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ginger-canary · 11 months

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This Booth IS Big Enough for the Seven of Us

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1938

Fandom: Dimension 20 (Web Series)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Pete Conlan | Pete the Plug/Sofia Lee, Sofia Lee & Esther Sinclair, Kingston Brown & Pete Conlan | Pete the Plug, Sofia Lee & The Dream Team, Pete Conlan | Pete the Plug & The Dream Team

Characters: Pete Conlan | Pete the Plug, Sofia Lee, Ricky Matsui, Esther Sinclair (Dimension 20), Kingston Brown, Misty Moore | Rowan Berry, Cody Walsh

Additional Tags: This started out as a joke now here we are, We didn't let Pete yeehaw enough okay

Series: Part 4 of I just think that Sofiapete

Summary:

In which i spend 1.5k+ words to make a single joke.

Pete wants to try out a new hangout spot. The hangout spot comes with a dress code. Fashion shenanigans ensue.

Because @hi-intrepid-heroes and I were joking once and I had to make it real

read it under the cut or follow this link to AO3

Culturally, Pete understood that all of New York was nothing like the south. Here, cowboy hats belonged to costumes and tourists. But New York was also one of the biggest melting pots in the world, so he figured that inviting the rest of the crew to this cool new western bar would be fun.

“A western bar?” Sofia repeated, looking up from her phone. They were sitting on the couch in her apartment, Sof’s legs on Pete’s lap, relaxing after a long day. “Is this because you want to wear more cowboy outfits? You can do that anywhere, babe.”

“...Noooo.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Okay a little bit. But it’d also just be fun! We always go to the same places and get the same drinks and snacks, it’s time to change things up.”

Sof smiled. “Are you sick of the usual chips and dip?”

“No. Maybe- a little bit. Diversity is good for the brain! Please?” He batted his eyelashes at Sofia.

Sofia laughed. “It’s not me you have to win over, you already did that. Text the group chat, try and convince them.” She reached over and grabbed Pete’s phone from the coffee table.

“Can you imagine Kingston’s initial gut reaction, though?” Pete said as he took his phone.

“A western bar?” Sofia said in a deep voice, imitating Kingston. “That’s not New York. We’re on the east coast!”

“I wonder how many of them I can convince to dress appropriately.” He started typing a message, hyping up the new bar. “Cody’s definitely not going to do it.”

Sof leaned in, reading over his shoulder. “That depends. Is there a fully leather version of a a cowboy outfit?”

Pete pressed his head against Sofie’s. “Oh, probably but can you imagine the sweating he’ll be doing in that?”

She grinned. “I’m much more excited to go there now.”

As soon as Pete’s message was sent, several of their friends started typing. “Is this because you’re obsessed with boiled peanuts?” Cody asked.

Sofia lifted her head. “He’s got a point there, is that it?”

“No, but it is a big bonus.”

“Do we have to dress all yeehaw-like?” was Kingston’s reply.

“I’m down,” was all Esther replied with.

“That’s my girl,” Sof grinned. Several more messages came in, the general consensus being a yes to the bar, if they were given time to go shopping for an outfit first. Pete wholeheartedly agreed and promised Kingston he'd help him out.

Smiling, Pete turned to look at Sof. “So do you want to plunder my closet?”

“Oh, naturally. She swung her legs off his lap and stood up. “Just tell me what you want to wear and I’ll plunder the rest of your closet.”

“It’s not all western style clothes in there.”

Sofia leaned down and kissed him. “Babe, your love for cowboy culture is showing. New Yorkers ain’t wearing fringe. It’s inconvenient.”

“How?” Pete asked, mostly staring at Sofie’s lips.

“Get it trapped between the subway doors then ask again.” Sofia stood up, walking into the bedroom where a significant enough amount of Pete’s clothes lived. They didn’t exactly live together as much as both live in two places, which meant that clothes were everywhere. That’s what you get when both partners like fashion- but have very different styles.

She opened the closet, poking around through shirts of various sheerness then sighed. She was going shopping with Esther anyway, why not leave it up to her to help make the decisions? That’s what best friends are for, after all.

~~~

“Are we there yet?”

Pete whipped his head around, snorting. “Really, Cody? We’ve been walking for half a block.”

“I miss my regular boots,” he whined.

Sof slowed down slightly, taking in what could only be described as “what if cowboys only had leather?” and tried to avoid laughing. “You squeak like a New York rat, why did you decide on this?”

“He refused to pick anything reasonable,” Kingston shouted from the back.

Cody rolled his eyes and flushed. “I wanted to look like myself, even in the cowboy bar.”

“Congrats you look like… you.” Esther waved her hand at the outfit. “But louder.”

The group slowed to a stop outside The Apple Jack and Pete took this moment to inspect everyone’s outfits. From Ricky’s genuine boots and spurs, to Kingston's colourful cowboy hat he had to say everyone had succeeded in following the dress code. He’d gone with his favourite green boots and his fringe suede jacket, having left his brighter clothes to Sofie. Clad in red and black, Sof was the prettiest New Yorker lost in the south he’d ever seen. “Y’all ready?”

Cody shoved him aside. “Let me through, I’m tired of standing.”

Laughing, the rest of the group followed him inside. The Apple Jack had a simple setup to keep the New York out of the Wild West; double doors. Behind the first was a large coat rack to leave your puffer jackets and scarves behind, a tall umbrella stand and a good doormat to clean your shoes on. Then when you were ready, you could enter through the swinging doors where a light layer of sand (and peanut shells) covered the floor. Mostly fake cacti covered large parts of the room, tables and stools looking just as breakable as in every bar fight in the movies.

Against the far wall was a collection of booths, the patterning on the couches plaid and worn, the tables shiny and clean.

Pete grinned, coming to a stop in the middle of the sandy bar. There was no way he could contain his excitement.

“Actually I kind of like this.” Esther came to stand next to him, nudging a peanut shell with the tip of her boot.

Sof joined them, bumping her hip against his. “So, is it everything you wanted, Petey?”

“Well, it’s-” he was interrupted by Ricky tripping through the swinging doors. “Sorry ma’am,” he called over his shoulder. “But I’m taken. Please don’t slap my ass again.”

Esther groaned and pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. “Babe, that was the door.”

Ricky straightened and put his hands on his hips. “Well it should still know I’m taken.”

Laughing, Sofia moved towards the bar.

“Ricky Matsui, everybody,” Pete whispered under his breath.

After a quick chat and some funny squeaking, they were all squeezed into the largest booth in the bar. Some quiet country rock was playing over the speakers as a curly-haired waitress moved towards their spot. She wore comfortable ripped jeans, a plaid shirt and the standard apron. “Howdy y’all, my name’s Lily and I’ll be your server today. What can I help you with?” She spoke with a southern drawl, tapping her pen against her notepad.

Kingston leaned over the table. “Nice to meet you Lily. Do they make you talk like that?”

Sof slapped Kingston’s arm. “She’s not a prisoner!”

“It’s okay honey, people ask me that question a lot.” She turned her attention to Kingston. “No they don’t make me talk like this, I’m from Carolina. I actually enjoy working here. It doesn’t remind me of home in the way most New Yorkers would expect but there’s something comforting about floorboards covered in sand and peanut shells.”

Rowan eyed the Southern girl for a second. “Have you considered that it might be the temperature here?”

Lily shrugged. “Probably. Whatever it is, I’m comfortable here. So what can I get y’all, before your friend slips and slides out of his outfit?” She leaned in, whispering, “is he okay?” into Rowan’s ear.

Grinning, Rowan said “no” then proceeded to order a round of drinks for everyone.

Biting on her lower lip, Sofia nudged Esther. “I think Rowan’s found a new toy.”

“As long as she doesn’t get us banned from the bar, I think this’ll be fun to watch.”

“I’ll bet you 10 bucks Rowan stops the moment her shoes get dirty,” Pete whispered.

Sof watched the way Rowan got up and moved to the bar, leaning flirtatiously against the edge. “I’ll take that bet. The way that’s going, I think I already won.”

Pete turned his head to see Rowan carrying their order of snacks to the table, Lily following in her stead. “Well that was a short bet. I’ve never seen her do manual labour before.”

Kingston grinned, wrapping his hands around his drink. “Well I’ll be damned, it was worth coming here after all.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault you’re the vox populi of New York city.” Pete tossed a peanut shell at him. “Other cultures are fun to explore.”

“Yeah, like chinatown.” Ricky smiled and sipped his drink. “Hey Rowan, what is this?”

“Hm?” Rowan slipped back into the booth, her hand lingering on Lily’s arm. “I asked for a round of the best mocktails they had. And Pete’s peanuts, both boiled and regular.” She tapped her ironically neatly manicured fingers on Lily’s arm.

Pete exchanged a look with Sof, watching Lily move her gaze from Rowan’s hand to her notepad.

“It’s the cactus juice. Not literally cactus juice, of course, but bitter lemon with lime juice and mint. It’s our bestseller!”

“That explains why it’s green,” Kingston said.

“And sour.” Ricky pulled the face of a kid first tasting a lemon.

Lily laughed. “I can always get you something else.”

The dream team spent a few hours in Southern Roots, enjoying the music and snacks, watching Rowan flirt with Lily, and dancing around in the sand. As rain started falling outside the windows again, Sof wrapped her arm around Pete. “You know, I’m glad you convinced everyone to come here. It has potential, even if we have to dress up to fit in here.”

Pete raised an eyebrow. “Have you seen us?” He vaguely waved his hands at the people around the table. “We don’t fit in anywhere at all.”

“Yeah, our main test for every bar is whether or not we fit in a booth,” Esther added.

Kingston nodded and grinned.“And if they serve good enough coffee.”

“Hold on, Liz told me you were supposed to stop drinking so much caffeine.” Pete scrunched his eyebrows. “Yeah, I’m very sure she told me that.”

Kingston tried to hide a smile. “I’m fine, she worries too much.”

“Uhuh nice try, decaf for you.” Sof prodded at Kingston’s arm. “We can’t have you dealin’ with health issues just because you love bean juice so much.”

“Well if we keep coming here that should be fine,” He said, inspecting the menu. “There’s about 20 different drinks I haven’t tried yet and none of them contain caffeine, right?”

Lily nodded and pointed out some of her favourites as Rowan slid her arm around Lily’s waist.

Sof kept in a laugh and exchanged a look with Pete, who wiggled his eyebrows. There were many things Rowan was- but subtle had never been one of them. As long as whatever was blooming over there wouldn’t end in heartbreak, it seemed that they’d be coming to the Apple Jack more often. “So,” Sof said, “what do you think? Was it a success?”

Pete looked around the table at their group. “Oh absolutely.” He lowered his voice and added, “if we can get Cody out of those pants.”

As time went on, the Apple Jack was added to their roulette of hangout places, as Lily was to Rowan’s list of… whatever she wanted to call it, which meant Pete owed Sofie ten bucks. Later on that night, they all had an unfortunate time trying to get Cody out of his leather outfit- but hey, that’s what friends are for, right?

#d20 #dimension 20 #the unsleeping city #sofia lee #pete conlan #sofiapete #rowan berry #kingston brown #esther sinclair #ricky matsui #cody walsh #freckles writes things #no this didnt take forever shut up u dont know

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heartshapedbubble · 2 years

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Hello! if u can, can i request some hcs for William and Luchino (Surv) with a s/o that looks scary and intimidating but in reality they're a big softie? ty <3

ofc!! so happy that my first x reader post/req is with luchi and will, i love them both sm - here you go<3

william ellis and luchino diruse with a S/O that looks intimidating but they're actually a softie🏈🦎

william ellis🏈

tbh william was pretty intimidated by you when you first joined

yeah he might be buff and strong and all but he's still a bit of a scaredy cat, okay?

he'll try his best to not make you mad or annoyed - he'll just avoid getting in your way

it's kinda funny seeing him run directly into eldritch gods with no second thought but you being someone that he's too scared to even approach lmao

during matches he has this urge to show off more than usual so you could think he's worthy and not just a pest in your way

however, one time he gets appointed to decode the last cipher with you - he's kinda hesitant...

...but once he starts chatting you, it was like his worries vanished into thin air! he didn't expect that you're actually a softie at all

he's extremely honest so he immediately confesses to you about how he used to avoid you out of fear and it makes you laugh

now that he realized he has a fluffball beside him he can give you bear hugs and carry you around all he wants >:))))

if you guys have extra time during matches since someone else is decoding he'll carry you to the gate and parade around with you, he just LOOOVES pda okay

will constantly offer you to wear his clothes! he really wants you to wear his old black bunny onesie so you two can match

he's an avid user of puppy eyes™ when you're too busy to cuddle and honestly you really can't say no to him lol - nor can he when you do them!

will let you nap on him during games or in general if you're burned out. he makes for a great human pillow tbh,, and if you're still sleeping after the match ends he's going to carry you bridal style to your bed and tuck you in (and give you one of his plushies hehe)

if you're busy in your room he'll *slightly* open the door to give you snacks and a cute post-it note taped to the packaging

give him a little kiss while running after he does a good balloon rescue!! he's going to melt

overall you've found yourself the perfect partner<3

luchino diruse🦎

he immediately notices your resting bitchface (IMSORRYIHADTO) and your stance so he decides to stay out of your way

he is intimidated, yes, but it takes him way more time to admit it and it's less obvious

you guys actually start talking when you visit his laboratory in the manor's cellar

you're the last person that he expected to see! he doesn't accept visits often but if it's you, then it's an exception

he thought you were about to appoint him to do something shady honestly😭but after he realizes you're just here to have a friendly chat he puts his guard down

he certainly did NOT expect your personality to be that upbeat and sweet, but hey, who's he to complain?

as a partner, luchino is less upbeat and energetic as william but he is incredibly caring

you two can ramble for hours with no end! he's a great person to have a conversation with

he loves when you lay your head on his chest and run your fingers through his hair it makes his brain short circuit </3

^ you swear you can hear him purring (he does.) when you do that but he'll deny it every time

not a big fan of pda but once you're in either his or your room you won't be able to get him off of you

prefers to be the big spoon and put his head onto your shoulder while caressing your arm, but he's not opposed to being the little spoon either! as long as you're with him

calls you various pet names in italian (tesoro, cuore mio, gioia mia...) >:)) wholesome bastard #2 also this man has a gorgeous voice wow you could listen to him laugh for DAYS

likes seeing (and making) you flustered! it's secretly his favourite thing to do lmao

adores when you visit him in his laboratory with a cup of coffee or tea to chat or just compliment him on his work - does the same to you! always visits you before you go to sleep to help tuck you in and give you a goodnight kiss

he might not be the most energetic partner out there but he's one beautiful soul <3

#idv headcanons #identity v headcanons #idv #identity v #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v x you #idv william #idv forward #identity v forward #william ellis #idv luchino #identity v luchino #identity v professor #idv professor #luchino diruse #idv imagines #idv fanfic #luchino x reader

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dionysianfreak · 2 years

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is anyone interested in my music associations for the Theoi ? actually I don't care you're getting them anyways.

as I've shared before music is super important in my practice. i have synesthesia so my personal connections between Divine energy and music is very strong. so, I want to share my strongest song connections to each God I have a playlist for. i hope you enjoy the Theoi per my brain

Their playlists are linked in Their names if you'd like to see it in full. this is a long one, so the songs and playlists are under the cut !

Dionysos

general vibe: fast paced, sensual, ecstatic, fatherly, reckless, sadistic

song association: Verbatim — Mother Mother

I cross my legs just like a queer but my libido is strong when a lady is near, ya. What defines a straight man's straight? Is it the boxer in the briefs or a 12 ounce steak? I tell you what a women loves most, it's a man who can slap but can also stroke

song association: Sunflower — Post Malone

Every time I'm walkin' out I can hear you tellin' me to turn around. Fightin' for my trust and you won't back down even if we gotta risk it all right now. I know you're scared of the unknown. You don't wanna be alone. I know I always come and go but it's out of my control

Aphrodite

general vibe: feminine, lovestruck, independent, sexual, prideful

song association: Butterfly's Repose — Zabawa

But it's time to rest, now. Let it all melt now, wipe your tears. The sun's already set, now. Won't you go to sleep, now? I'll see you in your dreams, 'cause I'm right here. Darlin', I'm right here

song association: Sugar Daddy — Qveen Herby

If it's my right to taste the riches of the earth–these bitches better let me work. A private host, a private toast, to new horizons. Nevermind what I had to do to get these diamonds

Hermès

general vibe: obscure, crafty, goofy, wooden, repetitive

song association: Homage — Mild High Club

Please just have a laugh with me 'cause you know I'm borrowing by now. These sounds have already crowned. Come on, it's a silly dream, dreaming of the imagery unfound. The view sits nice from that cloud. and if you want a piece of my thoughts there's a coin worth flipping, why don't you toss?

song association: The Bidding — Tally Hall

I graduated at the top, I like to take advantage of the bourgeoisie, so if you have a fantasy of being a queen maybe you should blow a couple bucks on me. Going once, going twice, won't these gentlemen suffice? Any here? Any there? Any motions anywhere? Going twice going thrice–Guess this means we'll go four times a lady

song association: There Is a Light That Never Goes Out — The Smiths

And if a double-decker bus crashes into us to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die. And if a ten ton truck kills the both of us–to die by your side, well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

Hekate

general vibe: loud, wrathful, angry, avenged, strong, dominant

song association: IC3PEAK — Грустная Сука

Wild dogs are afraid both of me and of fire, that’s not a coincidence. I’m throwing up right on your marble floor, grinning at shadows in the mirror. Cross yourself every time you see me, I disrupt your beliefs. I’m ruining your day with my dead pale face...There is no one above me here luxury life is not my style. I love mud, it makes me high, I smile only when I bite

song association: Nightmare — Halsey

No, I won't smile, but I'll show you my teeth and I'ma let you speak if you just let me breathe. I've been polite, but won't be caught dead lettin' a man tell me what I should do in my bed. Keep my exes in check in my basement 'cause kindness is weakness, or worse, you're complacent. I could play nice or I could be a bully–I'm tired and angry, but somebody should be

Pan

general vibe: indie rock, masculine, indulgent, lonely, melancholy, stoner-esque, classic

song association: Breathe (In the Air) — Pink Floyd

Breathe, breathe in the air. Don't be afraid to care. Leave, but don't leave me. Look around, choose your own ground. Long you live and high you fly. Smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry, and all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be

song association: Do I Wanna Know? — Arctic Monkeys

Have you no idea that you're in deep? I dreamt about you nearly every night this week. How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep. Spilling drinks on my settee

Kore

general vibe: dynamic, floral, gentle, dangerous, soft

song association: Persephone in the Garden — Aidoneus

Did you know I was there? Did you know what I needed? How, how long did I stand in the garden with my breath against the leaves as the trees bowed down and weeds would gather around my legs up to my knees

song association: Plant Life — Owl City

I'd rather waltz than just walk through the forest. The trees keep the tempo and they sway in time. Quartet of crickets chime in for the chorus. If I were to pluck on your heartstrings would you strum on mine? I've been longing for daisies to push through the floor, and I wish that plant life would grow all around me so I won't feel dead anymore

Hera

general vibe: vengeful, powerful, femme fatale, protective, motherly, regal

song association: Everything Matters — AURORA

You're part of the dawn where the light comes from the dark. You're a part of the morning and everything matters. And we are, an atom and a star. You're a part of the movement and everything matters to me

song association: Black Velvet — Alannah Myles

Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell. Jimmy Rogers on the Victrola up high. Mama's dancin' with a baby on her shoulder, the sun is settin' like molasses in the sky. The boy could sing, knew how to move, everything. Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for black velvet and that little boy's smile. Black velvet with that slow southern style. A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees, black velvet if you please

Zeus

general vibe: contemplative, solemn, regal, boisterous, classic, gentle, classic

song association: Dreams — Fleetwood Mac

Oh, thunder only happens when it's raining. Players only love you when they're playing. Say, women, they will come and they will go. When the rain washes you clean, you'll know, you'll know. Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions. I keep my visions to myself. It's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams and have you any dreams you'd like to sell? Dreams of loneliness

song association: The Great Gig in the Sky — Pink Floyd

And I am not frightened of dying. Any time will do, I don't mind. Why should I be frightened of dying? There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime. If you can hear this whispering you are dying

Ares

general vibe: dark, bassy, abstract, masculine, chaotic, phonky, fast-paced

song association: RAVE — Dxrk ダーク

there are no lyrics in this song

song association: JUDGEMENT NIGHT — HEALTH, Ghostemane

All I gave is a fuck but now don't wanna fuck up again. Don't wanna pretend that I can't demand my place, stay safe. Motherfucker wishing again the world coming and none of us think about making sense. The only way nobody comes is threaten shit up my nose. And Lord knows, and I don't want it to give me hope, and God is a no-show, God is a no-show, GOD IS A NO-SHOW

#dionysos #dionysus #aphrodite #persephone #kore #hekate #hermes #pan #zeus #hera #ares #hellenism #helpol #hellenic polytheism #greek gods #devotional aesthetic

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philhoffman · 2 years

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actually,,,, what are your least favourite PSH movies? be negative, sis

Ohhh I love being a hater 😌 These are my least faves in no particular order:

The Getaway: I lied, this one is definitely first for a reason. The worst. I don’t like the plot or the genre, I don’t like how it looks, I strongly dislike pretty much the entire case except for Phil

The Invention of Lying: This starts out promising but ends up overplaying every joke and reaching in every wrong direction. So many of the jokes aged poorly, and it’s uncomfortable even watching Louis CK. Phil’s appearance is a genuine cameo, so brief it doesn’t make the rest of the film worth it.

Strangers With Candy: Again a cameo role in a comedy that just… is not my kind of humor. Without a doubt one of his performances that makes me laugh the most, but I’m not familiar with the original show and I don’t connect with it that much

Triple Bogey: I want to like this pretentious indie art house film so much but I can’t force myself to 😔 Still not really sure what’s going on. I respect the style and the director deeply but you may be better off watching Phil’s one-minute scene on youtube than buying the DVD like I did

God’s Pocket: This list can’t be all cameos and early movies, so God’s Pocket is probably my least favorite of his more substantial films. I actually like it (mostly bc of his performance, which moves me greatly) but it’s not at the top of my favorites list. Slattery’s directorial debut, you can tell. Either Jenkins and Hendricks were miscast or poorly written (or both), but nothing about their characters/storyline was… good. I’ve reluctantly watched so many semi-mob/blue-collar crime films in the last year my brain might melt. It’s not my type of movie. However, in fairness I can’t complain about the first scene after the opening funeral shot 👀 If a movie gives me that, I can’t stay too mad at it. And seriously Mickey is a sweetheart, Phil plays him with such care and nuance and exhaustion that makes me emotional if I think about it too much

In general I feel very fortunate that the vast majority of Phil’s film and theater projects are of genuine interest to me. I think we have a similar artistic taste and maybe that’s why I connect with him so much, rather than just happening to connect to his work because of him? Like, there are many other actors who I really love but so much of their filmography is not my style at all. With Phil, I really enjoy most of his films and the plays he did as a whole, even outside of his particular role in each

And lately, working through his early films, I’ve tried to see the best in all of them… however, if pressed I could probably be a hater for any movie. Szuler? Weird Polish orgy movie. Joey Breaker? Dumb. Flawless? Absolutely stupid unnecessary crime subplot. Mary and Max? Claymation scares me. Jack Goes Boating? Wash your hair buddy.

#btw if he WAS in Billy Madison? that would be on this list fer sure #same reason as strangers with candy #cullenrutherford #ask #thank you marie I genuinely love waking up and writing far too much about movies before I go to work 😌❤️

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janumun · 3 years

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The Pirate's Symbol(s): NSFW Alphabet [IkeSen Motonari]

Game: Ikemen Sengoku Pairing: Motonari/Female Reader

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 2.5k

Warnings: stockings fetish, spoilers for Motonari’s ‘condition’, sexual intercourse, mentions of exhibitionism/semi-public sex, (non-sexual) bondage, innuendoes and dirty-talk, masturbation

Author’s Notes: Motonari’s entire self is a joy, his route gave me some much needed, invigorating enemies-to-lovers, and I officially love him! [Totally swiped my heart right up without warning!]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Motonari is quick — you’d almost say adept — at sweeping off a cloth, or container, placed by your bedside. Although, your touch and whatever fire you generate in between the two of you does not bother him, he does prefer you both cleaner of the mess and fluids when holding you close in his arms, afterwards.

Wiping up the remnants of your passionate and, often vigorous, activities off of quivering thighs he presses apart, in gentle strokes of damp fibers. Movements of the cloth soft enough it doesn’t shock you into over-sensitivity but not soft enough you relax entirely beneath him, because that scarlet gaze is always fixated on you — your body language. And if you give away even an inch, he’s ready and up for round two (or four). [Bless yer stamina, matey!]

If not, he’s still up and happy to listen to his favorite flower-brained woman’s amusing, outrageous tales she narrates in animated conversation. While he whisks up a quick, invigorating meal for her at the kitchen counter, just as she rests her happy self at the table. Garnet gaze seemingly fixated upon the task at hand — spices being tossed, ladle being stirred, eggs whipped to perfection — but his answers are prompt and alert, although still carrying that insouciant edge. Indicating his attention; equal division in between feeding you and hearing you speak.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Motonari is fond of his mouth, and before you, he didn’t think of it as much of an achievement as he believes it now, when your jittery gaze seeks immediate relief (and lust) as soon as it lands upon that obvious smirk.

A single kiss and your thoughts are all but handed over to him on an elaborate platter. Your cheeks color dark and wide; restless eyes tracing across his mouth. Your own parting; pink tongue darting quick in a swipe across plush lips: all of you demanding more of him.

Yes, he is surprisingly (or not), in touch with a far more emotional side: Motonari adores your eyes, although you’re never hearing it from him. Your entire body speaks of honesty but the way he reads your thoughts so easy, in your gaze, there’s quite nothing as exhilarating or confounding as the love he captures in them. That quick, tight knot of your brow, your anger flaring in your eyes or the equally prompt melting, when he appeases you in gentle teases. He’s been so long used to not trusting that a person he sees this clearly through, and sees how she trusts; it’s not an entirely terrible thing to feel.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As mentioned above, the man doesn’t particularly care to leave you a mess post-coitus unless you ask it of him; there is little he’s able to refuse you. So when it does come (…heh) to cumming outside of your pussy, your mouth is a pretty (very pretty too) good substitute for him to ejaculate, without having to think of leaving external stains on you. Your throat clamping, then swallowing, around his orgasm, so he feels that slick slide of saliva and semen around him, as you moan.

Yer pretty darn hot, m’lady.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There are times he descends — quick and furious — into an almost juvenile state of petty jealousy [he realizes the immaturity of it, he just cannot! help! it!] and ends up turning that lust on you, instead.

He’d never actually do it but visualizing — in almost exact, murderous details — how he’d like to drag you into an empty room whenever Kicho gets all up in your face, and fuck you so hard your throat tears through screams lough enough Kicho hears each and every single sound and moan.

Or, clasp your chin in his fingers, whenever Hideyoshi’s a little too close for comfort at an Oda banquet, and kiss you senseless and noisy [pirates crave a flashy exhibition!].

He despises making a show of you to anybody, so that idea only stays in thoughts but also it’s mind-boggling, since it does get him hard on the spot.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you, it was only ever through terrible necessity (extremely dire straits) that he — if ever and very sparing — sought casual sex. The occasions hadn’t been plenty and he’d be frighteningly specific about how he wanted to take a woman to bed.

Bathed, no make-up, no perfume, no scented products or jewelry — anything extra that he could accidentally touch and trigger a reaction. A clean, unscented futon he’d provide in a bare room. Any bonds or cloths he could get his hands on (buying his own and discarding immediately after), to tie their limbs, keep their movements limited; Motonari used.

Of course, there’d be the rare prostitute who’d drop immediately after visiting a client, or one who’d perceive his conditions extreme and over-the-top and think they could ‘change his mind’. The moment they’d try and cross the line, he’d fling them off, almost violently, heart racing, sweat marking each inch of exposed skin. Nauseous and barely tapped, before he’d stride out of the room.

He’s also witnessed open and perverse brothels — and corrupt seething dens — where men and women fuck, for all to see, in his line of work, so he’s no stranger to how sex works for others either.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He’s learning to let go and touch (just you) without the added barrier of gloves and since you so seem fond of his hands on you, Motonari likes any positions that allow his hands to move your body upon his; he isn’t picky.

Palms curved upon your hips so that your ass slaps against his pelvis each time he pulls back, the movements of his cock into and out of your pussy — a place you are both connected and he likes that. Or even when he can spread your thighs wide, press them apart before hooking his hands over your abdomen and just focusing on moving.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s a pirate he’s a vortex of a man and slips all over the spectrum. Motonari’s goading is far softened with minimum barbs, when he’s in(side you) in bed with you. More velvet — than leathery — questions, soft smirk-y and probing,: “Ya like that, flower girl?” —as his mouth hovers just close to your ear, nose barely touching and tucking sweat soaked strands away from your temple. Definitely lands firm and midway between too serious and entirely silly. But he’s all focus on you, make no mistake.

He’s still got a filthy mouth on him, but dirty romantic liners are more his style, in bed (he wants you warmed as well as turned on!), in contrast to the complete indecent filth he threatens you with (a good time!) when the two of you are out and about.

“Pipe down, m’lady. The way yer moaning, they’re gonna think I’m fucking ya, right on deck.” Those eyes are burnished rubies; smile wide, crooked and unashamed, as he ducks close. “But maybe ya feel like putting on a show.”

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s clean down below (and silver-haired, yes) — he doesn’t go the ‘complete waxed up, no-hair in sight’ route, but rather prefers keeping his hair short-trimmed and well-groomed.

He’s also kept his pubic hair short and neat, for the rare occasions he does have sex, and an unkempt mass down there would leave him more likely and exposed to his partner’s fluids staying on him. He despises that.

Motonari doesn’t mind blood, dirt and grime on the field, nor the brine of the harsh sea sticking to his skin, but as soon as he’s done with — or in between — jobs, he takes the time to wash and clean himself up thoroughly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

[Also see G=Goofy] Motonari isn’t short with words of love. He isn’t reciting romantic poems but he is quick to let you know, in exact words, how much he loves you — and is loving being inside you — in the moment. Barriers definitely lower themselves — not all down, not completely back up — with this man, in bed.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

(As also mentioned in E=Experience) the man, previously, has sought intimacy only and only out of desperate necessity and when his hand is just not enough for him to relieve himself of his lust. Motonari, before you, jacked off, multiple times within a week, sometimes thrice (or more) in a single day. His desires, usually amped, following a particularly unsatisfying battle or raid.

After you, he still does take time off for some self-lovin’ (remember: stamina for daaays, and you’re mostly unable to match him so he makes do), just not as much as he used to, in the past.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

You and Motonari share a love for (clothing) imports from the seas beyond. He’s always up for sharing and discussing trade secrets, doling out clothing advice and helping you work out modern clothing from whatever fabrics are available to you.

Stockings might be one of his favorite products.

The fabric feeling absolutely exquisite against his palms when he rounds you close into his grasp, stood in between his spread thighs as he observes and hums beneath you, seated. A harmless joke you make, about a stocking fetish and the ensuing explanation soon after, has him grinning and dragging you down to test the material against his teeth.

“Yer sayin’ I got a thing for yer fancy underclothes? Heh, don’t think so. Seeing you in it just makes me wanna tear it all off, meu docinho de côco.”

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere you’re afforded privacy; although a little flirting with danger is good and being pinned in between the door and his body. Watching you try and smother your moans into your sleeves, skews that grin wider, that cock harder.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. He’s got a dirty mind, it’ll do the rest of the work when its got its catalyst: you.

Nothing gets you results faster than being honest with Motonari, or expressing your affections (even chaste) for him.

Tell him he looked especially handsome, earlier on a job out: with his hair slicked back and how hard it was for you to have held back from kissing him, on the spot. That you love him—

He’s on you so fast.

“That brain’s just gotta keep sprouting its flowers, huh.” He murmurs, tugging at your chin to swipe his tongue into you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Despite his treatment of you very early on in his route (the collar, the slavery deal), Motonari’s not into putting a collar on a person, romantic or otherwise. Collaring and hearing you call him your Master wouldn’t do much for him, playful or not.

He’s had to live a great chunk of his life as the Beggar Prince; experienced the devastating dregs of human society, including and not limited to being treated as one inferior, and having to watch people around at the very mercy of corrupt lords.

In retrospect, it isn’t something he might take pleasure in, in the bedroom.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving or receiving, both take some getting used to within the bedroom. He finds the taste of you pleasant, when he withdraws wet digits from inside you and takes a careful swipe of the clear fluid across his skin. And has expressed interest in, and gone down on you several times.

Receiving gets a bit more gentle coax-y and requires reassurances, with Motonari. He doesn’t particularly like seeing his release all over you. Having to work through those barriers of his mind, but once he allows you, he does enjoy the slow kisses, and the soft slide of your mouth against him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His default setting is rough and furious. The two of you are usually frustrated passion by the time you actually get to his bedroom (he likes to prod and poke much too often in public, get you riled) so there’s only one way to go and it’s up. He’s spreading your thighs apart with none too gentle hands as he pushes through and into you, your own hold on him, white knuckled and almost delirious with the way his hips rock into you and his cockhead scraps across your front wall with his onslaught.

At times, however, especially after a high-risk mission; when he’s been close enough to stare Death in the face and survive, he likes to take his time being inside you, just being able to feel you. Once, twice, several times, he’s keeping you beneath, or mounted on top of him, coaxing your hips and your moans.

“Don’t look at me like that, flower girl. I’m alive, ain’t I? Com’ere. I’ll take those tears of yers.”

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Definitely! Any time he can have you, or get you close enough in private, you’re going to be fucking each other. He loves those little breathy, moan-laughters you make in half-panic/all arousal, each time he drives up to grind your hips close together, stuffed into a hallway closet.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Semi-public quickies are a thing and the closest to risky as he gets. As mentioned previously, he’s demanding enough over you, he doesn’t like men Kicho touching you, let alone hearing you when you sound like that.

Other kinks, most kinks, he’s down to try with his favorite dirty, flower-brained woman. He does however, draw the line at any kinks that might involve him using harsh, ugly words to degrade you or your body and/or being soiled.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

All I gotta say is: Pirate’s got stamina enough to power his ships through horn alone, over an entire week!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys translate to external objects. Which are always subject to germs, and need to be (excessively) cleaned by his standards, to keep them useful and usable. That’s far much more work than he’s usually willing to commit himself to.

And he has no need of them. Not when you respond plenty to his touch alone.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A lot! Motonari’s brand of filthy talk is polished to leave you damp in between the legs. He’s pulling the nastiest most wonderful innuendoes out of the most mundane of tasks.

“Ya like that old weapon?” He might ask of you, as you admire the carvings upon the handle of one of his clan’s katana. “Didn’t know ya liked the feel of handlin’ a sword between yer hands that much, m’lady.”

Leaving your mind reeling and cheeks flushing before withdrawing with a, “What’re ya cooking in that flower brain of yers? Heh... you’ve got a dirty mind.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heavy, sensual pants against your ears. His groans and grunts enough to fan the fires of your own arousal, to have you ready to come, from just the sounds that can leave his throat. Motonari doesn’t care to be heard outside your boundaries, but he also doesn’t care to withhold his own sounds of pleasure from you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He almost swears (but will never tell you, in very direct words): the space in between your bare breasts smells almost sweet like flowers. He likes finding his way up and nosing in between your breasts — just skin-to-skin contact at a place he finds you’re at your most fragrant. Suckling and tugging at a nipple draws those moans and your scent more intense, so he nips and teeths around the place often.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

That beautiful cock — with the evidence of just enough silver at the base — is long enough it fits and curves snug into you, without entering into any discomforting places, deep. But he is thick enough, it takes you time (and many times) to not just hold your breath and tighten up around him on reflex, upon entry.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

(Read: S)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You’re almost always the one falling asleep first. Pirates are used to night raids and this one’s no different. He does prefer watching you sleep, late into the night, once you fall exhausted into slumber.

End Notes: Thank you for reading!

♧° Link to Master List °♡

#ikesen motonari #ikemen sengoku motonari #ikesen mouri motonari #ikesen motonari smut #ikesen smut #ikemen sengoku smut #ikesen fanfic #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #ikesen motonari x reader #ns//fw text #a pickle writes

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aetheternity · 3 years

Text

Sight, smell, touch, taste, sound and which one I believe would draw the Aot girls to you. Kinda Modern Au 🤷‍♀️ idk you be the judge.

(Pov: none of you asked for this but I got bored and decided to give it to you anyway.)

Mikasa

~Touch

The first time you touched her it was to pat her shoulder and tell her, "good luck" on a mission and she's been riding that high til the day she finally had you.

She was already so infatuated by you to the point that every bit of your touch became a daily necessity.

Locking you into her tight hugs late at night.

Pulling your lips back into hers whenever you try to escape.

She'll give you tiny kisses spread all over your face as soon as you wake up. And she's a huge fan of eskimo kisses. You might even trigger a little giggle from her when you initiate them.

She wants to rest her head on your chest and fall asleep to your heartbeat.

She's got your fingers perfectly knotted with hers in every situation.

Tangles your legs when the two of you are resting on the couch.

"I have to get up sometime Mikasa." Not today you don't.

Her favorite spot to scratch is your lower back. She softly circles her nails over that bit of skin after hiking your shirt up.

Please let her spend the day with you in her lap it's the perfect amount of intimate for her.

Annie

~Touch/Sound

One day you came to her with concern filling your eyes and hugged her even though you never had before. You simply told her, "I feel like something's wrong but I won't pry. Just know I'll be waiting for you to come back to me." So softly in her ear and despite her push back at first her feelings for you grew stronger everyday.

She grew to adore the smallest things about you.

The sounds of your low morning yawns before you kiss her face.

The warmth of your knee resting between her thighs

Loves when you whine her name. It sends heat flowing through her entire body. "What do you want?" (She'll pretend she hates it tho.)

Whenever you two are alone she has her head firmly placed on your chest, falling asleep to your heartbeat. Just like Mikasa (No you do not have to pee lay back down)

Loves when you card your fingers through her untied hair. (Sometimes you make her hum when you scratch the back of her head just right.)

She's gotta have your hands when you two are cuddling. Holding you like she's scared you're not really there.

Whisper in her ear and she just might shiver for you.

Laugh when she's sarcastic and watch the pretty pink color dust over her cheeks.

Tells you she loves you under her breath and melts when you say it back after kissing her cheek or neck.

Sasha

~(Sweet angel 🥺) Touch/taste

She held your hand like she'd always done with you and asked what you'd want your last meal in the world to be. Fucking around you said, "You." And the girl practically burst into flame. Meanwhile Connie at the opposite end of the table is mocking y'all talking about some, "Get a room already!" And then you did 😏

Oh, you just had some candy? She's biting your lips and sucking on your tongue.

Oh, your shampoo/body wash smells like banana, coconut, strawberries etc? She's got her face in your neck giving you little kisses. (Sometimes she'll give you a little kitten lick but it's fine cause you love it 😃).

She likes mutual feeding (ik that sounds weird idk how else to put it.) Like if you guys are eating popcorn together while watching a movie, she likes when you place the popcorn in her mouth and she does the same for you.

Licks the butter off your fingers when the popcorns gone.

When you stretch your arms next to her and then proceed to wrap them around her neck or waist she's in heaven.

Adores the feeling of your fingers splayed over her stomach right after she finished eating and the way you tease her by stroking her inner thigh.

Randomly jumps in the shower with you so that she can run her hands up and down every inch of your skin.

Sometimes she wakes you with a bunch of forehead kisses.

"Five more minutes please.." You beg

If you wake up before her though she'd love to be wrapped in your arms as she eats breakfast.

Hitch

~Sight (y'all already know my baby's a lil shallow)

It was like a movie scene. She saw you across the room during a small party for the anniversary of the military police first debut and she just had to have you. And bug you.. she stayed by your side as often as possible after that.

She'll laugh so that her compliments on your body sound less genuine but she means it every time.

And when you're not looking she's got her lip between her teeth, eyes working up and down your body.

"I wanna see you in this honestly." She'll say late at night handing you a picture and covering her face as you look at it.

"Reminds me of your pink dress?"

"Yeah! Yes.. that's the point we'll match."

Doesn't matter how long you've been dating. She'll always build a little tension before every kiss by looking directly at your lips then back into your eyes with a little smirk.

Whistles when you wear an outfit she recommended.

She never straight up says it but her favorite part of your body is the part you like the least.

Backwards ass compliments.

"You know orange isn't normally your color but today you made it work." And "You seem really confident despite wearing those pants."

Don't worry it's how she shows affection.

Makes you blush as often as possible because she just can't get enough of how gorgeous you are when you do.

Pieck

~Sight/taste

From the second she saw you she knew she had to get you out of your little bubble. You'd both done the warrior training as kids and you always kept to yourself. She thought a person like you looked like you had a lot of secrets. And she was gonna learn as many as possible. The older you guys got the more attractive you became to each other and you kinda fell back into the nervousness she thought she'd driven out of you. Eventually she got you to accidentally blurt a confession. Next thing you knew her tongue was pulling all conscious thought out of you.

Idk Pieck gives me the vibes that she'd always be looking for a way to stick her tongue down your throat?? (Just me?? Alright..)

She'll twirl you around with a hand around your waist. Unabashedly checking you out.

Loves long sweet kisses while she rests between your legs.

Will never stop smiling at you when you exit the shower in only a towel.

Brushes her lips over your stomach to wake you.

She's so enamored by the twinkle in your eye when you talk with the younger generation of warriors.

Playfully suggests you just walk around the house completely naked so she can really appreciate your body.

Her heart one hundred percent drops when she sees you sad for even a second.

Let her kiss you wherever she wants! It's a lot easier than arguing with her!

And she will try in some weird places. (She gives me body worshipper vibes.)

Yelena

~Sound

She heard about you due to rumors about your incredible fighting style. But what made her seek you out was the knowledge that you were next in line to become a titan shifter. It was hard to tell if her affection was due to interest in you as a person or your incredible fighting style but one day she asked you to live with her in the new world. Of course you said yes.

She loves the sound of you singing. (If you can sing) Sometimes she actively seeks you out and asks for you to sing to her.

Your war cries make her back arch (shh I didn't say that).

The second you guys started dating she developed a sixth sense of some sort where she just shows up if you're crying or if your day has been going terrible.

She just adores the sound of your voice and she can't get enough of it.

I could see her dragging you off some place where the two of you can just talk.

Within less than a week of dating you she's already got ways to get any noise she wants out of you.

Graze their neck with the tip of your nose for giggles and kiss the tips of their ears for I love you's.

That sort of thing.

Whenever you make a noise she hasn't heard before she's dying to force you to make it again.

Idk what it's called but I feel like Yelena has that thing where noises are attributed to colors in her brain. And at some point she explains all the colors she sees whenever you make certain noises.

Hange

~Sight/touch

Moblit had to take a.. short vacation after one of Hange's lab disasters nearly crippled him.. so Erwin had asked you to fill in and you said yes. It was only for a couple weeks and during that time Hange stuck to you like glue. Throwing an arm over your shoulder, stealing little glances and laughing loudly when you'd catch her. It felt like normal Hange stuff. But on the last night before Moblit's return, Hange was weirdly not.. Hange.. being quiet, filling in data and barely making eye contact. You asked if you'd done something wrong but Hange barely said anything back. Before you left she was nose deep in paperwork. You said your goodbyes and you were about to leave when Hange asked if you'd be willing to go on a date. When you looked back she hadn't even looked up but you smiled and nodded with a little yes and the rest was history.

It's a no brainer that you spent all your free time in Hange's lab to be Hange's other support system other than Moblit.

And when Moblit died, Hange's entire support system.

Her touch lingering on your lower back as you lean over to check her notes.

Completely enamored with the glint in your eye whenever the two of you come up with a sort of breakthrough.

Deadass pulls you into her lap at the most random times.

Oh hey the meeting finally finished? Yanks your frame right into her lap and laughs at the eye rolling of fellow colleagues.

Hange will say sorry but that blush on your face was so worth it and she's so glad she did it.

Rubs your back as you sleep on the work piled on your side of the desk.

Probably accidentally wakes you up a couple minutes after you fell asleep though.

Hange once sat you on her lap after a meeting right before Erwin tried to hand her some papers over the table. Without thinking she stood up to grab them and your face slammed into the table while her hips were pressed against your ass. Immediately getting everyone's attention. Safe to say you no longer sit next to Hange at meetings. (I had to add this even though it's a little off topic and random.)

Historia

~Smell (First one here.)

She had to share a room with you until she became queen. And almost every night she'd have some kind of nightmare about Ymir. You didn't mean to make a move but one night she crawled into your bed like she always had and you wrapped your arms around her shivering form like you always did. She had her nose trapped in your nape and you pressed a kiss to her forehead hoping it would stop her harsh breathing. And it did. She froze, the world froze, everything froze. You had leaned back to apologize for overstepping her boundaries and she kissed you back.

She'd gotten so comfortable with your scent that not only did it constantly lull her to sleep but always gave her a sense of security.

You're her security blanket. I don't make the rules.

Speaking of blankets. You gave her yours when she moved into the castle.

Whenever she gets even an hour alone she's trying to get you in the castle so she can sit in your lap and bury her nose in your nape like she always has.

She also steals your shirts and hoodies as often as possible until they smell like her then you have to take them back and cover them with your stink again.

Spending early mornings in the castle after washing your hair and her telling you over and over that she missed your smell.

It's legit like having a long distance relationship while being in the same place.

And she doesn't let you go until the last second before you both have to go back to work.

If you guys have time and you shop together she'll keep the candles that you believed smelled the best in her room.

All in all give Historia your shirts to wear cause she loves them/they look great on her.

Ymir

~Sight/touch

You're probably either super sweet like Krista or really sarcastic like her and that's what draws her to look more in depth into you. When she finally gets a chance to actually look at you fully without the odm gear she finds herself fixated, tracing your figure with her eyes. You guys finally become friends, who mutually enjoy bullying Reiner. But she finds that she hates it. Thinks you're teasing her every time you brush her fingertips without actually holding her dammed hand. One day she just reaches out and grabs you properly and doesn't let go. Yeah, you're dating now.

What can I say except, she likes running a finger over the lines on your palm.

She's always grabbing you out of nowhere but you don't mind. You just let her hold you.

"You look extra beautiful today, bet you'll look even better when I put a ring on your finger."

Puts her hands under your shirt with no fucking shame.

Stares at you and yells at the first person that mocks her. Reiner/Connie

Can and will find a way to smack your ass the second she gets you alone.

Trails little butterfly kisses over your shoulders when you're trying to get dressed in the morning.

Literally everything you do is weirdly skillful to her.

Like you're peeling a potato and she's like, "You're so amazing at that.."

Let her lean on you for absolutely no reason she loves it. 🤷‍♀️

(I realized after writing this that Annie and Armin have the same one even tho I don't ship them at all 😕)

#aot x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #snk x reader #aot imagines #mikasa x reader #annie leonhardt x reader #sasha x reader #hitch x reader #hange x reader #pieck x reader #yelena x reader #historia x reader #ymir x reader #cal writes

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lumiereswig · 3 years

Note

sorry if this is a bother but if you're still writing fics, could i please get uhhh fic with the 1991 characters but everyone's personalities are the stark opposite of their canon selves?

lmaoooo

so beast is this soft-spoken dude who looks less like a wildebeast and more like a sandhill crane, with soft gills sprouting from his neck and beautiful grasshopper antennae instead of horns. he is cursed NOT for being an insufferable little bitch but for instead being so OVERWHELMINGLY nice to the enchantress that, after offering her his home-made peanut butter casserole for the 17th time, she decides nobody could ever love this sad-sack kindly wimp until he grows a spine, and curses him to learn to be loved in his new weird, soft, slightly floppy form.

(the enchantress’s personality in this is less providence-sent moralizer of justice and more chaos-drenched humbug with a gift for thinking up the exact wrong way of teaching any lesson.)

belle, meanwhile, is busy going on a fuckin rager because in this timeline she’s impatient, impetuous, extroverted, and going fuckin insane in this bewilderingly boring little town. oh yeah, she’s still intelligent, but this belle flies off the fucking handle if she has to deal with these dick-brained villagers one more time, GOD the way they’re so pompous and cosmopolitan, ughhh if she hears the baker quote ‘hamilton’ in that pseudo-smart way he’s so fuckin fond of she’s going to take a flame-thrower to everyone and everything in this town

oh yeah. in this version she’s not much of a reader. what she IS fond of is pyrotechnics and anything that explodes

maurice is a v boring accountant who sticks to the straight and narrow and is thus VERY alarmed when on his way to his annual Accountants Of Extreme Boringness conference he ends up in an enchanted castle. he is further alarmed when he is immediately snogged by an impetuous, flirtatious, devil-may-care son of a bitch baroque clock

the clock is pulled off him by an uptight, nerves-wrecked candle who looks like he’s melted at least four inches just trying to keep up with his clock husband. the thing about clocks, he anxiously explains, is they’re sort of ticking time bombs when it comes to pulling off shenanigans

‘don’t have a meltdown,’ scolds the clock, and promptly leads the candle in a high-stakes round of erotic tango

maurice passes out immediately and no one can blame him.

belle, having busied herself all morning seeing if she can blow up the backyard fence more effectively with nitroglycerin or dynamite, notices her father has gone AWOL and hasn’t yet brought back the one thing she always asks for when he goes on trips, i.e., high-octane gunpowder. she high-hoes off on her horse, and ends up at the castle, where she kicks down the door and is alarmed to see her father being served jellied crumpets by some kind of long-necked heron wearing a cravat.

the beast is QUITE willing they should all leave immediately but only if he can give them a pan of scotcharoos before they go, and can he get them anything nice to wear, it’s kinda cold out there are they sure they’re gonna make it? after the 50th offer of being allowed to spend the night belle is like. FINE. FINE. FINE I’LL FUCKING STAY, YOU FUCKING GENEROUS PILLOCK. CAN MY FATHER GO HOME AT LEAST

uh sure ok! says the beast. he’s just excited that belle might want to do a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle with him and maybe they can make popcorn

belle is quickly introduced to the whole staff, which includes a crotchety bottle of Scotch whisky named Mrs Potts, her shy shot-glass son, a quiet bookworm closet, and a hatstand that will not shut up. she tries to meet the clock and candle but the clock is very invested in broadway-style show numbers and performs an entire song with a kickline backup of tapdancing pocket watches

lumiere frantically insists to belle that she must forgive this ridiculous intrusion, the english are just like that, you know. he loses his train of thought when a pretty young feather duster comes into the room and doesn’t say another word for the rest of the night

belle and beast spend their days with belle constantly trying to leave and the beast managing to get her to stay just by being so blindly, consistently kind with her. belle finds that ....she kinda likes it. it’s nice to have someone to feel at home with. one time she really does try to leave and gets as far as the woods, but then the beast follows her and passes out when he sees a particularly frightening tree. she finds herself loving his S O F T N E S S

i should probably write gaston into this but frankly i can’t be bothered. somethin bad happens (the villagers storm the castle because they think a performance of ‘hamilton’ is happening there?), belle accidentally blows the entire thing up, the beast thinks that’s frankly the coolest shit he’s ever seen, and belle happily marries her weird crane-man and fuck the curse, the enchantress has forgotten all about it and nobody really minds it anyway. it’s kinda cool being a candelabra, right? especially when that rococo clock keeps slipping you kisses behind the ballroom curtains

#lol a disaster fic #CRACK #CRACK FIC #jfc writing this was....a RIDE a TRIP a VOYAGE TO A NEW WORLD #happy friday here's the dumbest fic i could possibly write #batb fanfic #asks #beauty and the beast #batb 1991 #i almost wrote plumette in but i stopped myself in time #91 is HARD. i prefer the trash characters of 17 because who cares if i fuck them up? thye were fucked up to start with!!#i cant do worse than bill condon and that's always deeply comforting

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Unfettered - part 2 - previous parts: on ao3 or tumblr part 1

It’s time. Come back.

Awareness came slowly and fitfully.

His body felt heavy, weighed down - it was as if his spirit had gone roaming freely and returned only reluctantly, sinking back into the skin and bone and flesh that bound it, the return voluntarily but begrudging, like an ox submitting to the yoke or a donkey to its bridle. There were times when he was there, awake but unable to get up the strength even to open his eyes, only barely aware of the world around him in the murmur of voices, the smell of food, the consistent feeling of spiritual energy being transferred into his body. There were times he was not awake at all.

One day, he heard a child laugh.

That was strange enough to catch his attention – it had been a long time since there were children here in the place where he slept, a place so familiar to him that he could feel where he was in his bones. It had been even longer since there were children who laughed.

It’s time. Wake up.

He did not wake all at once. It was a gradual process, slow – he had to struggle against the infinite heaviness of his eyelids, the sopor that kept trying to steal him back into the dark, but he did struggle. He tried, he strained, he pushed, he forced.

He summoned the rage that was his birthright and said to his body, we have been friends these many years, I have honed you as I did a beloved blade, you will not stand in my way in this.

He woke.

A child was laughing.

“Be careful, A-Song,” a voice, unfamiliar to him but gentle, said. It was male, young, and kind. He thought perhaps he had expected someone else. “Remember, you must not disturb the array.”

“I won’t touch it, gege,” the child said cheerfully. “I’ll be good, and then A-Ling will come visit us!”

“When he can, A-Song. It may not be for a while, because of the war…”

A weight settled on his chest at the word – war – and he almost lost his will to wake, not wanting to return to everything that word entailed: the pressure of all the expectations that rested on his shoulders, the stress and fear of the decisions he was forced to make, the guilt at each life lost and the butchers’ bills that piled up on his desk, the exhaustion and pain that followed the slog of life at the battlefront, adrenaline melting away to leave him feeling vacant and empty…

Duty was duty, though. Even in war.

Especially in war.

He forced his eyes open, staring at the ceiling for long moments as the noises of a child playing continued around him, the soft voice alternatively praising and gently chiding him. After a while, his gaze stabilized enough for him to recognize that above him was his own ceiling in his own room in his own home.

He could always tell, thanks to the drawings right above his face – his brother had once insisted on sitting on his shoulders while he stood on the bed so that he could reach the ceiling to carve something into the wood and stone. Something that would make him smile every morning that he opened his eyes, his brother claimed, his own eyes curved into a smile of his own, and he had never been able to resist his little brother anything that would make him happy.

He swallowed several times, wetting his throat, and asked in a voice little better than a rasp, “How goes the war?”

He meant where is my brother, is he well, is he whole, he meant what has happened to my sect, he meant what has happened to me. But duty called, and so he asked instead – how goes the war.

It helped, he supposed, that the words were familiar on his tongue, even as his throat and lips ached the strain of having to speak for the first time in what must have been a while. How goes the war – it had been his watchword for years now, all throughout the Sunshot Campaign and even before, the first question in the morning and the last question at night. How goes the war.

“Gege! Gege!” the child shrieked. “He said something!”

“No, I – but…did… – Sect Leader Nie…?” The unfamiliar voice was deeply surprised, almost shockingly so – how long had he been asleep? “Sect Leader Nie, did you say something? Please confirm.”

Sect Leader Nie.

Yes, that was how they called him. That was who he was: Sect Leader Nie, Chifeng-zun.

Nie Mingjue.

He had forgotten it, for a moment, the name and the weight of it, all the responsibilities that went with it, but now he remembered.

Nie Mingjue struggled to force himself up on his elbows, trying to look further around the room – it felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done, harder than moving through waist-deep muck through a swamp, which he’d also done, more than once.

As he’d expected, there was a man there, and a child. Both were unfamiliar to him, he thought, even if he did not entirely trust his memory at the moment. They were both gaping at him.

Well, gaping at his general direction, in the case of the man. He was dressed in white, like the Lan sect did, but the narrow band of white that they had in common encircled his eyes, not his forehead – he was blind.

No, Nie Mingjue was sure of it now: this man was totally unfamiliar to him.

The child was, too, but that was less of a surprise, given that he was only two or three at the utmost, the age children changed the most, and after all Nie Mingjue had been away fighting the wars for several years; it was reasonable not to recognize him.

But a man he did not recognize, here, in his own bedroom..?

“The war,” he rasped again, and swallowed to try to clear his throat. That was the only thing he could think of that might explain it. “My brother…?”

“Oh,” the man said, not especially intelligently. “The Pallbearer isn’t here – he’s away. There’s a war.”

The – what?

Nie Mingjue narrowed his eyes and forced them to focus, realizing that what he had taken for a man was little more than a teenager, certainly younger than twenty. Old enough to fight in the war, regrettably, but he supposed the blindness might keep him from it. It was sometimes hard to tell, with cultivators, how much they would be impacted by something like that.

“My brother,” he insisted. He wasn’t dead; what did he care about where some pallbearer - technically, the phrase meant ‘virtuous mourner’, or possibly ‘person whose virtue is in their mourning’, but either way it was a strange appellation - was? What he wanted was – “My brother.”

The child had been hiding behind the young man in white, but he popped his head around to stare at him, tugging at the young man’s robes. “Isn’t he Nie-er-ge’s brother?”

“Yes, he is,” the man said automatically, then flushed, ducking his head. He was very handsome, almost pretty, and at some point when Nie Mingjue didn’t feel like drowning in his own exhaustion he would spare a bit more time to wondering why he had been left here at his bedside, whether it was because he was the only one who could be spared or if it was for his own protection or both. “Ah, forgive me, Sect Leader Nie, of course you wouldn’t – your brother is away at the moment, but I will send him word at once. He’ll be so happy to hear that you’ve awoken.”

Nie Mingjue let himself slide back down from his elbows, his most severe worry assuaged – Nie Huaisang was alive, he was fine, he was safe. That was good.

Now he could concern himself with the war, he supposed. Although…

“Wasn’t the war…over?” he asked the ceiling. He thought he remembered that it was, the vague memories of seeing Wen Ruohan’s body hit the floor burnt into his brain as if with a brand – it was so different from what he had dreamt of for so many years that he thought it must be true. And with Wen Ruohan dead, his sons dead, who would continue to fight? Some small pockets of the truly devoted, maybe, but surely not the bulk of the forces…?

He didn’t remember. There was something there just beyond his memory, and he was abruptly struck with the feeling that he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember.

There was a whisper of cloth, the man beside him shifting from side to side in awkwardness. Probably trying to decide if he should stand here and answer questions or go to send out the alert about his reawakening at once.

“You are correct, Sect Leader Nie,” he finally said. “The Sunshot Campaign ended…it’s a new war.”

A new war, Nie Mingjue thought, and closed his eyes for a brief moment to stave off the pain of it. It wasn’t that he hadn’t discussed the possibility that something like that would happen with his sect’s elders during his war counsels, the fact that wrecking the established system of the Five Great Sects might lead to a power vacuum and more fighting, but the alternative of submitting to Wen tyranny had been worse; they had had no choice but to hope that their worst fears would not come to pass.

In vain, it seemed.

“I should – go tell someone,” the young man said. “I’ll go –”

“Go,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “Return after, and then you can…what’s your name, anyway?”

“Xiao Xingchen,” the young man said. “Disciple of Baoshan Sanren…you wouldn’t have heard of me. Your brother took me in after I lost my eyes.”

Baoshan Sanren? Another disciple of the immortal mountain? Surely Nie Mingjue would have heard of something like that happening – it would have been the talk of the cultivation world, ongoing war or no. But he hadn’t heard anything, and this Xiao Xingchen fellow didn’t expect him to. And that meant…

“How long have I slept?” he asked. No, not asked. Demanded.

“Oh, I definitely can’t answer that one,” Xiao Xingchen said, sounding genuinely distressed. “I’m going to go get someone who can.”

He dashed out of the room in a swirl of white that Nie Mingjue saw out of the corner of his eye. A moment later, he heard a small shuffling sound and, with a slight groan, lifted himself back up again to look at the child, who had lingered even after his guardian had departed.

The boy was wearing Nie colors in familiar styles – Nie Mingjue thought it might even be some of Nie Huaisang’s old clothes, which he’d found himself unable to throw away even after they’d long been outgrown. He’d ultimately ordered them to be stored in hopes of preserving it for the next generation - his son, or maybe his nephew.

The shape of the boy’s face wasn’t remotely Nie, though, so he thought perhaps he might be an orphan or something. Another person his brother had taken in, perhaps, the way he had the blind Xiao Xingchen?

Had his brother been forced to run the sect while he slept? He must have. That had been what Nie Mingjue had always intended for him, wanting his brother’s cool head to guide the next generation, but he had not thought that it would be so soon…he thought he would have time to help guide Nie Huaisang into being sect leader, to ease the way, to show him how things were done and what was important. To let him become the wonderful sect leader Nie Mingjue had always been sure he would be, the one their sect deserved –

He’d wanted to make the transition less abrupt than his own elevation to the position at his father’s death, to make sure the position of sect leader didn’t consume Nie Huaisang as it had Nie Mingjue, who didn’t have any hobbies or pastimes except for spoiling his little brother, Nie Mingjue who barely remembered what or who he was outside of the work he did.

He’d wanted to leave Nie Huaisang to govern their sect through a world of peace, not war.

Clearly he’d failed.

Despite these gloomy thoughts of his, he tried to smile at the child. “Hello,” he said. “Your name is – A-Song?”

The child nodded, edging closer – closer, but not too close, and the reason for his hesitation was clearly, upon further inspection, that he didn’t want to cross over onto the lines of the complicated array painted onto the ground around the bed. Nie Mingjue hadn’t seen it before, and he didn’t recognize it.

“What’s that for?” he asked, nodding at the softly glowing lines, which he could feel were full of spiritual power.

“It’s to make you feel better,” A-Song answered promptly in the know-it-all tone of a child who had clearly asked a similar question in the past. “Nie-er-ge repaints it all by himself every week, Xiao-gege helps keep it running, and I help, too!”

“You do?”

“Yeah! I’m the – the – I make it less boring!”

“Ah, I see! You’re the entertainment? That’s a very important job.”

A-Song nodded so rapidly that Nie Mingjue was slightly worried his head would come tumbling off his shoulders, and he had to suppress a smile at the sight. He’d always liked children, and this one seemed…strangely familiar, for all that Nie Mingjue was sure A-Song wasn’t a Nie.

“What’s your surname?” he asked, and A-Song frowned, scuffling one foot behind the other. “Don’t you know?”

“I know!” A-Song exclaimed. “It’s Jin! I’m Jin Rusong!”

Nie Mingjue could feel his eyes going wide in surprise, surprise and even shock that stabbed deeply into him. Ru- was the next generation’s name for the Jin sect, following after Zi- for the current generation and Guang- for the previous one – there had been much discussion of that towards the end of the last war, as it had been a clear insult framed as a compliment when Meng Yao had been offered the name of Jin Guangyao so shorty after the Nightless City.

Meng Yao -

The Nightless City, Wen Ruohan, Meng Yao…

Nie Mingjue remembered.

How could he not? In his memory, it had been only a few weeks before.

They had been mopping things up in the aftermath of Wen Ruohan’s death, and Nie Mingjue had been absent without leave from the medical tent more often than not, unable to refuse the calling of his duty even though his health (and any number of his subordinates) demanded he rest and recover. It hadn’t been easy: his mind had still been fuzzy from the aftereffects of the torment he’d suffered in and after Yangquan, the torture on the way to Wen Ruohan’s palace and again within it. The dizziness had impeded his ability to work, causing him to lose track of time or to grow abruptly distant and forgetful.

At the time, it had seemed that everything he remembered was unreliable – he’d thought, at first, that Meng Yao had done certain terrible things while he was in the Sun Palace, truly terrible and unforgivable things, the sorts of things that would make Nie Mingjue obligated to denounce him and Meng Yao worthy only of execution no matter what his good deeds might have been. But Meng Yao had said he was misremembering, that it hadn’t happened that way at all, that his mind was damaged from the torture and the fight with Wen Ruohan, and Lan Xichen had vouched for Meng Yao with all sincerity.

Nie Mingjue hadn’t been sure at first, had been so certain that he was right, that he remembered correctly and that Meng Yao was simply lying to him, but they had both seemed so sincere…and in the end Nie Mingjue hadn’t really wanted to believe that Meng Yao would do things like that anyway. He hadn’t wanted to think that someone he trusted would do that, that he’d so misjudged him. And that had made it – not easy, no, but it had made it make sense to accept their version of events over his own, even if it made him sick and anxious to think that his mind was so unreliable and untrustworthy.

Still, accepting it had meant that Nie Mingjue could agree to swear brotherhood with Lan Xichen and Meng Yao, as they both wanted so very much. It meant he could congratulate Meng Yao when he received the letter indicating that he would soon be his father’s recognition and the name Jin Guangyao. It meant that he could invite him to dinner at his camp to raise a glass together in honor of his accomplishment, to wish him good fortune and the best of luck for his new life.

It meant that when, in the middle of their dinner together, the wonderful news came that Nie Fengjun and Nie Xiaopeng had survived their injuries at the Nightless City, the ones that had kept them bedridden for so long getting infusions of spiritual energy and being fed drugs to keep them asleep so that they didn’t tear their throats open again by trying to talk, he could smile at Meng Yao – no, Jin Guangyao, he had tried very hard to remember to call him that and had still mostly failed – and tell him with joy that there were two deaths he no longer had on his conscience.

He could ask him to wait a while when he went to talk to them, promising to return soon.

It meant that he could take a few steps towards the door, Baxia far away on her stand and not in his hand, his back unguarded against the man who had sworn before all the world to be his brother.

It meant that he could feel the cold string of the garotte when it settled over his throat and pulled tight, cutting off his air – that he could hear the humming of a Lan battle-song in his ear, the spiritual energy that he had been freely sharing with Meng Yao only moments before suddenly turned against him and starting to riot inside of him – the weakness inherent in his blood, the ancestral Nie tendency towards qi deviation, abruptly pressed upon and galvanized from within –

If you yell, the first person through the door will be your brother and I will gut him like a fish, Meng Yao had hissed in his ear, and Nie Mingjue had stopped struggling for just a moment, horrified by the thought.

Horrified at being attacked by someone who knew his most dangerous weaknesses.

By someone he trusted.

The pause had been a mistake, of course. There’d been poison on the garrote, he thought, and the battle song and his rioting qi had let it in easier than it might have otherwise.

Meng Yao really was a perfect assassin.

But why me, why now, I don’t want to go so soon, I haven’t even had a chance to live yet, he remembered thinking, more fear and hurt than anger, and then there was nothing but darkness.

And now –

And now there was a child called Ru-, the next generation down from Zi-, and he was already two or three of age.

“How long have I slept?” he demanded, struggling to sit up. “How long has it been? Huaisang!”

How long have I abandoned you?

Xiao Xingchen ran back into the room not long after, looking horrified by Nie Mingjue’s burst of temper, pointless and impotent as it was. “Sect Leader Nie, please calm yourself,” he exclaimed. “I’ve already sent word out, and I’m sure your brother will be here soon. Please, stop moving – don’t damage the array…!”

Nie Mingjue forced himself to calm, his fingers digging into the bedding as he fought to control his temper –

Now is not the time.

– but he finally managed with a few deep breaths to stop feeling as if he was drowning in dark thoughts, in fears, in horror at himself and what he had inadvertently allowed, at what he had lost.

A few breaths later, and he stopped struggling.

At that point, it occurred to him that something was strange.

Based on his experience with being injured, and with his warlike sect he had plenty of that, Nie Mingjue would have expected that a fit like the one he had just had would have meant that he’d be swarmed by doctors. That was what was usual for this sort of situations, a giant bevy of doctors always just a few steps away, standing at the ready to force opinions down his throat about what he should and shouldn’t be doing – that had been what it had been like with his father, at least at first, and then later on it had been something he had been forced to accustom himself to as sect leader.

(First rule of being sect leader: don’t get knocked unconscious if at all possible. Not because the sect won’t manage without you, but because you’ll have to deal with doctors fussing at you for ages thereafter.)

Strangely enough, though, this time the doctors didn’t come. It was only Xiao Xingchen, dropping down to survey the array with his fingers, murmuring and infusing it with bright and pure spiritual energy that Nie Mingjue could feel soaking into his meridians, into his bones and muscles and bones.

Presumably this was the reason his body had not atrophied, in the – it must have been years since he –

He took another deep breath.

“Forgive me,” he said to Xiao Xingchen, and then again to Jin Rusong, who was hiding behind something. “I did not mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” Jin Rusong said with a great deal of grace, and probably too much equanimity for someone his age. “I don’t mind. It happens.”

To so easily disregard such a show of temper suggested that the boy had either had a hard early life or very calm parents, or maybe both. Nie Mingjue did not like to think of it, although he himself had been quickly inured to such things, after his father…

Best not to think about that. Best not to think about how it might have – what might have happened to him, after Meng Yao’s surprise attack.

(He hoped that he had succumbed to the poison or the suffocation instead of the qi deviation, since Baxia had, he hoped, remained intact; he could not be sure of it, since the assassin had been Meng Yao, who had known how best to hurt him. He hoped that he did not linger - did not lose himself to rage - did not have to be put down - that Nie Huaisang had not had to make the choices he himself had long ago had to make.)

“You didn’t call for any doctors?” Nie Mingjue asked Xiao Xingchen, trying not to think about those foul memories and the dark suspicions that swirled in his mind.

“I have some medical skills,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Not…many, and not as many as I used to have, but some, if you’d like me to check you over?”

“I’m not concerned for me,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes. He’d propped himself up against the headboard, an activity that had drained most of his remaining energy. “I’m just – why didn’t you call any doctors?”

“Ah,” Xiao Xingchen said. “I see.”

“I’m glad that you understand,” Nie Mingjue said, eliding to mention the matter of sight. They were not on such familiar terms that he could make a joke over it, and it was clear from Xiao Xingchen’s occasional if very graceful clumsiness that the blindness was new. “Would you also like to elaborate?”

“Sect Leader Nie is off-limits to anyone without permission to enter,” Xiao Xingchen said, folding his hands in front of him. “Especially in the event that you wake up.”

“I understand,” Nie Mingjue said, and he did.

He had had some time to think about what had happened to him back then, about the timing of those two survivors from the Nightless City waking up and Meng Yao’s sudden attack – he still didn’t have any answers, didn’t understand why Meng Yao turned against him so suddenly, but he had his suspicions.

Suspicions - and regrets.

If he hadn’t chosen to believe Meng Yao over the evidence of his own eyes and ears, would he have ended up like this, leaving Nie Huaisang alone for years on end?

There wasn’t any point to that line of thinking, though. Might as well say that if Nie Mingjue hadn’t been conditioned for years and years by his sect to have a mortal fear of his own qi, filling him with terror that one day he would become like his father – sick, with a mind full of hallucinations tormenting him and leading him astray – then maybe he wouldn’t have been so ready to disregard his own perception in favor of another’s, and of course there was no one to blame for that.

“Your brother will be here soon,” Xiao Xingchen said. “And once he is, I’m sure he’ll want the doctors to look you over. It’s only, you understand, without him to supervise, he doesn’t – he –”

“He doesn’t trust anyone,” Nie Mingjue said, and felt a pang of grief. Nie Huaisang had always trusted more readily than he had, the extroverted younger brother to his introverted and even misanthropic elder. The differences between them had in large part been caused by Nie Mingjue’s elevation to sect leader – too soon, too fast – and the discomfort and distance that created between him and those he thought had been his friends. And now, to his regret, the position would have done its work on Nie Huaisang as well. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure if you do,” Xiao Xingchen said. “He trusts – quite a few people, I’d say. There’s his people in the sect, of course, his cousins and deputies and all that, but he’s also on very good terms with quite a lot of the cultivation world: Sandu Shengshou, Yiling Laozu, Zewu-jun, Hanguang-jun…almost all the important people, really.”

Nie Mingjue noted the absence of Jin Guangyao’s name or title.

Good.

“It’s just – you’re very important to him. More than you might think.”

“I raised him,” Nie Mingjue said. “From the time he was a child, he was my only family. The only things I had in life were my sect and him, and even my sect I wouldn’t have placed above him, and he knew it – I think I understand my importance to him. It’s the same for me, with him.”

“Perhaps,” Xiao Xingchen said, looking wistful. “Perhaps. That does explain rather a lot, I think.”

Nie Mingjue made himself more comfortable. “Who’s the child?” he asked. “He said he was surnamed Jin, but I assume the Jin sect is who we’re at war with?”

“You’re very perceptive,” Xiao Xingchen remarked. “How did you know?”

“The seeds of a new war can be found in the end of the last one,” Nie Mingjue said. “It would have always been the Jin sect. I’m surprised that it actually came to a head so soon, that’s all – they’ve always preferred being subtle and sly, politicking to outright fighting. I wouldn’t have thought they’d declare open war.”

“Why do you assume they were the ones who’d declare war?”

Because of who was left behind, Nie Mingjue thought. Lan Xichen who tries to see the good in everyone, Jiang Cheng who is insecure about what he can and cannot be, Wei Wuxian with his armies of the dead that he so very clearly never wanted…and my brother, who knows better.

My brother, who loves peace and hates war the way only a child born into the thick of it would; my brother, who’s so terribly clever underneath all his laziness; my brother who knows that war is fought as much in the hearts of men as on the battlefield –

No, he wouldn’t be the one to declare war.

Not even for me.

“Weren’t they?” he asked.

“Well, yes,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Although in fairness, they were provoked.”

Nie Mingjue was sure they were. His brother, probably, or maybe Wei Wuxian – they were good at provocation. They could find something that even the Jin sect couldn’t tolerate.

From the way Xiao Xingchen turned his head towards Jin Rusong, an instinctive gesture for all that he couldn’t see the boy, it might have something to do with him. A small child surnamed Jin, and yet embarrassed to admit it…there was a story there that he would eventually need to learn.

Just as he would eventually need to ask the practical questions – questions like who’s leading the war effort, since Jiang Cheng was good at battle but shit at strategy, Wei Wuxian who was too reckless and reliant on flashy tactics that wore him out, Lan Xichen who was better as a courier than a general, Lan Wangji who was too independent, a lone wolf who’d never learned how to compromise enough to join a team, how are we paying for it, the eternal question of supply even more critical for three weakened Great Sects when set against the richest of them all, and of course how can I help.

But he was tired, and did not ask. He would gather the energy for war later.

For now, he would be satisfied with something simpler, more straightforward: his brother’s well-being, confirmed not merely with words but by his own eyes, which he really ought to learn to trust.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before there was a noise outside the door, and Xiao Xingchen brightened in evident relief. “He’s here! A-Song, come with me, come say hello –”

They went out, and a moment later, the door opened and Nie Huaisang walked in.

Attuned as Nie Mingjue was to movement, that was the first thing he noticed: that his brother walked differently than he had before. It was more purposeful, striding rather than ambling, sharp, with as little wasted movement as possible – angry, always angry, but contained. It was not at all what he thought of when he thought of Nie Huaisang, who was usually more aimless and carefree, limbs tumbling everywhere; it was far more similar to the way Nie Mingjue used to carry himself, seemingly relaxed but in fact on guard against the world at all moments.

Nie Huaisang’s face, too, was different than Nie Mingjue remembered it being: it was thinner, sharper than it had been, with narrowed eyes and lips pressed together, his whole demeanor distrusting and forbidding. The last bits of baby fat had melted away, taking with it the impression of softness and tenderness that he had once exuded, the lazy and indolent air that had made him seem younger than he was.

No longer was he the feckless young man the Nie Mingjue had so carefully protected from the horrors of the world, and the thought sent a pang of pain through Nie Mingjue’s heart.

And yet, when Nie Huaisang walked into the room, looking irritated and exhausted, and his gaze fell upon the bed where Nie Mingjue had lain for longer than he cared to think about, when he saw Nie Mingjue propped up and awake, when their eyes met for the first time –

It all melted away, the child he had held in his hands abruptly recognizable once more.

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang wailed, and threw himself forward into Nie Mingjue’s waiting arms, heedless of the array that Xiao Xingchen has so worried himself over, heedless of the shocked expression on both Xiao Xingchen and Jin Rusong’s faces, heedless any residual injuries in his urgency. “Da-ge!”

All the questions Nie Mingjue had, and he had a lot – who is the Pallbearer what is the war who is fighting who have we lost what happened to me what happened to you – dashed out of his head at once.

There was only one question that mattered – are you safe – and the answer to that was in his arms. He clutched his baby brother to his chest with all his greatly diminished strength, tears springing to his eyes just as they filled Nie Huaisang’s, and they wept with joy to see each other again.

It’s time. At last.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #xiao xingchen #nie huaisang #jin rusong #my fic #my fics #unfettered

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ji-yaaan · 4 years

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Jessamine-rose asked:

Ohh hiiii!! I really loved your leona fic, it was so soft!! X3 may i request idia and jamil seeing their short mc wearing their hoodies?? Headcanon or one-shot whatwver you are more comfortable with!! I would like to request a but of spice as well if you dont mind.

𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬♡

Headcanons with: Idia, Jamil, Kalim, Jack

Note: Yo this idea is so cute I'm melting as I write this- this scenario is just wholesome and I won't forgive myself if I sully this wholesomeness... Oh but Jamil however- ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Oh btw I added in some characters I can imagine with this secnario lol. Ok on to the headcanons!

And yes... I reposted this cuz tumblr hates me and won't let me use the tags... I don't stay up til 5am for nothing bro-

°•°•°•°•°•𝑰𝒅𝒊𝒂 𝑺𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒅•°•°•°•°•

After 8 rounds of Mario kart Idia destroying you 8 times lol cuddled up in the blankets as the both of you crush your consoles attempting to win a round.

It's getting pretty late, but game time is holy for the both of you, so both of you gotta make time to schedule the most awaited activity of the day! GAME TIME~

But after a long day of brain damage at school *cough braincell squad cough* anyone is bound to get exhausted. Taking a break from the game, Idia takes off his jacket and nyooms away to the kitchen to get some chips and soda for you two.

"Potato chips? check~ Soda? check~" Idia smiles as he excitedly makes his way into his room to crush you at the game again.

Oh my what's this? He found a rare treasure lying in his room!!! Quick! What does he do now??? OH MY GOD! You were sleeping... BUT YOU WERE WEARING HIS HOODIE! What is this cuteness? What is this ultra uwu energy? What is this fluff doing here? That's it! Idia has now died of uwu. Respawn later...

While Idia was holding his bags of chips and cola, he can't help but blush at how cute you were! You looks sooooo smol in his jacket- congrats you stole Idia's heart.♡♡♡

I'd say Idia's greatest weakness is cute stuff and small things. So you looking so smol in his jackets is just going to give him heart combulsions.

Idia will probably crouch in the floor to stare at your sleeping face. He'd sit right next to you and stare at you for a while. "Hehe..." Linking his arms with yours as he playfully pokes your cheeks.

He'd rest his head on your shoulder still blushy wushy cuz you're just sooo adorbs♡ "Games can wait for tommorow.."

•°•°•°•°•°•𝑱𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍 𝑽𝒊𝒑𝒆𝒓•°•°•°•°•°

Like the usual, the Scarabia dorms is up for a party 24/7 because of the happy go lucky kalim. Jamil is still pissed like the usual too...

While kalim was performing his thing entertaining the guest... A wild Jamil appeared! Care to send love??? Jamil makes his way to you, so he can finally chill and recharge from chaos with a powerhug. But as he was just inches away from from you... Dammit someone just have to ruin his moment.

"WAHHHH! Y/N! OH NO I'M SO SORRY!" Some idiots just have to ruin his time with you... Drinks spilt in your top, leaking wet from the juice that spilt on you.

Jamil will just sigh and volunteer to take care of another problem yet again, just like the usual. BUT! Before he takes care of those stuff PRIORITY FIRST! You need to be taken care of first ;>

Jamil will drag you in an empty room to change... now all thats left is to change in clean and dry clothes- Wait....Wow just the luck you both have... No one got spare clothes... what now?

Of course Jamil will offer his hoodie! He can't have you walking around uncomfortable in damp clothing!

When you walk out of the room... Cute... What is this cute creature? Since you are small and short, Jamil's hoodie is oversized on you. The sleeves go way past your fingers, and the big jacket makes you look even smaller in general.

Jamil's having a lowkey midlife crisis inside his head, but gotta keep looking chill and cool, so he just settles with a pinch on the cheek.

HOWEVER! When you go back to the party in the banquet halls. Everyone seeing you will comment how tinier you look like in a big hoodie. Everyone is just going ballistic with the smol and cute comments. Jamil is not happy about this.

As people are making cute comments about you. You'll just blush and freeze on the spot. BUT JAMIL HOWEVER... SNEK BOI IS BURNING WITH RAGE AND JEALOUSY... I mean... That's his hoodie you were wearing. Are they blind? Should he hypnotize people to do stupid things later?

After the party... Oho ಠ ͜ʖ ಠ with Jamil going jealous a little while ago... He'll hug you tighter this time, his chin resting in your head. "Don't look cute in front of other people... I'm the only one you're allowed to look cute for."

Expect markings here and there in the morning... Take this sentence however you like...

•°•°•°•°•𝑲𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒎 𝑨𝒍 𝑨𝒔𝒊𝒎•°•°•°•°•

Midnight trip in the clouds with your local sunshine boi! Riding the magic carpet with kalim is one of the most magical experience! Moonbathing with the stars WHILE YOU SIT BESIDE A LITERAL STAR LIKE KALIM TOO! as kalim cheerfully tells fun stories while laughing.

But of course the night today was kinda chilly and cold but you forgot to bring your sweater with you... Dammit it was really cold today. But somehow seeing kalim smile warms you up! I can't blame you though-.

When a really cold wind blew past the two of you... THAT'S IT! IT WAS REALLY COLD TODAY! You shivered while you held unto your arms and shoulders in attempts to keep yourself warm.

Of course Kalim notices this and offers his cardigan in uwu style! "Oh? Y/n are you cold? Oh! If you want, you can use my cardigan! Hehe..." Kalim brightly smiles like the usual. A blinding smile to keep the sleep paralysis demons away.

Frankly, Kalim is not that big, but his jacket still drooped on you which was very cute in Kalim's eyes!

"Y/n you look so small~ how cute!!" Kalim just casually blurts out, no embarrassment or whatsoever...

Of course it's a bit embarrassing for you at first, but Kalim's too pure and innocent for this world, so it's mainly just rainbows and sunshine being with him.

While the both of you are up in the air, maybe he'll offer a hug too if you're still cold. ಠ ͜ʖ ಠ it wouldn't be a sin to decline right?

•°•°•°•°•°•𝑱𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑯𝒐𝒘𝒍•°•°•°•°•°•

As the both of you are walking home, casually strolling in the roads that leads to the ramshackle dorm, this night was especially chilly.

The cold breeze was not cooperating this time as it continues to blow past the two of you. "Brrrr" this was cold... this was really cold... It was stupid not to bring your jacket with you when it's autumn near winter...

Jack was not blind to not see you shivering from the cold! Because jack is a good boye, he'll lend you his Jacket!!!

Seeing you look so smol in his jacket just melts his heart away. It literally looks like a blanket on you with how big it was. I MEAN THIS BOY IS LITERALLY WHOOPING 192CM TALL! GIVE ME UR HEIGHT

He'll just stare at you for minutes while you take walks, if you look close enough, you see his tail wagging and his ear perking up... Maybe a little blush too if you really look close ಠ◡ಠ

But a jacket can only do so much... Even if it was big and warm, your hands were somehow still cold seeing as you rub them every few minutes...

Good boye Jack offers to hold your hands!!! Would you like to accept this kind offer? ∆Yes ✓Yes!

When Jack holds your hands, JACK WAS A HEATER ALL ALONG? Big warm hands.... How comfortable... ;v;

Maybe along the way, he'll put your tiny hands in his pocket too... Who knows... But what you know is that you don't want to go home yet. Can the both of you extend this hand holding session?

Bruh...... tumblr won’t let me use the tags and properly post this... sigh.......

That's about it! I added Kalim and Jack to quench my thirst! And indulge in personal interests Again.. thankz for the request! And I hope you enjoyed this! ಠωಠ sending love before you read the next post under this♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst fanfic #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim #jack howl x reader #jack howl #fanfiction #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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willow-salix · 3 years

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TAG MiniBang 2021

Because the combined bad influences of Flyboy and Sonata were at work here we also decided to bend the rules a little and post early...

I was privileged to work with one of my best friends on this project, @misssquidtracy . We went a little rogue (seems to be a theme for us) and shared both parts of the challenge with both of us contributing to the art and the writing. Squiddy provided a beautifully done pallet knife piece as the background for my foreground art and we plotted the story together to ensure that it worked for both of us. We had been looking forward to sharing the writing but unfortunately, due to life constraints on her part she was only able to write a little of the fic but what she did add perfectly compliments the tone and style of my writing.

Big thanks to @tagminibang ) @godsliltippy ) for organising this event.

So, here it is, our offering to the TAG Mini Bang. We hope you enjoy it.

Ting ting ting

“Not again,” Virgil groaned, hauling himself up the stairs from the kitchen to the lounge. He regretted ever giving Gordon that bell, he really did. Yes his brother had gone through a tough time, yes he had scared the hell out of them when the Chaos Crew had left him at the bottom of the ocean in his mangled craft, yes they were incredibly grateful that he was alive and mostly whole, but if they had to hear that dinging one more time they might possibly murder him themselves.

“Yes, Gordy, what do you need?”

“I’m lonely, and I’m hungry, come and sit with me for a bit?”

“Sure-”

“But maybe make me a sandwich first?”

“A sandwich?”

“Yeah, with extra cheese and a pickle on the side, not too large a pickle but not too small that it’s gone in one bite. I want to taste it, you know, but not be overwhelmed.”

“Sure-”

“And can you get me a drink too? One of my special milkyshakes, you know, with the ice cream and frozen banana in it?”

“Coming right up,” Virgil sighed, heading back down to the kitchen again.

“Gordon still demanding everything and anything?” Scott asked as he jogged in from the poolside. His T-shirt was sticking to his chest and his hair was damp with sweat but he still looked like he could do it all again. Not that they would have time, they were lucky if they got to do any planned exercise at all, usually they were forced to skip it and work out on the job when a call came in.

“Of course he is,” Virgil growled, slapping a slice of cheese on a piece of bread with far more force than necessary.

“What did the cheese do to you?”

“It’s guilty by association.”

“Ah,” Scott said, like that explained things perfectly.

A few slices of chicken received the same treatment and Scott wondered if the meat had actually been dead when it arrived on the island or if Virgil had simply smacked it into submission so well that the chicken had flown clear into next week and arrived as sandwich filling.

“Can you fix his drink?” Virgil asked.

“Can’t gotta shower this off before Grandma accuses me of stinking up the place again.”

“Any excuse,” Virgil scowled. “It would only take you a second.”

“A second too long, bro, I’m escaping while I can and you’d be wise to do the same,” Scott said, heading for the stairs and freedom.

“How can I escape when Gordon needs help?”

“You’re forgetting one important thing,” Scott told him wisely.

“I am? And that would be…”

“John’s home.”

Virgil snorted out a laugh. “He’s less likely to do it than you are.”

“No, you're misunderstanding me. If John’s home that means…” Scott let his sentence trail off into silence heavily filled with insinuation.

“Sel’s here,” Virgil finished triumphantly, catching on perfectly.

“Give that Tracy a prize,” Scott grinned, shooting triumphant finger guns his brother’s way as he headed up the stairs.

And they said that John was the genius in the family, they hadn’t seen Scott at his most devious. Virgil wasted no time in yanking out his phone and texting the witch to come and take over.

“Here’s your sammich, Squidward,” Selene cooed, plonking the plate down on Gordon’s lap while smacking a kiss to his forehead. “Virgil started it but I finished it for you, Brains called him down to his lab with some kind of air filter emergency so I took over. I brought you some of those crisps you like from my private stash too.”

“The cheesy curl ones?” Gordon asked hopefully.

“Yep,” she grinned, waggling a family sized bag of Quavers in his general direction.

“Did you bring my drink?” Gordon asked around a mouthful of chickeny goodness. Say what you wanted about Virgil but he made a damn good sandwich, even if Gordon could taste that this was made with a little less love and a little more impatience than usual.

“No, sorry, did you want one? Virgil didn’t say that. I’ll go get you something, just wait right there.”

"Not like I can leave if the mood takes me," Gordon grumbled as he opened the chip bag.

She was already gone, only to race back in a few moments later with a can of coke.

“What? What’s wrong, boo?” Selene asked when she saw the pouting look of disappointment on Gordon’s face.

“It was supposed to be one of my special milkyshakes,” he whined.

“Right, got it, my bad!”

She was gone again, taking off to the kitchen where, upon closer inspections, she did indeed find the beginnings of a milkshake. There were two scoops of ice cream already in the blender, melting in the warmth of the room. A half peeled banana sat abandoned on the counter next to a carton of milk.

“Typical,” she groused as she set about breaking up the banana, pouring the milk and setting it to blend as she tidied the mess away. Once done she poured it into a tall glass, added a straw and a few slices of fresh banana to decorate the edges, just as he liked it, and delivered it to the waiting aquanaut.

“Great, thanks, Sel,” he grinned, handing her his now empty plate and swapping it for the glass. She put the plate on the coffee table and sat on the couch opposite him.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Sit with me and keep me company?” he begged, looking so miserable and pathetic that she couldn’t say no.

“Of course I will.”

Gordon swung his injured leg up and she moved to sit next to him on the couch, placing a cushion on her lap for him to rest his cast covered foot on.

Gordon settled down with a contented sigh, sucking happily on his straw, the milkshake level in the glass steadily dropping.

“I’m bored,” Gordon bitched five minutes later.

“That peace lasted a long time,” Selene laughed, putting her phone down on the side table to give him her full attention. “What can I do to help? Do you want to watch something or play a game?”

Gordon made a face. “You’re crap at games, Sel.”

One eyebrow rose in disbelief. “I wouldn’t exactly say crap…”

“You tried to play with Alan and died three times in two minutes, lost all your lives and were forced to float along behind him as a ghost for the rest of his turn.”

“Anything is crap when you say it like that,” Selene huffed.

“Only when it’s true.”

“Tell me then, oh great games master, what do you want to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then don’t moan you’re bored,” she pointed out.

“I mean there’s nothing to do. No one is around.”

Selene gestured to her chest. “Am I suddenly invisible?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffed. “That would be far too cool, why don’t you have witch powers like that?”

“Because I live in the real world, not a movie?”

“Lame,” he declared, dismissing it.

“Back to the original point that I am, in fact, right here. Therefore your comment that no one is around is redundant.”

“I meant no one I can do anything with.”

“Thin ice, bub, thin ice.”

“I meant like my brothers or someone. Alan is busy revising for his final exams, Virgil’s with Brains and I’ve no idea where Scott is but I think he’s avoiding me, which is just mean if you ask me. I’m a delight.”

“Yeah, you sure are,” she drawled, not sounding too convinced. “You’re also forgetting a brother.”

“Who?”

“John? You know, gorgeous ginger love of my life that’s chilling in his room right this minute? That brother?”

“John? No way.”

“What’s wrong with John?” she squawked indignantly. Her man was the most perfect of people, amazing and fabulous, just all round awesome. Although she might be a tad biased.

Gordon shrugged, scrunching his nose up in a ‘meh’ kinda way that said everything and nothing.

“No, come on, tell me what you meant,” she demanded.

“No offence, Sel, but John’s a bit…”

“A bit what?” she asked, her tone warning him that he was in very dangerous territory.

Gordon, with the grace of an elephant and confidence of a man that knew he was injured and therefore wouldn’t get slapped, plowed on.

“A bit boring.”

“Boring?!” she hollered, her voice travelling to the four corners of the island so effectively that Alan lifted his head, wondering if some distant God was echoing his thoughts as he slogged through his history homework.

“How very dare you!” Selene continued, working up a good glare that Gordon was completely immune to. He simply sipped the last of his milkshake, smacked his lips and raised an eyebrow, daring her to do something about it.

“He is not boring.”

“Matter of opinion,” Gordon shrugged, handing her the glass to put down on the table.

“Right, that’s it, you can besmirch my fun factor but I will not allow you to do so to my man. That’s a step too far.” She gently, for which he was thankful, shoved his leg off her lap and dragged his hover chair over from its spot beside Virgil’s piano.

“Get the hell in, hoppy, we’re going for a ride.”

-x-

"You deal with him, he's driving me nuts and pissing me off at the same time."

"Me? I'm the very picture of perfection, I could never drive anyone nuts."

John declined to comment on that one for fear of never stopping, he had twenty-four years worth of stories after all.

“The pissing you off is subjective too,” Gordon finished triumphantly.

"He's your problem now," Selene announced, shoving Gordon's hover chair further into the room before making her escape, slamming the door shut behind her.

John closed his eyes, praying for patience. His fiancée was well known for her legendary patience when it came to pampering and mothering his family whenever any of them were sick or injured. She'd spent almost every day with Gordon since his run in with the Chaos Crew and had done so with relentless cheer, for her to have given up now was not a good sign.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Gordon protested hotly.

"Are you sure?"

Gordon averted his gaze, suddenly taking great interest in a dust particle dancing across the shaft of sunlight filtering in through the window, "Yes, I'm sure. I wasn't doing anything. That was part of the problem."

"Ah," there it was. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I'm so bored," Gordon wailed. "And your girlfriend is being mean to me."

"Fiancée," John corrected him, not looking up from his work.

"It's not my fault I hate sitting around doing nothing all day. I’ve gone from a physically and mentally intensive, fifty plus hour a week job, to sitting on my ass from dawn until dusk. Can you blame a guy for getting twitchy?"

"Unfortunately, you don't have much of a choice at the moment," John reminded him, quite needlessly he thought.

"Gee, thanks for the reminder," Gordon huffed, trying to cross his arms although the cast and sling he was sporting prevented it. That just seemed to annoy him even more.

"I can't do anything right now! How do you do it?"

"Do what?" John asked, squinting through his magnifier at the small window frame he was carving from a piece of polymer clay.

"Just sit around all day."

John raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I don't sit around all day."

"OK, float around then. It's not like you're actively running around like the rest of us are."

"I'll pretend I never heard you say that," John scowled, wishing Selene had dumped his brother into the sea instead of into his quiet, peaceful room.

"You're sitting around right now," Gordon pointed out, gesturing to the desk John was sitting at, which was currently doing double duty as a work table for his latest project.

"One day you'll learn to appreciate the benefits of a quiet, occupied mind and a still body," John told him.

Gordon sighed, propping his good elbow on the desktop, his chin resting in his upturned palm as he watched his brother fiddling with tiny things that seemed utterly useless to him.

"What are you even doing?"

"Working on a series of book nooks for Sel's side of the bookcase," John answered, sounding slightly distracted as he measured the finished window against its place in an intricately carved brick wall.

"Why?"

"Because she likes them."

"I mean why are you making it? Can't you just buy her one? It's not like you can't afford it."

"Where's the challenge in that? Besides, things are always more special when you make them yourself."

Gordon yawned and leant forward to rest his head on the tabletop.

"Do you want to help?" John offered, although honestly Gordon's version of helping was always patchy at best.

Gordon scooted closer to look over John's shoulder, eyes darting over the rectangular box that he was building the nook inside. About the size of two thick books sandwiched together, the nook already had a little cobbled street and two shop fronts in place. The tabletop was scattered with a selection of impossibly tiny screwdrivers, picks, scalpels and other instruments of possible torture that he couldn't hope to name.

"Pass," he announced decisively, flicking the control of his hoverchair so he spun in a wide circle, pointing to the door. "I'm out."

"Peace at last," John sighed, flicking his magnifier back into place over his right eye as he set aside the window to be baked later and reached for a fresh blob of clay.

-x-

"What ya dooooooing?" Gordon yodelled, slamming the bedroom door open so hard that it smacked into the wall and shook several picture frames. He scooted his way into the room without even waiting for an invite.

"Gordon!" John huffed, clutching his heart where it was trying to leap out of his chest from the shock of his brother’s sudden, and very noisy, entrance.

"Hi, I got bored, thought I'd drop in on my favourite big brother," Gordon grinned as he glided his hoverchair closer.

"Are Scott and Virgil busy?" John asked, that would be the only reason Gordon would have promoted him to his favourite.

"Yes," Gordon admitted, "but that's not the reason why I'm here."

John turned his head to shoot him a raised eyebrow of doom, clearly communicating without words that he didn't believe him in the slightest.

"So, what are you doing?"

"Working on this book nook," John replied patiently, holding up the small cauldron he was crafting.

"The same one?"

"Yes."

Gordon’s eyes nearly fell out of his head, "Still? It’s been four days!"

"Yes," John hissed out, starting to get frustrated by the constant questions.

"Why?"

"Because it takes a long time. If you're going to do a project you should do it right."

"At the speed you're going it's gonna take forever," Gordon snorted, casting an assessing eye over the work John had already done.

"That doesn't matter," John assured him. "It's not really about the time it takes or the end result, it's about the process, the journey to get there."

"Sounds lame to me," Gordon yawned.

"Obviously," John drawled, rolling his eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" Gordon demanded to know, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Because it's you."

"Hey! Rude."

"Accurate," John said, placing the little cauldron down and selecting another piece of clay which he placed on a ceramic tile.

"Why?"

"Because it requires a calm mind. It's good to slow down sometimes and just be still."

"Says the console jockey."

Console Jockey? He did not just say that!

"So you don't think my job is stressful? Or as tiring and important as yours?" John snapped, wondering if it was bad form to smack your injured brother around the head with a partially constructed book nook. He glanced at the nook, he had put a lot of work into it… It would be a shame to waste it. That thought alone saved Gordon.

“Well, yeah I get that it might be a bit stressful, but it’s not like you have to do much that puts you in danger, not like us,” Gordon continued, digging his hole even deeper, a hole that John was looking forward to shoving him into.

“We all have our specialities, you couldn’t do your job without me doing mine,” John retorted, trying very hard not to let Gordon’s comments get to him. Gordon would never understand what it was like for him to be stuck so far away from the action, away from his brothers when things were going wrong.

Gordon, thankfully for him, had been unconscious from the moment he had activated his emergency code. He hadn’t heard the frantic calls going out over the comms as the family mobilized to help him. He hadn’t heard the desperate scramble as Thunderbirds took off, racing to the scene. But John had heard it all.

John had been the one to stay on the line with Gordon, talking to him the entire time, knowing that he probably wouldn’t hear it but feeling that he needed to say it all the same. He wanted to know that if his little brother regained consciousness for even a second he would hear a familiar voice, that he would know that they were coming, that they would rescue him. He would know that he wasn’t alone.

He knew what it was like for people that were in danger, knew the comfort they got from someone talking to them, listening to their stories, being there for them verbally if not physically. John was often the one that spent the most amount of time with those they rescued, keeping their spirits up as much as possible until his brothers got there.

His brothers were seen by their rescuees as the real heroes, the ones that leapt in and plucked them out of danger, but John was the one that got them that help, the one that made sure the rescue played out as best it could, liaising and coordinating until the job was done. But Virgil, Scott, Gordon and Alan were the ones that got the thanks , the ones that got the hugs after they dropped their charges off, not John.

Not that he minded too much, he knew that his job was just as important as theirs, maybe even more so because, when someone put out that call for help, when they sent their desperate plea out into the world, they deserved to know that someone would always be listening out for it, that someone would hear and that help would come.

He knew all of this, and he knew that Gordon did too, it was just the frustration of inactivity that was making him say the things that he was. John just wished that that knowledge made it easier to listen to.

“I might not be doing the physical rescuing,” John continued, feeling the need to push his point home. “But I work just as hard, when you’re home you’re off duty until a call comes in, you can relax, swim, watch movies and laze around until you’re needed. When I’m up there I’m on duty 24/7 and even when I do manage to catch some sleep it’s not deep or particularly restful. Any little noise, any call that triggers the system's keyword algorithm gets transferred automatically, I have to go from asleep to awake in seconds to take it.”

Gordon was quiet for once, watching him closely. John didn’t like it, it made him feel like an exhibit in a zoo. And here we have the little seen Tracy, see how he stays inside his hide and hardly ever ventures out… he knew how they saw him, why they likely thought he had the easy job.

“These help, they give me something else to focus on. I need to keep my mind active and challenged while still trying to relax.” John paused, trying to think of a way to explain his thinking that Gordon might understand.

“These are almost like a meditation,” he started. Gordon understood meditation and finding your zone. “Creating something out of almost nothing. It keeps my mind focused, helps with finger dexterity and hand eye coordination with the added bonus of it relaxing me. It’s good to slow down and take some time to do something creative, you should try it some time.”

Gordon listened to his brother and he tried to take in all his words, he tried to understand the meaning behind them, he really did, but it just didn’t make any sense to him. He understood about wanting to be lazy, to sit around and do nothing sometimes. He loved to laze on the couch with his snackies and an Into the Unknown marathon playing out on the holoscreen, but that was watching something exciting, interesting, to him that was relaxing. This...whatever it was that John was actually doing, made no sense whatsoever to him. The idea of trying to relax by actually thinking...that was the most alien concept of all.

Gordon knew, probably better than his family gave him credit for, what it was like to be mislabelled. Within every sibling pool, there were the mandatory roles: the serious one, the caring one, the smart one, the funny one, the calm one, the angry one, the one who sang in the shower, et cetera. He’d proudly embraced the role of ‘the funny one’, and had diligently flown the flag for the humour camp for as long as he could remember. If a brother came home from a rescue in a slump and needed a cheery pick-me-up, it was Gordon who stepped up to the task, irrespective of his own mood. His smile and laugh were infectious, and he had yet to encounter a frown he couldn’t (eventually) turn upside down.

But with every ‘role’ came misconceptions. Scott was serious, therefore people were quick to automatically assume that he was a killjoy. Similarly, John’s intellect and preference for solitude often went hand in hand with him being branded antisocial, since there was apparently no possible way someone could enjoy their own company so much, yet still pursue and maintain meaningful relationships with actual people.

Gordon was no stranger to this treatment. He liked to laugh and be spontaneous, and consequently, was often regarded as the Tracy who didn’t take his work seriously, the Tracy who had the attention span of a gnat (albeit a very handsome one), and the Tracy who couldn’t be trusted with anything that required delicacy, be it physical or emotional. His affinity for making people laugh, though an exceptional quality, frequently acted as a double-edged sword. On the one hand, his relentless optimism made him the most effective of the bunch when it came to emergencies involving children and young adults. On the other hand, it sentenced him to a fate where the bad jokes he cracked would always be two steps ahead of the secret deep thinker that lay within.

“Let me see it again,” Gordon sighed, trying his best to be a supportive and understanding brother, since he did feel a little bad about the things he had just said. He hadn’t meant to say them, they had just come out. That was the trouble with being laid up from an injury, not only were you out of action but you were in pain, and pain made you grumpy and less likely to monitor the things that came out of your mouth the way you should.

He knew that John worked hard, hell he knew that what his brother had said was right, John was never truly off duty. They were all aware that he didn’t get enough sleep, enough down time, enough time to relax and just be. They knew that if John was on Five he would consider himself on duty, at work, and therefore he’d never allow himself to take time out. Things had changed since Selene had blundered her way into his life, now he spent a lot more time on the Island, which meant that he was finally taking some time out for himself. If one of the ways he chose to do that was by crafting ridiculously tiny things out of clay to stick in a hollowed out box that was his business. Gordon wasn’t there to judge, he was there to spend time with his brother.

John moved aside a little so Gordon could get a closer look, trying to resist the urge to smack his hand away every time Gordon reached for a tiny piece that had taken him hours to perfect.

“These are really small,” Gordon mused, poking at a window that John had just finished painting, leaving behind a smudged fingerprint. “Woops, sorry, Bro.”

“Maybe you should try making something of your own,“ John suggested, carefully removing the window from his brother's possession and picking up a brush in order to attempt a fix.

Gordon nodded and John passed him a ceramic tile and a miniature rolling pin.

“How about you try cutting me out a few shop sign bases?” John suggested.

“Do I get one of those scalpel things?” Gordon asked, a little too eagerly for John’s liking.

“Maybe we can work up to that,” John hedged, subtly moving the scalpel out of his brother’s reach and passing him a square cookie cutter. “Use this cutter for now.”

Gordon shrugged and spent a few minutes rolling and squishing the clay trying to get the thickness to the exact measurement that John insisted on. It wasn’t easy or fun.

“Nope!” Gordon announced, giving up and pushing the tile away. “It’s still boring. Pass.”

He swung his hoverchair around and headed in the direction of the door. “Later, Bro.”

“Oh...OK...later, I guess,” John stuttered, wondering just what he had done to deserve such a chaotic family as his.

“Oh, hey, boo, where are you go- WAHH!”

John’s head shot up as Selene’s yelp rang out from the hallway.

“Sorry!”

“So you should be, you little shit,” she grumbled to his retreating back as she thumped into the room.

“What happened, love?”

“Let’s just say that if his chair had wheels I’d have lost a few toes,” she said, wincing in imagined pain.

John scooted his desk chair back and patted his lap in offer, one that she happily accepted.

“So, why was Gordy doing his boy racer bit? What did you say to him?”

“Me? What makes you think I said anything to him?”

“Because I know you two?”

“Fair,” he sighed, sliding his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t know what to do to help him.”

Selene turned her head to look at him, not liking the helpless look on his face.

“Babe, you are helping him, you’re there to keep him company or talk to him if he needs it, that’s more important than anything. What happened to make you think that you weren’t helping?”

“He was asking me about these again,” John nodded towards his work area on the desktop. “But he didn’t seem to understand, that or he just didn’t want to.”

“He’s Gordon,” she sighed. “You know what he’s like, he’s full on, he’s in your face and he’s not at all subtle. Taking his time with things just doesn’t compute with him.”

“It would do him good though, if he doesn’t learn to embrace it he’ll be exactly the same as he was last time.”

“Was he really that bad?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

John nodded. “He doesn’t do inactivity well. When he had his hydrofoil accident his therapist talked him into signing up for a virtual college degree in Environmental Management of Rivers and Wetlands. It was supposed to take him at least a year as a part time course with ANU in Canberra, but he blew through it in the first semester and earned himself a distinction for his insights on the impact of Anthropogenic Noise on Wetland Habitats. His professor was so impressed he offered him a fully funded PhD, citing his time with WASP and the time he spent in the bathyscaphe as practical experience that would make up for his lack of degree. Obviously he turned it down, but he still likes to rub our faces in it now and then.”

“Wow,” Selene breathed. “Forget his professor being impressed, I’m impressed.”

“He has a phenomenal brain,” John said, a small but very proud smile on his face. “When he actually decides to use it to its full potential, that is. There is nothing he can't do when he chooses to focus on something, he’s all in. It really helped him to feel like he was gaining something and moving forward even though he was sitting still.”

Selene nodded, understanding completely. She knew that all of her boys were wicked smart, but Gordon always presented himself as the least academic. He was more of a doer, wanting to be out in the field, learning as he went, diving in head first to every situation.

But as Selene and John both knew, appearances could be deceiving.

“If that’s what helped him last time, then we need to find a way to convince him to try something new,” Selene insisted.

“I tried, he’s not interested.”

“That was with your things, babe. We need to find something that’s a little more him, and I think I know just the thing.”

-x-

“I have arrived!” Gordon yodelled, announcing his entrance in his own unique way. He slid his hover chair in through the open door like the boss that he was, bringing his shining presence in to brighten up his middle brother's obviously dull existence. “Didja miss me?”

“Like a hole in the head,” John grumbled, turning to look at the grinning face of his brother. His eyes immediately began to water as they were assaulted by the far too bright colours of the shirt Gordon was wearing, a tie dyed monstrosity that Selene had made for him for his birthday.

“A little more gratitude, if you please," Gordon huffed.

“Grandma finally released you?”

“Yep,” Gordon stretched out his injured leg and patted the air cast on his now slingless arm. “Got time off for good behaviour.”

“I find that hard to believe,” John teased, then nodded to Gordon’s arm. “How’s it feeling?”

“Not too bad, my grip still isn't great but Grandma promised me that once the bone has finished knitting I’ll just need to exercise it and build the muscle strength up, then it’ll be as good as new.”

“That’s great, it won't be long before you're able to go back out with Virgil and stop, how did Sel put it, 'haunting the house like the ghost of Christmas future'?"

"Can't come soon enough," Gordon sighed, butting his chair right up close to John's, knocking his arm in the process. "What you do- you're still doing that? Still? It's been a week!"

"It's not like I get a huge amount of down time," John pointed out. "I'm only here now because Sel said she'd dump me if I didn't make an effort to come down earlier in the evenings so I could actually eat a meal with you all."

"You actually believed that threat?" Gordon laughed.

"Of course not, she'd never dump me, but I thought I had better humour her and let her feel like she at least had a little sway," John shrugged, pushing aside the little piece of doorstep he had been painting. "Honestly, it's nice to come down for a meal and family time, I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it until it was happening again."

"I guess we all got a bit too caught up in International Rescue after we lost Dad," Gordon admitted.

"Like we had nothing else in our lives," John nodded, completely understanding.

"Yep."

Gordon fell silent and John let him, concentrating on mixing the perfect colour acrylic to add a few highlights to his stones.

"Can I have a go at making something? I bet I could do it quicker than you," Gordon asked, reaching towards what Selene called the sharps tub. John smacked the lid down on it just in time.

"Actually, we got you a present."

"You did?" Instantly distracted, Gordon sat up straighter, excited by the prospect of a gift. "What did you get me?"

This," John answered, opening his desk drawer and extracting an interestingly shaped bottle, upright with a thicker, rounded bottom and a thinner neck, ending a cork stopper.

"Wow, is that an original?" Gordon asked, taking the bottle carefully and turning it to study it from all angles. He knew exactly what this shaped bottle was, there had been a collection of them in Commander Shore’s office that he would stare at every time he got called in for some reprimand or another.

"19th century," John nodded. "Sel found it in a little shop in Mayfair. They assured her it was a genuine, used on a ship, captain's decanter from around the time of the civil war. They hadn’t fully traced it when Sel bought it but they think it came from one of the ships that fought in one of the smaller skirmishes around 1861.”

“This is really cool, thanks,” Gordon smiled, still turning the bottle over and over.

“It’s to hold this,” John continued, drawing Gordon’s attention back to him.

Grinning, John delved back into his desk drawer and pulled out a rather faded and quite dusty box. He brushed the dirt off the top and slid it over to Gordon.

"A ship?" Gordon frowned.

"Yep, Selene and I thought that you needed a little project of your own, so she had the idea to get you a ship in a bottle. You don’t see them a lot these days, but apparently her Grandfather had a couple and they always fascinated her.”

“So you put the ship in the bottle?”

“Yep, instructions are inside, go nuts.”

“Pfft, instructions,” Gordon snorted. “No one needs instructions, they’re a waste of time.”

-x-

“Ouch,” John hissed, hopping in place on one foot as he bent down to pick up what looked to be a tiny piece of mast that had attacked the sole of his foot. “Gordon, why are there bits of ship all over my floor?”

“Because I dropped them,” Gordon replied, his voice muffled due to the tongue of concentration that was peeking out from between his teeth.

Huffing, John gathered all the pieces off the floor, both pieces of ship and bits that they had been cut out of, and deposited them on the desk next to Gordon.

“How’s it coming along?” John asked, settling in his own chair. He’d only been gone a day but Gordon had managed to take over the entire bedroom, spreading his belongings, bottles, snack wrappers, his phone and a discarded hoodie, all over the place, as well as half the contents of the vintage ship box.

“It’s ridiculous. I think it’s missing pieces or something, it’s broken.”

“Well it was an old kit, but we were assured that it was complete,” John frowned, sliding the tray over that Gordon was supposed to be storing all the pieces in. “Have you checked the contents list and matched each piece to make sure they’re all there?”

Gordon looked at him blankly, like he was talking a foreign language.

“Did you check that everything was there before you started?" John elaborated.

“Of course I did,” Gordon promised, crossing his fingers and hoping his brother didn’t see.

“Against the list?” John clarified.

“I eyeballed it, OK?”

“Not good enough,” John insisted. “That’s not how you go about doing things like this, you can’t just slap them together and hope for the best.”

“Why not?” Gordon whined. It worked for him in almost everything else he did in life.

“Because this happens," John gestured to the mess surrounding them.

“Fine, I’ll read the damn instructions.”

Leaving Gordon to it John slid his almost completed book nook over and picked up his paintbrush to start adding some finishing touches before he started on the wiring for the lights. He’d barely done more than five minutes when Gordon started huffing.

John waited a little longer, trying his hardest to ignore the ever increasing sounds of frustration and impatience from his brother. In the end he couldn't stand it a moment longer, he had to ask the most loaded question ever.

“What’s the problem?” John asked, pushing his own work aside.

“These instructions don’t make sense,” Gordon bitched, flapping the paper in John’s face. “Look at the little picture here, you have to stick this little pole into that hole in the deck but the deck doesn’t want to stay together and that piece there keeps sliding and the pictures make no sense.”

“That’s because you missed around eight steps in between,” John told him, praying for patience.

“No I didn't, I followed the pictures exactly,” Gordon insisted.

“The steps aren’t in the pictures,” John explained. “See right there?” he pointed to the words above the pictures. “The pictures are a diagram of each finished stage, not how to get there. They are for reference only, not instructions.”

“Urghhh, this is going to take forever,” Gordon pouted, crossing his arms. “What’s the point?”

“The point is that by the end of it you’ll have something unique that no one else does, something you can be proud of and know that you built with your own two hands.”

“I’m not sure it’s worth the effort,” Gordon muttered.

“It is,” John promised. “I’ll help. How about I read out the instructions and you follow along? We’ll get through it quicker that way.”

Gordon wasn’t convinced, but John looked so hopeful that he didn’t have the heart to refuse him, especially since he and Selene had gone to so much trouble to get the things for him in the first place. He might be a miserable little sod, but he wasn’t that ungrateful. He knew that they had gone out of their way to get something they thought he’d like, the least he could do was make the thing, even if he knew he wouldn’t enjoy it. Maybe John was right, working together they could get through it quicker, and that could only be a good thing.

“Alright,” Gordon agreed, “let’s give it a go.”

Slowly, methodically, John read out each piece that was needed and Gordon located them, storing them neatly in a wooden box that Selene provided when she popped in to bring them drinks an hour or so later. She stayed just long enough to steal a kiss from John and drop one on the top of Gordon’s head before she beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to get roped into helping. She wasn’t the best at following instructions and didn’t want to get grumped at.

By the time they had all the pieces checked and catalogued they had discovered there were indeed two pieces missing, but thankfully they were easy fixes, just a small , round piece of wood to represent a porthole, which they could easily make a replacement for and a piece of mast. One snipped toothpick later and that was sorted too.

John started with the first set of instructions, reading them out patiently as Gordon found and fitted them together.

“So, how’s work been?” Gordon asked, like a chatty hairstylist, as he carefully dipped the end of a thin dowel into a small pot of wood glue.

“Same as ever,” John deadpanned, “a bunch of idiots that got themselves into trouble and needed help, and only half of them related to us.”

Gordon sniggered, glancing at John, seeing the sly smile on his brother’s face. He’d forgotten just how amusing John could be when he delivered something sarcastically witty with such a serious tone. Gordon hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it, wondering just what his more serious brother would come out with next. John was always like that, he seemed so quiet and reserved but, when he was relaxed and in company he was comfortable with he’d take you by surprise by letting loose a zinger that you couldn’t help but laugh at.

“Let’s not talk about work,” Gordon suggested, “we haven’t hung out properly in ages, you’re either up in Five or there are other people around.”

“Is that your way of saying you’ve missed me?” John teased.

“Maybe,” Gordon allowed, “but if you ever tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it and tell Grandma you want her to make your birthday cake this year.”

John held his hands up in surrender, although he couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled up as he reached for the instructions again.

“OK, let’s get this done before we stop enjoying each other’s company.”

They worked slowly but steadily over the next few hours, putting together the structure for the first mast. Once it was done they called it quits and abandoned it for another day, the smell of something tasty coming from the kitchen proving to be too much to ignore.

-x-

“Gordon, that’s my finger.”

“Oh, sorry, can you just like… I don’t know, yank it off?”

“If I wish to leave half my identifying fingerprints behind, yes.”

“Do you really need them?”

John didn’t dignify that with an answer, the look he threw at his brother communicated his thoughts perfectly.

“OK, OK, I’ll get some dissolver from Virgil’s studio, wait right there,” Gordon instructed him, grabbing his crutches and hobbling his way out of the room.

John sighed, keeping his hand perfectly still, the hull of the boat dangling from his fingertip. He was still there five minutes later when Gordon clumped his way back in, Selene hot on his heels. She had the glue dissolver under one arm, a large bag of chips under the other and a plate of sandwiches in each hand.

She dumped the plates on the desk, then the chips, before turning to see the state her fiancé was in.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” Gordon winced, dropping down into his abandoned desk chair and reaching for a plate.

“Can you at least help me before you start stuffing your face?” John asked, waggling his hand, which made the boat sway violently from side to side.

“Can’t, eating,” Gordon mumbled around the massive mouthful he had just taken.

“What did I say?” she demanded to know. “No hurting the hands, you know how I feel about that.”

John wiggled his fingers again, drawing her attention to his plight. He looked so pathetic with the half built little ship swinging from his hand that Selene took pity on him, intervening when he looked like he was about to grab the thing and yank it off himself, fingerprints be damned.

“Oh for the love of the Gods, let me do it!” Taking his hand she used a paintbrush to smear glue dissolver around the area of skin it was stuck to. She took her time, rewetting and using the brush bristles to push the dissolver under the boat, trying to ease it free from his skin with minimal pulling.

“Thank you,” he sighed, sitting patiently while she worked. Thankfully it didn’t take her too long, although it took a lot of cursing under her breath and the odd ouch from him to get there.

“One boat,” she announced, placing it triumphantly on the desk.

“Fanks,” Gordon said, spraying chip crumbs as he did so.

“Welcome,” she said, brushing at her leg which had unfortunately been in splatter range. Still holding John’s hand she bestowed a kiss to each of his abused digits before releasing him.

“Right, I’m out of here. Play nicely, you two, I don’t want to have to send Grandma in to babysit you both.”

“It won’t come to that,” John assured her, reaching for his own sandwich. “We’ve not got much left to do now. We just have to attach the rigging to the masts, check that they fold properly then insert th-”

“I’m out, I don’t need to hear anything about insertion, not after you just glued a boat to your hand,” Selene declared, her exit swift and to the point, the door shutting firmly behind her.

“She has a point,” Gordon admitted, swallowing his last bite. He pushed the chip bag in John’s direction, although there was barely more than a handful and a few crumbs left in it.

“But we’ll never admit it to her face,” John insisted, steadily munching through the large sub she had brought for him.

“Never,” Gordon agreed.

-x-

Gordon sighed dramatically as he crutched his way down the hall from his bedroom. John’s bedroom door was open but his brother wasn’t inside. The ship, now fully rigged, sat beside the bottle on the desk, just waiting to be placed inside once some sand had been poured in as a base. Gordon had chosen all different shades of blue to represent the sea and had even watched a few videos on how to do sand pouring art, something he’d never expected to find even remotely interesting, yet he couldn’t bring himself to go in and make a start on it.

John had barely been home the past week and when he had it had only been for food and enforced sleep. Even then he had been known to sneak out of bed the second Selene was asleep, being discovered on numerous occasions sitting at their father’s desk until the small hours working on this, that or the other.

Emergencies, and therefore the need for their services, had seemed to increase three fold, something Selene was blaming on the moon phase and mercury going retrograde and, for want of a better explanation, they were all inclined to agree. There was no rhyme or reason for the surge in idiots that were calling in at all hours of the day and night with trucks caught under a too low bridge causing a pile up, hands stuck down toilets, drunks climbing to the top of electricity pylons and repair men getting trapped inside ATM machines they had been fixing.

His brothers had been on the go near constantly, whether it was from rescue call outs or working on their plan to find their father, but none more so than John. While Selene had always been good at what she liked to call Tracy Wrangling, none more so that when she was dealing with a stressed out Scott, even she had admitted defeat and left them to their own devices. Self preservation was key after all.

John had been dealing with not only rescue calls and Chaos Crew sightings, but signal tracking, GDF liaising and general hoop jumping, all of which had kept him far too busy.

It had been over a week since they had done anything to their project and Gordon was feeling the loss. Not so much of the project, although that really had helped with his frustrations at his lack of physical ability, not that he would ever admit that to John, but in spending time with his brother.

Much to his surprise he’d found that he was reluctant to work on it alone, it had become their thing to do together. It was a time where they would hang out, shoot the shit, reminisce about childhood memories, times that they had spent together talking about their hope for the future where they would find their father alive and bring him home.

Both of them knew that it wouldn’t be easy, that if they did manage to find him there would be no telling what physical or mental state he would be in. Gordon knew from experience just how tough physical injury, limitations, and recovery could be on the mind and the body, especially in someone who had been as active and viril as Jeff Tracy.

They all knew, although no one seemed to want to talk about it, that as hard as it was going to be to actually locate him and hopefully bring him home, that would only be the beginning of what could potentially be an incredibly long and difficult journey of rehabilitation and reintegration into the family and the world as a whole.

John had been right, taking some time to be quiet, to slow down and think while keeping your mind and hands busy really was a productive way to spend your rest hours and, stupid as it sounded, Gordon didn’t really want that to end.

He was only a week or two away from potential cast removal and a return to physical activities like his beloved swimming and strength training in their home gym and, while he couldn’t wait to get back to it, he knew he’d feel the loss of his enforced quiet time.

He glanced again at the abandoned ship on the desk and turned away, clumping down the hall towards the stairs. So it would take them a little longer to get it finished, Gordon was fine with that because for once he wasn’t feeling the need to rush.

-x-

“Remember to pour it slowly,” Gordon instructed as he held the funnel in place, its long pipe reaching right down into the bottom of the jar. “Start with the darkest one, that’s going to be our base colour.”

“I’ve got it,” John assured him, selecting the tub of midnight blue sand and scooping some out into a smaller pot to make things easier. At Gordon’s nod he began to slowly and steadily pour the sand into the open neck of the funnel. As he watched Gordon expertly directed the tube, allowing the sand to pour out to pool in the bottom of the bottle.

At Gordon’s signal John stopped pouring and waited while Gordon carefully removed the tube and used a long metal skewer to poke and prod the sand into something that looked vaguely like waves.

“The next colour up,” Gordon requested and John did as he was asked. They repeated the process four more times with different shades of blue, John pouring in a little at a time, Gordon directing the tube to deposit more in one place than others, mimicking the movement of sea waves as best they could. In between each layer Gordon used the skewer to poke and mix the colours here and there, blending the layers into a smoother transition.

“That’ll do,” Gordon said confidently, twisting the bottle so John could see the full effect.

John had to admit that he had been pleasantly surprised when Gordon had announced that he had ordered some coloured sand and looked up how to do sand art on the internet. He hadn’t really known what to expect, although he would admit, if only to himself, that he had thought that Gordon would be a little heavy handed and impatient, but once again he had proved him wrong. He really had done his research and the result was a beautiful mix of colours that really did give a perfect impression of a gently moving sea.

“That’s looking great.”

“I know,” Gordon grinned, modest as always. “Where’s that resin gone?”

“Here,” John answered, pushing it across the desk towards his brother. “Make sure you read the instructions and measure the amounts accurately or it won’t set and you’ll ruin the sand and the bottle.”

“Yeah, yeah I got this,” Gordon assured him as he did indeed read the instructions through properly. Once he had familiarised himself with the ratio of resin to hardener, he measured carefully and poured them into a mixing jug. Once it was fully mixed he slowly, gently, poured the mixture a little at a time into the bottle on top of the sand. With each little pour he waited for the resin to trickle down between the grains, slowly adding to it until all the sand was covered.

“And now we wait,” John said, carefully placing the bottle in the patch of bright sunlight coming in through the window.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Gordon offered casually, not really expecting his brother to agree. John hardly ever watched anything with just him, they had vastly different tastes in movies and John usually made some polite excuse to escape.

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Really?” Gordon goggled, his eyes almost falling out of his head. “You don’t have anything more important to do?”

“More important than watching a movie with my little brother? I don’t think so,” John grinned, retrieving Gordon’s crutches from where they were leaning against his bookshelf and tossing them to him one by one. “Come on, last one to the lounge picks the movie.”

“Hey, no fair!” Gordon yelled, scrambling to his feet as he fumbled with his crutches. “You’ve got legs like a giraffe and neither of them are broken!”

“Sucks to be you,” John tossed over his shoulder as he took off down the hall to victory.

-x-

“Careful,” John warned.

“I am being careful,” Gordon snapped. “I got this.”

“Your hand’s shaking.”

“Thanks for that, Captain Obvious.” He steadied his, only slightly shaky, hand by propping his elbow on the desk for stability. “OK, let’s do this.”

They both held their breath as Gordon maneuvered the body of the boat through the opening in the bottle, making sure each sail stayed carefully folded down and the strings remained untangled before he fed it down the neck and into the bottle.

“Phase one, complete,” John intoned in such a serious voice that Gordon couldn’t help the laugh that he snorted out.

“Pass me those long nosed tweezers?” Gordon asked, holding out a hand.

John slapped the requested instrument into his brother's hand like a nurse in an operating theater, provoking another burst of laughter.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

Making sure the strings of the sails were still dangling outside of the bottle, Gordon carefully moved the body of the boat further down into the bottle with the metal skewer until the stern touched the top of the resin and sand layer.

“Now the sails,” Gordon whispered, hardly daring to breathe as John moved in to help, taking over the holding of the strings while Gordon reached in with the tweezers.

Gently, working together, they started the delicate process of tugging gently on each string, unfolding the paper sails and locking them in place.

“String one.”

“Got it. Watch number four sail.”

“Yep, thanks...OK… can you just give string five a little pull? Perfect.”

“Sail three is flopping!”

“Gah, hang on, just got to tighten that...yep that’s got it.”

“Maybe if I gather…”

“Yep, that’s good, do that again.”

“This next bit is going to require a delicate touch, maybe I should-”

“Hey! I can be delicate!”

“It’s not coming up...back sail two is stuck, release it...careful!”

“There, saved it.”

John gently pulled the strings a little more and there it was, their ship, sails proudly upright and everything. He kept hold of the strings, while Gordon held on to the boat with the tweezers as they carefully lifted the bottle from its side to its proper upright position.

Using the skewer John maneuvered around Gordon’s hand and nudged the boat into a better position before he carefully released the strings. They both held their breath, hoping and praying that the sails wouldn't collapse the second the strings fell.

The boat, with its sails, stayed strong.

“Yes!” Gordon cheered, holding up his free hand for a high five, grinning when his brother’s palm smacked against his own.

“Scalpel,” Gordon joked as John handed it to him so they could lop off a little of the trailing strings. Then, using the skewer, they arranged the strings around the edges of the boat.

With the boat finally upright and in place, they added another layer of light blue coloured sand with a sprinkling of white to mimic the tips of the waves. They finished it off by pouring in a little more resin, both to set the sand and hold the boat in place, using the tweezers to make sure it was correctly positioned.

“Phew,” Gordon breathed, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his cast covered leg. “We did it. Go team.”

“We did,” John smiled. “And it looks damn good.”

“It really does,” Gordon agreed, shifting his head to look at the bottle from all angles.

“Nothing left to do but let it dry and put the stopper in,” John said. “How do you feel now it’s done? Was it worth the time?”

“I still think we could have done it a lot faster if you’d just let me skip a few steps in the instructions and do it my way, but it wasn’t that bad,” Gordon admitted. “I’m oddly proud of it.”

“You should be, you did good,” John leant back in his chair, crossing his arms as he relaxed. “Are you going to stop teasing me about my book nooks now?”

“Pssh, no,” Gordon snorted. “Ships are cool, yours will always be boring.”

He didn’t see the bottle of water coming until it was too late.

-x-

Gordon walked straight to John’s room from the infirmary, feeling oddly free without his crutches and casts. Six weeks was a long time, after all.

The bottle with its little ship sat exactly where they had left it in the center of John’s desk next to the abandoned book nook that was still not finished. It took him very little time to insert the cork stopper and pour a little of Selene’s spell bottle sealing wax around the top, a bright, cheery yellow wax that matched his beloved Thunderbird Four.

He smiled as he thought of his little craft, waiting down in her dock for him, ready to be taken out when the next call came in. It had been a long and frustrating time but finally, blessedly, that time was over.

He poked an experimental finger into the wax seal, checking that it had set properly. It had, and he couldn’t help feeling a little sad about it. It had been a project that at first he’d had very little interest in, but slowly it had turned into so much more. Not just something to wile away a few hours but a chance for him to reconnect with the brother he spent the least amount of time with.

Years ago, back when he had been small, John had been his everything. When Alan had been too tiny to be of any use and Scott and Virgil had been too old to be bothered with him hanging around, it had been John that had been there for him. It was John that had patiently listened as he read aloud from his sealife books, who had watched movies with him, played with him, and spent the most amount of time with him. Back then, their three year age difference had seemed like so little but so much at the same time, an older brother that made him feel wanted and included when the other two saw him as an annoyance.

Gordon couldn’t quite put his finger on when things had changed, when they had slowly drifted apart. John had seemed to grow up so much faster than he had, Alan had welded himself to his side, looking up to Gordon as he had to John and things had never been the same again.

It had been too long since they had been able to just hang out, to laugh, to tease each other without things going too far and one of them getting annoyed. It had been nice and Gordon had realised that he didn’t want to go back to nothing but hollocalls to Five when an emergency came in or the odd family dinner and movie night where he had to share with the rest of the family. John was the only brother that Gordon didn’t spend one on one time with as standard and he realised that, no matter how much he might blame it on John being so far away, in reality it was as much his fault as John’s.

Gordon picked up the bottle, leaving a box in its place. The model kit of the Mercury Project space capsule and its launch pad had been hard to find even with his junker contacts. In fact, he had almost given up and admitted defeat before he'd thought to look at the label on his ship box and sent the shop owner an email.

Smiling to himself, knowing that there was no way John would be able to resist that challenge, he took the finished bottle, with its little ship, to his room where it would take pride of place on his bookshelf, a constant reminder that even in the worst of times, positivity could still be found.

“Thanks, Bro.”

#tag mini bang 2021 #tagminibang2021 #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds fandom #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart #TAG Mini Bang 2021 #TAGMiniBang2021

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logically-asexual · 3 years

Text

Hold me like you mean it

summary:

Logan’s feelings for Virgil and the fact that now Virgil barely notices him are stopping him from getting any work done. Janus offers a way for Logan to cope, by disguising himself into Anxiety. but is this really what Logan needs? and what’s in it for Janus, anyway?

Alternatively, an angsty story about rejection, denial, and manipulation.

warnings: (for the whole fic) unrequited love, rejection, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, gaslighting, dependency, dubious consent and non consent for kissing, sad ending, depression (vaguely described), angst in general, nightmares, self harm. let me know what else i should add.

taglist: @gummibearbullet @chara-07 @the-sympathetic-villain @whatishappeningrightnow

Read on AO3

Chapter 8

words: 934

The following day, Logan didn’t move from where he woke up until he realized Thomas was having a meeting. He got up, put on his glasses and styled his hair, and went to rise up with the rest. However, right before doing so he realized Janus was already standing there, in his place. He could shove him aside and join anyway, but he decided to stop and listen in for a moment.

Thomas was in the middle of researching for a project, and Deceit helped by listing ways to ensure sources were credible (only the ones that aligned with Thomas’ perspective, of course, but Virgil was able to counter him and balance their information with points both against and in favor). Realizing that everything was under control, he chose to follow Janus’ advice and went back to bed, staying alert in case he was summoned.

He wasn’t, and spent the rest of his day reading a book he found on the nightstand.

The next few days went similarly. He would stay in the room, entertaining himself with puzzles, sleeping, or staring at the ceiling. He didn’t change his clothes, in case he was needed and had to show up quickly. Janus came to talk to him often and told him about their day, about the progress he had made with Thomas to set clear objectives and go after them, while maintaining proper care for himself. Logan felt empty most of the time, but knowing this made him quite proud.

It took them almost a week, but one day the others finally showed concern about his disappearance, or so Janus recounted to him. He said that Thomas inquired about it, and Virgil told them what he had told Logan before leaving his room the week before, assuming this was Logan doing what he asked for and stopping his caring act. Janus let them know that he simply found a more efficient strategy to work in Thomas’ mind, and didn’t need nor want to come out here and discuss his input; all that they needed from him was already there tacitly. According to him, the others understood and swiftly moved on.

Logan knew Deceit wasn’t a reliable source of information, but he had no alternative, with no will to go check himself, and his reasoning told him the story added up. Additionally, he simply couldn’t not trust Janus, he was the one who had always been there for him, and his only real friend in so long, who hadn’t judged him even in his worst moments. If Janus lied to him, it was for the best.

“Did I really harm them?” Logan asked him later that day.

They were sitting together on the bed, Janus had his right arm around Logan’s shoulders, and a book on his other hand. A second left hand came to rest on Logan’s knee, as the first lowered the book and Janus turned towards him. Logan saw his eyes glance to the side, as he mulled over his answer.

“You made wrong decisions,” he said, looking back into his eyes, “but every single time you have acknowledged them, apologized, and tried to make up for them. They’re the ones still choosing to be hurt, you’re not responsible for them. You should focus on what brings you peace of mind.”

Logan nodded, and chose to focus on the comforting weight of Janus’ hands on him. Silently, he slid even closer to him, melting into the embrace. Sometimes, he would overthink his situation, and get the idea that Janus didn’t love him, not as much as he needed Janus, or that Logan didn’t love Janus more than he missed the idea of Virgil he used to have. But it was wrong, this couldn’t be another illusion, it had no reason to. When he thought about what soothed his mind, it was always Janus’ affection, there was nothing else, so he let it be.

Janus lifted the book again and went back into narrating the story out loud for Logan, pulling him away from his thoughts.

After a few minutes, though, Logan was alarmed by a familiar sensation. A tug. A signal that he was being summoned to a meeting.

“They’re calling me.” His eyes widened and his heart hammered in his chest as an uncountable amount of emotions filled his brain. “Janus.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “They’re calling me. Should I go? Maybe they need me. But what if they ask about my absence? Would they care about that? What if it’s about something important? I have to-” His mouth was shut before he could finish.

“Logan.” He turned to Deceit, who was looking back at him sternly. “What do you want?”

He inhaled sharply through his nose. His pulse was still racing. After a second, he tried opening his mouth and found it was no longer sealed. “I…” There was another tug, and he forcefully shut his eyes. “I don’t…”

Janus brushed his hair away from his face. “Come on, darling. You can do it.”

“I don’t want to go.” He finally let out.

“And you don’t have to.” His voice was low and reassuring, and Logan felt the stress fade away with his words. Still, he clung tightly to Janus, using him as an anchor, as if otherwise he would be pulled away against his will. There were no more attempts to call him.

After a moment, he let go of his stiff hold, leaning back. He hesitated, and then changed his clothes into sleepwear.

He would return one day, but for now he just wanted to rest.

notes: only one chapter left aaaaah. i love janus so much.

#logan sanders #janus sanders #loceit #sanders sides #thomas sanders #unhealthy relationships #hold me like you mean it #angst

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Male vampire x male character - Part Two (nsfw) (Halloween ‘surprise’ Patreon story).

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I'm really pleased that you and my Patrons enjoyed the first part, and that folks were keen for more. I’ve had more interaction with this post on Patreon than many of the others, which is surprising given how mlm stories are usually much less in demand than m/f ones. Thanks for that!

Anyway, here's more of our favourite oblivious dork Alec and his obviously-not-a-vampire crush... Part Three is on the way too (tomorrow), despite this having been planned as a quick porn-without-plot one-shot, as it were. Oh well?!

Hope you enjoy.

Part One

After his initial - admittedly strange - meetings with Sebastien, Alec didn’t see him on campus at all for the rest of the week, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Yes, the guy had been a bit of a pompous arsehole in the library, but he’d made up for it by coming to the art room and apologising, engaging him in conversation — even if that conversation had been slightly… odd? — and being so god-damn-fucking beautiful too.

He overheard his students gossiping about ‘Dr. Dulac’ earlier that afternoon while they all carved the pumpkins he’d bought for them at the local supermarket, and it seemed that the general consensus was that Sebastien was single, unfailingly polite (even in the face of Janette Hilton, the English Department’s longest-serving and least sympathetic lecturers), hotter than any celebrity you cared to name, and a specialist in the poets of the First World War like Sassoon and Brooke, among other more esoteric interests.

After an hour of clock-watching in his tiny little office in the Art Department on Friday, he abandoned all hope of concentrating on his last few bits of admin, and shut down his laptop. After clearing up yet more pumpkin seeds that he’d somehow missed on the last two sweeps he’d done of the studio, he stepped outside, never wanting to see another bloody thing again. Too bad he had a whole bloody cardboard box of them waiting to go into the boot of Kay’s car for her party that night. Still, he was almost sinfully proud of the carvings he’d done on them. One was decorated the whole way around with the foliate style engravings usually reserved for the steel on antique guns, with different depths to create the highlights and shadows, and another particularly spherical one had been cut away in squares to resemble the Death Star.

The October air outside bit into his lungs as he drew a deep breath - the spicy, fragrantly damp scents of autumn filling his nose - and his eye was drawn to the twinkling lights of the little coffee cart that still lingered in the park, selling tea, coffee, and hot chocolate to chilly students leaving the university campus for the night. With a black coffee for himself in one hand, he made his way to the Engineering Department, warily holding another frothy concoction in his other. It was apparently called a ‘London fog’ and it smelled of earl grey tea and lavender. He thought it sounded (and smelled) disgusting, but Kay perked right up when he deposited it on her desk five minutes later.

“Bless you, Alec Twayblade,” she grinned, taking the plastic lid off and inhaling it like it was the best thing she’d ever smelled. “Oh my god. How can you not like this?” she said after taking a huge gulp and moaning obscenely.

Alec didn’t bother to reply, his eye-roll speaking volumes anyway. They’d had this discussion so many times that they were both probably playing it out silently in their heads right that second. When Kay glanced up and saw that he certainly was, she snorted and grinned. “I love you, Alec,” she laughed. “You’re still coming tonight?”

“Against my better judgement,” he growled, leaning his weight on her desk and folding his arms across his battered, blue cable knit sweater. He had a huge daub of yellow paint on one elbow from that morning, and a small burn hole in the bottom from a failed attempt at pyrography a few years ago. It was the most comfortable jumper he owned, and he would probably wear it until it unravelled around him.

“You’re still not going to wear a costume, are you?” she added as she stood, pouting.

He shook his head. “I draw the line at that.”

“But you’d be so good making one!” she countered. “You helped me with that bat costume when we were at high school… Don’t you remember how fucking awesome it was?”

“I do,” he chuckled. “But I’m not going to wear one myself.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping. “Too much attention, huh?” she said softly. “Well, you know you’ll stand out more if you’re not wearing one tonight…?”

He shrugged. Honestly, he just couldn’t be bothered to dress up. Halloween had rather lost its shine for him anyway. “Not if I hide in the kitchen all night and make too-strong cocktails for everyone,” he said, flashing her his most roguish grin. “Plus, I spent much of today carving pumpkins with nattering eighteen year olds who are far too old to be carving pumpkins on academic time, but —”

“— you’re an awesome teacher who understands the need to let off some steam on the holidays,” she interjected. “Plus, it’s good practice anyway… working with a new medium…”

He allowed his lips to pinch upwards into a tiny smirk and let her have that one. “It’s nice to see them having fun,” was all he said.

An hour or so later, just as he arranged the last of the pumpkins down the garden path of Kay's Victorian semi-detached house, a voice murmured from behind him, “I can see the hand of a master at work in these carvings.”

Not having heard anyone approaching, Alec jumped, cursed, and dropped the pumpkin - thankfully with the candle still unlit. It rolled in a semicircle until a black boot gently stopped it, and a familiar face dipped into view as the owner of the boot bent to pick it up. To his surprise, it was Sebastien, and he was in costume. Probably anyway. Hopefully? Fuck. Alec’s brain stalled at the sight of him.

His eyes raked up Sebastien’s body and his jaw went quite literally slack.

The slender man was wearing thigh-high boots and leather pants so tight they had to have been spray-painted on, into which was tucked a loose, old-fashioned, white shirt with a good bit of flounce at the collar. “Holy shit,” he whispered, and Sebastien chuckled softly, a low, amused sound in the back of his throat.

“You recognise the costume?” he asked, seeming innocently amused. The long, dark coat, accented with gold brocade and bright gold buttons, opened briefly in a soft gust of wind that made the lit pumpkins flicker and lifted his loose, silver-white hair back for a breath as well.

“I…” he swallowed. “Uh, you’re Alucard,” he croaked. “From the Castlevania games…” A wry incline of Sebastien’s head told him he was correct, and then Alec blurted stupidly, “Shouldn’t you be shirtless though?”

Sebastien’s smile grew from pleased to deeply amused, his eyes glittering, and it was only then that Alec noticed the contacts burning a bright gold in his eyes and, as his lips peeled back and Sebastien began to laugh, he saw long, tapering, white canines befitting a vampire costume. “It’s a little cold for that, don’t you think?” Sebastien asked, still laughing quietly as Alec flushed crimson.

“Sorry,” he blurted. “I know. I just… forget it.”

“Where do you want it?” Sebastien asked, and Alec’s poor brain went blank.

“What?”

“The pumpkin,” Sebastien deadpanned and Alec’s poor, blank brain melted out of his ears with embarrassment.

“Uh… there’s fine,” he said, pointing at the little wrought-iron garden gate.

Sebastien placed the pumpkin down on the flagstone path so that the carved graveyard scene glimmered and flickered with appropriate spookiness, visible to anyone approaching along the quiet, suburban street. Enormous London plane trees stood sentry every few paces, heaving up the tarmac pavement with their roots, like a sleeper shifting a blanket with a restless turn, and sheltering the cars snuggled and parked beneath them. A carpet of leaves clung to the gutter in a long, golden line, melting into nothing in places in the glittering puddles. It would have been beautiful, had Alec not been faced with quite literally the most beautiful thing in the entire universe.

“Am I early then?” Sebastien asked, dusting off his palms and turning back to face Alec, who had barely managed to make his legs work long enough to stand up straight again.

He shook his head. “No. Henry’s inside already,” he said, running his fingers through his scruffy black hair. “With Rachel and Alison. I just forgot to put the pumpkins out earlier.”

“No costume?”

With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Too bad,” Sebastien said, eyeing the front door. The contacts were really creepy, shifting in the light that spilled down the stairs as the front door suddenly opened and Kay stepped out before he could worry that he’d been the only one to dress up. He could probably brush it off anyway, Alec supposed, and tried not to envy the man’s quiet confidence.

Silhouetted starkly against the hall light, with her high ‘Dracula’ collar on prominent display, Kay shrieked with glee and clapped her hands when she saw Sebastien. Apparently the two of them had been getting along rather well, while Alec had sequestered himself away in the Art Department like an ascetic.

“Bastien! You look amazing oh my god!” she blurted, rushing forwards a step or two before halting abruptly. “Wait, does that make me your father for the evening?” she cackled. “Wow, your teeth are really good! Mine wouldn't stay in for more than a few minutes…”

Sebastien’s gold eyes flickered sideways to Alec but it happened so briefly that he almost missed it. “Custom made a long time ago,” was all he said. “Shall we go inside? It’s freezing out here.”

“Yes, of course, come on in,” she said, waving them all inside, Sebastien first. As Alec passed her last, she slapped him hard on the backside in rebuke and hissed, “Told you you should have worn a costume! You look like a big dumbo!”

“No different from any other night,” he quipped back, and she growled something indistinct at him. Perhaps a werewolf costume would have suited her better. “You could have told me you’d invited Dulac…”

“Why?” she retorted. “So you could suddenly decide that an evening moping alone with your PS4 playing Rocket League with strangers was more appealing? No fucking chance. Get inside. Sebastien’s right; I’m freezing my tits off.”

The distant murmur of voices in the living room made him veer off instinctively into the kitchen, and while they began to watch some old Hammer horror film, he made drinks. That, at least, he was good at.

Entering a while later, he found that Sebastien was seated on the sofa beside Henry, who wore an enormously fluffy wolfman costume - mostly a repurposed Chewbacca onesie with a latex wolf mask. He’d pushed the mask up onto his head in order to eat the Halloween themed nibbles on the coffee table, and the effect rendered him entirely ridiculous. Another reason not to wear a costume: it’s impractical, and gets in the way, and washing ketchup out of matted fake fur is a nightmare. Alison and Rachel sat practically in each other’s laps, one a zombie and the other a ghost, both squeezed into one groaning old armchair.

After half an hour of Christopher Lee’s admittedly creepy Dracula, Alec slid from his seat at the periphery, and ducked out again into the kitchen. Straightening from fishing a beer from the back of the fridge, he heard the soft click of the door and turned to find Sebastien standing there.

“Get bored with late 1950’s horror too?” Alec asked. “Beer?”

Sebastien inclined his head in a way that said he wasn’t a beer drinker and held up his almost-empty wineglass as an excuse as he moved a little closer. “If you don’t like cheesy horror films, and you don’t seem to like Halloween either, I wonder why you came at all tonight?”

“For Kay,” he said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “She loves this shit.”

At that, Sebastien paused, a delicate smile on his face. In the soft glow of the under-cupboard lighting, his tanned skin seemed to shimmer, and Alec wondered fleetingly if he’d put some kind of glittery body powder on. Next, he wondered what on earth Sebastien was doing in here with him, looking at him like that.

“You are a good friend,” Sebastien said quietly, seeming perhaps a little sad around the edges.

“She’s done more than her fair share of looking after me,” Alec sighed knowingly. “Not that I’m doing it because I owe her,” he added, twisting the cap off the bottle and leaning back against the counter to drink deeply from it. As the malty froth washed over his tongue, he felt eyes on him and looked over at the other man.

Sebastien tilted his head slightly to the side, the false golden light in his eyes making him look like a cat in the dark. “You said she was trying to set you up with someone…”

Alec snorted, nearly shooting beer out of his nose. “Yeah. Well, she seems to think a good fuck will sort my mood out.”

“But you think otherwise?”

“You offering?” he asked bitterly, taking another swig and feeling uncharacteristically bold, though absolutely not expecting the answer he got.

“Perhaps.”

His eyebrows shot up and this time he did cough a little. “You can’t be serious.”

“You think someone who looks like me is entirely straight?” he asked with a wry smile, and Alec had to hand it to him. Not many men he knew could pull of long, luscious, white-blond hair like that, or would have the confidence to wear fucking thigh-high boots and whisper-tight leather pants…

“Still… you don’t really know me… That’s all I meant…”

“Doesn't mean one couldn’t engage in — how did you call it? — ‘a good fuck’. Not that I’m averse to getting to know you better, before or after.”

Alec swallowed another enormous gulp of frothing beer and blinked. “You’re serious?”

With a melodramatic smile that revealed his vampire teeth clearly, ‘Alucard’ purred, “Deadly.”

And Alec burst out laughing. The spell was shattered and the two men shared the remnants of their drinks and their laughter together before Alec sighed. “Your place or mine?”

At that, Sebastien seemed to falter, as if he hadn’t thought through to that point. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I assume yours would be alright?”

Alec shrugged. “Sure, if you don’t mind smacking your head on the ceiling and being able to touch two opposite walls at the same time…”

Sebastien’s lips hitched into another wry smile. “I’ve fucked in tighter spaces, I’m sure.”

“You know what?” Alec said as he rinsed out the beer bottle at the sink and half-turned to look at the other man over his shoulder. “You’re absolutely not what I expected.”

“Nor were you,” he shot back, still smirking. “And it’s been a while since I was assaulted by someone in a library.”

“Bring back happy memories, did it?” he snorted.

“Not exactly,” Sebastien murmured, and Alec realised he hadn’t actually been joking. “But I must confess that — despite my behaviour — I was pleasantly surprised by the sight of you when you rounded that bookshelf…”

Turning, Alec approached him cautiously. If he was genuinely serious about his proposal, Alec would find out now. “Pleased enough to seek me out afterwards…” he said, raising his eyebrows. He couldn’t do that ‘one brow at a time’ thing that Sebastien could, but it seemed to get his tone across all the same.

Unusually for Alec, Sebastien had an inch or two on him in height, and as Alec paused in front of him, close enough to catch the faintest hint of a woody cologne, the man angled his face just perfectly for the light to dance along his high cheekbones. Fuck, he was exquisite. The urge to kiss him rose in Alec; to feel his lips against his own, to have those elegant hands scrunch his hair…

As if reading his mind, Sebastien slowly, carefully, raised his right hand and brought his index finger to Alec’s chin, tilting it upwards just a fraction with the lightest pressure. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much, and it left Alec breathless. Again. Panting slightly, he parted his lips and then swallowed thickly.

Sebastien’s eyes darted instantly to the motion of his throat and for a second, Alec could have sworn he saw a vibrant red light reflected in his eyes. Sensing his moment of hesitation, of tension, Sebastian frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Alec breathed. “I thought your eyes went red but it must have been a car on the street outside or something.”

“Indeed,” he murmured, but then blinked rapidly. “Do you still wish to continue this?”

“Yes,” he whispered. Don't stop now. His whole body was thrumming in a way it hadn’t ever before with casual encounters. He felt alive for the first time in months.

Sebastien stepped back, turning his face away a little more. “Should we make our excuses…?”

Alec shook his head. “Nah, Kay will know what’s going on anyway, and I don’t want to face her smug looks until tomorrow at the least.”

With a softly amused chuckle, Sebastien stepped back and allowed Alec to leave the room first. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as the other man followed behind, but he didn't turn around or look at him until they were outside on the main street.

“It’s a bit of a walk…” Alec said, only realising then how long the walk would be. “I’m way over on the other side of town by the station…”

The continuing intensity of Sebastien’s scrutiny was beginning to shift from a turn-on to just marginally unnerving, but he told himself that an esteemed professor at one of the country’s finest universities, with more letters after his name than anyone his age had a right to possess, was unlikely to be truly dangerous for a one-night stand… right? There was something about the way he stared at Alec — an unmistakable hunger in his eyes — that made his skin prickle and his heartbeat jump instinctively. Like a deer before the gaze of a tiger, he was entranced.

Unexpectedly, Sebastien’s easy stride slowed at the brick gateway to a small, gravel park that sat between an old church and a chemist, the latter closed at this time of night. “May I kiss you?” he breathed, still gazing at him unblinkingly, as though Alec were the pretty one in this equation, not him.

Alec couldn’t help grinning. The way Sebastien’s eyes bored into him then drove all thought of threat and fear from his mind, and he nodded.

The man’s hands were chilly from the night air, but the moment they cupped his jaw and drew Alec toward him, he forgot about that. He forgot about everything at the meeting of their lips. Sebastien began tentatively, merely brushing their lips together, but when his golden eyes fluttered closed, he deepened the gesture, tongue just begging entrance, teasing him before withdrawing, retreating and returning.

Searing want shot down Alec’s spine and he arched into Sebastien’s taller body, hips seeking contact through his jeans. He moaned, deep and guttural, and it seemed to awaken something in Sebastien, because the man grabbed hold of the back of Alec’s hair and pulled his head slightly to one side to begin to kiss along his jawline, down to wards his neck. For a heartbeat, Sebastien froze there, nose pressed to his rabbiting pulse point, his teeth just grazing skin, before he exhaled harshly and stepped back. “We shouldn’t get carried away,” was all he whispered, stepping slightly out of Alec’s dazed field of view. “My place is nearer though.”

“Ok,” Alec said, still reeling. “Sure.”

When they reached the apartment building, his steps faltered in amazement. “You live… here?”

A slight flush seemed to warm Sebastien’s cheeks as he stepped up to the main doorway, only to have it opened from the other side by a man in livery. “Good evening, Monsieur Dulac,” said the friendly doorman instantly.

“Good evening,” he replied. “This is my friend, Alec Twayblade.”

It was impossible for the doorman not to realise that his ‘friend, Alec Twayblade’ was going to be a little more than that for the night, but he never let a flicker of judgement pass across his face. From the concierge desk - Sebastien’s building had a fucking concierge desk too - another man looked up and wished them both a good evening as they headed for the lifts.

“Does the English department also sell diamonds or drugs or something? How the fuck can you afford a place like this on a lecturer’s salary?” but even as he said it and the doors closed with a soft chime, he realised the truth of it. Sebastien’s aristocratic features and bearing were not merely a persona. They were truth. He stared up at him while Sebastien turned a key in the lift panel.

“Are you secretly royalty or something?” he whispered, only half joking.

The man shot him an amused look and shook his head, silk-white hair whispering against the rougher wool of his costume coat. “No, of course not, but I do have some inherited wealth.”

Some? “So you don’t actually have to work at the university at all then?”

He made a so-so motion of his head and said, “No, not really, but I genuinely enjoy teaching.”

“Your students certainly seem to enjoy you…”

“You don’t enjoy teaching?” he asked as the numbers on the dial climbed and climbed.

Please don’t say you live in the fucking penthouse too, Alec thought, already suspecting it might be true from the whole ‘special access key’. He glanced at the number pad and saw that the button labelled ‘PH’ was illuminated. Fuck. “Most days I enjoy it,” he admitted. “But I kind of fell into it a while back and just sort of…” he shrugged, “Stuck with it.”

Sebastien asked no more, and the lift finally stopped on the top floor. The doors drew back to reveal an apartment beyond that Alec could only gawp at. It was like something from the set of an Architectural Digest photo shoot. Nothing was out of place in the hardwood floor paradise, with clean, crisp lines and white marble counter tops in the kitchen off to his left, while a comfortable, and yet still clinically modern, sitting area sat to their right. Deep, fluffy rugs dotted that part of the penthouse, and a wide balcony stretched out over the city beyond, complete with a little table and chairs for warmer evenings.

“This place is incredible,” Alec breathed, the reason for his even being here completely forgotten.

Clearly sensing that, Sebastien smiled bashfully and said, “Would you like something to drink?”

Alec cleared his throat and hoped he wasn’t going to be faced with a choice between very expensive wines that he’d never heard of. “Sure… thanks.”

“White, red, beer, or whisky?” he asked, walking towards the kitchen and dumping his ‘Alucard’ coat over the back of a white sofa as he went. Alec’s mouth went dry as he watched the point where his narrow hips met the flowing material of the white shirt. Dear god, an arse like that shouldn’t be… well, it just shouldn’t be. And yet there it was. Clad in leather and looking positively delectable. “Or a soft drink?” he added when Alec remained silent.

Aware of where his gaze had landed, Sebastien halted and looked back over his shoulder, long, loose, naturally straight hair already losing the curls that had been worked into it for the Alucard costume. Definitely not straight, if he owned hair curlers.

“Uh…” Alec said, unsure what the question had even been now.

“I’m going to pour myself a whisky, if that helps…?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sebastien smiled, looking almost endeared by Alec’s inept stuttering. Surely he couldn’t be unused to such a reaction? “Make yourself at home then.”

With a smoky, peat-tinged whisky in a wide, heavy-bottomed tumbler set on his glass coffee table, Alec watched Sebastien turn the gas fire on, and, to his surprise, he came to a halt directly in front of him. Setting his own whisky down on the table with a deliberate, and yet delicate, clunk, Sebastien turned back to him and raked his eyes down Alec’s body in a way that made him flush hot all over. His cock twitched with interest and he tried not to preen under that gaze.

Sebastien’s eyes and teeth were back to normal now, with no hint of the golden contacts or the vampire fangs, and Alec fleetingly assumed that he must have removed them at some point between getting the whisky and appearing in front of him looking like he was about to ravish him. Oh dear god, please let him be about to ravish me, he thought with a big, dumb grin spreading across his face.

Seeing his reaction, Sebastien reached down and knelt facing him on the sofa, running his palm over the already-growing bulge in Alec’s jeans. Alec let out a deep grunt and rocked his hips up into the contact, throwing his head back against the soft, open weave of the white fabric. “Oh fuck,” he hissed.

Sebastien’s fingers found the button of his jeans and deftly undid it, but he paused. “May I?” he asked, and Alec found himself nodding before he’d even worked out what Sebastien wanted.

He found out a moment later, when his jeans were around his ankles and Sebastien was kneeling on the floor between his knees and licking a long stripe up the length of his rapidly hardening cock.

“Oh god,” he panted as the wet heat of Sebastien’s mouth engulfed half of his length and then drew back to leave his wet tip exposed to the slight chill of the apartment air. The contrast stole his breath for a heartbeat, but Sebastien returned his attentions to his cock, gently sucking and working him to full hardness in a matter of minutes.

Pleasure sparked through Alec’s whole body and he strained not to thrust back into Sebastien’s mouth, even as Sebastien took him right to the back of his throat, the tip of Alec’s cock nudging against the silky resistance of his throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he chanted as Sebastien’s fingertips just teased and caressed the underside of his balls too, and Sebastien hollowed his cheeks and sucked a little more insistently. “Oh fuck…” Really fucking eloquent here, Alec, he thought vaguely, but one look down at the vision kneeling between his legs and sucking him off drove even that thought from his brain.

The suck and slide of Sebastien’s mouth was incredible, and while he had no idea quite how much time passed, it felt like mere seconds as the heat stoked in him until he could feel the orgasm threatening to crash through him. “I’m… I’m really close…” he gasped as Sebastien moaned against his cock, sending little vibrations thrumming through him and tipping him even closer. The sharp prick of his teeth every now and again was a perfect counterpoint to the slick heat of his mouth, and it was never enough to hurt. Normally Alec wasn’t one for including teeth in this, but with Sebastien, it felt perfect.

Sebastien pulled back just as Alec felt himself beginning to coil up, his lips swollen and glistening from the exertion of bringing him that close, and he smiled. He looked radiant, and Alec’s cock twitched enthusiastically in his hands as he let out a soft whimper. The air was cold and his tip beaded pre-come freely, which Sebastien thumbed away with a surprisingly tender gesture, only to watch as more pearled immediately at his slit. Using just the tip of his tongue, Sebastien lapped at it delicately and Alec’s whole body shuddered.

His thighs shook at the tiny, intense stimulation, with Sebastien's fingers gripping the base of his cock in a tight circle, and he gasped, chest heaving. It was too much and not enough, and as he found his perineum teased as well, he bellowed and trembled. He was half a heartbeat away from coming harder than he could ever remember coming in his life, and Sebastien wasn’t going to let him have it. He roared and ground his teeth, bucking his hips, which made Sebastien laugh softly.

“Alright,” he heard him murmur, before he swallowed him down to the back of his throat again, and Alec shattered with a yell.

When he finally blinked his eyes open, he found that Sebastien had risen and was sitting on the small sofa beside him, whisky in hand, staring openly at him. He didn’t look smug exactly, but there was a quiet satisfaction to his brown eyes that made Alec flush, at which Sebastien’s beautiful lips drew back into a smile. He noted again those slightly larger canines, but they were nothing like the vampire teeth he had worn earlier.

“What do you want?” Alec asked, voice hoarse. God, he sounded wrecked. Had he really shouted so hard he’d made his throat sore?

Sebastien’s dolorous, dark eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “What do you want?”

“To watch you come,” he said immediately.

“And how would you like me to come?” Sebastien replied, sipping nonchalantly at the golden liquor as if the were discussing what Alec would like Sebastien to wear. As it was, his leather pants were constricting his obvious hard-on in a way that had to be painful for him, and his shirt was open at the neck to reveal delicate collarbones and a glimpse of his beautiful olive skinned chest.

He was an absolute vision. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he blurted in a whisper before he could stop himself, and to his surprise, Sebastien laughed. The sound was bright, delighted, and oddly self-conscious, as if he hadn’t been expecting a compliment like that. “Sorry,” he added, looking away. “Look… if you’ve got condoms, I’m… I’m good to… you know…”

“You want me to fuck you?” Sebastien asked, his gaze sharpening again.

“Yes?”

“’Yes?’ Or ‘yes’…?” Sebastien asked, seeking clarification.

“Yes. But I don't understand your question.”

“Look at me,” Sebastien said.

“Hard not to…” Alec quipped back, still feeling utterly wrung out.

“Most people assume I’m going to be the one taking it…”

Alec’s eyebrows rose as realisation settled. “Oh. And, what, I look like a top?”

Sebastien’s lips twitched. “Conventionally more so than I do, with your rugged looks and the rough shadow around your jaw…”

“So… do you want me to… you know…? Or…” Fuck, he felt like a teenager again, struggling to articulate himself and not get his sentences in a tangle while this breathtaking creature just sat there and watched him make an idiot out of himself.

“I very much want to fuck you,” Sebastien said at last. “If you’d like that as well.”

“Yes,” he said instantly.

Sebastien set down his glass and rose in a single, elegant motion, and then held his hand out to Alec.

His skin was still cool, especially next to Alec’s searing body, and his hold was steady as Alec heaved himself to his feet and allowed himself to be alternately tugged and kissed into the bedroom.

___

Part Three

Behold, plot has appeared to go with the Halloween porn I had planned. Alec’s family will come up in the next chapter.

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I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#vampire #male vampire #male vampire x human #exophilia #vampire boyfriend #male vampire x male human #male monster #mlm #mlm exophilia

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