surprise, considering the mallet and miniature gong he holds in his hand is also new. And loud. Wooyoung hopes it doesn’t become a regular presence during breakfast, he’s already not much of a morning person.

“Everyone stand for the pledge of allegiance,” the warden orders, and for a moment nobody moves. Winter raises an eyebrow, casting Wooyoung a wary look. They don’t pledge allegiance to the king in the mornings, only after dinner.

“I’m sorry, you all must not have heard me,” the warden laughs, before banging the mallet against the gong three more deafening times. “Get on your fucking feet.”

They don’t need to be told a third time, as The Caf is immediately filled with the sound of kids shuffling themselves off of the cement benches. Turning towards the Libaiyan flag that hangs in the top corner of the room - a golden sun cast over a stark white background - everyone opens their mouth in unison, prepared to speak.

“Hold on,” the warden says, lifting a hand up in protest, and the entire room hesitates. “There are going to be some new rules around here, I suggest you listen closely, you wouldn’t want to be caught forgetting them.”

Wooyoung frowns. Who is this guy?

“Firstly, we will pledge allegiance three times per day, at every meal. Assessment Day will no longer be at the start of every season, but every month, and we will focus solely on sparring. When you receive an order, you are expected to follow it, immediately and with no questions asked. Disobedience will not be tolerated, and neither will dawdling. You are expected to-”

“Somebody's got a big ego for his first day on the job,” Wooyoung whispers to Yeonjun, who stifles a laugh.

The warden suddenly pauses. He doesn’t even need to scan the room, his eyes land immediately on Wooyoung.

“Jung Wooyoung,” he says, and the boy freezes. How does he already know his name? “Get your ass to the front.”

He doesn’t move, and the warden’s eyes widen, almost crazed. Wooyoung cannot see the rest of his face through the mask, but he can almost hear the smirk in the man’s voice. “What did I just say about dawdling?”

Winter gives him a small nudge from behind, pushing him forward. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him as he makes his way to the front. It doesn’t really bother him, it’s not the first time he’s been reamed out in front of everybody. He’s been yelled at so many times he’s lost count, and received a belt to the wrist enough that the skin is almost permanently bruised.

He’s not ashamed of it, if anything, he’s proud. They can’t break him, he hasn’t let them. He will never let them.

When he gets to the front, the warden places a hand on his shoulder. His touch is gentle, and yet the gesture feels anything but compassionate.

“Jung Wooyoung,” he repeats, tilting his head as his eyes flicker up and down, observing him. “The other warden’s told me about you.”

Wooyoung knows that he shouldn’t say anything, but he can’t help himself. “All praise, I’m sure.”

The warden laughs, but something tells Wooyoung that he doesn’t actually find his words amusing. “They tell me you’re nothing but a brat,” the warden answers, tone almost jovial. “Supposed to have an affinity to fire, yet can barely light a candle. A waste of a good pair of slacks. ”

Wooyoung stiffins, the comment causing a flare of annoyance to light inside of him. “I could say the same about your uniform.”

For a moment, the warden pauses, entire body stilling. Looking Wooyoung in the eye, the elemental cannot quite make out what he’s thinking, but something about the warden’s gaze troubles him. There’s a darkness behind his eyes, something sinister.

Then the warden grabs him by the back of his hair - which is conveniently tied into a short ponytail, perfect for grabbing -and cracks Wooyoung’s nose over his knee.

The shock of the blow is enough for him to let out a gasp, a few seconds passing by before he’s even able to register the pain. Instead, he feels the blood pouring from his nostril, a steady stream that drips down onto his lips.

Hand still gripped in his hair, Wooyoung is pulled harshly towards the warden’s face. The man’s breath smells of something sweet, almost sickly so. Wooyoung focuses on keeping the tears that dwell in his eyes from falling.

“You’ve been lucky to get away with this piss-awful attitude,” the warden grits through his teeth. His voice is drawn low, but the room is so silent that Wooyoung is sure everyone can hear him anyway. “Fortunately, that ends today.”

At this, his grip tightens, yanking Wooyoung away from his face and holding him outwards to look at the rest of the children. The warden grasps him a little too high, so that Wooyoung has to remain on his tip-toes in order to touch the floor. He feels like a doll, a toy haphazardly being tossed around.

“The King is unimpressed with your progress,” he announces to the room, shaking Wooyoung as if he’s an exhibit to his point. “The other warden’s have been going far too easy on you. You are soldiers, not children. They appear to have forgotten that.”

Shoving Wooyoung forward, the sudden loss of his grip as him stumbling, crashing down onto the cement floor. His knees burn at the impact, skin stinging through the newly-formed holes in his slacks. He grimaces.

“That is why I’m here,” the warden continues, tone almost proud. “Today, I take matters into my own hands, in the name of your true lord.”

Wooyoung turns backwards, eyes locking with the warden’s. The man does not look away.

“Today, the formation of the new army finally begins.”

“Maybe they’ll match you up against Felix  next,” Winter says, gently wrapping a bandage around Wooyoung’s freshly burnt wrist. It stings and Wooyoung can’t help but wince, to which she casts him an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, he can barely form a gentle breeze,” Yeonjun adds, giving Wooyoung a pat on the back. It doesn’t reassure him, it just hurts. He’s really fucking sore.

“They aren’t going to pin me against Felix,” Wooyoung murmurs, shaking his head. “If you haven’t noticed, they only pair people up with the same affinity.”

And because Wooyoung is just so damn lucky, that means he’s paired with those of the fire affinity. Or in other words, the most painful affinity.

He doesn’t think it’s fair, mostly because it’s a joke to even say he has an affinity to fire. It’d be more accurate to say he has an affinity to nothing. Hell, he’s barely even an elemental. He can light a candle on a good day, he’s no more useful than a flint and steel.

It also doesn’t help that Winter and Yeonjun are both extremely talented in their respective areas. Winter has an affinity to water, especially in its frozen form, it’s how she got her nickname. Wooyoung’s seen her lift about a ton of ice from a frozen pond, which had even the supervising warden impressed.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun is talented in basically all elements. He can light a fire out of thin air, redirect a rushing stream, or even separate a rock clean into two. The wardens only labeled him under the affinity of air because it’s undoubtedly his greatest strength. Watching him spar is like watching the wind blow, he has an unmatched elegance, using the breeze to increase his speed and strength behind his strikes.

Wooyoung wishes he was like that. He wishes he could simply light a torch, or strengthen a flame. He wishes the word “gifted” applied to him, because “fraud” is beginning to feel more and more appropriate.

It’s been three months since the new warden showed up, meaning three Assessment Days have come and gone, meaning Wooyoung has gotten his ass handed to him enough times that he’s even been tempted to pray to the gods for a miracle. Well, not a miracle, more so a chance to actually use the gift they supposedly gave him.

“Jung,” a voice pipes up from outside the medical tent, and Wooyoung already knows who it is before turning to face him. Nobody else calls him that.

The warden - or Warden, as they’ve taken to referring to him as based on the fact that he is clearly a level above the rest of them - stands in the entry-way with his mask and thick white armour, arms crossed. “Get in the ring, you’re up next.”

“But he just finished a match!” Winter protests, placing a hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder defensively. Warden chuckles.

“Get in the ring, Jung,” he repeats, shaking his head. “Don’t drag your friends that are actually competent down with you.”

While Wooyoung doesn’t see eye to eye with Warden on much, he does agree that he doesn’t want Winter getting into any trouble on his account. Gently removing Winter’s hand from his shoulder, he gives her a small smile before following Warden out of the tent. Both her and Yeonjun trail after them, keeping their fair-share of distance so as to not irritate Warden.

“Who am I sparring with?” Wooyoung asks, and Warden’s hand falls onto his shoulder, painting the illusion of comfort. He does his best not to flinch, Warden always does this before he’s about to announce something awful. Wooyoung braces himself, maybe he’ll be forced to spar with Taehyun again, his leg is still healing from the burn marks from over a month ago.

“Me,” Warden answers, and Wooyoung stills, feet rendered imobile as his entire body freezes. Warden stops with him, as if he’d expected it.

“What?” Wooyoung asks, and he hates the way his voice shakes, a mixture of both shock and fear. “But that’s not part of the rules-”

“The rules are that we match you together based on your affinities,” Warden explains, leaning in a little closer. His eyes bare into Wooyoung’s, an icy shade of pale blue that feels almost inhuman. “As far as I’m concerned, you don’t have an affinity. Which means I’m the only one here you can spar with. Isn’t that fair?”

Wooyoung doesn’t respond. Warden finally removes his hand from the boy’s shoulder, making his way towards the ring. Wooyoung can’t bring his feet to move.

Warden twists around, blue eyes glinting in the reflection of the fallen snow. “Come on, Jung. Let’s get this over with.”

“He’s a fucking tool,” Yeonjun spits, wrapping a bandage around Wooyoung’s finger. Wooyoung winces, biting hard on his lower lip in hopes of distracting himself from the pain. He’s sure to keep his gaze on Yeonjun’s face, as the horrific angle at which his finger is bent is too sickening to look at.

“We’ve done little to no sword training, and yet he thinks it’s funny to take you on like that in front of anyone? What a prick,” Yeonjun continues. He’s practically fuming, and Wooyoung isn’t sure if he’s ever seen him like this. Maybe when Winter stole his family ring during a particularly bad spat between them a few years ago, but even then he calmed down pretty quick after they sorted it out.

“It’s fine,” Wooyoung says, even though he doesn’t mean it. He’s fuming inside, and frankly doesn’t understand why he’s trying to console Yeonjun considering he is the one with the broken finger. He just doesn’t like seeing Yeonjun upset.

“It’s not fine,” Yeonjun says, gaze flying upwards from the bandages to meet Wooyoung’s own. “Someone should teach him a lesson.”

Wooyoung knows that he’s being sincere, but he can’t help but snort at that. “Who, you?”

“Why not me?” Yeonjun asks, taking his words as a challenge. “If he took off that armour I could beat him in a fight. I could beat him using just one element.”

“And then what?” Wooyoung asks, giving him a sad smile. “Get beaten to death by the other wardens for defiance?”

“Well for you maybe it would be worth it,” Yeonjun grumbles. Wooyoung knows that he’s just mad, that he doesn’t really mean it, but he wishes Yeonjun wouldn’t say things like that. Half because it hurts him, half because it makes his chest swell in a way he can’t explain.

Wooyoung doesn’t say this, instead settling for silence as Yeonjun finishes wrapping his finger. He watches as Yeonjun’s eyebrows draw together in deeper concentration, full lips pouting absently.

“There,” Yeonjun says suddenly, breaking him from his thoughts. “All better.”

Finally looking back down at his hand, he isn’t sure if he agrees with the sentiment. The wrapping is by no means professional, as well as uneven in places. But considering he wasn’t permitted to visit the medical tent after the fight, it’s the best that he can ask for. After all, it does look better, not perfect, but also not noticeably crooked or coated in blood.

Wooyoung stares at the bandage, flipping his hand over and then back again. Then he looks up at Yeonjun, and the words are out of his mouth before he can contemplate them.

“What if we escaped?”

Yeonjun looks back at him, eyes wide in surprise. “What?” He asks through a laugh, assuming that he’s joking.

Except Wooyoung is not joking. Looking out the window to his right, the moon shines brightly upon them. It’s a beautifully clear night for the middle of winter, especially in southern Burovia, where the weather tends to be more extreme. “What if we took off in the middle of the night?”

“They’d kill us, Wooyoung,” Yeonjun says, voice soft. He’s not angry in his disagreement, but gentle, as if he wishes he had Wooyoung’s spark. “They have guards stationed all over the grounds, you know that.”

“But what if we really planned it out?” Wooyoung continues, rising to his feet and moving over to the window. His mouth is moving faster than his thoughts. Until now, he’d never even considered deserting, but now that he’s speaking he can’t believe he dreamed of anything but leaving. Overthrowing the wardens is an impossible task, but escaping them? Now with that they may have a shot.

“If we figured out which areas are the least guarded, which hallway has the quietest floorboards to tread over. We could search for which warden has a trick knee, or maybe a weak ankle. You even said you could take out the strongest warden with just one element, surely you could take out a few weaker ones with all four!”

“Okay, wait, slow down,” Yeonjun says, placing a steadying hand down on his shoulder. “Are you being serious?”

Wooyoung whirls around to face him, mimicking the gesture by placing his own hand on Yeonjun’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. “I’ve never been more serious.”

For a moment, Yeonjun remains silent. Eyes flickering over Wooyoung’s features, he opens his mouth to say something, before snapping his lips shut as if deciding better. He tries again, and this time his tone is hesitant. “I think it’s an awful idea. But if you are going to leave, I’ll come with you.”

Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrow together at this. “If you think it’s stupid then don’t come, Jun. I’m not forcing you.”

“I know you’re not,” Yeonjun replies, almost a little too quickly. Once again, he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. Wooyoung feels a jolt of annoyance.

“If you’ve got something to say, then just say it,” he says, crossing his arms. “I don’t get why you have this constant need to protect me. I can take care of myself, whether you come or not, so don’t feel obligated-”

“I don’t feel obligated,” Yeonjun cuts in, tone serious, and Wooyoung eyes him carefully. When Yeonjun’s eyes meet his own, the older one does not look away. “But you’re right that I want to protect you.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Why? I know I can’t use my gift and that makes me useless by yours and Winter’s standards, but I’m not some helpless-”

He’s cut off by Yeonjun’s lips placing themselves on his own.

Wooyoung blinks, eyes practically glued to Yeonjun’s nose-bridge as he can not bring himself to move. Entire body frozen, he attempts to get the gears in his mind to start turning again, the entire system momentarily on lock-down.

Until now, he’d never been kissed before. He’d imagined it, certainly. Not really with anyone in particular, but rather just what it may be like. He knew it was supposed to be nice, having overheard some of the older kids who were emitted to the orphanage in their teenage years talk about it before, but he didn’t really understand why.

Why would shoving your lips against another person’s be pleasant? In fact, the thought of his tongue being anywhere near someone else’s was utterly repulsing. As far as Wooyoung was concerned, saliva should be reserved to a person’s own mouth, and nowhere else. Spit was considered indecent, so why would people voluntarily ingest it.

But now, as Yeonjun places his hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder in order to pull him closer, he guesses it sort of makes sense.

Closing his eyes, he attempts to reciprocate this kiss. He feels a bit awkward, focusing too much on what his own lips are doing, almost self-conscious. His arms hang inept at his side, and he wishes he had some sort of clue for what to do with them.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds before Yeonjun pulls away. When he does, it takes Wooyoung a moment to open his eyes again. He finds that Yeonjun is already looking at him. There is a small smile on his face, almost amused, but not quite. Affectionate, perhaps.

“It’s not that I think you couldn’t do it without me, Wooyoung. I know you’re fully capable,” he murmurs, hand gently squeezing Wooyoung’s shoulder. “It’s that I can’t stand the thought of being left here without you.”

Wooyoung doesn’t know what to say, as his tongue has apparently decided to lose its ability to form words, so he simply nods.

“It’s dangerous,” Yeonjun continues. “Incredibly stupid, but if you really want to do this, I’m coming along. Whether you like it or not.”

“I like it,” Wooyoung replies dumbly, and Yeonjun lets out a breathy chuckle. The boy may only be a few months older than Wooyoung, but at this moment Wooyoung feels about a million years younger. Yeonjun has always been so confident in everything he does, in combat practice and in conversation. Even now, after taking such a leap of faith, he appears unphased. Maybe a little giddy, yes, but not nervous or afraid.

Wooyoung tries to be the same way, but for him it feels like pretending, like he’s putting on an act. He wishes that one day he’ll hold that same sort of natural sureness that currently makes his own heart race a little too quickly.

“We’ll have to talk to Winter, get her on board,” Yeonjun says, pursing his lips in thought. After a moment he sighs, shaking his head. “She is not going to like this.”

“We’ll convince her,” Wooyoung assures him, before shrugging. “When does she like any of our ideas at first, anyway?”

Yeonjun laughs at this. His gaze drifts out the window, the smallest hint of a smile settling on his lips. Hand suddenly reaching out, his fingers intertwine themselves with Wooyoung’s own, who clumsily accepts them.

“Alright,” Yeonjun breathes, and his tone is playful. Teasing, as he squeezes Wooyoung’s hand. “You better not get us all killed.”

It’s two months after the night Yeonjun kissed him that they escape the orphanage. Two months of planning their escape route, of sneaking out to test the floorboards in the middle of the night, and nearly getting caught a handful of times. Of observing the different wardens to check for any physical flaws, discovering one with a trick knee and another with the slightest hint of limp. Of analyzing their posture and stature in order to figure out which warden is placed on watch duty at the gate of the east entrance, so they can plan which night the weakest will be on guard.

Two months of making sure that their escape plan is foolproof, that there is no possibility for failure.

And as of now, it seems that their persistence has paid off.

An hour outside of the orphanage gates, the forest stands thick around them. Guided by the light of the moon, as well as the ball of fire within Yeonjun’s palm, they creep quietly across the beaten forest past. They aren’t sure where exactly they’re going, never taught the geography of Burovia - or of anything outside of the orphanage’s walls - but they hope that if they follow the path long enough they’ll wind up somewhere more populated.

“I think I hear something,” Winter whispers, grabbing Yeonjun’s arm from out in front of her and pulling him back, before casting Wooyoung a worried glance.

“It’s just the wind, or maybe a squirrel or something.” Yeonjun assures her, chuckling as he pulls his arm free. “You’re being too paranoid. We’ve done it.”

“We haven’t done it,” she argues, although she does start walking again in order to continue after him. “They could still find the guards in the bush and come after us, or check our sleeping quarters. They could be following us right now.”

Yeonjun had been right, Winter did not want to do this. When they first approached her with the idea, she’d told them that they were both insane and that she would have no part in their madness. However, after about a month of Wooyoung and Yeonjun planning their escape, she must have begun to feel left out. Or better, scared that they may go through with it, and then she would be left behind.

Wooyoung feels a little bad for dragging her into this, especially considering it had been his idea, but he knows that at the end of the day she wants this just as bad as they do. It’s been years since they entered the orphanage together, eight to be exact, and they’ve all been forced to deal with the warden’s cruelty. The unyielding obedience, the severe punishment. Just last month Winter was locked in the watch-tower for three days after being a few minutes late to breakfast, and thus the pledge of allegiance.

Wooyoung cannot wait to never pledge that stupid oath again in his life. Maybe the three of them will develop a new oath, one that pledges to never stop seeking vengeance on the King of Libaiya for what he did to them.

“It’ll snow within the next few hours, I’m sure you can feel it,” Yeonjun reasons, raising a hand to let the wind trickle between his fingers. “That will cover our footprints. We’ll be fine.”

Winter doesn’t say anything in response, chewing nervously on her lower lip as her gaze scans the underbrush, barron in its frozen state. “Something just feels off, like it was too easy.”

“That’s because we planned it,” Wooyoung says, teasing. “Did you want it to be difficult?”

“No, I did not want it to be difficult,” Winters spits, as if it is the most brainless thing she’s ever heard. Then she sighs, arms wrapping around herself, more from fear than the cold.  “I just… don’t you think it should have been?”

As if on cue, an arrow flies out from the forest, lodging itself deeply within her shoulder.

Winter lets out a scream, one loud enough that Wooyoung would normally wish to cover his ears, if it weren’t for the sudden ringing that blares through them. Winter stumbles backwards a few steps, eyes blown-out wide as she stares in shock at the wound.

“You’re a clever girl,” a voice speaks out from the forest. A voice Wooyoung knows, with an arrogant tone that has practically embedded itself in his mind. His heart stops. “So much potential. Unfortunate how you got yourself wrapped up in the wrong crowd.”

Warden steps out of the bush, white armour gleaming in the moonlight cast down from above the tree’s canopy, like a king standing atop the equally stark white snow.

“No,” Wooyoung thinks, mind fogging in a haze of shock and horror. “No, no, no.”

Warden is not alone, as almost a dozen other sets of white armour walk out behind him. One of them has a bow in hand, the obvious culprit of the arrow. They filter out of the forest like ants, swarming out around them in a semi-circle, so that if they were to run it would be directly back in the direction of the orphanage.

“I knew you were pathetic, Jung. But deserting?” Warden says, piercing eyes watching him through the mask. “This is a new level of low, even for you.”

Wooyoung opens his mouth to defend himself, but Yeonjun speaks before he has the chance. “Piss off,” he spits, the ball of flame in his hand sparking higher, a testament to his rising anger.

“And you,” Warden begins, eyes drifting from Wooyoung to land on Yeonjun. “You are talented, you actually fulfill the word gifted. And yet you decided to throw it all away for your useless little boyfriend?”

Now this catches Yeonjun off guard, jaw hanging open slightly, eyes widening as if caught.  “H-how did you-”

“You think I didn’t know?” Warden cuts him off, before laughing to himself, a borderline insane sound. “Do you actually think I’m not aware of every little thing that goes on in those walls? In my walls?”

Yeonjun’s lack of response seems to be answer enough, and Warden continues.

“Do you think you actually got away with sneaking through the halls around the sleeping quarters every night? That I didn’t notice the creaking floorboards? Or that I didn’t see you eyeing the wardens, whispering to one another after noticing Carter’s limp?”

Carter. It’s strange, that’s the first time Wooyoung has heard one of their real names. It almost feels too human.

“Did you really think I started putting the two weakest guards together on the least secure gate every Monday night just out of stupidity?”

Wooyoung swallows hard, a sob arising thickly in his throat. They messed up. He messed up, dragging them into this, for thinking they ever could have outwit Warden.

They were just kids, trying to play a grown-up game. Now they’ve lost.

“I knew everything, I know everything, and I will always know everything that happens within my walls,” Warden says, hand suddenly drifting to the sword against his hip, grip tightening on its hilt. “And don’t worry, your attempt at escape will not be pointless. I’ll bring your bodies back to the quarters, send a message to any others who are harbouring any similar ideas.”

At this he raises a hand, snapping his fingers before pointing forward, clearly a non-verbal command as the rest of the wardens begin to move behind him, creeping towards them slowly. Warden stands tall, gaze darting between the three of them, sharp and analytical.

It’s not until now that Wooyoung truly acknowledges how powerful he seems. Aside from his hatred toward the horrible cruelty of the man, he radiates an undeniable sense of command. Wooyoung wonders what his place used to be within the king's army, perhaps a lieutenant or even a captain. He wonders why he left, how he ended up here.

It doesn’t really matter, he’ll never have the chance to find out.

The wardens each unsheath their sword, and Wooyoung finds himself taking a step back. He’s entirely useless, no weapons or magic of his own to fight with. They tried to take a sword from one of the guards, but considering it both weighed a ton and none of them knew how to wield it, it seemed redundant.

Now he wishes they did, at least then he’d have the illusion of being able to defend himself. Maybe he was wrong for getting annoyed at Yeonjun for always feeling the need to protect him, because as of now, he needs it.

Winter raises a shaky hand, attached to the arm that is not currently impelled. Taking a closer look, it doesn’t seem too bad. Well, not exactly. It looks horrible, the arrow sticking out from the edge of her shoulder, but it doesn’t appear to be fatal, as even the amount of blood is limited.

Wooyoung wants nothing more than to rush over to her and check if she’s okay, but something tells him any sudden movements are only going to set the warden’s quicker in motion.

Yeonjun, fortunately, doesn’t have to move much to begin causing damage. Bringing both hands up from his side, he summons a ball of flame in one, before using the other to blow a gust of wind behind it. A sort of make-shift flamethrower, a few wardens take a step back from the flame, as it spreads in a thick line before them.

Meanwhile, although Winter’s abilities are limited due to only having one hand, she begins to use her water affinity to its advantage. The snow around them begins to lift, like a massive white blanket flying above the ground, floating upwards until it hovers at eye-level. Then she clenches her fist, and it all rushes towards them, like a terrifying blizzard limited to only a few seconds.

And Yeonjun does not waste a single one of them.

When he approaches the wardens, it’s like a gust of wind whirling between buildings, sharply twisting and turning with a grace that could only be gifted by the god of the air. When he strikes a warden, it’s less with his fist, and more the gust of wind emitted from it, causing them to fly backwards as if thrown by something far stronger.

Blinded by Winter’s blizzard, the wardens are terribly thrown off, and Yeonjun handles them with ease. They drop like flies, or better, dominos that tumble down one after the other.

It strikes Wooyoung in this moment just how powerful they are. Not him, obviously, but Yeonjun and Winter. The elemental children, just two of them able to take down a dozen armed soldiers. Even if he hates the Libaiyan King for his lack of humanity, he can understand his desperation to cultivate an army from them. Even if there are only a few as powerful as Yeonjun, that is all it would take to create a force that is incredibly dangerous. Indestructible.

Warden stands amidst the center of them, neck twisting back and forth as watches his comrades drop around him. He’s clearly surprised, ego too big to have anticipated his entire force being taken down by two kids, even if elementals. Wooyoung can’t fully blame him though, Yeonjun has never gone full out in the Assessment Day duels, he’s never had to.

Warden crouches down, so that he stands stable on bent knees, likely to improve his balance as well as steady himself to the ground. It surprises Wooyoung as Warden slips his sword back into his sheath, instead opting to hold both hands out in front of him, watching as Yeonjun darts around them.

It all makes sense, however, as in the blink of an eye the warden swings, his fist making perfectly-timed contact with Yeonjun’s jaw. The strength of the punch is multiplied greatly by the speed at which he was traveling, and the elemental stumbles backwards. Tripping over his feet as he doesn’t manage to withhold his balance, he falls backwards into the snow.

However, what surprises Wooyoung is the sharp “crack” that follows Yeonjun’s head hitting the ground.

There’s a thick moment of silence as everything seems to stop moving. Minutes pass by, but to Wooyoung it feels more like hours. Even Warden remains still, hand having drifted back down to his sword’s sheath, although he doesn’t remove it. They all watch as they wait for Yeonjun to either let out a pained groan or miraculously rise to his feet.

Neither happens, and Wooyoung’s feet are in motion before he can even contemplate the safety of rushing closer towards the wardens.

None of them move to attack him, perhaps equally as curious as he rushes to Yeonjun’s side. The boy lays on his back, head tilted to face away from Wooyoung. Wooyoung can now see that his head had landed on a rock, neck tilted at an odd angle as he’s almost lifted up from the rest of his body.

“Jun,” Wooyoung says, giving his shoulder a small shake. Yeonjun doesn’t respond. “Jun?” He says again, this time with more uncertainty.

Shaky hands extending outwards, he gently takes Yeonjun’s chin in his, tilting his head over to face him.

Wooyoung wishes that he hadn’t.

Yeonjun looks at him, except that he doesn’t. His eyes are open, but they show no recognition. Well, not only a lack of recognition, but a lack of thought. They’re completely empty, and Wooyoung feels his heart sink, dropping into his stomach as his entire body freezes, throat seizing.

“Jun?” He says again, hoarse through the way his throat closes, unable to get a real breath in. Shaking him a little harder, his body moves with Wooyoung’s touch, putting up no sort of protest, like a doll being jostled back and forth. “Jun!”

Wooyoung lifts his head up in both hands, and that’s when he feels the blood. Hot and thick all over his fingers, as well as the rock and snow beneath him, its metallic stench floods his nose. Despite the way it repulses him, he can’t bring himself to let go, Yeonjun’s head almost vibrating as he clenches it within his shaky hands.

Leaning forward, he connects his lips with the boy's own, hoping that somehow it may breathe life back into him. That the gods may see two of their supposed “gifted” suffering, and grant them a second chance. A chance to live outside of the walls of the orphanage, as something other than a machine created for slaughter. To go to a real school, to eat a real meal. To love one another freely.

Instead, Yeonjun’s lips are cold and stiff. They do not move to accept his own.

Wooyoung pulls away, staring down at his best friend’s cold face, and he can’t bring himself to look away. They are too young for this. He is too young to feel this loss. Yeonjun is too young to be dying. To be dead.

Wooyoung clutches him tightly, trying to take in the last remnants of warmth within Yeonjun’s skin before the cold robs it from him completely. Just a moment ago he’d been breathing. He’d been thriving, mastering the winds and commanding the earth. Yeonjun was impenetrable, and yet in just a matter of seconds, he’d been taken from him. A cruel twist of fate.

Wooyoung’s grief tears through him, like lightning rushing through his veins and erupting from his mouth in the form of a scream. A lament of anger, of fury and anguish and loss. His eyes scrunch shut, tears simultaneously welling and falling, dripping down onto Yeonjun’s face.

He wants to hurt them. He wants vengeance, thirsts for it. He wants the wardens surrounding him to feel the same suffering as he does now.

He wants them to die.

With his agony the forest around them erupts into flame.

When Wooyoung awakens, he is facing the sky. Eyes bleary, he blinks a few times, only then recognizing the blackness above him as the night, it’s face freckled with stars. His body feels sore, head fuzzy, and he struggles to sit himself upwards, muscles aching in protest.

However, his mind comes rushing back to him when he catches sight of the forest around him. Or well, what was the forest.

The once snowy landscape has been transformed into a barren waste-land. The grass which hadn’t been visible for months is now painted a stark black, the trees horribly chared as smoke wafts up from the few closest to him, obviously dead. The underbrush of the forest no longer exists, all the previous bushes and shrubs the wardens had been hiding behind reduced to piles of soot and ash.

The wardens. They fare no better, their bodies scattered in what is an almost perfect semi-circle. Their armour remains in-tact, although it glows in a fearsome molten hugh, the smell of burnt flesh hanging thick in the air. They were fried from the inside, trapped by the very armour sworn to protect them.

Wooyoung swallows hard. Did he… did he do this?

He must have, and yet it doesn’t feel possible. Trying to ignore the sickening feeling that pools within his stomach, he shakily rises to his feet, before hearing the sound of crying in the distance. It’s familiar, and he quickly recognizes it to be Winter.

Heading towards the noise, he sees her nestled by a tree, clutching onto something as she sobs. Walking past the fallen bodies of the wardens, he startles as something grabs onto his ankle, pulling him down. He stumbles but manages not to fall, whirling his head around to find Warden laid out on the ground.

Warden looks up at him, and the area around his eyes is seared, the remnants of his skin a bright and awful shade of red, accompanied by sickening blisters bulging with yellow puss.

Although even amidst the damage, his eyes remain intact, those inhuman blue bulbs staring back at Wooyoung, almost through him. Warden doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to.

Then his eyes dull, and Wooyoung knows that he is dead.

Despite himself, he kneels down, reaching forward for Warden’s mask. It sears Wooyoung’s hands as he grabs it, skin practically sizzling, but he forces himself to endure it. Riggling it from the man’s head, he haphazardly discards it onto the grass.

Warden’s face is badly burnt. Not as horrifically so as his eyes, which had directly been touched by the flames, but enough that his skin swells. Cheeks and chin puffy, all painted that same blazing red hue.

Even so, Wooyoung can somewhat tell what he looked like. Not if he was handsome or fearsome or princely, but at the very least, he can decipher that he was young. With a defined jawline but full cheeks, as well as tight rather than wrinkled skin. Very young, likely having just reached his second decade.

It makes Wooyoung feel ill, bile rising thick in the back of throat. He swallows it down, forcing his gaze away from Warden and back onto his feet. He does not let himself look back.

When he reaches Winter, he rests himself down beside her. She sits atop her knees, fists clenched tightly around the fabric of Yeonjun’s shirt, who she has laid against the tree before her. Wooyoung can’t read her expression, as it’s covered by a tangled curtain of black hair that hangs over her face, but he imagines it as sorrowful as he feels. The arrowhead is still embedded in her shoulder, but the staff has been burnt off. She seems alright otherwise, having her own ability to have protected herself from the flames, which grants Wooyoung immense relief.

However, when Wooyoung’s gaze drifts from Winter to Yeonjun, he chokes on his own breath.

Yeonjun’s face is perfectly visible, although completely unrecognizable. Wooyoung wouldn’t even have known it was him had he not witnessed everything that had happened. Yeonjun’s eyes are now shut, so swollen it appears that they’d almost been sewn that way. His skin bubbles in that same sickening fashion, and his grey slacks are completely scolded, the mere remnants being what Winter currently clutches within her fists. All of his hair is gone, the skin of his head bare and equally as blistered.

Wooyoung turns his face away from both Yeonjun and Winter. This time he actually does vomit, both from the harrowing sight as well as the revulsion towards his own actions.

“You did this,” Winter whispers, so quietly that Wooyoung can barely hear her.

“I know,” he replies, voice shaky. Running both hands through his hair he attempts to steady himself, but he feels the panic rising hot in his throat, rattling around in his head. “I-I didn’t mean to, I don’t even know how-”

“No,” Winter cuts him off, shaking her head back and forth.  “I mean everything. All of this is your fault.”

“Winter…”

“Yeonjun never wanted to go,” she says, the words spoken through a sudden sob that blubbers her words. “He knew it was a horrible idea, but he said he couldn’t let you do it alone.”

“I-I didn’t…” He begins again, only to find he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to defend himself, because surely he cannot be blamed for all of this. For Yeonjun’s death, for the bodies that surround them, for the thick stench of death and burnt flesh that hangs in the air.

But in the end, who is left alive but him?

Only Winter, who wanted nothing to do with this. Who had begged them not to go through with it, who knew they’d never succeed and that it would only bring them trouble.

He should have listened to her, when earlier tonight she asked them to go back. He should have listened to Yeonjun when he told him it was a terrible idea a myriad of times these last few months.

He should have listened to Warden, who knew that he was useless before anyone else.

“He loved you,” she says quietly, grip tightening against the remnants of his shirt. She shakes her head, letting out another sob, although she clearly tries to withhold it for the sake of her anger. “We both loved you, and this is what we get for it?”

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung whispers, and he is crying too. Tears streaming down his face, he places a hand on Winter’s shoulder, attempting to comfort her. “I’m so sorry.”

She doesn't shove him away, but doesn’t accept the gesture either. Wooyoung remembers the time a few of the older boys tore up her doll - the one thing she had left of her parents - a few years back. Wooyoung held her as she cried for hours, while Yeonjun went out into the training yard and beat the shit out of them.

That’s how it had always been, the three of them. They were each other's family, all they had. Now Yeonjun is gone, and Winter stiffens at his hand on her shoulder, as if he were nothing more than a stranger, or even an enemy.

“Get out of here, Wooyoung,” she whispers.

“What?” He asks, confused.

“Get out of here!” She repeats, and this time it is in the form of a scream. Shoving his hand from her shoulder, she finally turns to face him, and when she does Wooyoung lets out an involuntary gasp.

Her skin is also burnt and blistered. Not as horrifically as Yeonjun’s and the wardens, but enough so that her pale complexion burns red, skin peeling around her cheeks. Her hands are also burnt, and now that he looks closer, he can see that her own grey slacks are spotted with blackened holes.

Winter had never excelled with controlling fire.

“I don’t want to see you again,” she whispers, pursing her lips together to withhold another sob. “Never come back here.”

He knows he shouldn’t say anything, that he should just leave, but he can’t help himself. Worry for her turns and twists within his gut. “Winter, you aren’t going back there are you-”

“It’s none of your business whether I stay or go!” She answers. Her eyes linger on his for a dreaded silent moment. It’s only seconds, but for Wooyoung it feels like days. It’s a moment he’ll replay in his mind in the years to come, in the dead of the night, those dark eyes bearing into his own with a wretched misery.

It’s the moment she gave up on him. The moment she stopped loving him.

“I hate you,” she whispers, finally looking away. Her gaze turns back to Yeonjun, and she pulls the remnants of his shirt upwards, burying her face in it. It’s covered in ash, but she doesn’t seem to care. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” she mutters through her sniffles and sobs.

Wooyoung feels numb. Forcing himself to rise from his knees and back onto his feet, he gets one last look of Winter clutching onto Yeonjun’s destroyed body. The two people he loves more than anything, destroyed by his own hubris, by his own stupidity. For what may be the first and only time in his life, he mutters a prayer beneath his breath, hoping that at least one of the gods may hear him. That they’ll watch over Winter, now that he and Yeonjun cannot.

Then he walks. He walks down the forest trail, even as the smoke that hangs in the air burns his eyes and stings his nostrils, even as Winter’s sobs fade away and are replaced by the sound of wind gently rustling through the forest trees. Even as a village appears before him, the only populated place that Wooyoung has seen outside the orphanage in almost a decade.

“Gloria” the sign outside of the town reads in thick bold lettering.

Wooyoung heads inside.

There’s a dense moment of silence that follows after Woo finishes speaking. You aren’t sure what to say, and perhaps he thinks that’s due to the horrors that he has told you, the shock of what he’d been through. What does a person say after someone tells them they’ve experienced something so dreadful?

Which is partially true, yes. Your heart aches for him, in a way you never could have anticipated towards the elemental, but that is not what renders you speechless.

It’s that the source of his terror, the founder of the orphanage and the employer of Warden, the one searching to create this “new army” of elementals… was your father.

Your head swims at the thought. Why would he want to do that? How could he do something so monstrous, so inhumanely cruel? When did he arrange this, and how could you possibly not know about it?

It’s insane, and it makes you want to almost not believe the elemental. It seems impossible that your kingdom - your family - could do something so horrifically elaborate and you be completely unaware.

But you do believe him. Despite how you don’t want to, despite the image of how kind your father had been during the earlier years of your childhood, it doesn’t strike you as impossible that he would do something like this. It doesn’t even strike you as dubious, which makes your stomach turn in disgust.

“So yeah,” Woo starts, albeit a bit awkwardly. “If you ever feel bad for killing one monster, remember that I killed a dozen men.”

“You didn’t mean to,” you offer. “Not really.”

He shakes his head. “No. But I’d do it again if I had the choice,” he says, voice soft, reminiscent. He looks up at the sky, at the smoke wafting from the fire and up towards the stars. “I think I’m supposed to regret it, that it should eat me up inside and keep me awake at night or something. It doesn’t. They deserved it.”

You pause on this. You don’t judge him, in fact, you understand. You also think they deserved it. Still, you don’t quite believe him. “But you’re awake tonight.”

“Not really because of them,” he says quietly, the very corners of his lips curving upwards into a small, sad smile. “Because of Yeonjun and Winter. What happened to them, it’s my fault.”

“You couldn’t have known what would happen,” you reason, and it’s true. Woo shouldn’t blame himself, there’s no way he could have anticipated something that horrific. Yeonjun’s death was a freak accident, an unlucky fall.

“No, but I think I always knew it wouldn’t end well,” Woo says, and for a split second you think you see his eyes glisten, reflecting brightly in the light of the fire. “Even if I wanted to think we could do it, a part of me knew it wouldn’t work. That little bit of cynicism that those orphanages beat into you, it’s that same part of my friends that tried to convince me not to go through with it. Deep down I knew it wouldn’t work, that they would stop us, but I still dragged them along with me. I just wanted to be able to say I tried.”

Woo laughs to himself, a sad sound. He blinks, and the glistening of his eyes exits in the form of a single tear, sliding down his cheek. He doesn’t bother to wipe it away.

“Well, I tried,” he says, voice plain. “But I’ll never escape it. It will never leave me.”

The silence that follows is thick. Dense, difficult to wade through. “I’m sorry,” you say, and it sounds lame. Feeble.

Woo does not treat it as such. “Thanks,” he says, before finally looking away from the sky to meet your eyes. His expression is surprisingly gentle. “I’m sorry you had to kill something, but I’m far more sorry that you feel guilty for it. Guilt is the heaviest thing for a person to carry.”

If only he knew how guilty you really are.

“My real name’s Wooyoung,” he says softly. It’s a surprise to you, as neither San nor Seonghwa have mentioned it before. “I don’t let anyone call me that anymore. I can’t stand it. Can only hear it in their voices.”

You nod and he sighs. Pursing his lips, he gives you a small nod, before turning his gaze back to the fire. He appears done with the conversation, but you aren’t, not quite yet.

“San and Seonghwa,” you start, hesitant. “Do they know?”

Woo smiles. “No, not really. I’ve never told Seonghwa about any of it. San knows about the orphanage, and he knows about Yeonjun and Winter, but nothing of what happened to them.”

Your chest tightens at that. “Why don’t you tell them?”

Woo laughs, as if something about what you said is funny. “Because,” he begins, looking back over at you, as if the answer is obvious. When you don’t respond, he sighs. “If I tell them, Seonghwa is going to get that look on his face that says: ‘I need to fix this’,  and then offer to take some of the pain himself. Which is bound to piss me off, because why the fuck would I want him to feel this too?”

“And San…” He continues, trailing off. Clenching his hands in and out, he seems almost pained, and the fire twists and sparks with his struggle. “He’ll look at me like I’m broken. He’ll treat me like I’m going to shatter. I just… I don’t think I could handle that.”

You frown, but you get it. Woo has a lot of pride, has acted as if he’s indestructible since the moment you met him. This is the first time he’s told you anything otherwise.

Yet, while he may expect that to make you pity him, it only makes you respect him far more than you ever had.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think San will treat you any different.”

Woo almost chuckles, a brief laugh through his nose. “No, you will not treat me any different. San will.”

You aren’t sure if you agree with that, but Woo seems set on it, so you don’t bother convincing him otherwise.

“You can’t tell him. Either of them,” he says suddenly, casting you a wary expression. “I’ll kill you if you do.”

Despite yourself, you laugh at the statement. Not out of disbelief, but how incredibly certain you are that he would. “I didn’t plan on it.”

He smiles at this, chuckling himself. Then he pauses, something different wedging its way into his gaze, clearly pondering something. Glancing up from the fire, he holds your own eyes, then swallows.

“Turn around,” he says quietly, and you stop yourself from physically recoiling. Your lack of enthusiasm towards the statement must read blatantly on your face, because he rolls his eyes.

“I’m not going to choke you out or anything,” he says, tone irritated. “Just humour me for a second and turn around.”  

“Alright,” you say, hesitant. Had it been any other night, you would have laughed in his face, but tonight he has been vulnerable, perhaps you can return even an ounce of the same. Turning around, you face away from him and into the dark of the forest. As a moment of silence passes, you consider the fact that if he wanted to, now would be the perfect opportunity to slit your throat, make sure you really never do tell San or Seonghwa.

Instead, you feel as he shifts your hair away from the back of your neck, and the touch is surprisingly tender. Stretching his other arm forward and in front of your face, you suddenly feel something cool against your throat. Not a knife, but a necklace.

Your heart stalls for a moment, the chain familiar, the exact size of the diamond against your collarbone something you could never forget.

It’s not just any necklace, but your necklace. The one your parents had given to you as a child, the one he’d taken from you back at the cottage as collateral.

Feeling as he clasps it shut, you’re quick to whirl around to face him, granting him an expression that exclaims nothing less than: “What the fuck?”

“Don’t look too surprised, Kuroken,” he says, and when you raise an eyebrow, he laughs.

“Okay, listen,” he begins, tone suddenly serious. “When I first met you, I thought you were a spoiled brat. I thought your entire story was shady, and maybe didn’t quite believe that the King of Libaiya had really died. That he could really die. I didn’t trust you.”

He reaches out, fixing the diamond on your necklace which had been sitting crooked, before continuing.

“But then in Stockholm your story proved to be true. Then in Gloria you risked your life to save San. You saved all of us in The Desert Lotus, because even though it makes me feel sick to admit it, I don’t think I could have done that myself. Then you helped me with the mimic back in the village. Even though you didn’t quite believe that it wasn’t Seonghwa, you chose to help me nonetheless.”

Woo finally takes his hand away from your neck, and it’s accompanied by the smallest of smiles. “You’ve been proving me wrong time and time again, and even though there’s nothing I hate more than admitting defeat, I can say I was wrong about you.”

“Woo-” You begin, because although his words are overflowing with the most kindness the man has ever shown you, you can’t bring yourself to accept them. He wasn’t wrong, you are lying to him, to all of them.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still think you’re annoying. Too headstrong, but maybe that’s something we have in common,” he continues, cutting off your protest. “But I was wrong not to trust you, and for giving you such a hard time. I’m sorry.”

You open your mouth to speak. To protest, to thank him and accept his apology, to apologize yourself, to say something.

Instead you say nothing, and Woo shifts himself onto his feet. “I’m going to try and fall back asleep. We probably still have a couple hours until the sun rises, you should do the same.”

He begins to make his way towards the tent, before pausing suddenly. Turning back to face you, he appears almost sheepish. “Rest well, Yeji.”

With that he disappears behind the tent flap, leaving you alone in the darkness of the woods. The fire begins to falter, no longer being stoked by Woo’s gift and now struggling due to the absence of logs. It makes the light breeze feel infinitely cooler, and you shudder, clinging to the woolen blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

‘Yeji’ he’d called you. A testament to his newly placed trust, to burying the hatchet. To putting aside all the little jabs in your direction, the constant disapproval, the endless belittlement.

It’s only until now you realize that you don’t want him to. You don’t want him to stop being cruel, to stop distrusting you and making snide comments that make you want to wring his neck. After all, they’ve made it easier to lie to him.

Yeji, Woo had called you. Or better, Wooyoung had called you. After confiding in you, after granting you a piece of his most authentic self, one that he’s never shared with anyone else. A piece only you hold.

His reward for such vulnerability? A horrible betrayal that will prove he was right about you to begin with.

The fire finally dies, its last burning flame shriveling into smoke and ash. You should go to the tent, the night is far too dark and the wind's bite is far too cold, but you can’t bring yourself to move. Your legs are like lead, shoulders weighed down as if bricks sit upon them, and it leaves you unable to stand.

Woo is right, guilt really is the heaviest thing a person can carry.

~~~~~~~~~

next chapter.

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[seakicker]

MY HEAD IS SO OVERWHEALMED BY THIS MAN THAT I CAN BARELY DECIDED HOW I WANT TO GET BRED BY HIM PLEASE-

Ok first we have the classic: Bullboy Diluc and Farmer Reader. Where our boy is in his rut and is feeling soooo needy, but doesn't dare to show it. You look for him everywhere but when you finally find him, he is in tears and an extreme horniness. So you, as his owner, help him out- and guess what? A couple of months later your belly is swollen with two beautiful half bull babies.

In this one I think he would become sooo protective of you. Following you around the ranch, getting inside your house and MOST DEFINETLY trying to drink your breast milk all day.

You are cooking, cleaning, planting or just taking care of other animals and he is just trying to suck on your tiddies. Ain't he cute.

Second. This one is on the same topic but a bit different.

One Idea I had before listening to the infamous Cow x MMMM audio was one where reader is a half cow and Diluc runs a sort of Milk company.

The idea is that once you apply to the company you get a check up to see if your physical conditions can handle the work. If you do pass the check up you can be put in two groups, the first one is a more relaxed position, where (pregnant or not) you will be milked for as long as you wish to, or as much as the company requires you to.

BUT the second group is Diluc's personal favorite.

The breeding department. Where you will be held 24/7 in the company ground and bred full by the highest quality mates the company can find.

One particular day Diluc decided that he would personally do the check ups. (Just for the sake of the old times and to see if he finds any beautiful newcomers). He enters the room and there you were- A beautiful fur that seemed so soft, a plump belly and those beautiful breast, that he could swear they were the biggest he had seen in quite some time.

He enters, introduces himself and begins the check up. He couldn't help but get distracted whenever your chest moved a bit too much or your belly fell into the check up desk.

Once the check up was over, he confirmed that you had passed and were going to be moved to the breeding section. You seemed delighted by the idea and thanked him for his time and started to leave.

Little did you know that all along he had been holding his urge to push his cock into you and breed you full right there.

"Oh, Ms y/n?. I believe we could begin your trial right now"

He later proceeds to breed you for the next 4 hours-

Afterwards he orders his workers to take you to his personal chambers, where you will be staying for the rest of the week.

Anyways. Sorry if I took too long!!!!! I am not such a good writer but I think you get the idea?

-💎

OKAY SWEETHEART IM HERE TO ANSWER THIS NOW i’m sorry if i accidentally made you worry that you missed me earlier after u sent this!!!! i am here 😈

BOTH OF THESE IDEAS ARE SO PERFECT HNNFNFFN i remember you sending a deliciously long ask about that second idea some time ago that i need to go back and find now because when i first read it i was absolutely in love. oh to be diluc’s prized milk cow that gets the honor being hand-trained and personally bred by him… it’s no surprise, either. with as perfect and lovely as you are, diluc wouldn’t even begin to think of assigning you to one of the other trainers. he knows that he shouldn’t let his personal feelings and desires get in the way of work bc that’s just a recipe for disaster, but when he thinks about you being bred by another man/one of the farm’s bulls, it makes him jealous, if he should be so bold. it also made me think about the idea of diluc being a bull himself… a bull running a milk company and personally tending to the sweet little cowgirls he hires? hot.

it’s not often that diluc personally trains or breaks in any of the new cows, as he’s unfortunately just too busy to do anything more than a quick new-hire “quality check” most days, so you should probably consider it a privilege that he decided to fuck you and train you himself… how many other cowgirls get the bragging rights that come with spending an entire week alone with master diluc himself? not many!

#never apologize for the length of ur asks hehe i love all brainrot #whether it’s one sentence or one novel #spicy #cw lactation #cw hybrids #cw breeding #diluc ragnivindr smut #diluc smut #💎 anon #cow reader

[lady-necropolis]

Ghost bc Whump Month Day Two: Collapse

Little late with these but better than never I guess!

TW for a character forgetting / neglecting to eat

You never minded working hard, and it wasn’t that you were trying to grind yourself to the bone. It was just, easy to forget about everything else on tour. There was always something. Last minute costume fixes, scheduling issues, keeping the bus clean. And the ghouls. The ghouls. Swiss and Dew making a mess after one of their shenanigans, Swiss and Dew at one another’s throats, trying to get Mountain up for rehearsals— The point was that there was always something to do!

And today was one of those days. Everything that could go wrong, was kind of going wrong. First, you were up early to get coffees and breakfast for everyone because a particularly plucky fire ghoul fried the outlets last night and no one had had time to repair them yet. Thankfully, Aether was up early too and offered to come with and help you bring it all back so you got some mercy there. Then you broke up a squabble about who took the last cinnamon roll and went about making calls to reschedule interviews, make sure the venues were prepared, let the hotel know you would be late to check in because of course, the bus was having problems.

You’d been busy. And breakfast was far gone. But you still had work to. So, you ignored the neglected rumblings of your stomach and your shaky hands and pushed through the best you could. It was your turn to clean the bus anyway, and you were nearly done, only the kitchenette left. You’d eat as soon as you were done. You’d bent down to pick up a fork you’d dropped while doing the dishes when footsteps resounded behind you, coming to a casual stop.

“Hey sister, do you know if we have any crackers left?” Dewdrop asked, yawning. Probably just got up from a nap.

“Um.” You frown, standing up. Blood rushes from your head and you steady yourself with a hand on the counter, little black spots slowly creeping their way into your vision. “Check the cabinets,” you sigh. “Can’t remember.” Every second that goes by the black spots creep further and further in. You shake your head, gripping the counter. Just push through. Almost done. You take a glass from the sink, fumbling for the dish rag.

“Hey, you good?”

“Hmm?” You turn around, leaning back on the counter. Dew’s voice is coming from somewhere, but right now you can’t possibly pinpoint exactly where that somewhere might be.

“You didn’t answer my question.” His voice is hollow, and why is everything spinning? The glass slides from your hand, shattering on the floor with a loud crash. “Shit!”

“Oopsie Daisy,” you mumble. You hear a distant “Fuck!” as the world goes black.

“She just went down.” A cold sweat sweeps over you, and as you crack your eyes open, you’re vaguely aware of two shadowy heads looming over you.

“Did she hit her head?” There’s cotton in your ears, fuzzy, muddled.

“Nah, caught her before she fell.”

“What happened?” You groan, trying to sit up.

“Hey, hey, hey, easy.” Aether’s guides you up to sit slowly with firm, gentle hands on your shoulders, and you blink in confusion.

“You passed out on me,” Dew says softly. Then there’s a glass of water thrust into your hand. You take a small sip, and then another. The cold water soothing your befuddled mind, lifting that heavy fog.

“We should get you to your bunk. You need to rest right now,” Aether murmurs. All you can do is nod weakly, letting the Aether ghoul help you up from the floor and walk you to your bunk. He settles you in with a cold facecloth on your forehead, saying he’ll come check on you in a bit.

You’re alone for a few minutes, finishing off your glass of water when there’s a knock on the outside of your bunk. You pull back the curtains to find Dew holding a plate with some crackers, cheese, and a few candies on it

“Feelin’ good enough to eat something?” You offer him a small smile and scoot over on the smell bed, patting the empty space next to you in offering. The fire ghoul huffs, but takes your offer, handing you the plate before settling in, tucking a hand behind his head.

“Thanks,” you murmur, gingerly taking a bite out of a cracker. When it doesn’t upset your stomach, you wolf it down, putting a slice of cheese on the next one.

“Figured you hadn’t eaten,” he chuckles, and you nod.

“Got busy.”

“I know. You’ve been going non-stop all day.” He frowns at you, a very unfamiliar crease forming between his brows. He’s worried.

“Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly around another cracker, and Dew shakes his head.

“No, no you don’t have to apologize. It’s just—you scared me is all.” He grumbles it out, a hand scratching at his brow. And your heart melts a little bit at that. You snuggle closer to the fire ghoul, and though you’re fully expecting him to pull away, he doesn’t. “C’mere,” he mutters under his breath, sliding an arm under your head, pulling you into his side. You rest your head on his chest, feeling Dew tuck you under his chin, his warmth calming you.

“Thanks.”

“For what?” You shrug.

“Worrying about me.” A puff of soft laughter tickles your hair.

“Someone’s got to.” You merely hum, finishing off your snack and popping a candy into your mouth. Dew places the plate on the floor, and for awhile, the two of you lie together in total silence; him, petting your hair and gently purring, you with a small smile on your face.

“Can’t believe you said oopsie daisy before passing out,” Dew snickers, and you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment.

“Shut up!” you groan, but you’re laughing along with him.

“It was cute.”

“Yeah?” You crane your neck up, and he looks down at you, grinning in amusement.

“Yeah.”

The exhaustion of the day is getting to you, and Dew’s warmth and the sway of the bus are certainly not helping. You fight to keep your eyes open.

“Hey,” Dew murmurs, noticing as you try to rub the sleep from your eyes. “Just sleep, you got nowhere you need to be.” And as though he’s pulling the thoughts straight out of your mind, Dew adds: “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” You smile into the fire ghoul’s chest, and with the feeling of his cheek resting atop your head, you drift off into much needed slumber.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost bc fanfic #whump month #dewdrop ghoul #sodomizer ghoul #dewdrop x reader #nameless ghouls

[oh-saints]

PLEASEE PLease PLEASE more ruben fics i need more so im just gonna leave a request where — ruben and a shy reader?? like she doesnt really opens up to anyone unless they're close🙏

what the hell, anon??? do we share the same brain bcs i literally just thought of it when my bf was watching harold and kumar (i know, incomprehensive taste) beside me and there's an elevator scene that inspires me to go about my favourite this trope!!!

open

you really shouldn't judge the book by its cover, rúben learnt from her, and should instead try to open the first page. for you never know what the next page might bring.

rúben dias x neighbor!reader

word count: 2.9k

tw: speech impairment

note: hi, i'm back! beside the harold & kumar's elevator scene, this is also mildly inspired by blackpink's hard to love and katy perry's unconditional teheee but this time, i happen to write during work so ofc this is not beta-read.

today had been one hell of a day for rúben dias. nothing worked in his favour; his SUV broke down before he departed for training, resulting him arriving late and therefore scolded by pep. his team lost in the mini match, he had to stay late for the rehab because his physio-in-charge had a stomach bug.

he sighed, and anyone within distance would’ve recognised the heavy weight on the breath he let out.

he just wanted to lay down as soon as possible, to be honest. he didn’t even think of dining anymore, and that was saying something because he was known—and he stood by his principle—for being a straight-A athlete. he lives and breathes football and he intends to stick by his commitment as long as life allows him to.

just before the elevator doors closed, a hand dived in between the doors’ gap. precise movement, as fast as a ninja cut, but halting his final destination, nonetheless. why couldn’t whoever-it-was catch the next train?

but as the door opened once more, a woman walked in, heads down. ah, there she is, rúben only realised the current time had reached 7 p.m. because this particular, intriguing woman would always come up at this hour without a miss. and she’d always have her head down, not glancing anyone else in the elevator, let alone the usual neighbour greetings.

he wasn’t supposed to notice her; she looked like she’d rather blend herself to the wall. but he did. her paleness contrasted the bright modern layout of the posh apartment’s elevator, along with the lives the capsule brought up and down.

the footballer pressed for her floor before she could reach the button, as usual.

she’d look up to him in wonder—with her set of the clearest eyes rúben had ever seen yet he never knew what lied beneath the surface, and only the depths of the mediterranian sea reminded him of it—as he did so, as usual.

“12, right?”

she gave a tight smile that rúben somehow understood as her silent thank you and a nod, before going as far away as sparing the 3-feet distance between them. as usual.

sometimes he wondered why she cut off their interaction as cold as the iceberg ended the lives onboard on titanic. was she nervous? was it that hard for her to answer him? was he that hard to approach?

was she a criminal of some sort that was busy hiding in order for the police to not catch her?

he’d watched in one of those real-life cold-cases documentaries he loves to use as a lullaby that coldness, aloofness, detachment or anything in line could be an indicator. whether they felt guilty after committing their crime, whether they wanted to hide away their worldly sins, whether they’re pure psychotic that they’d do a random killing spree one night for fun.

rúben badly wanted to convince himself that she wasn’t of his last depiction but he remembered what happened to ted bundy’s victim—may they rest in peace. he’d have to search for a good opportunity after calling a private investigator or something.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

another evening, another elevator ride with the same neighbour of his.

another day of him pressing for her floor, another day of her giving him a curt nod before backing herself up against the corner.

it was supposed to be another day for them, and rúben was more than ready to hit the sack. but life truly had its way for a plot twist even a blockbuster movie didn’t see coming.

being a footballer that had to stay alert of possibly everything, rúben opened his eyes as he heard a heavy intake of breath from somewhere on his right. a sound he never heard of, a sound he was most certainly had to have a double take to make sure his hearing wasn’t damaged.

he watched as she opened her mouth for a second before closing them again, certainly wanting to say something. then she took a moment of silent, possibly to rearrange what she was about to say. once she was done—or what he though was done, anyway—her mouth started to form a small O before slamming shut after five seconds. her head was shaking following another cancelled thought, and rúben swore he could practically feel the frustration she was exuding.

it reminded him of his old self, before the whole PR team back in benefica took over the wheel and taught him what and how to say things. so instead of being annoyed at her, rúben gave her space and time until she was ready. thank god he was towering the woman, who wasn’t small in general but still small compared to him, so she couldn’t see his repressed smile because weirdly enough, he found her endearing instead of infuriating like anyone else he was frustrated with.

“c-c-c-can you help me w-w-w-with something?”

the words slurred out of her voice box before her eyes could find the man that was all familiar to her but a stranger altogether. when she realised he’d been staring at her—at her disorganised self, that was pretty obvious—her head snapped back lightly in mild surprise. who wasn’t, when a beautiful man of that calibre had been staring at you?

but it actually wasn’t why rúben couldn’t keep his eyes off her. stunned would also be an understatement to describe what was happening underneath his skin.

yes, he was astounded by the fact that the neighbour that had been spiking his interest was finally talking to him. no more reserved, small smile she used to throw at him every other chance they’d been interacting. and she was finally looking up at him instead of darting her attention elsewhere whenever they shared the small confinement of an elevator.

but he was more surprised at the fact that he recognised she wasn’t simply nervous around him. he’d been around too many people to be able to spot on nerves shooting up one’s legs. what he sensed around her was a completely different, entirely new altogether.

and above all, the question that remained hanging on top of his head was; why now?

why did it take her a long while to finally muster up all the courage to spare him a glance, moreover to strike up a conversation first?

rúben couldn’t help his initial reaction of raising his brows, as if he was sceptical to the reality he was undergoing, instead of replying back. his response was met with her flashing what he recognised as regret before she looked away and shut her mouth again. and he knew he fucked up; she’d thought he was challenging her, speak one more time and you’re dead.

it wasn’t what he intended to come of as. he was simply tired of constantly fighting for his place at training, and the shock in his system hadn’t washed off since she’d dared herself to indulge him in the luxury of a conversation.

“yes, i’d like to help,” rúben spoke up before any misunderstanding took place between them, eyes were still zeroed on the woman. only then he took on her overall appearance, for they’d never been this close, and by god was she beautiful. “what do you need my help for?”

the woman looked up again to him, hopeful this time and no longer distressed, before biting her lips in a little bit of hesitance. not because of nervousness, he realised, but it was simply because she didn’t know where to start again.

and again, rúben waited for her patiently. hell, he’d waited on her far too long—even for something as simple as this—so he could certainly wait for some more.

he watched her as she opened and closed her mouth several times again—this time rúben was positive she was trying to rearrange whatever it was she wanted to say to him—before casting another glance up to him. and this time, nervousness was palpable in her face. weariness, too, and rúben couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sight.

(although he tried to hypnosis himself that he smiled to ease off her jitters.)

this seemed to relax the tensed shoulders of hers. “i-i-i-i need help t-t-t-to change my lamp.”

bingo.

every of his remaining suspicion was now struck down, only leaving him with the answers to all of his silent question.

he’d guess on she wasn’t mute. if she was, she’d have to suffer from deafness, too, or at least hearing impairment, and she wouldn’t be able to interact with people without her hearing aid. of which, was non-existent as far as rúben’s peripheral vision might go.

he’d guess on she was a selective mute, this much was also spot on. what his shot strayed on was how she chose to be mum not because she’d killed someone, but because she was unable to.

all the sudden, rúben got reminded of one particular kid he’d gotten fortunate enough to meet during city’s annual christmas hospital visit. it was like yesterday when the kid said thank you endlessly that day before the day ended, for listening attentively without rushing the kid to speak clearly and fluently. at first rúben was surprised how that was enough of a reason for the abundance of gratitude thrown at him, but later he realised that everyone else had reached their boiling point while waiting for the kid to finish his broken sentences.

only then did he realise his mysterious neighbour was only doing whatever best under her limited condition to survive without hindering anyone else’s life.

she must’ve practiced silence for such a long time now, and for reasons such as survival mode in this cruel world where her condition is deemed a shame. where people would rather not hear her kind to speak because they were slow at it, and would rather belittle something she surely didn’t ask for when she was born.

how wrong of him to assume she was a criminal on a runaway.

“sure, have you bought the light bulb already?”

she nodded, lips still pursed tightly, before rolling her eyeballs up towards the ceiling. upstairs, he’d gathered.

“excellent,” this time, admiration and respect was the reason behind his enormous smile. “lead the way.”

he really should stop watching too many crime documentaries on netflix.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

as soon as she was done showing her neighbour his temporary place of work, she dashed for the fridge. she was perched, for lack of words, because it’d been a long while since the last time she had to wreck her brain for a simple, humane interaction.

ironic because it was imprinted in every human’s brain that they are a social figure, thus needing to interact with other people. ironic because her line of work required her to interact with people on a daily basis, even though she was hidden behind the magic screen of a computer.

she hadn’t realised up until now how much grateful she was to the silver screen, for she didn’t have to disclose the one thing she detested about herself. for it hid her from the harsh reality she was bound to have due to her condition. for it saved her from the judgemental looks people would throw at her.

she was sure she was content with her life, bar the defect in her DNA, so why did she decide, of all day today, that she needed his help for such a simple task?

right, because she didn’t have a ladder and forgot to buy one on her way back home.

but she could’ve gone back outside to the store on the corner of the street instead of asking the one neighbour she had always seen after a long day of working. she could’ve asked anyone else but him. the security guard, the firefighter—anyone else that was in the line of work to help people, not him.

especially not him, when it meant she would bare herself open to someone she barely knew outside the fact that he was tall and smelled so damn fresh like he just washed himself after a long day of swimming in the sea water. especially not him, when it meant her old disease of stuttering would come back haunting her every time she was nervous.

and god, was she nervous. how could she not when he looked like the closest thing to adonis if such figure descended mount olympus?

but still, despite all, why did she still choose to uncover the grounds she was content on burying herself with?

was it his eyes? was it because she grew accustomed to his silent presence in the elevator? was it because she recognised no hint of judgement exuding from him when she let out the secret she least loved to reveal?

“it’s done,” the man was seriously done with work, by the way he was back donning his brick red coats. a lovely colour to his skin, she realised. another point plus, she also noted, for a man to know well how to dress. “is there anything else you need help with?”

her apartment was fairly large, especially when she only lived here on her own, but with him in the room, it felt small all the sudden. but not the suffocating kind of small, just that the space turned to be full with his presence. but instead of feeling intimidated, she felt welcomed.

weird because this was her house, her abode, her home. yet she was the one who felt welcomed instead of the other way around.

“um—n-n-no. i’m sorry again if i disturb your time, being busy and all,” it surprised her that it only took a grand total of 30 minutes of interaction for her—physically and mentally, she noted—to feel ease around him, which was apparent by the lack of stutters and was now replaced by the signature ummm everyone likes to have at the beginning of her sentences. “but i was hoping if i—um—can repay you after doing me a favour?”

“you really don’t need—”

the man shook his head as he shifted his weight to his other leg. the movement felt so natural, like he belonged here, and it dizzied her head because this was starting to feel unrealistic. there was no way she could warm up so easily to a good-looking guy that dressed well and smelled excellent and acted like those boyfriends you only see on novel books.

and for the love of god, did she love the smell lingering in the air from his perfume. it was intoxicating, as if he himself in flesh and blood didn’t stir headaches for anyone with vagina walking down the street. yet she craved for more, making her not wanting him to leave the perimeter of her house. like he’d permeated the space and marked it no longer hers.

funny how the concept of being close had a different meaning now to her, literally and figuratively. she really shouldn’t have opened the door to her home.

it honestly caught her off guard when he showed his initial reaction. she’d mastered the art of being rejected by people who i) think she’s a freak, ii) think she’s useless, iii) think she’s a hassle, iv) think she’s frustrating as she can’t get words straight to the point, and/or v) all of the above. the better part of her condition was also double-edged sword; when people think of her as a charity case, for it was only then when people understood her limitation.

being unfazed with her disability—there, that’s the word—was definitely something rare in her world.

must be the eyes, she convinced herself, because she knew deep down it didn’t take einstein to deduct the real reason behind her unpredictable habit of opening up to this man—whose name she still hadn’t figured out—was her very last justification.

after days of observation, she somehow managed to conclude he wasn’t the type to blabber his mouth somewhere else about the embarrassing neighbour that sounded ridiculous whenever she spoke. he was the type to keep everything to himself, unless he was allowed to or unless the government made him to. for that alone, it was enough of a reason for her to come out of the shell she’d been hiding under, no matter how insane it sounded because they didn’t know each other’s name.

for she knew she could be herself and he wouldn’t mind at all.

“p-p-please,” another breather because goddamn, this is a lot to take in. “i—um—i insist.”

“okay, if you say so,” his head tipped lightly at her admission, lips slowly tugging a smirk out of its hiding place. satisfaction plastered on his face and she swore she could’ve been melting on the floor if she wasn’t holding the edge of the kitchen counter. and still, strangely enough, she wouldn’t mind him seeing her turning into a puddle. “i’m allowed to take you out for a dinner then.”

of all things he could say to reply her goodwill request, a dinner wasn’t in the list of her prediction.

“w-w-why?”

it didn’t take a genius to know it was the multi-million loaded question; why me?

and this was precisely why rúben asked her out in the first place because in rúben’s defence, why not?

why not her? was there anything wrong with her?

did she believe something’s wrong with her when he found her perfectly interesting?

“because i like you and i’d like to know you better,” her eyes shot up so fast at his admission, indescribable disbelief glazed over the set of orbs rúben for sure would like to stare all night long if he had the chance. “if you’ll let me, that is, of course.”

who was she to deny when he asked to come in to her home so nicely like that?

#one of my fave works #anon asks #oh-saints answers #oh-saints writes #ruben dias #rúben dias #ruben dias blurb #ruben dias blurbs #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias oneshot #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fics #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias fanfics #ruben dias fanfiction #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x you #ruben dias smut

[whoslaurapalmer]

okay!!! got my thoughts together about in stars and time!!! many spoilers.

spoiler-free review -- Wow, There Are Certainly Things That Happened In That There Time Loop !!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!! !!! ! ! ! !!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!! !!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ! !! !!!! ! ! ! ! this game broke my heart like six times. you should play it. heed those triggers though cause i probably maybe did not do that as much as i should have

-i! will think about this game for the rest of my life probably

-me at the beginning of the game, a seasoned player in shouting 'it's the human connection!!!!' at media, bc it's my favorite thing in the world: it's the human connection, siffrin!!!!!!!! talk to your friends!!!!!!! me at the end of the game: IT IS THE HUMAN CONNECTION. I AM IN TEARS. MY HEART IS IN PIECES -gets me every fucking time.

-odile: you loved us so much you were going to break the whole entire world and honestly that's cute. sif: :( -it's so much. it's precious it's heartbreaking it's everything. odile's not wrong though!!!!! -me, regularly about cats doing Things: they just want love!!!! me, about sif, now: THEY JUST WANT LOOOOOOOOVE

-and it's not just the human connection!!!! it's being able to rely on yourself, too!!!! to show yourself the kind of kindness you need too, to be capable of being kind to yourself, not just accepting help from other people (as important as that is, as important as being able to ASK for it is, for siffrin) but accepting help from yourself -if that makes sense -helping yourself!!! you don't forget about your past self, or any self!!!! -'my self-loathing isn't that strong that i'd literally kill another me.' EXACTLY!!!!! IT NEVER IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that line took me out -i hated fighting loop so i was so happy. that one kinda worked out

-oh man loop being a sif from a different universe was not on my bingo card at all for this game (-i didn't have a bingo card. but i was wildly theorizing about OTHER things while i was playing.) -and that sif can start to be the person they needed? that loop needed? -MAN!!! AND THAT PUTS SO MANY OF LOOP'S STATEMENTS IN A DIFFERENT CONTEXT -when they're like. 'wow! what if you ARE manipulative and disgusting :)' - :( - :(((((((((((((((((((((( -loop i hope you can be happy.........wherever you are................................ -i want to have more thoughts about loop but right now i am still at 'aaaaaaa.......... :(' -'i asked for this job, stardust.' they asked to help themselves :') they asked to hurt themselves :') they asked to keep themselves trapped in the horrors :')

-one of the things i love about the game is that there's sooooooooo many little details that you pass as you go through the loops that you have to come back to bc they become important, like the carving tools, the weapon room, the books!!!!! -going through and seeing these details over and over and then going 'OH SHIT WAIT! I HAVE TO GO BACK THERE' -it's just built so well!!!! i liked that. -needing to try all of bonnie's snacks so you know what their favorite food is!!!!! -how sif's reaction to the same items changes!!!! -the list in the head housemaiden's office!!!!!!!!

-minor disappointments that there was no real resolution for the country that disappeared, just bc so much was made of it? -THAT'S what i was wildly theorizing about -but also, like, it still........doesn't ultimately matter? -like, i definitely would've liked to have known! -i feel so stupid saying this bc my favorite book series is literally a series of unfortunate events and i will defend the lack of answers in the end for my entire life!!! -but there's also. definitely enough to theorize about it all, too

-but yeah! ultimately in the face of other things in the story -- sif's deep-seated self-loathing and desire to remember and be remembered -- remembering, specifically, their home, as pivotal as it is, is not........necessarily the point -it's about identity, but there's lots of kinds of identity, lots of pieces of what makes up someone's identity, what contributes to a new identity when something about you has been taken away from you, what are the pieces of you in the first place? -and not just for sif, for odile, too

-and part of it is. sometimes, you have multiple homes. sometimes? your home isn't the Home you had, it's the people you come to love, and that doesn't make it less than the home you had before, but you can still feel the gaping absence of a "natural" or expected home, you can still feel the loss of what you did have and could've kepts to -/lulu vandelay sits up in a cold sweat bc she literally just wrote that exact same thing in her most recent headcanon ramble fic, and has to take a moment to stare at the wall about the joys and agony of the human connection again, and how precious found family stories are

-there's so much in this game that i feel like i could still unpack more boxes. gosh

-i put 55 hours into this game over like. a little over a week? almost two weeks??? -actually it was more like 45 -- there were some stretches of time i was not close to a save point and had to put my switch in sleep mode for a few hours until i could go back to it. so the game counted a little more than i actually played -I POWERED THROUGH. I WANTED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED NEXT EVERY TIME SO BADLY -and i love how. it's like, a little hard to get stuck. at least the way i played, i feel like it unfolded pretty consistently -i would, perhaps, have. played a little slower, though. just. -bc the game hits a point where it starts to get VERY HEAVY. it stays good but i was concerned about the time loops from the get go (i love time loops. i love the thoughts that come with time loops! and oh boy did this one.........bring the thoughts........) so by the time sif was starting to lose it about the time loops I WAS ALREADY THOROUGHLY LOSING IT ABOUT THE TIME LOOPS -also i'd put the game down and go 'no, lulu, you yourself are not in a time loop.' -it was very quickly breaking my heart!!!! sif was hurt and IT HURT!!!! sif's heart was breaking and SO WAS MINEEEEEEEE -sometimes it's like, cathartic in a way to experience those feelings through someone else -- sif being trapped, feeling trapped, feeling like he's always doing something wrong and it's always his fault, maybe if he didn't do this it would work out and it didn't, trying again and still getting punished for it, not wanting to be forgotten (so desperately that you trap yourself in a time loop bc you don't have a home!!!!) but it still hurt!!!!! it still hurt a lot!!!!!!!!!! -in a great way!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but it's so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!! god.

-i do kind of want to replay it, though. maybe not right away bc it's a game that works beautifully the first time you play it bc you uncover things at basically the same pace sif does, and right now i think i would just go, 'sif you need to act out of disrespect now and read marc's notebook, sorry.' -but i. would like to experience this story again. when some time has passed!!!!

-okay. look. -i was considering the diary in the orrery as either sif's or the king's; that either one of them was 'the original' and the other was 'the wish craft one' (-how else would the king have gotten that diary?) (-or, well, idk, maybe he found it. makes you wonder.) -bc the parallels between sif and the king were REALLY GETTING TO ME. there were SO MANY. literally wrote down 'oh sif you're not beating the 'actually the king' allegations here' -and that the power of that wish craft was what caused the country to disappear (which the ka buan book speculates anyway) -and -- also not that sif needs a reason to have a terrible memory, like that's fine on its own absolutely -- being the 'copy' was the reason they kept forgetting things, or being the 'original' was the reason bc they were missing parts of themself -or maybe it was someone else's!!!!!!! -mysteries............

-oh i should have thoughts about the king literally being frozen and at that point. getting the memories of his country -you cannot...........always stay in the past...............bc you cannot move forward...........bc we are always moving forward...................

-i don't mind not having an answer about the like, "ghost" sifs though -- that works fine as it is to me -pieces of past loops? pieces of future loops? a piece of the sif that went through the house alone -omg. i got the scene where the rest of the squad talks to the ghost sif bc i fastforwarded to floor 3 all unlocked on one loop but went back to the change god bc i didn't know if i got the keyknife or not -i then realized i could've just checked the inventory. -IT WORKED OUT THOUGH BC I GOT THAT SCENE //AND// FOUND OUT IT WAS MIRA'S STATUE, SO!

-i think there were a few loop conversations i missed? just a couple? -but i got the croissant one, which i was very thrilled to find out the story for -i did not get the dagger though (although i stg i used so many tears.) -and you know what????? i think that is for the best :) maybe next time :))))

-oh the croissant reveal did not disappoint!!!!! just like......... -being confronted with something you hadn't really thought about. and realizing suddenly how much it means -and ascribing so much terror to an innocuous piece of the situation bc it has to go somewhere. that you never want croissants again, you never want the reminder -but still keeping the coin to remind you, you never want to not remember the important thing, the current one, your family, this family, bc they mean so much to you and you've never been happier, you CAN'T REMEMBER being happier so this is what's important -so you'd hurt yourself to remember them!!!!!!! if that was what it took!!!!!!!!!!!! -I'M SCREAMING

-i was thinking, it wasn't necessarily the deeper wish at the favor tree, for sif (-although the second they made the wish at the tree i was like '............is it gonna turn out that the wish he made is what's trapping him. no. ...no. .......yes? yyyyyyyyyyeah.') -but. running from the boulanger while holding the coin, and desperately praying not to forget, not to be forgotten -bc A Coin is a ritual, too, and siffrin knows them subconsciously -but his wish and vaugarde's wish getting tangled together, is interesting too

-also. so i had like 55 loops total bc i also tried to go straight through the house as often as possible to get as much information out of each loop as possible (and i loved sif's 'touch exposure therapy' in the gardening room and always wanted to go back there specifically) (i was also DESPERATELY trying to see if odile would at any point ACTUALLY specifically comment so i was always letting sif be as weird as possible and look at stuff he should not have known) (and i loved the bathroom scenes, too. those were worth going through the whole house.) -oh anyway anyway sometimes i would loop forward though bc sometimes you do, in fact, have to -me: i am trying to loop the least amount of times. i feel so bad for sif and it's only the beginning of the game. sif's not even feeling bad yet about the loops!!!! the game itself: you WILL loop more and you WILL feel worse :) -AND THE GAME WAS ADDING LOOPS -like, i think if you fast forward over all the floors, it adds more loops, bc after i was like '......wait, for real? that many loops?' i checked as it saved one time after i skipped floors or something

-the gang: /talking about wish craft me: THE FAVOR TREE. THE FAVOR TREE IS RIGHT THERE. YOU HAVE ALL BEEN TO THE FAVOR TREE, GUYS!!!!!!! a loop or two later: /the tree book me: HALLELUJAH

-oh speaking of waiting for sif to notice something (but honestly not that long, which was nice) -i think this was........after you beat the king for the first time? me: sif. sif the change god's statue face as changed. sif. SIF THE FACE HAS CHANGED. LOOK AT THE FACE, SIF!!!!!!! SIF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -he does in fact not notice. that's okay, sif.

-i love that all of them want to stay together for a little longer, too!!!! like!!!!!!!! no but that's so good -bc, how do you end this kind of journey??? how do you really just go your separate ways right after????? how do you..........stop after you just saved the world -none of them want to let go yet and that's okay and they can say it!!!!!!! -THEY'RE FAMILYYYYYYYYYYYYYY -but sometime they'll have to. and sif will have to be okay with it. but there's still time to grow. there always is!!!! there's time to. change. whatever that change is.

-the change god being real was A SURPRISE!!!!!! holy shit. that was scary. -WITH THE MOST CHILL SPEECH STYLE. THAT WAS HILARIOUS (-me, reading the change god's text: ........i miss you roxy lalonde.......)

-me: i want to do the 'sif helps everyone' tasks again bc they were such sweet and precious and comforting moments and doing them all in one run was the best thing ever (and then sif refers to everyone as their family afterwards which was shattering!!!!!), but doing them again after the first time would just cheapen them, for sif to have to relive such pivotal moments knowing this loop probably isn't the loop it'll stick........like, i could not redo them now, and i could not fast forward through them. i cannot do it. it would feel like a terrible corruption!!!! sif in act 5, going through his millionth nervous breakdown: hold. my. fucking. beer. me: 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫 -AND THAT THAT'S THE LAST FUCKING LOOP -bc it can't be perfect, sif!!! you have to let people help you!!!!! you have to cry!!!!!!!!1 it won't be perfect it will be messy and terrible and people will get hurt but that's not the end of the world!!!!!! -i mean they really went for the gut in those convos, though. oh sif.

-i love that sif finally gets a chance to just sit and cry and gets a whole big squad hug at the same time. -and they're going to keep trying!! keeping growing!!!! keep going!!!!!! learning!!!! and so will all of them!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-mal du pays: /appears me, with literally ten years of french practice: .............................................................................. still me: /googles me: OH FUCK HOMESICKNESS -i was mistranslating mal for a hot second there, okay. somehow. -fun fact, my favorite french word is malheureusement. (my least.....favorite.......is......fucking chaussures) (uggg, i can just never pronounce it right. chausette is fucking fine! but shoes.............)

-i would die for bonbon. the best chaos child. -i am picking them up and putting them in my pocket. i want them to make me snacks. -i want those madelines!!!!!! i love madelines............. -and the palmiers!!! good ol elephant ears -i love that, canonically, they do the naruto run. they are such a precious little kid my god

-isabeau: /talking about the cracked egg keychain me: utena??????????

-sif: will i ever like bananas again. me: what i want to know is if they will ever like PLAYS again. -i love how the banana is there so you can just. skip right to the house from dormont if you so choose (a few times towards the end of the game i did)

-i assumed sif stopped carving bc the depth perception was harder after losing their eye? -i hope you carve again too, sif...............

-also them starting to lose things that happened BEFORE the loops started bc they'd been going on for so long and there was so much more to keep in mind, forgetting odile's name one time and forgetting the vodka story and even forgetting THE YEAST JOKE........... -crying. screaming

-i spent most of the game with memory of bomb attached and then ONLY USED THE BOMB ONCE, I KEPT FORGETTING!!!!! -that was great. goddamn -i found all the bomb components pretty early but actually for the life of me i CANNOT remember where the long thingy-thing was so i never picked it up again. where. where was that........

-the game's universe being so casually lgbtq+ was so fun!!!! i love the bonding earrings and how. you'd make as many earrings as people in the relationship!!!!!!!!!! -giving your children multiple names in case they want a different one they already have more options!!!!!!!!

-i took. so many screenshots while playing (like. over 500) bc i just like to screenshot important or powerful lines or favorite jokes but tumblr is being dumb and does not want to put them in so i will just have to list them. -odile going 'as the kids say, yoink~' -BELLE LEARNING HOW TO CUT VEGGIES????? -i will literally never forget, ever, 'meow meow, cat's paw, can't cut my fingies nya!' -sif: /smacks into counter the squad: did you just say nya -sif you're not beating the catperson allegations either -'HOW BLINDINGLY WONDERFUL, FOR A ROLL OF TOILET PAPER TO BE THE ONLY HOPE YOU HAVE LEFT RIGHT NOW!' -it really do be like that. trying to appreciate something small in the throes of 'sometimes irl depression feels like a legitimate time loop of i have to do THIS AGAIN EVERY DAY!' turns into 'this is the most absurd thing in the entire world what the fuck :')' (-the game-universe-specific swears..........LOVE that. love small worldbuliding) -mirabelle's dangly thingies on her dress and her going 'pretty :) goes ding-ding when i walk :)' -speaking of ding ding! -THE FUNNY NOISES APPRECIATION CREW!!!!! i feel like that is such a perfect description of mira and isa and everything about them. i love them so much. i love their friendship. -bonnie going 'i am a child. i have a lot on my mind. i cannot help.' -THE VODKA WAS WATER. IT WAS WATER -pie smell......... (pie smell! pie smell! pie smell!) (the little moments of 'we're going to repeat something charming!' are SO GOOD!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THEM!!!!!!!!!!) -odile going 'but i would do anything to protect all of you. horrible things, to be honest.' -god. yeah. goddddddddddddddddddddd -bonnie going 'do you see me!!! do you see me!!!!!' before they touch sif bc they think that will help is so precious oh my god

#isat spoilers #ahahaha this post got......so........long.................. #i swear to god this is as long as the notes i made while playing and this isn't even THE NOTES I MADE WHILE PLAYING. #i don't know if i want this in the tag but i'm also like. no someone please talk to me about this game. goddamn. so at least #official spoiler tag for now #might put the others in later. #isat #in stars and time