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hwaightme · 6 months

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Timezone

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🎸 pairing: rockstar!fiance!seonghwa x gn!reader 🎸 genre: fluff, long distance angst, established long-term relationship 🎸 summary: "Only thing that keeps us apart // Is a different timezone" - TIMEZONE by Måneskin; during a long tour, the only thing seonghwa wants is to come home to you, and to hold you in his arms 🎸 wordcount: 3.2k total 🎸 warnings/tags: not edited, language, songfic, enamoured simping activated, seonghwa misses you intensely, he is one step away from swimming to you, seonghwa has tattoos and lip piercings, lyricist producer musician rock singer hwa good luck to us all, words of endearment/pet names (baby, angel... etc) 🎸 taglist: at the bottom of the hcs 🎸 a/n: this is for @starrysvn the most wonderful, beautiful soul. thank you for being who you are, ilysm. and may this small manifestation of our shared delulus bring some sunshine~

There was no salvation for a heart that was on the verge of breaking. No call could replace the sensation of a lover’s whisper, no video could replace the feeling of skin against skin nor of a warm and reassuring embrace. The myriad of details that made you who you were seemed to be slipping through Seonghwa’s fingers, and he was a desperate man drowning in quicksand of responsibility and routine.

Every chord was a strike of the coldest and sharpest blade on his tired body, and the sweat trickling down his face as he yelled his emotions to thousands masked the tears that were welling in his eyes. It was unbelievable, how in the faces of millions the only features he could ever make out were those that resembled yours. In every cheer he could only hear you, how you could make his name sound like magic. The lyrics – a simple selection of syllables, words, always fell short of describing how he felt, and every song appeared trivial compared to the fire in his heart, to your existence in his life.

Too many miles separated you, and he would be damned if he were to say that he was fine with it. This was the unbelievable curse of his work. An artist, a singer, a musical innovator who had evolved from being in a group of hoodlums with a dream to being in a star-studded collective, a band that was paving the way for many others and inspiring loyal and new fans to reach the stars with them. But where was his star? Even when surrounded by the speakers, side by side with his friends on those grand global stages, this question never left Seonghwa’s mind. Losing sight of what he truly desired, he ran into an oblivion.

After the concerts, it was customary for the young man to spend some time with his fans, still on an adrenaline rush and thus were expecting interaction, further connection, and insights into the most recent performance. However, tonight, he could not even begin to find the energy to press the right button. Claiming that he was feeling a little under the weather, Seonghwa delegated the role of publicity man to another member and hobbled to his hotel room, collapsing onto the bed sheets not caring for the state of his clothes, his hair, nor for the creases that were undoubtedly going to form. This was no issue.

The electric guitar, his trusted comrade in composition and emotional turmoil, was left in a black case on the floor. Stickers marking the cities he had visited decorated a portion of the surface, while the rest was another depiction of you. Scurrying off the bed, he erratically shot to the case and brought it up with him, letting it rest by his side so he could admire the artwork more closely. Over many days, you had decided to surprise him by painting the dark leather, echoing famous renaissance pieces and intricate flora. Impeccable, incorporating nods to his and your lives through symbolism, be it in the hint of a star ship, a guitar pick, or a paintbrush hidden in foliage, it was a reminder of a life that he always wanted to live and to keep close.

He wanted to destroy the walls of his room. He wanted to break the glass, fight the agony of the sorrowful monster eating away at his soul with physically radical action, anything to take his mind away from the fact that you were thousands of miles away, and that when he was cursed to be awake, you were in dreamland. He could not even protect you from the nightmares that you sometimes had. He could not keep you close. You were unable to run your hands through his inky black, long and tousled locks as a way to calm yourself. Why was he doomed to sacrifice the heavenly touches and sweet words in favour of roaming the globe like a madman, screaming the same things into a microphone until they lost all meaning? Seonghwa missed you. Violently. Painfully. Aggressively. If it took raising hell to elevate him to your heaven before he would ultimately crumble, he would choose to do so in a heartbeat.

His hands inadvertently travelled into the pocket of his flared jeans, fishing out the device which he had been glued to for the full duration of his tour. At any spare second. Lockscreen – your smiling face, surrounded by the scenery of his hometown when you two went for a visit over the holidays. Tapping in the date of your birthday, he came face to face with a photo where you two were together – a candid picture snapped by his closest friend and fellow band member during a celebratory dinner; you two laughing at a joke shared between yourselves, so in love that every part of you and him were intertwined. Seonghwa wanted to break himself apart. Take his heart and mind out and douse them in cold water so that at least for a moment he could have some space to breathe before ultimately repeating: you, you you again. Fingers flying to tap onto the messaging app you preferred to use most often, though the two of you had conversations going on almost every piece of social media, he scrolled through your chats, relistened to the voice messages and scrutinised every photo until it was re-imprinted in his brain. As if he could ever forget in the first place.

He would likely be a laughingstock, wouldn’t he? A man with the world at his feet, wanting nothing more than to collapse at the feet of another. Sure, his fans were no strangers to the fact that there was ‘a special someone’ in his life, though since he made sure to keep his private matters truly secure, no one knew who was the reason why he woke up even when the day was promising challenge and turmoil. The only sign of his undying devotion that he dared to expose with shameless pride was the tiny red band around his pinkie, a simple line alluding to the string of fate, of soulmates. One night, not too long ago even though it seemed that you knew each other for your entire lives, when you had the chance to spend time together without worrying about work matters and could let time trickle past while stargazing, he proposed. Perhaps it was not traditional, the four words uttered only in passing after you had already blessed him with your agreement. Instead Seonghwa had suggested the permanence of a tattoo as a symbol for your love, and revealed his faith and devotion. Written in the stars, he found his guidance in you. Just like the constellations, galaxies and mythical creatures permanently etched on his skin, he wanted to live the neverending story with you.

As he shifted his grip on the phone to glance at the red band, Seonghwa could not help but imagine what you could be doing right this second. Could you be stirring from sleep? Could you be getting ready for another day at work? How was that one personal project you picked up going? He hammered out letter after letter on driven by what had to be an external power, so much mightier than him. The rockstar bit his lower lip, feeling a tug on one of the piercings, but that made him simply bite down harder.

I’m losing my mind.

Without hesitation, he sent the message into the void, hoping that you would not be too worried and simply accept it as one of his eccentricities as an artist. Finally, he tugged off the leather jacket that had been clinging onto his body, suffocating him, and collapsed back onto the bed. Exhaustion was a beast weighing down on him and pushing him into the mattress. Nothing but a lonely carcass, Seonghwa imagined himself as carrion left for the devouring by devious promoters, producers, agents and the like. Freedom was an interesting concept in his industry. Did he have it? Or was it the case that as soon as he gave into a dream, he signed his very being away to be an offering for the money-hungry world? He was definitely going mad. He needed you. Seonghwa missed you. Feverish, anxious, he grabbed a fistful of the duvet with his free hand and counted the passing seconds, too many of them, but not as much as the distance between where he was supposed and wanted to be, and where he currently was.

A loud ringing jolted him out of his paralysing ruminations – his phone. He rolled his head to the side, and upon seeing the incoming video call could not be faster in wriggling to rest on the headboard and answer. So you were awake, and in a couple of seconds… there you were, hair in a loose side braid, a familiar vintage t-shirt adorning your shoulders. You were at the desk – your home office, cradling what had to be a cup of coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream. Nothing. Just how you liked it.

“Hi baby,” you greeted him with the warmth of a thousand suns, and soon enough, his smile returned to him too, though still a little weak, beaten down by the weeks spent apart. It was still dark where you were, while for him it was already dark. It was easy to face when with you, however – nothing could be brighter than you.

“You’re wearing my old clothes?” Seonghwa could not help but ask, too curious to refrain from the inquiry. You looked down at the shirt momentarily before lifting your head and nodding.

“Yep. There’s been a change of plans so I am working from home today. And… I wanted to have a day-long hug from my fiancé.”

“You always wear them better, and I wish it were me and not the tee, angel,” he sighed, eyes trailing down what part of you he could see. He might be wrong, but you appeared to be a little tired, dark circles more prominent under your gorgeous eyes, and movements a fraction more lethargic than how they would usually be in the mornings.

“Is that what you were losing your mind over?” you attempted to lighten the mood, but Seonghwa could not play along when the joke was a reality. You caught onto this quickly enough, and paused to look at him more closely.

Seonghwa could feel the intensity of your inspection. It was as though you were reading him like one of the many books you had collected. Basking in the attention from his lover, he leaned further back onto the pillows and let himself think out loud.

“We have another flight tomorrow.”

“Yeah, next is the third to last concert, right-”

“I want to fly to you,” the young artist cut you off, staring at nowhere in particular as he voiced his one wish.

“It’s not too long now, Hwa, and then we have a whole month to ourselves. No touring. Home.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too, love. But also, I am proud of you. You are bringing dream to reality-“

“Fuck what I’m dreaming. What does all of this mean anyways?” he retorted, making you raise an eyebrow before leaning onto the desk.

“All of this means that you are yourself. You are an artist. A light for so many souls. And if you cannot hear this, then let me remind you that I love you, the you who is so driven, so talented and so hardworking. Park Seonghwa who has been destined to become a star and give hope to millions. You are yourself, and that is what is so precious and iconic about you.”

You had a way with words. You always did. Stepping in when he was at his lowest and managing to drag him out of what he had assumed was an abyss, you were his biggest supporter, cheerleader, muse. When he was afraid to put pen to paper or deemed a melody worthless, you were the one to encourage him to experiment, try things out regardless, and with such strength that now it was a philosophy he abided by; it never hurt to try, and perfection was impossible. What was achievable, however, was satisfaction and happiness with the self. It was more than enough to try. And now, you were the one fearlessly bearing the catastrophic mass that was his worries with the last tour dates.

“Oh how dare you…” he mumbled, lips trembling ever so slightly as he pushed out the words. Involuntarily a mist settled over his eyes, and Seonghwa’s surroundings began to blur.

“No, baby come on, don’t cry, or we’ll be crying together. Let’s stay strong for each other, yeah? Like the dragon you have? Let’s leave the tears for later, and hopefully make the source of them a happy one,” you cooed, your own heart being torn apart as you witnessed your lover’s vulnerability, raw misery expressing itself as the hard exterior of a professional rockstar fell away. The hint at one of his many tattoos made Seonghwa’s mouth twitch into a tiny smile, an adoring gesture to remind your fiancé that you could draw each of the masterpieces from memory, having spent many nights tracing them with your digits.

“I-… Y/N I… I love you so much, you know that, right?” The confession turned query was choked, feeble, fragile, an offering made of the thinnest glass. One that you would protect with your life.

“Hwa, I love you too. So much…”

“Everything makes me think of you…” fatigue was evident, coating his vocal cords thick with a somnolent huskiness.

“Soon, you won’t have to remember me. You will have me in real time. Will you look forward to that for me?”

“Always.”

One topic, another, talking about nothing and everything at once. Trivial matters transformed into beautiful tales. In what had appeared to him to be no time at all, you had to rush into your first meeting of the day, while he was left a little less lonely in the hotel room continents away from you, with only his guitar and your reassuring love to keep him company. A hope, an excitement rekindled in his chest, bubbling up and flying across the bloodstreams into a tingling sensation in the fingertips, and a pleasant, hazy buzz in his brain. Caught between what had to be sleep and delirium, Seonghwa moved exclusively on instinct. In a few movements, he produced a tattered notebook and pen that had listened to his every confession and flipped it to an empty page before setting it down on the sheets.

Carefully, he took the guitar out of its case, and upon checking that it was properly tuned let a few notes hang in the air. The longer Seonghwa stared at the wall, the more confident he became in the fact that he could see you standing there in front of him, and as the words began to pour, it was you who he was confiding in. When with you, he was not afraid. When dedicating yet another song to you, he could not care less for the lack of rest, for how he greeted the dawn. He had a week until the last show, and he sure as hell was going to make full use of it.

The arena was silent aside from a few yells, before they too, succumbed to the suspense. The spotlights were almost blinding, and Seonghwa suddenly felt grateful for the fact that his image allowed for sunglasses. Elegantly perched on the bridge of his nose, they masked his anxiety as he adjusted his microphone, setting it back onto the stand while the rest of the band was exchanging glances and making the last checks before the grand finale, what he had decided would be the last ‘official’ song of the concert, and therefore the tour. Of course, the audience would ask for an encore. Of course, he would step right back out on stage to perform it – the act had already been planned in advance. But it was this song, one that he and his closest friends had spent night and day finalising, recording, even sending off to be made commercial, that would be his final word.

“Distance is measured in miles, and in how strongly you feel them. This is ‘Timezone’,” following the brief introduction, he momentarily shut his eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. In that split second, he did not exist. He was not on stage, he was home. Seonghwa could feel your hand on his shoulder and could float in your perfume. This was no different to how he would play for you in the living room – anything you wished for, he would either perform or learn on the spot or even create. So, maybe, just maybe, you will be able to hear him now, too. And how he was calling out for you, and was counting the seconds until he could see you again.

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning

I'm coming home

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

A roar overtaking expressions of gratitude. With every bow the crowd grew wilder and wilder. Chants praising the song were unfathomably strong, and Seonghwa had no doubt that the videos would go viral. Would you see them? Would you message him after? He did not need the answers to these questions. Not when he almost dropped his guitar as he saw you standing backstage, arms open wide, a staff lanyard around your neck. He was thankful for how you did not mind his sweat-covered arms, his glistening forehead as he pressed himself against you. He was enamoured with how your lips fit perfectly together, piercings and all, as he planted one kiss after another, each one bringing him back to life. He was eternally devoted to every moment with you.

“I told you, soon, didn’t you?” He could not respond, instead choosing to nod lest he break down in the midst of his overwhelming elation, “same timezone��” you altered the lyrics – sunlight after a rainstorm.

“I’m home, Y/N,” he mumbled into your hair before pulling you even closer to him, arms wound tight around your body, fingers dancing on your back as though he was still in disbelief that you were here.

“Welcome home, my love,” he leaned into your hand that reached for his face, letting you cup it. With nothing to keep you two apart, Seonghwa let himself get lost in your eyes, the string of fate winding tighter and tighter until his, and your heart were both glistening in a healing gold, the hints of cracks sealed and more beautiful than ever, standing the test of time, of space, of dreams.

🎸 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @archivesummer @little-angel-k @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy

enjoyed? please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. thank you, much love!

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jymwahuwu · 7 months

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I was wondering. . What if scenario where darling finally escaped jing yuan by dying and jing yuan had felt all emotions at once anger, furry, sadness, despair, agony. He just cant move on from darling he waited and waited for her next reincarnation and. . Finally after so long of waiting she was finally here standing, breathing and alive

And his not so kind once he kidnapped darling once more and had locked her on his (their) shared bedroom then he just basically fucks darling to the hell and back after so long and he makes her cum and darling felt overstimulated and had kept crying to him to slow down and trying to push him away because who in the right mind would suddenly pull a strange onto some person's house then fucks them into oblivion?!

(Basically idk why im horny or maybe its because i have a period idk anymore-)

From Cloud anon!

thank you cloud anon<3 hesitant to write this…but i love the thirsty ending 🫣 for Jing Yuan, if his clingy and sweet side can't keep you… he doesn't mind getting rough…?

CW: yandere, angst, non-con, kidnapping, overstimulation, (mentioned) death in the past

(The relationship between the reader here and Jing Yuan’s past life is described in a rather vague way. Please DON’T send me requests and comments about angst and take revenge on yandere. I’m tired of receiving those 😭 Please read the rules.)

That's a really rare concept for long living species; life blooms in the spring and withers in the winter. Jing Yuan placed flowers on the coffin, and… still… worked and lived as usual, arranging Luofu's daily affairs at the seat of divine foresight. People whispered- they said, Look. The general is so ruthless. His only lover in centuries had withered like a flower, and he was unmoved.

Jing Yuan knows that he can still live as usual, but there is an empty gap in his heart, which often aches, but he still chooses to keep you in his heart instead of letting time pass by. No loss can cause Jing Yuan to stagnate, he just lives with wounds. He regretted not leaving more holographic records and replayed the few videos you had, over and over again. "mm- Jing Yuan-" Your lips parted slightly, a record of a time when you were so annoyed that you blocked the camera with your hands and giggled while eating ice cream. That was - that was when you liked him, right? The general sometimes wonders - are you tired of him pestering you like that? He apologized, apologized, apologized bitterly - but you wouldn't hear it again. In the end, he still couldn't keep you, you flowed away between his fingers like floating sand. What had hundreds of years left for him?

Reincarnation - Jing Yuan really found you, in another galaxy. In the dim light, you are standing on the street, laughing and chatting with your friends. A familiar frown and a sweet smile, and when talking about interesting topics, the clear and sweet laughter leaked out. Similar facial features, similar movements and expressions are the imprint of the same soul. Jing Yuan suppressed the urge to take you away immediately, knowing that he must first find out your identity in this life. He removes every possible obstacle and takes you away.

Locked up in a room, in the general's mansion. Since you didn't like being able to travel freely among the stars in your previous life.

To you, you who have no information, this is really the cage that abruptly descends. Be sent to the Xianzhou ship by the people of your planet. Your hands are locked with a bunch of locks made of solid space material, but they are wrapped in plush fabric as if to prevent your wrists from getting hurt. The burly man with long white hair, said to be a general named Jing Yuan, caresses your body desperately - desperately. Lots of sticky, dazzling kisses. His tongue dipped into your mouth to search. Tears…tears? This mysterious man doesn't shed tears when you look at him, it's like the tears have dried up. Your thighs and calves were tied together and spread apart, forcing you to expose your most private parts and squirt on his thick fingers for hours. Orgasm is no excuse to stop. After your struggles and twitches, those fingers didn't slow down at all. The cock is buried deep inside you without any suspense after the warm-up is completed. The tight walls contracted and the liquid spread outward.

You are confused - confused, orgasming in pleasure, wanting to push him away (but your hands are tied), asking who he is and why he treats you like this while still maintaining your senses, and all you get is silence. It was the silence of not wanting to repeat the old dreams. From behind, his entire crotch is pressed against your ass, and even your hands are pressed by him, rocking and pounding you back and forth, occasionally kissing your cheek in a daze. Face to face, staring into your eyes, the lower body is closely connected. On top, you were forced to ride him, swinging your waist. From the side, a strong arm lifts one of your legs and slowly inserts it. In front, sucking and servicing that cock for hours. Seed and fluid oozed from the connection. There are two trembling vibrators stuck to your nipples. What a mess.

After making up for some of the love he hadn't had in hundreds of years, the general felt more at ease. Jing Yuan's hands wrapped around your shoulders and waist. You wanted to hate him so much- hate him, but he read you bedtime stories and space. He prepares rich meals for you, toys to relieve your boredom, and kisses your forehead. He promises to take you out, but not now.

Not now.

#yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #yandere hsr x reader #yandere jing yuan x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you

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irishhorse-blog · 1 month

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A few things to say this morning.

Rumor (ETA: INCORRECT RUMOR) has it that Jimin was sent to another base for special training related to his new post in FDC. I don't know if it's true or not, but I find the coincidence very funny that the weekend Jimin was supposedly sent elsewhere was when JK surfaced on TikTok commenting on one of Jimin's TikTok dance challenge vids. If Jimin was briefly away from him, and he chose to spend that time watching Jimin videos, that would be spectacularly on brand for him.

I love J-Hope beyond my ability to express it. I love RM beyond my ability to express it. I love Jin (D-77 vid was awesome) beyond my ability to express it. I love Suga beyond my ability to express it. I love V beyond my ability to express it. Obviously, I love Jimin and JK beyond my ability to express it. I just keep trying to express it, that's all.

Is it 2025 yet?

Is it June 2024 yet? Poor Jin - he's going to be coming back to millions of thirsty, famished ARMY and he's going to have to babysit us all by himself until Hobi comes back in October. Poor guy. He's going to be love slammed into oblivion (which, of course, he deserves).

I was just wondering, considering how much flak JK has gotten for recording in English - why haven't I heard anybody shitting themselves because "Fri(end)s" is in English, too? (Fab track, BTW.)

I watched and thoroughly enjoyed the first two eps of Hope on the Street, and I can't wait for the rest. It was nice to see JK's cameo as well. My copies of the CDs and whatnot are about to be shipped, and I cannot wait to hold them in my hot little hands.

Just a friendly reminder that the Jikook travelogue is still on its way.

There is no number 8. There is no number better than 7.

The K-drama based on HYYH is officially going to be released in April on a platform I can't get. I hope I can count on ARMY to be both larcenous and share-y. ;)

HYBE and BigHit put out a statement today/last night about proceeding to get jail time for some idiots who thought they were the main character in Fuck Around and Find Out starring BTS. More on the way, apparently. Good. I hope they all get what's coming to 'em. Maybe the horrible online comments and the death threats can finally be ended.

More later. Here's a reward for putting up with me and reading this far. OT7 all the way, baby.

#BTS #Jikook #Jungkook #Jimin #V #RM #Hobi #Hope on the Street #Suga #Jin

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jabberwockprince · 3 months

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SPINA VENATORES A small organization of mercenaries working for Manus Vindictae, tasked with erasing people from history as a way to call upon the "Storm". Their targets' names, families, influence and connections to this world will be dragged into oblivion.

Individual profiles and some more info/ramblings under the cut <3

The whole point of Spina Venatores is to be a parallel to Vertin's own independent group of Arcanists - the same way St. Pavlov's Foundation has her, Manus Vindictae has Venison and Spina. They're the mouth and teeth of Manus.

But whereas Vertin aims to create a safe, neutral space for Arcanists to thrive without human influence despite being tied to the Foundation, Venison is aiming to create a paradise for those they care about and no one else due to the heavy influence Arcana and Manus have on them.

Spinas Venatores is, at its core, a cult that was allowed to grow thanks to Venison's codependent and obsessive mindset - with them as the leader, all the troublesome and rebellious members of Manus Vindictae (that are much too powerful to get rid of or who are still clinging on to their former lives) will simply be assimilated into Spina or pressured to comply with Manus Vindictae as a whole. The third secret option is dying <3.

They also serve as a narrative device to remind everyone of the fact that, no matter how hard one may try, there's no way EVERYONE can be saved from the "Storm" - all five main members are related in some way or another to Arcanists that Vertin has met, they're people that weren't lucky enough to be taken in, who found themselves in the right time and place for Manus Vindictae to take advantage of their vulnerable state.

R1999 also portrays a LOT of oppression from various minorities that overlap with each other in very interesting ways, so I also wanted them to tackle similar things that mean so much to me - they're problematic queers is what I'm trying to say lmfao

The thing they share is that all of them are delusional to a degree, and that they're constantly haunted and defined by their relationships to others. The loss and discovery of the self through another, Ship of Theseus, cannibalism, body horror, being transgender as a really visceral and intimate experience, an obsession for love in all of its forms etc etc.

I don't have the FULL scope of their backstories, but I do know who they're tied to!

Venison was Pavia's coworker in a constant, obsessive loop of wanting to kill and save each other. Mutton was part of Schneider's mafia and romantically involved with one of her oldest sisters. Chevon was a regular visitor in Necrologist's museum and a friend of hers, she later went on to exhibit his many, many tombstones. Poultry is the "Lilian" mentioned in Darley Clatter's Stories. And Veal is a mystery even to me </3

Their uniforms are meant to look outrageous and outlandish, entirely out of place with the setting and their respective eras/times, inspired by fantasy - just BARELY reminiscent of Manus Vindictae by virtue of using a similar palette, as a way to drive that feeling of not belonging and delusion even harder.

Whereas everyone else is dealing with very real issues, all members of Spina Venatores live pretty much in their own heads (similar to Forget Me Not and how Manus Vindictae causes their recruits to become... YEAH.....THOSE MONSTERS....)

Venison gets the BIG COAT and the biggest silhouette because they're responsible for pretty much 80% of what happens within Spina Venatores! Veal gets the more simple design to allude to their whole unassuming, shapeshifter/Doppelganger thing.

They all have ribcage/bone motifs in one way or another, most of their jewels are meant to look like rosaries, they wear the Manus Vindictae silver cross and Arcana's blue color more often than regular members of Manus. Also! Hands!! Love the fuckin hands!! DID YOU GUYS SEE DIGGERS' MANUS VINDICTAE SKIN???? YEAH.

The naming convention being. types of different meats. is entirely because of Venison, you can ALSO blame that entirely on them <3

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 oc #manus vindictae #spina venatores #purinsu art #my beloved r1999 OCs #also i love drawing stained glass GRRR ITS SO GOOD #i have so much info about these motherfuckers idk where to put it

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queering-the-chain · 7 days

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To oblivion, you say?

Hello and welcome to the Queering the Chain creation event! There will be a list of prompts dedicated to diversifying our lovely Linked Universe boys, girls, and everyone in between. The event will run through the month of July.

Hosted by @triforce-of-mischief. You can call me Fable, and I use she/they pronouns. I've also collected a fancy set of genderqueer, demigirl, and aegosexual labels.

Them's the rules:

Let's get the question of Linkshipping out of the way first. I am respecting Jojo's request and while I don't encourage Linkshipping within the Chain of Linked Universe, I can't prevent it. This blog will not engage, positively or negatively, with content that ships Linked Universe Links with each other.

All ratings are allowed. This blog will engage with content of any rating as long as it does not interfere with the above. Explicit content will be archived in a single post, which minors are discouraged from interacting with. Do not attempt to argue this, as my decision is final. Queerphobia and purity culture go hand in hand, and this event intends to combat both.

There will be 15 main prompts along with some alternate prompts. They are not limited to any specific days in July.

You can combine as many prompts as you want.

There is no deadline.

There is no minimum requirement of creation.

There is no completionist prize.

Writing and art of any media are encouraged.

You do not have to create something new for this event. If you have already created something that fits a prompt, you may share it.

This blog will highlight participants who create their own post and @ the blog. Due to the unknown amount of participation and the single mod, I will make no promises for how many entries will be engaged with on this blog.

If I have blocked you from my main blog, or vice versa, I will not be able to see your interactions with this blog. That's just how sideblogs work.

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deepouterspacecandy · 2 months

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Ink and Paper Hearts: Part Two

This is the second part of an earlier piece that I absolutely loved writing and had posted for Valentine’s Day. Like its predecessor, this one is over 8k words. We’ve got a bit of everything here. Light angst, fluff, a slice of smut. Violence, gore, and sexual themes. Heavier in tone than the first, for sure. 18+ only.

Dogs barking at a murder of crows outside jolt you awake—their high-pitched caws cutting through the dawn. You suspect the birds have homed in on a corpse beyond the fences or food scraps someone has carelessly left behind for them to scrounge.

The sounds of paws hitting the pavement echo, signalling that someone has already taken the four-legged crew out for their morning walk. The exhaustion in your body is grateful.

Five more minutes to curl up in this stark, sterile cell Isaac has forced you to call home for the past two months.

The hardest part of getting out of bed is no longer the lack of sunshine, but the shock of the frigid floors against your bare feet. Heating a prison that was probably already in disrepair long before Cordyceps hit is a gargantuan task.

Abby’s letters and dried flower trimmings adorn the plain walls, filling the space with a bright fragrance. Nobody at the prison dares read them, every soldier respecting the already dire lack of retreat the barren walls provide.

That doesn’t stop them from teasing you for being the only one in camp brave enough to journey beyond the walls for office supplies.

It also doesn’t prevent them from offering generous trades for a few pens and some paper of their own when you return.

A chilly nose nuzzles against your palm, urging you to confront your troubles and venture outside so that she can serve with her comrades.

“No sleep for the wicked, eh?” you groan, your voice causing her floppy ears to rise. “Oh, no—don’t even think about it!”

With a joyful whine, she eagerly tackles your tired body, making quick work of reducing all your blankets into a messy heap on the floor.

“Troublemaker,” you giggle, letting her spin into oblivion over the soft material before giving her a gentle shove so you can put your bed back together.

“Should we shower first or write to Abby?”

The familiar name triggers Navigator, causing her to bark and spin with enthusiasm. To be certain, you break it down for her one more time, making sure she comprehends.

“Shower?”

She lets out a tiny, impatient whimper.

“Write to Abby?”

Her shrieking bark echoes through the prison, and you wish you had the means to share it with the girl in question. The dog hasn’t even met her yet, but she knows.

Abby is a beacon of light to her handler.

“Alright, alright, you win,” you say, the hazy cloud of your breath reminding you to grab your coat.

Writing to Abby during sunrise would be a beautiful way to start the day. You glance into the hallway to make sure the pathway is clear and turn to your pup.

“Navi—who’s there?” you ask, the command changing her demeanour instantly.

She stiffens and lowers her head, listening.

Before panting in your direction to give you the all clear, she attentively scans her surroundings but detects nothing out of the ordinary.

“Good girl, Navigator—yard,” you say, and she’s almost too thrilled to compose herself.

She bumps into the chair beside your desk, giving the object a quick sniff before moving through the familiar doorway. Her shoulders graze the steel bars, but only enough to help her right herself and course correct.

Your hand instinctively searches for a pen, but catches on a delicate bracelet, its intricate chain hindered by a broken clasp. It didn’t arrive to you that way, but after many sleepless nights constantly clutching it under your sleeve, it eventually gave in.

It makes you miss Abby even more.

Chilly air stings your lungs as you look out at the most recent delivery spilling from an eroded shipping container just outside the gates. These intermodal containers clutter the field, creating an unsightly and hazardous environment.

The level of chaos seems to be escalating, and it’s unclear if Isaac is fully aware of it.

The prison is evolving into a central hub for storing resources, and speculation about Isaac turning it into a medical facility is increasing.

Someone forgot to close the hatch on the one closest to the entry gate, the dented door of the container left ajar. You whistle for Navigator. Two of her more seasoned companions join her on either side, ears perked at full attention, watching her six.

“Navi—check,” you command.

It’s a new obstacle, and her busy nose finds the perimeter first. You swallow against your racing heart, praying that nothing has crept inside overnight. Navigator is capable, but she faces unfavourable odds, and everything in this world happens fast.

You have conflicting feelings about helping her develop into a stronger soldier, yet wanting to keep her close to you.

She wags her thick tail as she maps the object and waits for your command.

“Good. Check,” you repeat, and she slows to a silent crawl, her ears on a swivel.

She clips her hip on the rusted lock as she disappears inside the metal box, her nails clicking against the wooden floor. You draw your gun and wait.

A full minute goes by before her nose cautiously peeks out again, and there’s a rush of relief as the tension drains from your body.

“Good, Navi. Good job,” you exhale, crouching to touch her face and run your hands over her in search of injury.

A soldier, who you can only assume arrived with the shipment, makes his way towards you through the mud.

“Who left this open?” you ask, your tone garnering the attention of others in the field, still nursing their morning coffee.

The crew within earshot nonchalantly shrug their shoulders, and the indifference stirs up a storm inside you.

“I guess we’ve got ghosts!” you laugh humourlessly. “If you leave room for trouble, trouble will find you—and then it will find me and my crew. You must close the damn—,” but before you can finish, you’re plunged to the ground, a rancid jaw snapping at the back of your neck.

Gunfire sends every crow to the sky, the blast leaving a deafening buzz ringing in your ears. Your chest heaves on the damp ground as you try to gather your bearings, sweaty palms pressing into the soil against the rotten weight on your back.

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

Abby,

I don’t know what it would look like for you to leave it all behind, but I know it would be better than this.

With enough force to chew through it, you gnaw on your pen cap while reading over the start to your letter. Paper is a precious resource and you’re not above scribbling out the odd mistake, but this requires a new sheet. Considering the stress Abby is already facing, it’s best not to add anything more to her plate.

Abby,

What was the first thing you did when you woke up?

Give me details—what did you eat for breakfast? Did you go to the gym?

I’ve got your letters up on the wall beside my bed and it’s the first thing I see. The first thing I feel… well, that would be Navi’s cold nose. Usually, it’s somewhere at the back of my neck, but today it was my hand, so I’d say all in all, it has been a decent morning.

She’s doing better. We had a minor mishap earlier, but it’s no different from any other dog I’ve trained, really. They all have their quirks. I know she’ll be able to handle everything with a little more practice.

She already likes you, and you haven’t even met. You’ll see what I mean soon. I talk to her about you a lot, she’s a good listener. I still can’t believe we found each other the way we did.

It’s getting crowded around here. I’m starting to appreciate the long walk to town! There’s this abandoned gym I pass by sometimes and it makes me think of you. Maybe I should grab a set of weights and start training. That would only make me miss you more, though.

Oh, any chance the stadium has adopted a jeweller? I accidentally broke the bracelet you sent me and I’m rather grumpy about it. Still makes me smile as much as the first time I saw it.

Maybe you’ll be here whenever it’s fixed, to put it back on for me. Or take it off. The choice is yours.

Is that too much? I’m going a little stir crazy.

It’s too quiet here at night!

P.S.

Did you have someone before this? Another Dragonfly Firefly?

Abby’s next letter arrives after just a week, and you sprint up the stairs to the top of the guard tower to absorb it. As Navigator curls up beside you, her solid jaw rests comfortably on your lap, creating a soothing weight as you pet her. You notice her spine feels different under your touch, no longer as bony as it was when you first brought her back.

Maintaining a connection with Abby is helping you stay grounded while you cope with life outside the stadium, and so is the growing bond with your affectionate pup. You’re counting down the days until those worlds collide.

Dragonfly,

You make my face hurt. In a good way, obviously.

Bah, should I rewrite this? I’m running low on paper, so I guess I’ll embarrass myself.

Hi, pretty girl.

That slip up was super cute. Did you know dragonflies can live under water for like two years after they’re born?

Do you like to swim?

I bet Navigator loves the water. Can I take her to the lake sometime? Mama, too, of course.

I never thought I’d say this, but I’m jealous of your dog, big time. The thought of waking up next to you does things to me.

Breakfast? Well, I wolfed down a salmon bagel this morning and hit the weights early. I didn’t go to the gym, just me and my dumbbells today. I enjoy working out on my own, gives me time to think. Mostly about you.

If you’re serious about working out, I know an excellent trainer who would love to help you. (It’s me.)

They served me a glass of wine tonight, so I’ve got the warm fuzzies going on. Sitting here with your letter, I’m realizing that this is how you make me feel—like the edges of everything, somehow hurt less. I think about that night on your living room floor, and it gives me butterflies.

Hitting me with the big relationship questions, are we?

Do you remember Owen? He was still around for a while when you got here, I’m pretty sure. He was the only Firefly you speak of. A chapter I’m glad to put behind me. There’s a new one I’m reading and I’m thinking this book might be a keeper.

Nothing you say is too much. Sometimes I worry you’re holding back, like maybe you don’t want me to know how bad things are out there. Please tell me everything, even the bad stuff.

I’m dying to see you all grouchy, but I’ll still fix your bracelet. Don’t need a jeweller for that.

I think you know what I’d vote for, but I’m down for either of those things.

(Just in case, the answer is off. I’d vote for taking it off.)

I made myself blush when I wrote that.

Think of me.

Yours,

Abigail

You crunch the letter against your face with glee, the pup on your lap tilting her head quizzically at your outburst.

“I like her so much,” you say, releasing Abby’s letter in favour of squealing into your cupped hands. “I like her so, so much.”

Navigator searches for them, nudging at your fingers to gauge your emotional state.

“These are happy sounds,” you tell her, dropping a smooch on her snout.

She takes your word for it, cozying back up next to you.

After rereading Abby’s letter, you find yourself lost in thought as you stare out at the quiet grounds, your mind overflowing with things you want to write to her.

And some things that you don’t.

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

The Stalker who attacked you didn’t breach the protective layer of your clothing.

You still find yourself obsessively checking your reflection in the D-Block bathroom mirrors throughout the day—running your fingers lightly along your shoulder blade, feeling for any cuts or abrasions.

Close calls happen, but this has niggled inside the darkest corners of your mind, dive bombing into your nightmares.

As idiotic as those soldiers were, and maybe as green as Navigator is at surveillance, this is how easily it goes down.

A random, insignificant day, before the sun has even risen above the treeline, another human ceases to exist. You’d never considered it before—how you’d prefer it to happen. You know one thing for sure, you’d rather it didn’t shake out at the hands of someone too lazy to keep the area secure.

“Shit, sorry,” a voice groans out. “I didn’t think anyone used these showers.”

As you turn, your eyes meet those of a stranger. She stands before you, a towel tucked neatly under her arm, hair pulled back to prevent her glossy curls from getting wet. Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and you can see it’s because she’s exhausted.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, rushing to slip your shirt back on. “I normally don’t use them, but you’re more than welcome.”

“What’s got you back here, then?” she asks. “You good?”

With her narrowed, inquisitive gaze, she reminds you of the importance of conducting thorough investigations on everyone you come across.

“I’m fine,” you say, pointing to the rusted handles protruding from the wall. “Crank it to the left and you might get lucky, but hot water isn’t really a thing around here. Decent pressure, though.”

“So, I’ve heard.”

You hesitate, and she extends her hand with a low laugh.

“Nora,” she says. “I’m a medic. Isaac’s got me here setting up shop.”

“Right, makes sense,” you say, feeling the tightness in your muscles dissipate.

“Did you want me to take a look at that?” she asks.

She’s pointing to the spot where you had the closest contact with the infected and your stomach churns, blood rushing into your ears. You spin in the mirror, yanking your shirt collar down.

“I’ve checked a thousand times! I swear there’s nothing.”

With a calm demeanour, she places her hand on your arm.

“I believe that. But I’m thinking maybe you don’t,” Nora says.

Her touch is enough to keep your heart from ejecting from your throat, but only barely. Her bedside manner alone sets her apart as one of the best medics you’ve encountered.

“Keep focusing on your breath,” she continues. “Are you comfortable lifting your shirt?”

You nod, and she assists you in bunching the fabric under your chin.

Nora slips a knackered flashlight out from her towel, placing her sheathed knife onto the countertop. Clicking on the flashlight, she illuminates the ominous bathroom, casting eerie shadows in the mirrors and around the room as she moves it from side to side.

“I heard about what went down,” she explains, pressing the pads of her fingers into your skin. “Not cool.”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle at her casual evaluation, but your own mistake in the incident quickly comes to mind. You wiggle your fingers into Navigators’ fur; the pup quietly leaning against your leg.

“Shit happens, I guess.”

“Yeah, well,” Nora says, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze before letting the shirt fall to your sides. “Some mistakes shouldn’t happen twice.”

With your head dipped, you shuffle towards the entryway, hesitating at the threshold of the haunted corridors.

“Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s not make it a habit,” she smirks, the faucet screeching under her grip. She raises her voice above the rush of water. “I can think of one person who’d be rather livid if she found out her girl was in danger. That would be all bad.”

Abby’s reputation for being tight-lipped about personal matters makes you suspect that they’re friends, and your chest constricts.

“I shouldn’t tell her, then?” you ask.

Nora plunks a bar of soap onto the partition between shower stalls.

“Not what I said,” she grins, undoing her belt buckle. “Hey—do you mind leaving him?”

She tips her chin at your dog.

“Navigator?” you say, sending the dog’s tail into a helicopter spin. “Uh—yeah. Of course. But she’s not really—she still needs time.”

With tenderness, Nora bends down and cradles the dog’s head in her hands.

“A little lady, huh?”

She runs the pads of her thumbs beneath Navigator’s eyes, whispering something into her ear that is overpowered by the sound of water tearing into the tile ground.

“We’re good,” Nora says. “Now, what’s it going to take to get a little privacy around here?”

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

Abby,

Is the new chapter with me? Please tell me it’s me.

I can’t put a face to Owen. That time was a blur for me, but I remember Mel. She examined me when I first got there. I hope everything went well with the baby.

Uh oh, now you’re asking me all the hard hitters!

Promise not to laugh, okay?

I have no fucking clue how to swim. I could probably… not drown… for a solid minute or two.

When we were little, my siblings told me there were infected in the lake. After that, I always felt too scared to try. When I got older, I’d go in on horseback because they really loved to swim. Luckily, nothing grabbed my feet. That was always my biggest fear.

I miss the smell of horses. That probably makes me a weirdo, right? I’d like to have one again someday. They’re such gentle giants.

Reminds me of you.

Speaking of which, all this gym talk has unlocked fun new cravings in my brain. You could ask me about them, or I could show you.

You make my face hurt, too.

I want to be that for you all the time, which is why I’m scared to tell you this next part. Please try not to worry either, because I swear, I’m okay.

I got jumped by an infected. The fucker laid me out. It’s getting hectic around here and someone forgot to close the shipping container. It was an accident, and nobody got hurt, thankfully. Everyone is being more careful now, I think. But the deliveries are constant and it’s getting a bit out of hand. It doesn’t feel secure here the way it does back home.

On the plus side, I think I saw a radio being carried in today! Do you figure they’d let us use it? I’d really like to hear your voice.

Please be safe.

Dragonfly

From the porch of the administrative building, you hear the unmistakable sound of an engine starting up, followed by the sudden beam of headlights cutting through the darkness of the field beside you. It’s not common for groups to travel after dark, but you make your way to the fence to satisfy your curiosity.

“Where are you guys headed?” you ask.

A woman with pigtails and a wicked scowl casts a sharp, sidelong glance in your direction. “What’s it to you?”

“Are you heading into the city, by any chance?”

She braces herself against the truck’s hood and analyzes you.

“It’s classified,” the woman mutters, tearing apart a strip of jerky before tossing a piece to Navigator. “What’s the matter—she got something against beef?”

You whisper a command, patting the grass in front of her. The pup easily locates the source of the incredible smell, but you can feel the weight of the woman’s scrutinizing glare.

“We could really use some better lighting out here,” you say, holding up your folded letter. “If I ask you to take this to someone at the stadium, what would you want in return?”

She works you over for a moment, nodding at the multi-tool on your belt.

“Done!” you say.

As you busy yourself with taking the tool off its leather strap, she grunts, “Who’s it for?”

You survey your environment for any potential eavesdroppers, heat creeping up your neck.

“Anderson.”

With a contemptuous snort, she propels herself off the hood.

“Abby? What’s your deal with her?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s classified,” Nora interjects from the shadows, grabbing the letter from you through the fence.

The paper lands against the woman’s vest with a sharp slap. You suddenly feel a wave of concern that she might crumple up the letter and fling it out the window before the convoy moves ten feet from the prison.

Nora turns on her heel to load a crate onto the truck before raising her brow at the disgruntled soldier.

“I’ll make sure she gets it,” the woman says.

“Great!” With a wink, Nora begins her slow, determined walk toward the main gate.

You get to keep your Leatherman, too.

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

During morning training, Navigator’s keen sense of hearing allows her to mimic the movements of her peers closely, effortlessly blending in with them. The day kicks off on a high note, as every dog under your care triumphs in their practice missions.

Under the cloudless blue sky, the sun casts its vibrant energy into everything it reaches, including you. Perfect timing since you’re already needing to make another run into town.

It’s an easy trek for the first while until you get closer to the roadways. Rusted vehicles marred by fallen trees make it a challenge to explore.

“Navi—up,” you say, keeping your voice low. She sniffs to find her obstacle and seems to recognize it as the mossy log it is. “Careful, it’s slippery.”

You should heed your own warnings, but alas, the ground is so uneven that you stumble and slip about ten times before reaching your destination.

Although there is no post office, there is a pharmacy that shares its premises with a convenience store. You’ve had good fortune in locating supplies, particularly towards the back where someone has stacked boxes in front of the door marked Staff Only.

They act as a barrier, and you have no desire to uncover the mystery of what they’re obstructing. You take what you need and scram.

You notice a city mailbox and contemplate attempting to pilfer what’s inside. When you pull at the drop box handle, it gives out a loud, metallic creak that reverberates through the streets. Navigator goes rigid, her ears pinned as she notices something you don’t.

With your pistol in hand, you carefully sweep your gaze across the area, straining to discern any movement amidst the jumble of abandoned cars. The dog growls, a quiet rumble in her chest at a Runner, rocking unsteadily in an alley. As your blood chills, you quickly backtrack, moving the both of you to safety.

It takes longer to reach the prison, but the detour keeps you whole.

You release your companion to lounge leisurely in the sun with her friends and decide to face the dreaded ice shower. It demands serious mental toughness to withstand being both cold and wet in a cement dungeon, and you’re not quite conditioned for it.

The system you’ve come up with is laughable and miserable, but it somehow convinces you it’s the optimal solution. A bucket, filled to the top, that you can pour over your head to prevent fully submerging yourself.

With a sense of desperation, you lean forward, silently hoping that today will be the day when someone fixes the water tanks.

After subjecting yourself to hygiene torture, you wrap your towel snug around your frame, contemplating the idea of building a firepit inside the bathroom.

A voice unexpectedly pierces the dark and startles you.

“That is a great outfit.”

In a state of shock, her powerful physique and honeyed tone instantly bring you warmth.

“No freaking way!” you shout.

“Get your butt over here, smoke show. Don’t make me wait,” she says.

With a sprint and a leap, you throw yourself into Abby’s arms, your towel slipping from your hand. She holds you so tight it doesn’t shift an inch.

“How?” you ask, your body trembling. “How are you here right now?”

“I took a leave of absence,” Abby murmurs into your damp hair.

She giggles as you wrap your arms snugly around her neck, your legs a vice around her waist.

“Tell me this is real,” you say, voice breaking as you inhale her deeply. “God, you smell so good.”

Abby shifts her weight in a rhythmic sway, soothing you in her embrace as you suddenly crumble.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” she whispers, hushing you gently as you sob against her shoulder. “You’re safe now.”

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

Abby decides you’ve been cold, and towel bound long enough so you throw on your clothes and lead her outside, where you emerge with the sun’s last kisses appeasing your icy skin.

The golden light transforms into a hazy cotton candy glow, casting a celestial hue that electrifies every blade of grass beneath your feet.

With a bright, lopsided grin on her face, Abby lingers a few paces behind you, adding a pleasant energy to the air. Her army fatigues, rugged and worn, serve as a reminder of her toughness, yet her movements with you are graceful, as she effortlessly synchronizes her steps with yours.

“You’re too far away,” you say, keeping your pace. “I’m all alone up here.”

The moment she tackles you, a boom of surprised laughter escapes from your throat. She seizes the opportunity to launch her attack as the last hours of sunlight hit your eyes, raising you carefully above her head to place you on her shoulders.

“Don’t you dare drop me,” you warn, her grip on your legs helping you defy gravity. “I’m slipping!”

With a sigh, she cheerfully tickles your thighs, poking fun at your theatrical antics.

“You’re fine,” she says.

“I can see everything!”

“Now you see what I see,” she murmurs, launching into a series of small hops to readjust you above her.

Her words settle within you, and it’s clear Abby is making her father proud, bearing an uncanny resemblance to his sentimental ways.

The years you spent on horseback have honed your core muscles, enabling you to toy with her earlobes as she trudges on. When you take full advantage of your special access to her neck, the sounds she emits are soft as peach fuzz.

Striding through the vast field, she exudes a sense of purpose, as if leading you both home.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You talk too much,” she teases, pressing her lips to the inside of your thigh.

You feel it consume your body, leaving you breathless. Abby circles her thumb over the spot her lips met your leg, like maybe it was having the same effect on her.

She moves through sparse brush to a crumbling shack, its bones tilting above a flowing creek, summoning the earth to wash it away.

Abby easily adjusts to the incline of the muddy bank while you clumsily flail about. Extending your hands in front of her, she grabs hold of them and steadies you.

“Everything good?”

“I can walk,” you offer.

“Is that what you want?”

“No,” you confess.

She smooths her hands over your calves, before stepping onto the sunken pebbles.

The bubbling stream welcomes her steady boots, and you close your eyes. Up the trunks of the trees, small claws scamper, accompanied by the fluttering of wings that turn the forest into a harmonious amalgamation of nature.

“I’m not hurting you?” you ask.

She knows what you’re really worried about. With a knowing huff, she easily scales the other side of the bank, as if to prove a point.

“I could deadlift you in my sleep.”

“Move over universe—Abby’s ego is coming through!”

You feel her body vibrate with laughter, and you’re thrilled to be connected to her gales of happiness. But truthfully, the strain of trying to keep your equilibrium and extend your hand to touch her is causing a dull ache to spring up in your back.

When you tap out, it’s in one swift motion down the length of her back. Your feet hit the ground and you wobble for a few steps before becoming reacquainted with your sea legs.

“I like how strong you are.”

“I like that you like how strong I am,” Abby says, her brows arching suggestively, adding a mischievous twinkle to her eyes.

You catch sight of a towering white wall, its grandeur diminished by years of wear. It’s supported by the framework of sturdy steel truss, not intimidated by time or extreme weather the way the rest of the place seems to be. As wildflowers merge with a mob of ancient vehicles, the lot becomes a kaleidoscope of colours against the sunset, bridging the gap between the past and the present.

A weathered marquee sign stands as a charming centrepiece, teeming with prosperous vines. The wind has stolen away a significant number of the movie titles—what remains evokes a profound wave of sadness.

Look for the light.

“Abby,” you whisper, reaching for her hand. She laces her fingers with yours. “What is this place?”

With her hand still tightly woven in your grasp, she steps in front of you, passionately describing the nostalgic charm of a Drive-In movie theatre. Although she had never been, her dad had shared numerous stories of them.

“So, you’d just sit in your car and eat snacks and stuff?”

“Well, the families did,” Abby snorts.

She plucks a purple flower from the wheel of an RV before slipping it into your hair, her warm breath tickling your face. Your scalp tingles pleasantly at her touch.

“And the others?” you ask, reaching up to feel the soft petals of her affection against your fingertips. “What would they do?”

You weren’t born yesterday, and she quirks a knowing brow at your play of virtue. Your lips moisten with anticipation. Abby tilts her head, her gaze flitting to your parted mouth.

“It’s hard to explain,” she lies, scrunching her freckled nose. “Want me to show you?”

A shiver at the base of your neck sends your temperature rising.

“I think that’s probably best,” you say.

As Abby moves closer, your foreheads accidentally collide, causing both of you to break into hushed laughter, becoming even more enchanted as you feel your breaths mixing.

She swallows, and it’s a loud squeak at the back of her throat, your heart thumping erratically at how timid she has become. It empowers you to tease her, brushing the tips of your fingers along her jaw, tracing the corners of her smile. Your forefinger dips below her chin and drags along the column of her neck.

You gently explore the hollow of her collarbone until her yearning drives her to lean into you.

“The way you look at me,” Abby whispers. “You make me weak.”

“I wonder what happens if I do this, then.”

Your lips skim hers in a slow, teasing sweep until she whimpers against your mouth.

“Please,” she begs.

The taste of her full lips and the sweet glide of her tongue leaves a forest fire burning deep inside you.

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

The moon’s glow penetrates the dense foliage, causing hallucinations that morph ordinary plants into nightmarish beings, making the journey back to the prison a sensory maze.

Your body longs for Abby’s touch, but your mind advises against begging her to pin you against a nearby tree.

“Speak, chatterbox,” Abby teases, pulling you against her side so you can both stumble through the dark. “You’ve gone quiet on me.”

“I’m really turned on right now,” you blurt, and Abby barks such a rich laugh into the peaceful forest that it instantly becomes your favourite tune. “I think I’d put Manny to shame.”

“Wow. I’m that good, huh?”

You imitate the piercing static of a HAM radio, holding up an invisible mic. Your juvenile behaviour nearly causes her to collapse with laughter.

“This is Dragonfly calling Abby’s ego,” you say. “Can someone put my girl back on the air?”

Abby comes to a halt at the edge of the field, her wide eyes transforming into an inky sky. Her gaze bursts with ethereal stars.

“Can I see that for a second?” she asks, gesturing to the invisible mic in your hand.

Your cheeks sting with euphoria as you hand it to her.

Pretending to adjust the coiled cord, she puts on quite a show, and you’re smitten.

“This is Abigail calling Dragonfly,” she says, her confident voice dripping with authority.

When you don’t pick up, she playfully lambasts you.

“But you took my mic!” you squeak.

She cups a hand over the one she stole from you, to whisper, “Grab another one—they’re all over the place out here.”

Your adoration for her leaves you entranced, enabling you to produce another microphone out of thin air. You feel a rush coursing through you, from the roots of your being to the tips of your extremities. You’re not sure if you’re walking or floating.

“Dragonfly here. Standing by,” you say.

As Abby pulls you close, a glaring flashlight steals your vision, its blinding beam eviscerating the little world you’d built together.

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

Nora paces the makeshift medical bay as Abby braces herself on a bedrail.

“She was by my side the whole time,” Nora explains, her face twisted up in anguish. “The delivery squad pulled their truck through the gate and forgot to secure it. Navigator must’ve slipped out. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you say, feeling the anger well up inside you as you think about the lax protocols of the prison. “There are too many people coming and going.”

“She knows where home is, right? I mean—it’s wherever you are,” Abby says, rubbing your back.

“Not sure,” you admit, fear taking hold. “I have to find her.”

You gather a small bag of supplies and Abby stops you before you reach the door.

“It’s not safe.”

“You don’t understand, Abby. She isn’t—she can’t be out there alone.”

“Where do you want this, Nora?” a soldier asks, his arms loaded to his chin with boxes.

Abby marches across the room and slams him against the wall.

“Who left the gates open?” she roars.

“Christ, Anderson! Chill out. I don’t know,” he wheezes. “We got the orders to unload and go. Where’s your gate patrol?”

“We’re a skeleton crew, there is no gate patrol,” you say, hands shaking. “There’s a sign out front for a reason.”

“Isaac hasn’t sent anyone yet?” he asks, shouting over his shoulder as he ambles back into the passageway. “That’s suicide out here.”

“Tell me about it,” you groan.

Abby’s jaw clenches and she balls her fists. “Enough of this shit,” she says. “We’re finding your dog and I’m taking you back with me.”

“Isaac won’t like that. You know it,” Nora warns, pressing her palms into her eyes. “Let me try him on the radio.”

“Wait, did you hear that?” you ask.

Navigator’s familiar, lancing bark reverberates through the prison yard, prompting the three of you to sprint after the sound. Trapped outside the fence, she paces restlessly, her nose sniffing the ground in search of a way inside.

Nora disappears to take matters into her own hands, assigning someone to patrol the gates for the night.

“Will you meet me in the guard tower?” you ask Abby. “There’s something I want to show you.”

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

Flames crackle and hiss inside the base of a small metal drum that Abby hauled up the stairs. Standing in front of the window, her silhouette watches over the field she had explored with you only a few hours earlier.

The fire radiates so much heat in the tower that Abby has abandoned her jacket altogether. You watch from the doorjamb in awe as Abby takes tools off the carabiners on her cargo pants one by one and arranges them neatly in a pile.

Up here, it’s usually silent except for the occasional visit from a curious barn owl. The dilapidated space comes alive under her presence.

“Someone wants to meet you.”

Every movement Abby makes is sluggish, as if she’s drained of all energy, but her smile makes your heart stutter. With a gentle gesture, she kneels and raises her bent arm towards your pup, presenting the relaxed knuckles of her hand.

With the jitters still lingering from her unexpected journey in the woods, Navigator moves slowly, searching for her new friend.

“Hi, sweet girl,” Abby says, her tone softening as she takes a seat and crosses her legs. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

Startled by the unfamiliar voice, the pup cautiously inches forward, her nose quivering as she takes in the scents of the surrounding air.

“You’re okay,” Abby hums tenderly.

Navigator settles into her gentle palms as Abby carefully examines her face, tracing the patterns of freckles that decorate her cheeks.

Abby looks up at you with benevolence.

“She can’t see me,” she whispers.

Upon shaking your head, you immediately feel a tightness building in your throat. You wrap your arms around yourself and take stock of how this indestructible woman can so easily tap into an ocean of empathy.

“But you can hear me, can’t you, sweetheart?” Abby says.

As Navigator’s tail blurs, merrily slicing through the air, it leaves a trail of embers that float and twirl toward the open window.

“Tell her your name,” you suggest.

Bending her head, she meets Navigator halfway, voice brimming with affection.

She murmurs her name as she reaches for her coat, ensuring that her scent lingers for the puppy to recognize.

When she repeats her name a second time, Navigator lets out a buoyant bark, spinning across the floor and back onto Abby’s lap in a heap of excitement, her paws barely gaining purchase before covering Abby’s face in hyper kisses. She braces her arm behind her to keep from toppling over, chuckling through the battering. As they become acquainted through cuddles and play, the tension within you fades.

“You never mentioned it in your letters,” Abby says, encouraging the dog to settle between you.

It’s not long before the soothing ambiance of the fire lulls her to sleep.

“I couldn’t take the chance. If someone intercepted them, you know?” you explain, mind racing with the consequences. “It ends badly in the wrong hands.”

“Isaac, you mean?”

“Isaac—really anyone with his intolerance for weakness,” you say, messing with a piece of kindling before adding it to the fire. Within seconds, the flames engulf the tinder. “He was always intense. But he’s cruel, now. Power blinds him and he just doesn’t care who it burns. There’s no way he’d let her stick around if he thought she couldn’t fulfil her duties.”

“He’ll find out,” Abby utters, intertwining her hand with yours on Navigator’s back.

“I know,” you confess. “That’s why I can’t stay.”

Abby takes a deep, concerned breath before straightening up, crossing her arm sheepishly over the other. Her chin trembles and tears well up in her eyes.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

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

When Abby speaks about the regrets of her past, she does not mince words. She gets candid about her missteps and how the loss of her father confused her relationships. Abby tells you about Mel, her father’s surgical protégé, a girl who was supposed to be her friend first—instead of becoming a shoulder for Owen to cry on.

She alludes to their covert flirtation building over time and tells you about the painful day Owen asked for her blessing.

He still sheepishly proclaimed his love for Abby, which tipped her world upside down until she launched herself into work and training to keep from falling apart.

Abby faced great difficulty in dealing with her grief, and it was particularly hurtful for her to witness her own people capitalizing on her vulnerability during a time when her world was in chaos.

While recounting the events of their transition from Fireflies to the WLF, she doesn’t overlook the trauma experienced by her friends. But she allows hers to matter, too, and you respect her immensely for it.

She reaches for your hands when she tells you about that night, almost as if she fears you’ll get up and leave.

A regretful one-night affair tinged with a jar of rank hooch and unrequited love. A night which offered Abby closure but only served to open the floodgates for Owen and a world of heartache for Mel.

When Mel was in her third trimester with their unborn child, Owen made a plea to Abby to stay with him—help him make it work.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t in love with him anymore,” Abby sighs. “I cared about him, but I could never give him what he wanted. Not after everything that happened. He needed to get his priorities straight.”

“You deserved better,” you say.

“So did Mel. You should be upset with me.”

She lays her imperfections bare before you, and you only see her resilience. A woman forced to learn how to rebuild herself with bricks made of loss and betrayal. You shake your head and press a kiss to her palm.

“Would it have happened if the roles were reversed? If it were your pregnant girlfriend waiting around for you?”

“Never,” Abby states, her piercing gaze locking with yours. “It’s not even a question.”

“Exactly. It sounds like he was trying to escape his situation, with or without you.”

Even before the affair, Mel griped Owen wasn’t content, and she wasn’t the only person who shared that belief. The gossip had turned into a string of hushed rumours after Isaac had offered Owen a place to stay in Section Ninety-Six. A dedicated area for young families—a home with Mel he’d never set foot in.

In his pursuit of a different path, he seemed to prioritize his own needs above all else.

Perhaps they all had their own personal demons to confront.

By immersing herself in her responsibilities to the WLF, Abby could keep her mind off things until Owen’s desertion caused everything to unravel. The chain of events ultimately resulted in Abby defying orders, Isaac losing his most skilled surgeon to another faction, and Abby finding herself trapped further in the WLF because of her perceived debt to Isaac.

“Owen went AWOL?”

“Yeah,” Abby responds, her brows furrowing as she recalls the memory. “He got himself into some trouble and hid. When I found him, he was trying to fix his boat so he could leave.”

Absentmindedly reaching for Navigator, you mumble, “I’m noticing a pattern.”

Abby’s gaze softens.

“I did the wrong thing,” she says. “There’s no excuse.”

Her fingertips trace a soothing circle on the back of your hand. Your vision blurs as you reach for the imaginary HAM radio once again.

“Dragonfly to Anderson,” you say, barely audible to the human ear. “Do you copy? This is Dragonfly for Abby—over.”

“This is Abigail.”

She anxiously chews at her chapped bottom lip, and you gradually pry it from her teeth with your thumb until it glistens against the firelight.

“Welcome to being human, Abigail,” you say into the mic, and she stifles a teary laugh, patiently waiting for you to release the invisible button.

Giving her time to process it, you carefully study her features.

“You’re allowed to make mistakes,” you continue, one hand on the mic, and the other on her cheek. “And you’re allowed to be loved as you’re learning to let them go. Don’t let them be the reason I can’t love you—over and out.”

Her eyes dart between yours, and the frown on her face dissolves into something so fragile you cup her jaw to keep her from shattering.

“Isaac blames me for what happened,” Abby says. “He won’t let me go without a fight.”

“Neither will I.”

Swiftly, she maneuvers you over the sleeping dog until you rest comfortably on her lap.

“I know who you are now,” Abby murmurs.

“Who am I?” you ask, captivated by the woodsy scent of her hair as you carefully untangle her braid. “Debrief me.”

You quiver as her hands skim the hem of your shirt; her nails leaving a trail of heat at the small of your back.

“You’re the one I want to dance in the kitchen with.”

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

Moonlight seeps through the crevices of the tower, and Abby is angelic in your arms. A thin film of sweat draws light to the hard edges of her muscles and the depth of her scars. She’s a work of art.

The sleeping bag she unrolled for two tangles between her legs and your sated body as she sleeps.

The woman is a devout soldier, but she’s also a voracious lover. Your skin hums as tiny bruises bloom across the tender surface. You smoulder in the afterglow.

You reflect on her closemouthed moans, and the hungrier ones that slipped through. How she readily poured pleasure into you, yet she was reluctant to let herself feel any in return. It was a profound and intimate moment when she entrusted you to unravel her, powerful hands guiding your mouth across her tight body.

“Quit wiggling,” Abby whispers.

A knowing smirk lifts her drowsy face.

“Go back to sleep, bossy.”

“I can’t,” she groans, her hand kneading your hip. “Your thoughts are too loud.”

“First, I talk too much, now I think too much. What do you want from me, woman?”

She snickers against your ribcage, her lips leaving behind a hungry ache with every lazy, peppered kiss.

“I want you in my fucking bed,” Abby grumbles, and the gravel in her tone makes you shiver.

“Whoa, your filthy mouth is really doing it for me,” you tease.

Abby hides her bashful face in the crook of her arm and giggles. It’s so sweet you can’t help but wrap yourself around her.

“Tell me a story,” she says.

“I don’t have any stories,” you gripe, playfully wrenching her from her hiding spot to poke at her bottom lip. “What are you in the mood for?”

Abby traps your finger between her teeth and sucks at the tip. It makes a wet sound as she pulls off and moves to the next finger.

“I’m trying to be serious here,” you say, a throb pulsing below your navel at the sensation of her tongue. “You need rest.”

Abby hums, pressing her thigh between yours as she torments your knuckles with her mouth.

“Recovery is important,” she grins. “But you make it so tempting to over-train.”

When she finally acquiesces, she gives your ass a slap of defeat.

“How am I supposed to behave myself when you look like that?” she pouts.

“Where’s your discipline, girl?” you ask.

There’s a split second where you can almost hear the growl of her dominance, making you wonder if she’ll charge at you and assert it. Part of you hopes she will.

She tucks a flyaway behind your ear and kisses your forehead.

“Tell me about the day you found Nav.”

Right off the bat, you know she’s going to wince through most of it. Abby puts herself in danger daily, but the thought of you being in harm’s way leaves her dangling restlessly on the edge.

“You sure?” you ask.

“I can handle it.”

You stagger to your knees to tend to the fire until the wood crackles. As soon as you’re within arm’s reach again, Abby pulls you into a tight hug, her arms clinging to you as if you’ve just returned from war.

“Okay, but you’re not allowed to be mad,” you say.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Abby says, pulling you on top of her.

You nestle into the inviting space between her breasts and clear your throat.

The area you frequently scavenge had been a bitch to navigate your first time around.

The constant rumble of delivery trucks and the sight of patrol vehicles passing by on the nearby highway attracted infected, but the soldiers never ventured inside the nearby towns to eradicate them. Your intention was to gain a strategic advantage by exploring an area that was avoided by everyone else.

But even your innovation and quick-thinking left you at the mercy of a deranged, agitated Runner.

In a state of panic, you found yourself inside the grocery store, desperate for a hiding spot. You ultimately ended up cramming into a stand-up freezer, watching the decaying cadaver pace back and forth, inches from you.

“That’s horrifying,” Abby balks. “You must’ve been so scared.”

“I was,” you admit.

You thought you were out of the woods, but on his third round past the doors, he saw you through the glass. He almost collapsed his own skull, attempting to break through it with his head.

“How’d you handle it?” Abby asks, her fingers tracing a delicate path along your spine. “I can’t imagine being trapped like that.”

“Took a deep breath and prepared to fight for my life.”

“Good girl.”

“He was loud as hell, making so much noise,” you continue. “I thought I was toast for sure—and then I hear this huge crash. Navigator tore a flat of bottles off a shelf a few aisles down. Started barking and running laps, luring that fucker away. She saved me.”

Abby reaches out her arm to stroke the dozing dog, who remains blissfully curled up by the warm fire, before she presses a slow kiss to the top of your head.

“You want to know why I even bothered with those boring letters?” Abby asks. “The property debt and the mortgage stuff?”

You look up at her as she plays with your hair.

“Humour me,” you tease.

“I thought they might help me find the cabin my dad always promised my mom.”

Your heart squeezes.

“Abby.”

“I found it,” she whispers.

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby

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hoeforhao · 1 year

Text

Champagne and Spirits🥂 |SEUNGCHEOL FF|<Part 2>

Pairing : seungcheol × fem!reader (ft. joshua)

MINORS DNI! MINORS DNI! MINORS DNI!

⤷ genre: smut (with feelings),slight angst, fluff, jealousy sex, alcohol consumption, explicit language/cursing, scared to love reader, cold but caring for reader seungcheol.

⤷ tags: sensual foreplay,rough sex,praise,slight bondage,hair tugging, fingering, pet names, hickeys/marking, body worship, oral (m receiving), size kink, unprotected sex(reader will be starting birth control after),creampie,overstimulation, orgasm denial, aftercare.

⤷ synopsis: seeing the one who has your heart, with other women on a cruise ship, while you're trying to deny your feelings and stay away, is definitely not an ideal situation for a holiday.

⤷ part: 2/2

⤷ word count: 2.9k

⤷ author’s note: absolutely overwhelmed with the love I received for part 1 and beyond grateful too. so here's part 2. as it's my first time writing a smut, it might feel a bit cringe and quite rushed to y'all. i apologize in advance for that and if you do like my writing...

Likes, comments and reblogs will be heartily appreciated

To your absolute oblivion, a shroud pair of eyes were placed on you from the very beginning and taking in each and every move you made with Joshua.

As you entered the bar, quite literally entangled in the arms of th unfamiliar man you just met this evening, the strong scent of spirits and alcohol filled up your senses. You were never someone who enjoyed drinking; sticking to the regular coke was more preferable to you. But today asked for a change. Your heart being in pain, mind blurred with past mistakes and memories, alcohol seemed like the easiest way to get everything down.

"So, what will be your drink of choice Mr Hong?" you asked him, while gracefully resting your butt on the bar stool, rotating seats being a potential enemy to your clumsy ass.

"One whiskey sour with bourbon, stirred and neat" joshua rested his order with the server , as he fixed his posture on the stool.

"Not only does this man speak sweet, but also drinks sweet, damn!" you blurted out in your mind, while taking in the view of his perfect stature in a navy suit.

"And for the pretty lady?" the bartender asked, breaking your string of thoughts. " I would like one cosmopolitan. And with less ice pls" you quickly responded.

"Light drinker. I see" Josh said while glancing at you with a smirk. You just smiled a bit to the sudden remark.

"So, while we wait for our drinks, mind sharing the reason why such glazed and rosy cheeks were stained with tears? That too in a happening party?" he finally let curiosity get the best of him.

Not sure what to answer, as sharing your private life with an absolute stranger didn't feel like a wise move at all, you just blatantly lied. "I was just missing my cat. This is the first time I'm spending a whole day without her. Stumbling upon her photo while using my wallet, caused the sudden fall."

It was more of a half lie tho; you did miss Carrot but that was surely not the reason of the outburst.

"Awee you're a defined cat lady then" Josh said while lightly pinching your cheeks and flashing his bright eye smile. "I'm myself quite attached to my feline babies yin and yang,if you ask"

The sudden touch on your face did make you flustered at first, but hearing about him being a cat dad himself, all you could care about was having a chat with him about each other's furr babies,with your wide dimple smile; sipping on the drinks once in a while.

All this time , the bearer of the pair of eyes that were fixated on you for the entire evening , had seated himself in the bar counter, far away from your noticing yet close enough to notice your friendly and overly close body language with a man, that was not him. He gulped down shots after shots;veins popping out,insides burning from jealousy and anger, and not the alcohol.

"I should probably go back to my room now. It's already quite late and isn't the city tour early in the morning tomorrow? We better get some good rest if we've to enjoy that" you told joshua, left hand resting on his shoulder.

"You're such a spoil-sport" he replied quite annoyingly. "But again, my body does need a good sleep. So i guess we'll end today’s beautiful night here. Let's join tomorrow again, for the tour." You giggled a bit, listening to him contradicting his own words.

"Let me drop you off at your room" joshua suggested while coming down the stool and fixing his blazer.

"No sire, thank you. I'm not a kid that you need to guide me back. Instead just hurry up and get some sleep or else you'll scare off the girls with your panda eyes" you joked as you yanked his hands off of yours and proceeded towards your deck.

Walking down the dim hallway all giggly and light minded, you were now standing at your room's door. Unlocking it and getting inside quickly, you were about to close the door when you felt a sudden tug on your wrist. The scene rolled out so fast that it took quite a few seconds for you to realize that your body was now sandwiched betwixt the closed door and a rock hard chest.

Instead of looking up to see who the person was, you guided your eyes down to your legs only to find them being held captive in between a pair of thick thighs.( a/n : y'all dk how much of a simp I'm for thick thighs) It took only a few seconds to realise whose body it was , but to be completely sure that it's not a hallucination, you quickly shot your eyes upwards and there he was. The man you dreaded meeting ever again, yet craved his presence everyday.

"S-seungcheol!! What are you doing?"your shaky and almost inaudible voice questioned.

Seeing him this close after months, your eyes were busy admiring all his features; starting from his cute little nose, the defined lines of his collarbone tracing themselves from the insides of his black satin shirt, finally down to his thin waist; so much so that they failed to notice his clenched jaw and the fuming eyes while he held onto your wrists tightly.

"Seems like you had quite a lot of fun with that pretty boy of yours, didn't you princess!" seungcheol exclaimed, mock quite understandable in his tone.

You've never seen this scary side of him; words were stuck in the back of your throat as you kept staring at him with supposed fear; your eyes visibly reflecting happiness and "want". The want to claim him as yours after seeing that woman being all over him in the evening.

"What if - what if he does like her? What if she's his gf? What if the feelings are only from my side?" all of these 'what if' thoughts of yours were quickly silenced, the moment cheol spoke out, again!

"I think i asked something princess. Keeping quite won't do you any well." he whispered, his hot breath fanning behind your ears.

"I - umm we were just having a normal talk, about our - " you were about to finish your sentence when a wet kiss landed right on your earlobe, making you go completely numb in your legs. If it wouldn't have been for seungcheol's thighs, you would've collapsed right there.

"About what? Filling up your stomach with butterflies or making your body shudder under his touch? Or laying his hands on something only I can touch? Hmm? I need answers doll" he kept on suggesting while placing sloppy kisses on your earlobe, going down to your neck, making it completely drenched in his saliva and finally resting his puffy lips on your collarbone, waiting for you to speak.

"N-no we were just talking about our cats" you somehow managed to form a sentence, while your body was melting like butter in his hold, mind clustered up with all the unholy things you want him to do to you.

"Oh is that so! Too bad that one of these cats will get painted with MY scent tonight" cheol spat out before surprising you with a sharp bite on the collarbone.

The sudden pain made you tug onto his silky smooth hair while moaning out his name lowly "cheol, aaahh"

"My name sounds heavenly in your mouth baby. I'll make sure that the entire cruise gets to hear you screaming it throughout the night" he said while roughly pulling you into his warmth,closing even the slightest gap between the two bodies as he placed his lips on yours.

This was when you finally let your lust break free. Responding back to the kiss immediately, you engulfed his lips into yours, gently yet hungrily sucking on them, making sure to leave his already puffy lips even puffier. You were yourself in disbelief that this was your first kiss, seeing how well you were performing. Devouring his lips like an unfed tiger for a good 60 seconds, you finally let go off them, in order to let some air in your lungs.

Seungcheol was completely stricken by this sudden move. He used to think that only he wanted you, craved for you, your touch, your heart, your body, your everything. But getting such a response, assured him of your feelings thus turning him into a beast, ready to mark you his tonight.

"I didn't know you wanted me this much huh"

Without wasting a single moment he attacked your lips again, this time making sure to leave them completely bruised. Biting your lower lip as you welp in pain,he took this as a chance to make his way into your mouth; his tongue painting even the narrowest of the cave's crevices with his saliva.

His hands moved down from your waist to your hips as he digged his nails into the flesh, lifting you up while you wrapped both of your legs around his torso, never breaking the kiss.

Upon reaching the side rail,cheol carefully placed your body straight up on the bed, while he detached yours' lips to take out something from his pocket.

That warm skin leaving yours, created a void in you even if it was for secs. You couldn't believe how desperate you've become to have him all to you . Lost in the thoughts, you failed to notice the soft yet firm cloth wrap around your wrists tying it to the bedframe; eyes immediately looking up at him in confusion.

"It's important baby! You need a little punishment for being such a naughty girl. Don't you think so?" he sheepishly smirked before placing himself down on top of you,his legs bordering your body, making you feel his bulge on your throbbing core.

"But cheol - "

"No more talking doll, I cannot hold myself in anymore" not letting you finish the sentence, he tugged onto the skin of your neckline leaving behind a trail of dark purple hickeys and bite marks, while his hands jerked off the sleeves of your dress, pulling it down to the waist, revealing your buttery soft body.

Seeing that a white lacey material was the only thing covering your chest and stoppin him from worshipping the divine figure lying infront, he quickly unclasped your bra and threw it into a corner of the room. Realizing your upper body is now stark naked, body dysmorphia quickly hit you but the hands being tied you felt helpless.

Cheol noticed the uncomfort in your eyes and softly asked " What's the matter love?"

"I feel so bad that you've to see my ugly body like this. It's not what you expected it to be, right?"

With a sad yet assuring chuckle he spoke

"Do you know how beautiful you're y/n? How heavenly your body is? How much it makes me wanna bury myself in you for hours and never let go? How long I've craved to have you like this, all to me? Lemme show you then"

Saying this, he starts placing sloppy kisses on your chest running down to your cleavage and your breasts, slowly licking the skin around the bump and finally placing his mouth on one of your nipples, gently sucking it in while his hand played with the other.

Your eyes were tightly shut, pleasure with a hint of pain running through your entire body as seungcheol kept playing with you breasts, kneading them like the most expensive dough, biting on the skin as well as your nipples, and tugging onto them once in a while.

After clenching his thirst for the time being, he slowly looked up and admired the beautiful purplish masterpiece he has made, marking you his for the entire world to see.

"You're so fuxkin pretty princess. I was trying to control myself from ruining you entirely, but fuxk it! You've driven me absolutely crazy by you now" he started unbuttoning his shirt while talking,revealing his perfectly toned abs ; a paradise for your eyes.

You were completely wet by now, your panties drenched and your insides waiting to be filled by his girth. Cheol saw the neediness in your eyes and as much as he wanted to fill you up quickly, his cock was pulsating to have your mouth around it. So without wasting a second, he pulled down his pants along with his boxers, revealing his thick length, earning a loud "Wow" from you.

"You like what you see?" you nod in response as he unties your hands guiding you to his throbbing dick, moaning the instant your warm mouth engulfs him. You quickly start pumping it in your mouth, occasionally using your hands and teasing his tip with your tongue

"Ahh y/n your mouth feels so good around me." his voice becoming shaky as he holds down your head, thrusting at a much higher speed,making you almost choke on his dick with teary eyes, finally reaching the high and releasing his sweet juices in your throat.

"Swallow all of it" and as an obedient kitten you follow all of the elder's orders.

"Seungcheol, I need you now please. I can't wait anymore" you needily plead with puppy eyes as it became almost impossible for you to control further.

"You've been a good kitten till now. So how can I not give my baby the pleasure she wants huh" saying this cheol again pushes your body down on the bed as he takes off your dress completely.

"That wet for me huh!" he exclaims proudly after seeing your dripping panties sticking onto your folds, his hands tugging onto the hem and freeing your body from any clothing.

A loud moan escapes your lips as he suddenly pushes one of his fingers inside you, followed by two more; their long slender stature pumping in and out of you at an inhuman speed, while his tongue runs circles around your clit, sending you into absolute heaven.

"I-i am about to cum cheol" words refusing to destroy the pleasure as you speak out.

"Not so fast princess." he says while pulling out his fingers immediately, leaving your pussy with an empty feeling and pouty lips, which were soon coated with your own fillings as cheol placed his lips on yours, pulling you into a passionate kiss; his hands roaming around your hips as he places a pillow beneath them, preparing you for the most awaited part.

Taking his cock in his hand and pumping it a few times before lining it up your entrance, Seungcheol looks at you with a soft gaze " Are you ready, love?"

You just hmm in response as he slowly enters you, trying to be as gentle as possible. You let out a slight whimper in pain which soon turns into pleasure as he starts thrusting in and out of you, giving you time to adjust to his length before ramming into you like a beast.

"You're so fuxkin tight princess" he says while kissing you gently to distract you from the pain. After a prolonged session of him destroying your insides, you feel yourself riding your high as you clench around his length one last time before cumming all over his legs. Cheol too finds himself reaching his climax not so late after, as he entirely releases himself in you, filling you up to the brim.

With a sweaty chest and panting breath, he plops down on the bed, beside your tired body, covering both of you with the duvet and pulling you into a warm hug.

"I love you y/n. I've loved you since the very day you came to my clinic with Carrot. I've always wanted to protect you, see your face adorning that healing smile of yours, enjoying every bit of life, even if it's not with me" you feel the sadness in his tone as he confesses his love for you.

"Sshhh cheol. Don't even think about such things anymore. You don't know how safe you've made me feel everytime you were around; your presence grazing my dark life like the soothing beams of sunlight on chilly days,your smile lighting up my soul like fireworks, your sweet scent filling up the surroundings like jasmines and lilies. It's just that I was scared;scared to love you; what if I end up hurting you like everyone else in my life. I didn't want to lose you neither did I want to see you in pain. That's the sole reason why I couldn't look into your eyes that day" tears streaming down your face as you sob in his embrace.

"Don't cry love. I'm now here, to hold onto you like a slug, forever. I'll be you warmth, so that you no more have to live in your cold world. Surely love will throw its challenges towards us, but all I can do is promise that I'll clutch onto your hands tightly. Let's be each other's home for a long time, pls" cheol comes while burying his head into your crook, as you both fall asleep in each other's arms,hearts beating in unison and souls finally at peace♡

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wangxianficfinder · 6 months

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In the mood for...

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1. A) Itmf fics where wwx is actually a servant. B) Or has a specialized skill that is not cultivation related, possibly one he's known for?

1A)

The Myrmidon by Basingstoke (E, 33k, wangxian, NHS/WWX, LXC/JGY, major character death, graphic depictions of violence, underage, WWX raised as a servant, spiritual weapons, gusu summer camp, Flirting, they're young, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, War, WIP) sadly this is probably never going to be finished, but the WIP is great on the concept of wwx actually being raised as a servant to the jiang household

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2. Itmf any fics that readers of this lovely blog absolutely adore. Their favorite fic, and please tell us why! :D Did it have beautiful writing? A plot you think about even ages later? Introduce a new idea or change ur mind about a rare pair? Was it a tearjerker, or make you laugh till you cried? Did it make you warm and fuzzy to read, or scare the bajeezis out of you? Let us know! :D

The Bunnies and The Roomba: A Love Story by Nikki373 (T, 6k, wangxian, modern, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Siblings, Siblings Try and Are Trying, College/University, 1 if by phone; 2 if by text; 3 if by mouth, Kisses, Romance, Falling In Love, LXC is the eternal captain of the good ship Wangxian) I adore The Bunnies and the Roomba by Nikki373. It's a hilarious and sweet story that I believe is hugely under-appreciated.

The Fifth Type of Non-Contact Force by Caixx (Not Rated, 83k, WangXian, Modern AU, High School, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor, Actually Somewhat Canon, Mutual Pining, Horny Teenagers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Graphic Smut) this fic has been on my mind a lot lately!!! i love the yearning and exploring the complexities of their relationship in this setting. i also just love the way the author's prose

ruined me with your regard by laallomri (T, 46k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, Introspection, Epistolary, it is not all letters but there are quite a lot of letters, Discussion of Canon Events, Pining) there's so much lyricism and elegance and emotion and I keep going back to it every time I need it.

Keep Holding On by abCEE (M, 316k, JYL & WWX & JC, wangxian, canon divergence, demonic cultivator JYL, YLLZ JYL, yunmeng siblings dynamics, role reversal, ghost general WQ, sunshot campaign, angst w/ happy ending, established relationship, accidental baby acquisation, PTSD) I’ve always LOVED roleswap AUs, and this one is the most in-depth one for mdzs. I’ve always loved reading WWX in JYL’s role just because I have the inner need to see him doted on and loved like she is, and this has all of that. Even past that, everyone in this fic is very fleshed out and all of the arcs still follow the og mdzs timeline, but have just enough divergence so it’s fresh!

~*~

3. Itmf wwx and wicked musical crossovers. Esp anything that uses/has the vibes of the song "no good deed goes unpunished"

it's not *technically* a fic, but I think the asker would enjoy this song parody

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4. pretty sure this answered this before, but i couldnt find it for the life of me. im looking for fics where jiang cheng (usually its him) makes wwx be forgotten or erased from the timeline and things just go downhill from there. if its bashing or at least not friendly to the other characters its preferably

The Way It Wasn’t by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

5. hello and thank you for all that you do. i was hoping you could help me with the itmf post and share some fics of wei wuxian’s core getting restored, perhaps with a focus on dual cultivation being the cause of it? and if none come to mind then what other fics handle the restoration of wei wuxian’s core well and stand out?

🔒 Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 117k, WIP, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war)

these colours fade for you only by doodlebutt (T, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everybody Lives, Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, …eventually, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Mutual Pining, like really unreasonable amounts of pining, Slow Burn)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence) WWX meditates his core back, not realising he's actually taking his own core back from JC

Golden Core Reveal / Golden Core Fix-It Comp

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6. Hello Mods! 😃 for ITMF I was wondering if there are any fics that

A) have LXC be angry at JGY for everything that happened/he did, or just let LXC be angry at JGY

B) do something with WWX being the Yunmeng jiang head-disciple, like focusing in on that or it being a plot point or something like that

C) show JYL and WWX being close and spending time just with each other, - I can't really find any where get to do that without JC being there and while I like Yunmeng trio I would like to see them have a bond independent of him

thanks! 😃 and have a great day!

6A)

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) in 12 moons and a fortnight verse, there's this lovely scene (and I belive it also is recurring addressed through the series to various degrees of lxc dealing with how he feels about jgy and what jgy had done) where lxc *spoiler alert* has a rebellious breakdown and starts slashing up the Lan rules with his sword *end spoiler*

There's a fic that I can't find yet, its short (tagged angst) where lxc hurts himself with his sword in guanyin temple as leverage so jgy doesn't hurt wwx. he's either angry or cold toward him iirc

6B)

Check out "First Disciple WWX" under The Untamed fandom here

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) (Link in 6A) literally the opening premise of 12 moons and a fortnight is based around the training that wwx received as the first disciple. He was always intended to be jc's second in command - who could even lead the sect in his absence or injury etc

🔒 Heart's Courage by RighteousInAdversity (T, 19k, wangxian, WWX & WQ, NMJ & WWX, WWX & Yunmeng Jiang Disciples, WWX & WN, Lotus Pier, Sunshot Campaign, No Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Destruction | Golden Core Melting, WWX has a Golden Core, Genius WWX, Jiāng Family Critical, not Jiang family friendly, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, BAMF WWX, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon JC Characteristics, Jiang Family Has A Redemption Arc, WWX Still Leaves Lotus Pier, not YZY friendly, Bad Parent YZY, not JC Friendly, As for JFM and JYL, not Bashing exactly, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia)

6C)

it's a long road but we're not alone by Stratisphyre (M, 62k, wangxian, JYL & WWX, LWJ & LJY, LJY & LSZ & JL & OYZZ, Canon Divergence, Not Everyone Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Parenthood, Grief/Mourning, Family Feels, Reunions, Golden Core Reveal, Getting Together)

Atlas by Folderol (T, 2k, JYL & WWX, JYL & YZY, JYL & SL, JC & JYL & WWX, Child Neglect, Metaphors for living life with a cultivation disability)

~*~

7. Hi!! for itmf, could i ask for ppl's fave canon dynamics authors? (self-recs very welcome!!) i was advised to avoid untagged E-rated fics but then i feel like i'm missing some great fics, so i'd love some help! thank you!! 🙏🏽💙

hi! i asked for 7, and i didn't wanna over-explain, but since it was asked, maybe you could add this to the itmf to clarify, if it's not a bother? 😅 thank you

i do mean top lwj and bottom wwx (only because sometimes the other dynamic can get a little ooc, which is fine, put the blorbos in situations! but not what i'm looking for currently), but /also/ canon dynamics for me means exploring while keeping their personalities: lwj being mean and bitey and awkward, but respectful when it counts, wwx being bratty but confident and enthusiastic. both dom & helpless waif wwx are interesting headcanons rather than canon to me. (also cnc/breeding kink r nice but not obligatory ofc adskjkfs)

tl;dr basically i've been 4+ years in this lovely fandom, and i feel im still not done appreciating the thoughtful way mxtx writes the characters and their dynamics, literally none of her MCs or MLs can be called 'typical' in BL standards

these authors do mostly tag their works but to be sure: 🔒kizukatana, diamondbruise, and saltyfeathers are some of my faves

~*~

8. i’m in the mood for fic where wwx is a talisman genius! @efavs

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 712k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) This is absolutely *the* fic about WWX being a talisman genius

💖 Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing) his main invention is an array but talismans too

~*~

9. For itmf, does anyone have any recs where folks treat wwx gently? Thanks!

🔒 Instead by apathyinreverie (T, 27k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, like self-indulgently so, by way of dark(er) gusu lan, manipulative elders, but in a good way, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, of sorts, not Jiang friendly, not really gusu lan friendly either, not particularly friendly towards anyone really, aside from wangxian of course, Cultivation World Critical, Sunshot Campaign, Fluff, Politics, Courting Rituals, possibly implied mpreg, Genius WWX, Talismans, No demonic cultivation, but wwx is still the lynchpin of the war, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ) (link in #11) depending on your definition, instead (in #11) counts for #9 as well?

~*~

10. ITMF fics where jiangs are actually a family. Like not that they're only fam in name and are living together like in canon.

The Late Great Custody Debate by stiltonbasket (G, 9k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, LXC/NMJ, JC & WWX & JYL, modern, Domestic Fluff, baby a-yuan, Single Parent WWX, LWJ is a confused rabbit owner, nielan are married, nhs is: xoxo gossip girl, Custody Arrangements, engagement, Confused WWX, WWX voice: if i'm the one with the kid why are you suing ME for child support?, LWJ kills his own love life in the worst way, Happy Ending)

~*~

11. Hi! For itmf, does anyone know of any fics where JC and LWJ find WWX in Burial Mounds after Wen Chao throws him in there but before WWX learns to conduct resentful energy? Like, they scoop him up and rush him to healers and WWX never goes down the single plank bridge?

Hope Dangling by a String by KouriArashi (M, 70k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, everyone lives, angst w happy ending, hurt/comfort, psychic bond, telepathy, communication, emotional/psychological abuse, jiang family feels, lan family feels, canon-typical violence, canon-typical politics, improper use of sacred forehead ribbons, gratuitous hair washing) I'm not sure if this counts or not for 11. Lwj saved wwx just a few days after he's thrown in the burial grounds, but wwx still learns demonic cultivation. He's never alone though, and has support from lwj and his family

~*~

12. Hi!! Is there any fic where Wy is indeed Jfm's illegitimate son?

leading tone by silencemostofall (G, 32k, WangXian, Modern AU, Soulmates, with a lil twist, Eventual Happy Ending, lesbian wq rights, Music, Orchestra, platonic and romantic pining)

~*~

13. For your next itmf I’d like to find fics that focus on wwx’s kindness. It can be any setting except a/b/o. I just want to read stories where we see his kindness and generosity shining through.

Thanks for all your help.

~*~

14. Are there any fics in which wangxian are in military? @constellationdks

囍 | a ghost wedding by sweetlolixo (E, 11k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Ghost wedding, Pining LWJ, Ghost Groom LWJ, Corpsefucking in the most romantic way possible, Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Explicit Sex, Love at First Sight) probably not quite what OP wants, but LWJ is technically military in this fic

~*~

15. Explicit ITMF! I recently reread the incense burner extra and I would just love to read some more stories where wwx is already soft and open without prep because of their everyday! Thank you lovely mods and reccers (novel dynamics only please!)

To Know, To Be Known series by cqlorphan (E, 38k, wangxian, Cock Warming, Multiple Orgasms, Marathon Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, Porn with Feelings, Aftercare, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, let LWJ get railed agenda, LWJ Learns Some Things about himself, sex tears, gratuitous use of names, Begging, Kink Discovery, Post-Canon, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Switching, Light Bondage, Blow Jobs, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Let wwx get tied up but also let lwj railed, Repressed LWJ, and his journey to sexual abandon aided by, Inventor WWX, Cock Rings, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Dildos, Rimming, Edging) a treat really this entire series, mentions of u what u asked for AND lwj being soft and open w/o prep as a bonus

~*~

16. hello! are there any fic recs or lists about a Lan Sizhui Sect Heir? thank you! @mexicantransman

~*~

17. Does anyone know of any WangXian Sentinel/Guide aus? Sentinels are kind of like superhumans with heightened physical senses, and Guides are like empaths and/or mind readers. The two usually bond with and balance each other.

Hyperprosexia by malkinmalkout (E, 192k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Sentinels & Guides, Sentinel WWX, Guide LWJ, Empath LWJ, Slow Burn, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, WWX POV, LWJ POV, Tags Contain Spoilers, Telepathy, Marriage, outsider pov, they have a kid, Telepathic Sex, Rough Sex, public exhibition, breath play, Rimming)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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cybersteal · 2 months

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Taken by the amazing fantastic wonderful @wilxfyre

I commissioned them to take some sappy shots of Vice and So Mi because all of their work is just so impressive, and I am still not over how fucking adorable and wholesome these are. Every soft, tender moment they get together fills me with so much joy, it heals my soul.

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LES DEUX BOUTS DE L'ÉCHELLE, PIERRE

𝘑𝘦 𝘳é𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘴: 𝘔𝘰𝘪, 𝘫𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦 𝘳ê𝘷𝘦𝘶𝘳; 𝘑𝘦 𝘮'𝘦𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘤ô𝘵𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘭'𝘰𝘦𝘪𝘭 𝘣𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘴é, 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘫'𝘢𝘪 𝘱𝘦𝘶𝘳, 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦, 𝘋'é𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘶𝘳. 𝘑𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘶𝘳, 𝘊𝘢𝘳 𝘭𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘦, 𝘪𝘤𝘪-𝘣𝘢𝘴, 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘶𝘹 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴

BOTH ENDS OF THE LADDER, PIERRE

𝘐 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥: 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳; 𝘐 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘖𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬, 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳. 𝘐 𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦��𝘰𝘸, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk phantom liberty #cyberpunk v #oc: vice de'angelo #songbird #song so mi #ship: shared oblivion #a day later and i'm still gettin wibbly looking through these #there's a few more but they deserve their own post just for them #seriously wilxfyre is so fuckin good at what they do - GO COMMISSION THEM #i like to think the book was something So Mi stashed in the sofa before she left Dogtown the last time 7 years ago #and Vice found it & since it was obviously important to HER it's now important to HIM so he actually cracks it open and READS IT #BECAUSE HE'S SO DOWN BAD FOR THIS WOMAN #and the poem suits them i'm not sorry for being sappy about these blorbos

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bluessideblog · 8 days

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Ok I will say it, though those I blocked won't read it snnsmwkdkal

Not liking a ship is fine, writing a post in which you say you don't like AxB and the reason is also fine but if written correctly and while being respectful of who likes it!

Writing that Ravioli is gross and comparable to inchest (or pedophilia for some reason??) is not a valuable argument (also because it isn't true) and you're only harassing who instead likes it genuinely and has never harassed who doesn't. I can write an antithesis on this and share why I like it instead, but this isn't the right post. Of course this applies for all the other ships and not only ravioli.

Spamming unrelated things, using the main LU tags isn't ok! We want to see fanart, fanfics, people theorizing, headcanons, incorrect quotes of the chain and LU charactes, or ocs, or "character in LU", and not read a bunch of unrelated posts and asks that have those tags just to get attention.

We as a fandom can and should post whatever we want that doesn't break the rules and that doesn't hurt the others in any way! I don't do or like linkshipping, and I'm so glad everyone who instead does has been so respectful of the rules! This is how we live in a community.

Not even starting with the homophobia topic. It's wrong, aside from Malon/Time and Sky/Sun no other ship is canon in LU and everyone can ship a Link with whoever they want, they can be queered into oblivion! Many of us headcanon that Hyrule is a trans man, we have never called the others words for not liking the hc.

RESPECT THE OTHERS. For Hylia's sake respect us queers. I think we can all go and report or block who doesn't.

#lionessposts #linked universe #linkeduniverse #raviolink #ravioliship #ravio

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quarantineddreamer · 3 months

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Yours to Hold

For Fluffbruary Day 13 (Choice)

To be perfectly honest: my brain is still not quite with it these days. But, I'm holding out hope that the fog will clear at some point soon (plz) and in the meantime here's a little one-shot I managed! Hope it's enjoyable 💜 (Click above to read on AO3 or see below the cut)

It had been months since Scarif. Most of it he had spent recovering from his injuries. All of it, he had spent wondering why he could face death more easily than he could face life, face her and all she represented. Hope. Happiness. Home. He had come outside to think, hoping the bracing cold might clear his head and deliver an answer. He knew how he felt about her, knew what he wanted. What he was searching for was the courage to try–to choose a future that extended beyond the next mission; something permanent and lasting and full of possibilities. Something not for the Rebellion, but for himself. Something to be shared…

Of all the planets Cassian had been sent to during his time with the Rebellion, Hoth was by far his least favorite.

Maybe it was because it was frigid as hell.

Or maybe it was because the loose snow sliding beneath his foot had a tendency to remind him of sand…

Or because sometimes, when a storm blew in, the horizon disappeared, a blinding white, returning him to the awful edge of oblivion; a planet devoured before his very eyes…

Already, dark clouds were beginning to encroach upon the brief glimpse of blue sky he had managed to snatch. By his estimate he had maybe fifteen minutes left in the fresh air before he would need to retreat back into the gloom of Echo Base. He dreaded the thought, his head aching in memory of the harsh halogen lighting, chest tightening as he pictured the maze of tight, winding tunnels leading to crowded and too-small ‘rooms’.

Sure, on Yavin 4 he had been forced to check his bed every night in case a poisonous Yavinian centipede had wandered in, but it had also offered places to turn to when he sought solitude–jungle trees that he could lean against instead of the frozen rock wall at his back now.

At best, Hoth could offer him a barely habitable tundra to wander onto that–conditions permitting–would host him for maybe thirty minutes before the threat of frostbite drove him back into the Rebellion’s cramped quarters.

“Cassian?”

Even through the harsh whispers of the rising wind he recognized her voice–three, barely audible syllables and suddenly the icy air didn’t seem quite so cutting.

Jyn marched towards him, head ducked low against the wind, arms crossed over her chest, hands clutching her elbows in a tight self-embrace. A gray hat covered her head and a scarf to match was wrapped around her neck, the end of it tucked into the parka she wore–standard-issue blue, and seemingly at least a size too large–the sleeves hanging well-past her hands.

She stopped when she reached him and peered up at him, cheeks turned scarlet from the burning cold, loose strands of hair blowing across her face and over her brilliant green eyes.

He’d come out here to be alone. To think. And yet, suddenly all the thoughts in his head seemed out of reach, as did any semblance of speech.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked incredulously.

Cassian cleared his throat and gestured upwards. “You just missed it.”

“Missed what? I didn’t know there were any new arrivals scheduled today…”

He shook his head. “No, not a ship. Sky.”

Jyn tilted her head back, eyeing the infinity above them skeptically. “Pretty sure it’s still there, Cass,” she commented.

“Clear sky,” Cassian elaborated. “Blue sky. Remember that?”

“I’ve heard of it,” she laughed, and the sound was meant for his ears (as all sounds are), but somehow it wasn’t something he heard so much as felt–winding its way through him, leaving warmth and energy in its wake, before settling somewhere against his heart.

“Cass? Hello?”

“Sorry.” Cassian blinked, snow from his eyelashes melting against his cheeks and blurring his vision. “What did you say?”

Jyn rolled her eyes. “I asked if it was worth it, but I think I have my answer. The cold’s clearly gone to your brain.” She turned her back to the wall and leaned against it beside him, looking at him expectantly.

It wasn’t the cold making him so addle-minded, Cassian knew it wasn’t that. No, it was something far more daunting, far more potent, and definitely not as easily shaken.

Jyn looked away from him, out onto the increasingly hazy landscape. “Were you really just out here to look at the sky?” she asked quietly.

She knew the truth, or at least part of it. She always did. He didn’t know how, but she did, the same way he knew he didn’t have to answer her–that she didn’t expect him to. His silence would say enough.

“It’s suffocating in there,” she murmured. “Not enough light, not enough air.”

“Too many people,” he added quietly.

She nodded. “Too many,” she agreed. “But out here it’s…”

“Quiet. Gives you a chance to think.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Sometimes.”

She peered at him from beneath frost-covered lashes. Lips quirked in a pensive, knowing smile. “What about today?”

Today? Today his eyes had been drawn to Jyn the moment she entered the mess hall; had followed her every step with a sort of dizzying wonder that was at once exhilarating and terrifying. Today Chirrut, sitting beside him, had nudged him pointedly and asked, ‘What are you waiting for, Captain?’

But there wasn’t a single answer, there was an entire swarm of doubts that continued to plague him.

He had come outside to think, hoping the bracing cold might clear his head and deliver an answer. He knew how he felt about her, knew what he wanted. What he was searching for was the courage to try–to choose a future that extended beyond the next mission; something permanent and lasting and full of possibilities. Something not for the Rebellion, but for himself. Something to be shared…

“Today, it was a good thing,” he said at last. It was a good thing because having Jyn in his thoughts, even if they were anxious ones, was still having Jyn there, with him–a sudden, strange, and unexpected source of strength and light.

She pushed herself off the rock wall and stepped in front of him, so close he could see the individual hairs that were caught up in her eyelashes, fixed in place by her hat and the wind. “Tell me about them,” she said. “The good thoughts.”

Waking up in the infirmary to find her there, resting at his bedside, arms folded beneath her head…

Hearing her laugh for the first time, a proper laugh as he and K2 bickered over something inane; he’d forgotten the fight the moment he heard the sound, caught himself automatically smiling in response…

Her surprising patience during his recovery, tempering his own frustrations; the way she’d always been there to sit with him in silence after a particularly trying day…

A quiet corner of the galaxy, somewhere verdant and warm and free of war; Jyn standing beside him, always beside him…

Instead of answering, he found himself pinning the fingertips of one of his gloves between his back and the rock and tugging his hand free. His breath caught in his chest as he slowly reached towards her face, gently sweeping a finger over the surface of her forehead, sliding the hair away from her eyes.

He should have dropped his hand after that, should have pulled away, but instead, his palm moved instinctively to cup her cheek, the softness of her skin serving in stark contrast to the bite of the air around it.

Jyn stared at him, something unreadable in her eyes as she searched his face. “Your fingers are cold,” she said softly, even as she slowly removed her own gloves and reached for his hands, tugged his remaining glove away. “Let me warm them up…”

Time seemed to slow down as she folded her hands over his own, squeezing lightly, before bringing his fingers to her open mouth and breathing onto them, the warmth of her seeping into the chilled surface of his skin, setting fire to his stuttering heart.

“Jyn…” he murmured, but anything he might have thought to say to her stuck in his throat, forgotten and useless.

He leaned closer, till the breath that had been warming his hands was ghosting across his lips instead. And for a moment, that was all there was, just the sound and feel of their breathing: a whispered question so powerful, it blocked even the howl and bite of the rising storm.

Their eyes locked and held, the beginning notes of a song hanging in the air between them…

Cassian answered the call, tilting forward to press an eager kiss to Jyn’s lips.

A pleased hum buzzed against his mouth, matching the pull of her forming smile. She released his hands and leaned her weight against him as she rose to her toes, reaching to wind her fingers around his neck and into his hair.

He wrapped his arms around her, tightened the embrace, a wild melody tearing through him like thunder through spring air, full of promise.

When they parted, they did so slowly, scattering short kisses across cheeks and noses, and unable to resist one last deep, lingering kiss, before finally leaning away, just enough to clearly see each other’s faces.

The smug grin Jyn was giving him forced a soft laugh from Cassian. “What’s this look about?” he asked.

“Took you long enough,” she said softly as she stepped backwards, dragging the start of a trail in the deepening snow. “Now come on, you’ve been out here long enough–and I’ve got some ideas on how we can get warm.”

The plummeting temperatures didn’t seem capable of reaching him–not with the shadow of their kiss persisting on his lips–but Cassian didn’t bother to resist.

Jyn tugged gently on his arm, and he gladly followed

#rebelcaptain fluffbruary #rebelcaptain fanfic #rebelcaptain #jyn x cassian #b writes #is this fluff? maybe? idk? this is probably as close as i get anyways #the rebelcaptain network

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robsheridan · 6 months

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I’m thrilled to finally have my original analog glitch skull back in print today after the first edition has been sold out for years - here’s a first look at the actual print and all its remastered details:

This has become an iconic image for my work and for analog glitch in general, as it was my first piece back in 2012 that paved the way for my analog glitch work with How To Destroy Angels and the beginning of a new fine art movement of VHS/CRT glitch that is thriving today more than ever.

For these tenth anniversary editions I went back to the original photographs (captured at high speed off the screen of an old CRT television) with everything I’ve learned over the years about mastering analog glitch for print, and the results are crisper, more vibrant, and more true to the original vision than ever before.

In the close-ups here (these are all photographs of the print itself) you can see a couple elements I’m proud of that were always very hard to preserve in print, like the subtle glow of the skull, which displayed as increasingly tiny bits of light on the pixels of the screen dithering out to black:

Every pixel of the CRT can be seen on the print until they disappear into the black, creating a glow that is soft from a distance but rich with texture up close. I strive for the very highest fidelity of low fidelity!

The first of these new editions were on display at last year's Glitch Art is Dead show for their proper 10th anniversary in 2022, and now they’re finally available: Four analog glitch anniversary editions out today (including the Welcome Oblivion vinyl album cover piece), personally signed/numbered, limited to only 30 copies!

Next month I should be able to share photos of the first-ever premium canvas editions of this work (available for pre-order now), which give it the large format fine art presentation I have always dreamed of.

All of my limited edition prints are personally signed/numbered fine art giclée prints on archival matte paper, printed by me to personally ensure the finest museum quality on 308gsm German fine art paper at ultra high 1440dpi print resolution, and packed/shipped worldwide with care by my wife Steph from our home studio in Tacoma, WA. Every print comes with a signed certificate of authenticity and an exclusive sticker.

#glitch art #analog glitch #crt glitch #vhs glitch #rob sheridan #fine art #glitch skull #how to destroy angels #welcome oblivion #analog(one)#analog #crt #vhs

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lost-secret-santa · 8 months

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Lost Secret Santa

Hi! I thought it would be fun to do a Lost Secret Santa this year, since it seems like the community is big enough that an event like this would work!

This will be a pretty basic fandom Secret Santa gift exchange. You will be assigned a giftee that you can anonymously get to know through asks and make them a gift to be echanged around Christmastime.

Gifts can be really any kind of fandom content you like to make. Some ideas of what that could be include (but are not limited to): fanfic, fanart, edits/gifsets, fan video, a playlist, meta/analysis of a certain character/ship/episode/scene etc., a handmade item (only if the giftee is comfortable giving you an address you can send it to), poetry, icons/profile pics/banners, or themes!

So basically the plan for Lost Secret Santa is you have until November 20th to sign up, and I will be anonymously assigning you a giftee on the weekend of November 25th.

When you sign up there are spaces for you to list what characters or ships you want to receive a gift for, and what characters or ships you are okay making something for, as well as what kind of fandom content

You can list specific ships/characters or general things for either (for example: Kate Austen, Jack x Kate; or any m/m ship, any female character, any canon ship, any platonic friendship, etc.) please be specific and list any character or ship you really don't want to make something for so that I don't assign you a giftee that you won't enjoy making a gift for, however, try to give more than one answer, especially if it's a less major character or rarepair ship with a smaller fanbase.

I will share your preference for characters/ships and type of content you want to receive with only your gifter, and will not share which characters you will/won't create for with anyone.

Once you have been assigned your giftee you will have a month to send them messages on anon so that you can get to know them better and make a gift that they will like!

Gifts will ideally be posted on December 24th, 25th, or 26th, but can be posted any time up until December 31st.

Tag your gifts with #lostsecretsanta2023 so that I can reblog them

If you sign up but have to drop out at any time, I totally understand but please let me know as early as possible so that I can figure out something for your giftee so that everyone gets something.

I'm not sure how many people will be interested in doing this but I hope it will be fun

Here's the link to the form you can use to sign up

Send me an ask if you have any questions at all about how it will work

(please boost this if you plan on participating or have a lost-centric blog so that more people can see it)

tagging some lost mutuals and people who expressed interest under the cut (as always if you don't want me to tag you in things please let me know)

@obsessivedaydreamer @eponine119 @epiphytecanopy @bitchboylinus @unorthodox-oblivion @ff-12 @linusbenjamin @stripesysheaven @skatiet @ivebeendressingforrevenge @hamster-on-fire @finneganhart

#lostsecretsanta2023 #lost #lost tv #abc lost #kate austen #juliet burke #jack shephard #james ford #sayid jarrah #ben linus #john locke #claire littleton #charlie pace #sun kwon #jin kwon #shannon rutherford #boone carlyle #daniel faraday #desmone hume

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lavendertales · 2 years

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Chaotic—Javier Peña x f!reader**

Chapter 8 of the Unholy series

summary: Javier tries to stop thinking about everything that happened. But one evening, jealousy & anger gets the best of him when he finds a guy hitting on you at a bar.

word count: 4.4k

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol & smoking. car sex, sub!Javi, mutual masturbation (I guess), cockwarming.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @azertyrobaz

series masterlist | AO3

It’s more than just a means to an end.

That’s the most difficult pill Javier had to swallow over the next few days. He sat with his thoughts in the dark, smoking cigarette after cigarette and knocking the aftertaste back with a shot of whiskey, hoping it’ll calm him down.

But nothing did. Nothing calmed him down.

Nothing but you.

How ironic, Javier laughs to himself. The one person who angers him the most is the only one who can soothe his nerves. Granted, not through conventional methods, but so far it had worked splendidly.

Minus the part where Javier began to want more.

It was almost as if no other woman existed but you. Like any one night stand he’s ever had faded into oblivion, paled in comparison to the moments he’s shared with you. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him what spell you cast upon him, what dark magic did you work that had him hooked on that ecstatic sensation.

He’s thought about everything, and reached the horrifying conclusion that it wasn’t just the sex—although that was reason enough. It was everything that made you who you are, everything about you that drove him mad with rage and the desire to do and be better.

He’s beginning to think that this isn’t rivalry; not when the end result is him wanting to better himself instead of wishing for greatness. This is something else, monstrous and raging in his chest. Though it is not anger, and certainly not anger directed at you—if anything, you’re more like fuel to the fire already burning up inside of him, something that awakens both the best and worst of him.

How is that possible? What the hell is that, even?

Those thoughts let him know no rest; but when he’s at the office, he does his very best, so as to not look suspicious, particularly to you.

But you don’t seem so keen on teasing him. You haven’t really stepped up your insult game in a couple of weeks, and Javier can’t help but wonder whether you share the same thoughts and insecurities as him. Did you somehow have the same epiphany as he did and now you’re struggling to come to terms with it? Could that be the reason why you were mostly avoiding his glare and only working with him if necessary?

The irony was that necessity required the two of you to be around each other at all times as of late, and it drove Javier insane.

But he still did his best to be civil and respectful, if nothing else. He would’ve chosen to be one hundred percent professional, but truthfully, that ship had long sailed for you both.

It’s hard to keep it together when you bump heads all the time, and especially when you meet in the evidence room. The filthy memories that taint that room infiltrate you both, and you can see it on each other’s face.

Neither says a word at first. It’s a silence game, and your egos are pros at it. Javier tries his best to search for the information he needs without you noticing that, but you’re too busy ignoring him to actually notice.

“That’s great, breathe a little louder, won’t you?”

Javier turns to you, stunned. That is too much, even for you.

“What’s up with you?” he asks, gritting his teeth to maintain whatever peace possible.

“Like you care.”

“You’d be surprised to hear I can be very compassionate.”

You make a mocking sound, but Javier refrains himself from saying anything about it.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he comments instead.

“Actually, I woke up on the right side, alone and comfy.”

“I get that.”

That’s when you search for his eyes, eyes that briefly meet with yours in a compassionate exchange.

“There’s a difference between being alone and being lonely,” Javier tells you.

“I’m not—“

You’re about to snap, but looking at him, something heaves in your chest. It’s rage, but it feels different. It’s not rage directed at him, but rather at you, at everything that’s been going on.

“Okay, should we just address the elephant in the room?” you propose, hesitant yourself. “Get it over with?”

“It didn’t happen.”

You roll your eyes. “We’re in the evidence room, with no one around. I think we can be mature this one time and admit it.”

Javier huffs, visibly displeased. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

You both buckle up, waiting for the other to commence the conversation. When silence becomes too deafening, you take it upon yourself to start.

“I don’t know why those things happened with us, but it was just a mean to an end. We both got physical satisfaction out of it, and—“

“It wasn’t.”

“What?”

“Just a mean to an end. It wasn’t just that.”

Baffled, you can only stare at him, trying to process what he’s saying. It’s hard to believe that he would simply concede to anything in front of you, but perhaps this is the first time the two of you are completely honest with each other.

Even though the circumstances aren’t exactly ideal.

“What do you mean it wasn’t just that?” you ask. “If it wasn’t just sex, then what the hell—“

“You’re probably the most intelligent woman I have ever met. Surely you can figure out… what it is.”

This does nothing more but bring you a splitting headache.

“So you’re saying you—you what, have feelings for me?”

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. I’m saying… out of everyone I’ve been with, you’re the most—“

“The most… what?”

God, why is this so fucking hard?

“The best—uh, you’re—you know your stuff. You feel so… you feel really good when—“

“Okay, got it. Let’s stop talking about it. Or whatever the hell this is.”

You’re the one who leaves the evidence room first, more confused than you were before you walked in there. Clearly talking about personal things isn’t Javier’s strongest suit.

Or yours, really.

So what’s the point then?

It has to stop. It’s wrong and it’s not doing you any good in the long term.

“I feel like I’m being annoying by asking this again, but I’ll risk it. Are you okay?”

Sofia’s voice is tender and considerate and you can’t help but be grateful for her consideration.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you reply with a loud sigh. “A few weeks ago I would’ve probably said ‘top of the world’ or some clever lie, but… I don’t know if I have it in me.”

“Things are getting darker here, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Sofia looks at you curiously, not daring to pose the next question on her mind. Yet somehow, you seem to be able to tell anyway.

“Have you ever had a secret that was eating you from inside out? Something… shameful and you know you shouldn’t have done it, but it also feels… like the best thing you’ve ever had?”

Sofia frowns, listening to you attentively nonetheless. “Uh… you had me up until the best thing you’ve ever had part. My guess would’ve been you killed someone and felt good about it.”

You actually manage to chuckle, shaking your head after.

“No, nothing like that. Actually it might be even worse.”

“Whoa. What kind of secret is that?”

“A pretty shameful one.”

“Does it have anything to do with your personal life?”

You falter, though that only makes your response even more obvious.

“Ah. I see,” she replies rather coyly. “Got involved with someone you shouldn’t have?”

“Probably.”

“The ambassador?”

You frown, abstaining from laughing out loud though. “That might actually be favorable.”

“Is it Steve? I’ll keep my mouth shut if it is.”

This time around, you do laugh.

“None of the above. It’s just… I should go out more, I think.”

“We can grab a drink tonight if you want.”

“You know what, that’s a great idea. Let’s do it.”

“We’ll have a drink, talk some stuff out, maybe meet some people…”

You snicker, ignoring the background image of Javier walking across the office, fugitively eyeing you and thinking he’s clever by doing so.

“Dating isn’t the top of my priorities list,” you say.

“You don’t need a date. Maybe just a palate cleanser.”

“A palate cleanser. A one night stand.”

“If guys can do it, why not us?”

“’Us’?”

“Hey, a woman’s got needs, too.”

Sofia smiles proudly, failing to remark the questionable expression on your face. You know she’s got a point, and while you’re thankful for her idea and her care, you’re also hesitant.

The bad part is that you know exactly why you’re hesitant to go out and get yourself a so-called palate cleanser.

And you hate it. You hate that, and you hate him.

But you go for it anyway: you get cleaned up after another long day, pick out some nicer clothes and put on makeup and hit the bar with Sofia. You gave it a shot and called Connie as well, but judging by the sounds in the background, she was already otherwise engaged.

Given how things were down there, you were always looking forward to the littlest things to cheer you up. And tonight, you were looking forward to sharing a drink with a friend.

But not one hour later, Sofia was being chatted up by a reasonably handsome guy, leaving you alone with your gin and tonic at the bar. She calls your name after a while, all giddy and flustered.

“Hey uh, would you mind if me and Juan over here go out?”

Her smile is wicked, her eyes sparkling with hope and excitement. You roll your eyes and shake your head, smiling yourself.

“Oh go on, have fun.”

“Thank you!”

She hugs you briefly, grabbing her purse as you lean back to whisper, “You have your gun with you, right?”

She tsks, pretending to slap your arm.

“You’re bad!” she laughs.

“You have no idea. But seriously, be safe.”

“I will.”

“Have fun.”

“I definitely will.”

She winks at you, and you watch as the guy named Juan wraps his arm around her and they walk out of the bar. It’s crowded, unreasonably hot, and you are three gin and tonics in, deciding to make the current one the last one. Not even getting a good buzz makes you feel better.

Maybe Sofia was right. Maybe cleaning your palate with someone else would do you good.

“¿Puedo invitarte a un trago?”

Oh goodie, a guy who wants to buy me a drink, get me drunk and take advantage. How classy.

You smile at the guy, declining his invitation for another drink, but agreeing for him to sit down next to you and strike up a conversation.

You learn his name, his job, his family situation, and all the basics that encompass his essence. None of that interests you though. He may be good looking, but it’s just not doing it for you.

I hate this. I hate everything about this, and I hate him.

God, I hate him.

But then you feel his hand resting on your leg, not moving an inch up your thigh, and you dislike it. It should feel thrilling, ecstatic, but it doesn’t. It just doesn’t.

“Don’t push it, pal,” you warn him.

He laughs in a husky voice, retreating his hand nonetheless. “Relax, it’s all in good fun,” he says with a thick Spanish accent.

“Yeah, fun.”

You’re tempted to order another drink just to suffer through the conversation with this guy, but you don’t. You’ve had plenty, and you’re too annoyed to do that. And your face doesn’t do a good job concealing your displeasure, yet the guy remains clueless and continues to flirt with you.

You don’t even listen anymore. He pretty much repeats the same clichés in every guy’s repertoire, and you’re definitely not interested. But he seems harmless, so you let him do his number before properly shooting him down.

A pair of sharp eyes notice you from the end of the bar. His heart stops in his chest at the sight, and that same monstrous sensation erupting from within the moment he realizes what is happening. He does not want this feeling, not one chunk of it. But he finds himself powerless before it.

Javier steals glances at you and the guy, noticing the downright repulsed look on your face, and he figures you’ve had enough of his undoubtedly sleazy advances. But then… why aren’t you shooting him down?

Because she likes it.

Who doesn’t like being given attention, flattered… made to feel good?

And fuck, she feels good. The best thing I’ve ever had near me.

Now he can put a finger on that sensation, properly identifying it, and he despises it even more.

His whiskey remains abandoned in front of him as his eyes are glued to your figure. Try as he might, he seems unable to look away.

And, a few moments later, he realizes he’s also unable to stay away.

He makes his way through the crowd at the other end of the bar, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray in front of the chatty guy. You look at him bewildered, clearly not expecting to see him there, and especially at that time.

“She’s not interested, man,” Javier tells the guy.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whisper to him.

“Excuse you, my guy, but we are having a conversation here,” the guy tries to laugh it off.

“Pipe it down. She’s with me, okay? Now back off.”

The guy puts both his hand in the air and immediately makes himself scarce, much to your shock. You wait until you can snap at him for his cockiness, downright impertinence, but when he sits down and looks at you carelessly again, you realize you don’t want to.

“Is this you being compassionate?” you nearly growl at him.

“Believe it or not, it is.”

“You’re only doing this for your own selfish reasons.”

“Which might be… what?”

You throw him an unimpressed glare.

“Please. You wanna fuck me so bad, it makes you look stupid.”

To which Javier grins, foolishly so. “The stupidest.”

His response leaves you breathless and there’s no denying. You pay the bartender and decide to leave in an instant. You can’t even bring yourself to look back or to even pretend like you can still hear him calling out your name.

When you’re finally outside, you take a deep breath, letting the raindrops fall on your heated body. It’s pouring like crazy, but you couldn’t give a damn about catching a cold or anything. You just need to breathe, to feel something other than this suffocating desire to have something you know achingly well you should not have, or even want in the first place.

“Get in the car.”

Javier’s booming voice follows you still. You turn to the left and see him driving his Jeep as slowly as possible. You roll your eyes, continuing your walk.

“Swear to God, I will drive right past if you keep acting like a fucking brat. Now get in!”

“So do it!”

You stop, and so does he; you stare at each other, and you finally let your anger out.

“I did not need you to play the knight in shining armor bid or whatever the fuck that was!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I leave you and that guy to get to know each other better? I’m sure your face will get used to wearing that disgusted expression all the time when he’s near you.”

“I am not yours to rescue, Peña!”

“Yeah. You’ve made that very clear.”

You resume your walk, arms crossed at your chest and staring right ahead.

“Get in the car already,” Javier repeats.

“Fuck off.”

That’s when he snaps too, unable to contain himself anymore.

“For fuck’s sake, would you just get in so I can drive you home?? It’s pouring outside! You’ll catch a fucking cold and then we’ll be down one agent to get our hands on Escobar!”

“Right, right, cause that’s your priority.”

With a loud huff, Javier pulls the Jeep on the side of the road and gets out, sprinting towards you. He grabs you by your wrist, the grip surprisingly gentle.

“Why do you hate me?”

You stare at him bewildered, almost unable to comprehend his question.

“What?”

“You heard me. We’re doing this. Why do you hate me? Cards on the table, all out in the open.”

You take a deep breath, watching him rapidly grow wetter by each passing second.

“Have I done something to you?” he keeps asking.

“Peña—“

“No, just say it. Say you hate me for whatever reason you can and we can—“

“I don’t hate you, you moron! But you’re not exactly making it possible for me to like you, either! So no, I don’t like you, obviously! You are the most obnoxious, selfish and stubborn man I have ever met! You always contradict me, always push my buttons—“

“You wanna talk stubborn? You’re arguing with me in the middle of the sidewalk, in pouring rain!”

“You started it! I was fine without you!”

It’s Javier’s turn to look at you bewildered, curiously clinging to each word falling down your sharp tongue.

“I was doing just fine having left behind college and the memories of us arguing and competing with each other till you came back crawling into my life!”

“And you think this is easy for me?! You think it’s a walk in the fucking to park to see your face every single day?! You think it’s easy to see… that look in your eyes, to think about you, day in and out… everything you do is just so… infuriating.”

You falter, and so does he. Your breaths are ragged and shallow, almost as if you are breathing on each other’s face to see who cracks first.

“Right back at you,” you mutter at him.

“Would you just get in the car?”

He’s not letting go of your wrist. On the contrary, his grip loosens, and his fingers caress your forearm, sending goosebumps down your wet skin.

“What are you doing to me?” you softly ask, feeling on the verge of tears for whatever reason.

But you would not give him that satisfaction.

“The same thing you’re doing to me,” he replies.

You don’t fight him anymore. You comply, breaking the touch and getting in the passenger’s seat of the Jeep.

The road to your place is silent. Neither one of you says a word. You do your best to not think about what he said back at the bar, or how much it gets to you. Hell, everything he does gets to you, and you are more than convinced it is no longer a mean to an end.

If it was ever just that.

“I didn’t need you to rescue me back there,” you murmur after a little while.

“I know.”

“So why did you do it?”

He parks in your driveway, staring at you with big, soft eyes.

“Cause I hated seeing that guy all over you,” he replies.

Ever so casually, like it doesn’t mean anything. And under any other circumstances, you might’ve agreed that it didn’t. But now, you’re not so sure anymore, and that’s the scary part.

“So… you were jealous,” you conclude.

Even that gives you a headache, goddamn it.

“Here we are,” he says instead.

You find it difficult to leave all of a sudden, and you hate that even more.

“Thank you,” you tell him. “For driving me home.”

“No problem.”

“You probably shouldn’t have after drinking, but – “

“I didn’t drink anything.”

You frown. “Why were you at the bar then?”

“I was there to get a drink, but then I—nevermind.”

He’s jealous. He was jealous when he saw you with someone else.

He said he wanted to fuck you. Badly.

So much so that he openly admitted it made him look the stupidest.

You’ve never heard him admit anything of the sort, let alone make himself appear weak in front of you.

“Tell me something,” you say.

Javier lies motionless, waiting for your next words, heart in his throat.

“Were you angry?”

He frowns, unsure if he’s understood you.

“About what?” he asks.

“About that guy.”

He has no clue why you’re asking him that, but he won’t deny you anything you ask of him.

“A minute longer and I would’ve ripped his arm off,” he replies.

Something about that confession makes your skin tingle with excitement, adrenaline pumping relentlessly in your veins.

“Take it out on me then.”

Javier swear he doesn’t breathe for a good amount of time. “What?”

“You heard me. You can take it out on me if you want.”

“There’s no ‘if’.”

And before he realizes what he’s doing, his mouth devours yours, frantic and desperate for the taste only you can give to him.

While the kiss deepens, Javier scrambles to shift his seat a little more backwards, making as much space as possible. He falls back, temporarily breaking the kiss, and you stare at him with the most desire he’s ever seen in a woman’s eyes. It makes his head spin, his pants abnormally tight, and his heart race.

“God, those eyes of yours…” he murmurs.

“What about them?” you ask as you shift to sit on his lap.

“I’ve never seen in anyone’s what I see in yours.”

You want so ask oh, so much more, but you don’t; you’re too eager to feel him again, too focused on your own selfish need.

A need that he too shares, undeniably so.

You help him unbuckle his pants and he helps you lower your pants and panties, hastily grabbing whatever material that stands in his way. His cock is now fully erect, resting against his stomach, and God, he aches again. Every moment when he’s not inside of you hurts.

He gives himself a few strokes, although at this rate, he might come before even touching you properly, and he refuses to do that. His pupils are fully blown when he sees you reach in between your legs, softly moaning as you rub your clit, getting yourself ready for him. He can barely breathe at this point; it’s too much and not enough at the same time.

You feel the buildup in your belly and you deny yourself the sweet implosion. You need it to come from him. You need it to be with him, on him, however he’s willing to give himself to you.

Though you’re both still soaked, that doesn’t stop you. You straddle his lap, holding onto his shoulders as he guides himself to your entrance. Moans escape both your throats when that first push of his cock through your soaked walls occurs, the sentiment simply mind-blowing. Javier remembers your ask, to take out of his anger on you, but he’s not so sure he can. He’s at risk for crumbling at any given point, and there isn’t sufficient space for him to treat you as roughly as he’d like to.

Instead, he grabs a handful of your ass, helping you move up and down on him. The friction is terribly good, stealing grunts from him and moans from you. He watches your every move, every twitch of your body, every detail of your face. Wet locks of hair cover your face, so he reaches to unveil more of your face, gently grazing your cheek.

“Fuck, you feel so good—“he grunts.

“Sadly—so do you.”

He grins like a madman about to discover the finest pleasure in life, and maybe he is: the way you’re grinding on his lap, bouncing up and down once in a while, it makes his whole body throb, not just his cock.

But that’s all he needs, right? Hitting the right spot; nothing more, nothing less.

“You look good when you’re needy,” you smile, struggling to say the words and breathe properly at the same time.

“Shut up—“

“Make me.”

And so he does: he kisses you hastily, like he’d been deprived of the most basic human touch for the longest time, and you moan loudly right in his mouth when your stomach tightens, seemingly catching on fire. You separate to draw in some more air, feeling the impending orgasm ready to tip you well over the edge of sanity.

“Fuck, I’m close—fuck—“

“Do it, c’mon—“

A little bit of Texan accent slips in, and that’s the ultimate tipping point. Your walls tighten around his cock, and you’re trapping him inside you.

“Tell me where to—“he tries to warn.

“Inside. Fill me up.”

“Are you on any—“

“Yes, yes, fuck—just do it—“

The way you’re moving your hips to ride out your orgasm triggers his as well. You’re a mixture of sweat, wetness, and arousal that drip onto each other, bodies going limp. One of his calloused hands travels up your back, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for another kiss. The warm feeling of his warm seed spilling inside you is electrifying, and you wish you could feel like this all the time.

“You okay?” he suddenly asks.

He poses the question so gently you might think he actually cares for you.

“Yes,” you catch your breath. “It feels so good…”

“You have no idea how good this feels to me.”

“Show me then.”

“Show you… how?”

You shrug, licking your lips. “Maybe somewhere where I don’t have something poking in my back.”

“Then I’d be useless.”

You laugh, a full, hearty laugh, much to your surprise, and Javier’s. For a moment, neither of you feels any anger, any resentment or any negative feeling. It’s just forbidden bliss, two people bringing each other pleasure the way no one else can.

“You can come inside if you want,” you tell him.

“Didn’t I just do that?”

You snort mockingly, leaning in to steal another kiss from him. God, it feels impossible to stop kissing him.

Why is it impossible to stop kissing him?

“Can I take my anger out on you?” he asks you so sweetly it makes you wonder if this really your nemesis you’ve just fucked in his car is.

“Yes. I can take it.”

“I know. I remember.”

You allow him in your private space once again, allowing him inside of you once again. After all, the night is still young.

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