#which is why the two main fics rhyme!

[thetomorrowshow]

poisoned rats in a pot of grain - ch. 6

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i spent like days struggling with one scene near the end of this fic only to finish writing it and realizing that it doesn't flow right for the main fic. rip me but hey at least now i've kicked that writer's block! it's a very sizable chunk to cut but it's still a good scene so it'll be repurposed into a post-story one shot :)

cw: past minor character death, violence, blood, dehumanization (the usual)

~

 “You’ve fought the Canary?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“It’s Solidarity. And I think he’s being mind-controlled.”

“Right. Sure. Major, would you be able to come with me to meet someone?”

The streets are dark.

It’s nighttime when Mythics, villain of Empires City, wakes. He’s lying on the ground in a tucked-away alley, staring into nothing, when he suddenly sits up and looks around.

He’d stumbled there earlier that day, clutching his head and groaning in pain, had collapsed on the ground and laid there for hours.

Now he heaves himself to his feet, glances around again, and limps out into the city, one hand clamped over his mouth and the other shading his eyes.

He follows a path that is clearly well-known to him, doubling back at points to ensure that there is no chance of any tails. The walk is two hours, two hours that might have been expedited by the use of his powers, but he never uses them. He walks and walks, pace growing slower and slower, on his own two feet until he reaches some dingy townhouses on the outskirts of the west side rundown part of town. Once there, he loses all sense of stealth (which, admittedly, had not been much) and directly approaches one of the doors. He knocks seven times.

There’s a few moments of waiting, waiting that Mythics does not do patiently. He taps his feet, looks around at the neighborhood, runs his hand up a seam of his costume nervously. Right as he reaches to knock again, the lock clicks and the door swings open.

“Hey, Sausage!” well-known antihero fWhip exclaims, spreading his arms wide. Despite the late hour, he’s still fully dressed, leather coat rustling and creaking with his movements. “Long time, no see! How’re you doing?”

Mythics shifts, looks around again. “Can I come in?” he whispers, leaning in close. fWhip frowns, looks past his shoulder.

“Is everything . . . good?” he asks cautiously, adjusting the goggles that serve as his mask. Mythics hesitates, before leaning even closer.

“Something’s wrong. Xornoth’s planning something bad. I’m in too deep. I—I need help.”

-

“You’re—you’re going to what?”

“I’m going to kill him,” Lizzie repeats simply, eyes daring Scott to oppose her. “I’m going to hunt him down and fill his lungs with water and watch as he chokes to death slowly.”

Scott blinks.

He opens his mouth, closes it again.

What?

“I’m—” he starts, but Joel cuts him off.

“Yeah, he’s your nemesis,” he says, “but Liz has got personal history. I think you ought to work together to kill him, but it’s not me doing it.”

Kill—kill Solidarity?

“Ex-explain to me, why, exactly, we’re killing him?” Scott asks, voice faint in his disbelief. Lizzie looks down, then back up, glare steely but eyes far away.

“I can’t remember much,” she says, her voice smaller and more unsure than anything she’s said so far, a stark contrast from her stormy appearance. “I lost my memory. Years ago. But I remember this. When I was young, I lived in a city. Maybe this one, I don’t know. I don’t remember. But. . . .”

She sits down in one of the folding chairs, rests her head in her hands. “I was young. I don’t know. I came home. Solidarity was there. He was—he was standing over their bodies. He saw me, and—and the house went up in flames. He ran. I don’t—I don’t know how I survived. I only remember flashes. But he killed them.

“I don’t remember anything else. I woke up underwater, no idea who I was or how I could breathe. Swam until I found land. Started a life. I didn’t start remembering anything until he started appearing on the news.”

Scott blinks again, looks away when Lizzie’s shoulders start to shake. Joel kneels beside her, rubs her back.

“Sometimes—” she chokes out, “sometimes I wonder if I forgot these things on purpose. With my water powers, I—I could have just taken them away. Saved myself the pain I feel now.”

Scott’s been close to just driving ice through her ankles for the past three minutes, but those words give him pause. “I—how would that work?”

Lizzie shrugs. “Memories are fluid.”

“No—”

“Shut up, Major,” hisses Joel. “Are you with us, or not?”

He’s definitely not with them, thank you very much. How can he be? They want to kill Solidarity, and Scott has found himself inexorably in support of the man. But some of the things Lizzie had said. . . .

Unfortunately, Scott can relate. Solidarity had killed his own father, even if it wasn’t by blood. He knows where her anger, her grief, is coming from. Just thinking of Aeor makes his chest ache, even after all this time.

But judging by the admittedly very brief and confusing conversation he had with Solidarity, no harm he does is on purpose. He can’t control his powers. And right now, no matter what the Mad King says, he is not in control of himself.

These two aren’t going to sway from their task. The revenge Lizzie seeks is what’s pushing them forward, and she won’t believe anything Scott tries to tell her.

And as much as he hates it, he needs them. He’s been searching for Solidarity for months with no results. He can’t keep going on alone.

They’ve set up a plan already. He just needs to follow along with it, then double-cross them later and save Solidarity.

Or maybe he can convince them that Solidarity deserves a chance.

Strange bedfellows, he thinks to himself. Now lie in it.

“I’ll help,” he says aloud. Joel shoots up, shakes his hand, telling him he won’t regret it and the like. Scott waits until he’s led back out of the building and until he’s skating home to call the mayor.

“Xornoth’s getting dangerous,” he says. “They’re my responsibility. I’m going to be doing some strange things, all right? Just know that whatever happens, it’s all part of the plan.”

-

Gem waves her staff, sends a bolt of purple lightning out, but Jimmy sidesteps it and keeps stalking toward her, his bad leg making his limp prominent.

His master is just watching. They'd pointed at Gem, they'd said "Attack," and they'd left Jimmy to it. He's not sure how far they expect him to go. He finds he doesn't care. He's being good. He's being a very good boy.

Gem's on the ground, scrambling back and away from him, and she looks scared. Good. He needs to be feared.

There's people watching this fight, a small crowd and a news van, but they're silent, holding a collective breath.

Then a couple of younger guys join the crowd, and as Jimmy is closing in on Gem, one of them shouts out in an annoying, high-pitched voice, "Canary! Step on me!"

Jimmy's head whips to find them in the crowd, their obnoxious floral button-up, and it's barely a moment and barely a disaster (it's just their shoes catching fire, it's really not much at all), but Xornoth hisses in his ear.

"Pet, your task," they tell him through the crackle of his comms, and Jimmy turns away from the panicked shouts and stamping and back to Gem, who has regained her feet and is holding her staff out threateningly.

"Stay away," she says shakily, taking a step back for every one of Jimmy's steps forward. Jimmy gathers what adrenaline he can, feels it thrum through his veins, and directs it at her.

It's one of his more powerful hits, and Jimmy takes a couple of steps away as leaves swirl down, faster and faster, the wind picking up around Gem as she cries out and is suddenly surrounded by a mini twister. It manages to pick her up and carry her several meters before she breaks it apart with a purple blast of energy, stumbling out and to her knees.

"What on earth is your power?" she gasps, brushing her hair out of her face. Jimmy doesn’t respond, just keeps pushing toward her.

He’s tired. He’s not sure he has the energy to do much more power-wise. He’s flagging fast, months of the bare minimum amount of food and sleep catching up. He doesn’t stumble, though. He’s better trained than that.

He doesn’t mind physical combat, he supposes. Anything to keep fighting.

Gem’s again scrambling back, eyes flicking back and forth between the staff that had been torn from her hands with the twister and Jimmy. 

Jimmy flicks a knife out of an inside pocket, grips it tight in his trembling hand. He’s winning this fight.

Or not, because just as he’s about to leap onto Gem, a blast of ice knocks him aside. Great. Incredible. Just what he needed.

Jimmy struggles to his feet, wincing as his bad leg shifts a bit in its socket. He checks on Gem—she's gotten her staff back—and then looks up.

Major's up there, coming down an ice slide from a high window. He lands with a flourish in the middle of the intersection where Jimmy and Gem fight, waves cheerily to the now-growing crowd.

"Hey, Xornoth. Hello, Canary. Good to see you, Gem," Major says loudly with a nod to each of them. Jimmy steals a glance at Xornoth, sees their thunderous expression, and turns back toward Gem. Xornoth told him to fight Gem. He can do that.

Major's saying something, and Xornoth is spitting something back, but he doesn't hear any of it because he has to focus on Gem. He has to take her down. His master told him to attack and he can’t stop, he can’t disappoint them, he can’t be in trouble. . . .

Something hits him from behind and Jimmy crumples, his forehead smacking against asphalt. There’s a weight on his back, and even as he flails he can’t become free—this isn’t good, something’s on top of him and he needs to get back up—

What are you doing? a voice whispers in his head. Jimmy bucks at the sound, foreign and unasked-for and intruding. It’s terrifying—there’s something in his head and he doesn’t know what and he wants it gone. “Master,” he whispers, hoping his comms pick it up. The feeling of something pushing at his brain, the voice, rears back for a second before pushing again.

Why do you follow them?

Unbidden, unwanted, images flash through Jimmy’s mind. The beeping of a machine as skin is grafted from him by faceless scientists. Feeling the stitches behind his ear. The cage. Xornoth fixing the collar around his neck. The cage. Xornoth holding him as he sobs, soaking wet. Underground as he raises his arms. Xornoth’s steady hand guiding his knife maneuvers. The cage. His leash. He’s a pet. He does what he’s told.

“Oh, no,” someone says out loud, but before Jimmy can move to throw the weight off his back, there’s a hand reaching around to his face—he shakes his head, but it presses over his eyes—

There’s a pop and a burst and the weight—a person, he knows now—goes flying.

Jimmy rolls onto his side and takes a short breath before stumbling up, shaking out his glider. Some part of it is bent; he’ll have to make sure to straighten it out and give it to Xornoth before the next battle.

On the ground about twenty feet away to the right is the Mad King, groaning as he sits up. On the ground about ten feet to the left is Gem, staring fearfully at her own staff, which lies on the road before her.

Jimmy stares between them. He’s been commanded to attack Gem, but the Mad King is clearly a threat. He can’t keep his back unguarded. He can’t disobey his orders.

His comms crackle, and Jimmy glances up to see Xornoth held by a tentacle in the sky, Major creating spike after spike of ice to leap up to them.

“Incapacitate the wizard,” Xornoth tells him. “I need her. Get rid of the Mad King in any way you see fit, but do not focus on him. The wizard Gem is your main focus, pet.”

Jimmy nods, turns toward Gem. The Mad King shouts something, but he ignores it. He limps forward, straightens his glider straps. 

Gem looks up at him, eyes wide, opens her mouth—

A stoplight above her bursts, an entire bulb falling out. It falls, quicker and quicker, and Jimmy has a moment of thinking that it’s larger than he expected before it slams into Gem’s head and shatters. She’s limp on the ground in barely a moment, eyes closed, blood streaming down her forehead, glass shards around her.

Right. That’s that taken care of. He turns to the Mad King, only to see the man standing, arms outstretched defensively.

"I won't hurt you if I don't have to," the Mad King says, backing away a little. "You can come with us, Solidarity. Make it easier."

For a moment Jimmy doesn't even register the use of that name, but when it processes he stumbles. Do people know who he is? His eyes flick up to Major, who is hand-to-hand with Xornoth.

"It wasn't Major who told me," the Mad King says, calling Jimmy's attention back to him. “I figured it out on my own. Come with me, and I won’t hurt you.”

Jimmy’s mission isn’t to go with the Mad King. It’s to get him out of the way by any means possible.

He’s tired, maybe too tired to use his powers, but he can’t get in close combat with the Mad King at risk of losing his senses. He shudders, recalling just moments ago when the foreign voice had pulled at his brain. His best bet might be to collect Gem and run. The van is waiting not too far away, surely he can get there if he causes something small to happen?

He throws his arm out wide in the Mad King’s direction, hoping for anything to happen. Thankfully, there must be something left in his steadily draining energy reserves. The scar behind his ear buzzes with heat, sparks traveling down his arm, and the Mad King is bowled over by a runaway trash can.

Jimmy blinks back the fuzzy blackness that encroaches on the edges of his vision, turns back to Gem. He doesn’t think he can lift her. He hasn’t done any sort of weight training since . . . well, he’d only just restarted his workout regime after . . . before. . . .

It doesn’t matter, anyway, because a tentacle picks Gem up and drags her unconscious body away. Jimmy nods, begins to follow, when a small chunk of asphalt whizzes over his shoulder.

He spins around to find the Mad King standing, another rock in hand. “You can’t just leave!”

It’s all Jimmy can do to not roll his eyes before waving his arm again. The exact same trash can, which had happened to rebound off a spontaneous ice spike, rams into the Mad King from the other direction and again sends him to the asphalt. Again, Jimmy blinks away darkness. He needs to get out of here.

The crowd is so very, very loud, the fight itself full of shouts and crashes, and Jimmy’s already so tired. . . .

Before he can begin to limp back to the van, though, a tentacle grabs him around the waist and lifts him into the air. For a moment panic seizes his throat, certain that he’s going to be dragged up to fight Major (he doesn’t have enough energy he can’t do it but he’ll do it if his master commands), but it only carries him to the van and sets him down gently beside it.

He clambers into the back of the van, holds his hands out for the guard there to cuff them together. Gem is in his usual place on the floor, blood drying on the bright red hair splayed out around her. Jimmy looks down at her impassively, squished to the side, while the van starts up, then pulls away jerkily.

Xornoth isn’t back when they arrive at the manor, so the guards lead him directly to his cell, dragging Gem in with him. They leave her there, on the floor, while Jimmy takes a seat on the bed and lets them uncuff him.

They bring him half a loaf of stale bread and leave.

Jimmy stares down at Gem.

There’s another person in his cell. That’s not right. This is his cell. This is where he sleeps and eats and drinks and stares into space to contemplate death and eternity, not where people intrude to lie on his floor.

Is Xornoth getting another pet?

Jimmy feels his chest puff out at the idea, the idea that Xornoth would even consider it. He’s Xornoth’s pet, Xornoth’s perfect bird. They don’t need anyone else.

And Jimmy wouldn’t wish this fate on anyone else.

He knows what’s expected of him when Xornoth isn’t here, so Jimmy stands and strips off his gloves, followed by his musketeer hat and his glider and coat. He pauses, glaces at Gem, still motionless on the floor. He shouldn’t undress in front of her, right?

He flinches as he feels the phantom crack of a cane across his shoulder blades. He knows the punishment for not complying. He quickly pulls off the rest of the costume, leaving the Canary mask for last, for which he covers his face with his coat to hide until he can replace it with his plain black mask. Then he’s left in a mask and his collar and shorts, and it’s right. This is how he’s supposed to be. He gathers up the heavy bundle of clothes off the bed and places them in a heap by the door. Someone will come in while he’s asleep to take them.

He stretches a moment, feels rather than finds a sore patch on his chest that will certainly become a bruise soon. Then he lays back on the bed, eats a slice of bread, and promptly falls asleep.

-

“Wake up.”

Jimmy rolls off the bed, is on his knees before he even has opened his eyes. When he does, he finds that the person standing over him is neither a guard nor his master. It’s—right. Gem.

She watches him, eerie with the dried blood still coating her hair, waits until he meets her eyes to begin speaking.

“Where am I?” she demands. “What’s going on? If you tell me where we are, Solidarity, I promise I’ll try and get the judge to be lenient with your sentence.”

Oh, great. More people who know who he is. Jimmy doesn’t reply. She isn’t Xornoth and she doesn’t get to have his voice.

He rises from creaking knees, glances longingly back at the bed. He needs some water, though. His throat feels like it might just crack apart.

He limps over to the sink, jiggles the knob until it turns on. Gem follows him, undeterred.

“What are we doing here? Where have you been? Why . . . why aren’t you wearing clothes?”

Jimmy cups his hands, drinks a bit. The handcuffs are back on. Someone must’ve come in while he slept.

He shouldn’t have slept through that. He must be more tired than he thought.

Gem’s got cuffs too, he notices out of the corner of his eye. Maybe she is a pet.

He splashes some water on his face, shuts the sink off. Gem is tapping her foot, glaring at him pointedly. He’s not sure what she expects. He’s just a pet. He’s a pet. He has to be a pet.

He should probably give her the bed. He really doesn’t want to, but he’s used to the floor and she’s a girl, so he can let her have it. He’s just a pet, after all.

He points at her, then gestures to the bed, before moving to the middle of the room and easing himself down to the floor. The sack of bread is still there. He digs a slice out of it, tears a piece off and pops it into his mouth. Gem doesn’t move from by the sink and toilet, eyes narrowed.

“Why am I handcuffed?” she asks. Jimmy doesn’t know. He tears off and eats another piece of his bread slice. He’s tired. He’s always tired. He can’t have slept long if he’s still this exhausted.

“How long was I unconscious?” Gem seems to read his thoughts, and Jimmy would be scared if he didn’t already know her powers. He doesn’t know, anyways. Long enough that he’s handcuffed and the Canary costume is gone. Not long enough for him to feel properly rested.

He finishes eating the slice of bread and takes another before Gem speaks again.

“Why won’t you talk?”

Jimmy hunches his shoulders, stares down at the bread. He doesn’t want to talk to her. His voice is for Xornoth.

But they’re going to hurt her, aren’t they? There’s no other reason for her to be here, in his cell, handcuffed. They’re going to experiment on her and hurt her and chain her to the table leg. That’s—that’s not good.

He has to help her.

Gem sits carefully on the edge of the bed, fingers tapping on her knee. “I don’t understand,” she admits. “Have you been here the whole time? Where’s the Canary?”

Oh, so she doesn’t know that he’s the Canary. Jimmy’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. He glances at the door, then back at her.

“Is Xornoth keeping you prisoner?” she asks quietly, gesturing to Jimmy’s wrists. 

Prisoner?

Maybe once upon a time, long ago. Jimmy’s not a prisoner anymore. Not really. He belongs here.

He hates it he hates it he hates it.

“Are you . . . able? To talk?”

It would be so easy to shake his head. Instead he twists his bread between his fingers and nods jerkily. Gem huffs.

“Then why don’t you?”

Because he doesn’t want to. Because he only speaks when Xornoth commands it. Because speaking never gets him anywhere except in more pain. Because he can’t stand the sound of his own voice.

He shrugs.

Gem sighs quietly, looks around the room. Her head hurts, Jimmy can tell. He can tell in the tenseness of her jaw, the way her eyes move slowly and blink frequently, the way her fists clench. He’s had bad headaches before.

“I don’t understand what they want with me,” she mutters, her gaze falling back to Jimmy. “Major’s the one who’s been looking for you.”

What?

Jimmy snuffs that hope out before he can even feel it. He’s here. He lives here. He is here. He’s a pet. He doesn’t have hope, except hope to go outside and hope that Xornoth will be kind. He’s good for the devil and he doesn’t dream of anyone rescuing him from Hell.

Gem goes quiet then, and after a couple of minutes, she cautiously eases her legs onto the bed. Jimmy finishes his crumbling bread, crawls to the corner and curls up the best he can. He doesn’t take his eyes off Gem, who doesn’t take her eyes off him.

She’s not supposed to be here. This is his cell. He’s always been alone here, he’s supposed to be alone here. This is where he’s safe, safe to sit by himself and breathe and maybe think a traitorous thought like how much he hates his master—

He shakes his head, as if that’ll push the thought away. He can’t. He can’t think those things. He’s a pet. Those are dangerous, bad thoughts to be having.

He hates them so much.

He pushes that thought away, too, and the next one. Jimmy falls asleep like that, Gem watching him, trying not to think such horrible things about his master.

He wakes when the door slams open, and Jimmy shoots up onto his knees with his head bowed submissively and his hands down. Gem doesn’t do that, only stirs a bit and groans. A sick feeling washes over Jimmy. They’re going to hurt her so very badly for disobeying.

They don’t, yet. The guards hit the bed, yell at her to get up, and Gem does, slower than Jimmy ever would. A guard smacks the back of his head and he turns his focus back on his hands.

Once Gem is fully up, standing between two guards, Jimmy is dragged up by his collar, his leash clipped onto it. Only then do they release him, keeping a hold of the leash and Jimmy steals a glance in Gem’s direction to find her mouth curled in disgust. He bites his lip. He knows he’s disgusting.

His bad leg is stiff today, leaving him limping as he’s dragged down the hallway, then a left turn to a different hallway that disorients him because they don’t go this way ever, but then his eyes catch on a familiar stone bust and he realizes.

They’re going to the ballroom.

The place with the cage.

Jimmy’s halted in his steps before he even knows it, blood rushing in his ears. The guard leading him yanks on the leash, pulling him back into a stumbling walk. He can’t—he didn’t do anything, he didn’t disobey any orders, he’s been good—he’s not going down without a fight—

He braces himself as they enter the room, as he sees the cage beside the throne, the throne where Xornoth currently lounges. He gets ready to dig his heels in, to pull at his leash, but he’s taken by surprise when a guard behind him shoves him and he windmills forward until he reaches Xornoth, who gestures to their knee.

Jimmy stares blankly, even as the guard holding him loops the leash around the arm of the throne. His eyes linger on the cage, then turn back to Xornoth, who coos sweetly and pats their knee again. Slowly, carefully, Jimmy lowers himself to the ground, rests his head on their knee.

“What kind of kink—” Gem starts to say behind him, but she cuts herself off with a grunt. Jimmy readjusts so that he’s facing her, on her knees before the dais, guards all around her.

He closes his eyes briefly, presses into Xornoth’s leg. He’s not going in the cage. Xornoth isn’t putting him in the cage.

“Good boy,” Xornoth murmurs, scratching at Jimmy’s head for a moment. His master has rested since the battle. That’s good. Xornoth is angrier when they’re tired.

“The Wizard Gemini, am I correct?” Xornoth says, voice silky smooth. Gem says nothing, just glowers at them. They slowly run a hand through Jimmy’s hair, rolling strands between their gloved fingers. Jimmy lets his eyes flutter shut, but he doesn’t relax. Not when the cage is right there. 

“You could prove quite useful to me.”

“I don’t want to be useful to you!”

A laugh, a light tug on his hair. “She’s feisty, isn’t she, puppy?”

Jimmy swallows, manages a whispered, “Yes, master.”

Xornoth’s hand vanishes, and Jimmy doesn’t move. “In one way or another, Wizard Gem, you will comply,” Xornoth says, voice booming. “You could join me willingly, enjoy all the comforts of my usual associates.”

Gem snorts. “What, and end up like him?”

Jimmy doesn’t need to open his eyes to know she’s talking about him. Xornoth lays a hand on the back of his neck.

“Oh, my little bird is a special case,” they croon, and Jimmy just knows they’re giving him that terrifyingly possessive look. “He didn’t have the choice I give you. His pitiful dreams of escape have been fun to train out of him. Isn’t that right, pet?”

Jimmy can’t help the full-body shudder that seizes him before he croaks, “Yes, master.” Xornoth hums, turns their attention back to Gem.

“You won’t be my pet, I assure you,” they say, and relief washes over Jimmy, filling his throat with a sickly feeling.

He’s not relieved that she’s escaped this fate. He’s relieved that he’s going to remain his master’s only pet. He’s relieved that there will be no one to take Xornoth’s attention from him.

He wishes he’d done it then, when he could, when he had the leash and was alone in his cell. He can’t help but wonder if they would’ve stopped him in time, if they would’ve noticed.

“So, what will it be?” Xornoth says, and Jimmy tunes back in to the conversation. “Join me willingly, or be forced to?”

“I’ll never join you!”

Jimmy almost scoffs when Xornoth does. Everyone joins them eventually.

“Take her away—and not to my pet’s cell. The cellar, perhaps.” Their hand finds Jimmy’s hair again, toys with it gently. “I don’t want her putting any sort of ideas in my pet’s head.”

Jimmy sighs, quieter than quiet. He hates them. He needs them. They keep him safe. They hurt him. He’s fine. He’s—

Gem screams, and Jimmy’s eyes shoot open. The guards are dragging her away, and she’s lashing out—with a blast of purple from her fingertips one gets blown to the other side of the room—Xornoth watches passively as the other guards leap on her, their tasers crackling. She screams again, louder, filled with pain, and all Jimmy can see of her is her red braids, but the ropy scar plastered down his side burns in sympathy. Those stun batons hurt.

Once she goes limp, they drag her from the room. The guard who had been thrown across to hit the wall is sitting up, groaning, another guard helping him. Xornoth’s fingers curl around Jimmy’s ear.

“Such a perfect bird, aren’t you, darling?” Xornoth says absently, and Jimmy can’t help but rest his head a bit more comfortably on their lap. He’s a good pet, and Xornoth seems to think so too. He’s behaved himself so very well lately, hasn’t had any punishments in a little while. He’s been so good.

He settles in once it becomes apparent that Xornoth has no plans on moving, resting his entire body against the throne and his head still propped up on Xornoth’s knee. It’s quiet, still but for Xornoth’s occasional adjustments as they type something up on their tablet.

Jimmy doesn’t exactly doze, but he shifts into a lower state of functioning, unmoving and barely-there, even as the touch in his hair grows tenser and pulls harder.

"Pet," Xornoth says, rousing Jimmy from not-sleep. "You belong to me."

Jimmy's silent until Xornoth yanks hard on his hair, prompting a squeaked, "Yes, master!"

"Hm." Xornoth is quiet again, for long enough that Jimmy feels secure in letting his eyes close.

"How long since your last punishment, pet?"

He doesn't know. He really doesn't. It's impossible to keep track of days here, in his windowless cell with no clock. But Xornoth is waiting on an answer, and Jimmy can't disappoint.

"A—a week, master?"

The fingers move from his hair to caress his cheek, pressing into his face a bit harder than expected.

"I have a choice for you, puppy. Look at me."

Jimmy turns, his leash jangling. It's cold in here, he realizes as his head leaves Xornoth's leg. He holds back a shiver and faces them, not quite meeting their eyes but very clearly paying attention.

"The first choice is a public example," they tell him. Jimmy instantly wants to vomit. Not that choice.

A smile curls those blackened lips. "The second is the cage."

#empires smp #esmp #empires fanfic #jimmy solidarity #mas writes #empires superpowers au #esh au #i sorta want to name this au something cool #but also like. #then i'd have to change all the tags #and i have no ideas for cool names #clearly it would have to be on brand #by which i mean all the titles in this series are pulled from the same poem #which is why the two main fics rhyme! #i picked a couplet on purpose for those lol #do we like sausage now? is that a thing? #i'm frankly somewhat attached to him in this fic #he's a megamind kind of villain #we love it #anyways lmk what you think! #love you guys

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Also, thanks to @arsonisticscholar with THIS POST for inspiring this fic. It was really fun to write!

I wanted to try out some different headcanons and ideas for Four's pov, so here: (Also Four is a they/them) Red Green Blue Vio Shadow Four Another thing, Four is not a DID system. Four is their own person (Hylian?) and the colors (Plus shadow) ARE Four. Four is not the colors. Their eyes change depending on which trait is being shown. Like they shine more red when They're being compassionate and more violet when they are strategizing. Also, Shadow is in Four's shadow, and has no physical form. But he is there for the ride!

It started out innocently enough.

But then, Vio ruined everything. Because of course that sneaky dramatic bastard did.

Four had been traveling with the past heroes for, well a while now. (Ha that rhymed. Shut up Green.) And Four had not revealed his ability to split. But, since they had grown and considered the heroes brothers, they wanted to tell them. So, they sat off to the side of the campfire one day, thinking about how they wanted to tell the other heroes.

We could just split in front of them! With no reason? It would make more sense to do it in a battle. Yeah, plus you need more flare. How about we just bring it up in one of their 'comparing adventures' talk? Doubt they would even hear us over Warrior's loud mouth. Hey don't be so mean Blue!

Four hummed quietly, jolting when they felt a hand on their shoulder. Looking up, they met Wild's scarred face. He held out a bowl of soup, and Four took it carefully. Doing their best to not spill it. As they ate their soup, which tasted like potatoes and vegetables, they tuned back in to the colors and Shadow. The lack of Vio was disturbing, as he had not said a word yet.

What if we told all the links separately, make them think only they know. Vio finally chimed in. Yes! Now that's the kind of flare and drama we want.

Uh, that's kind of mean.. Yeah, I agree with Red. They're our brothers! You son of a bitch. I'm in.

So it's three against two, Four?

I mean, that is kind of mean.. but also would be really funny.

Four against two. Nice pun. No one cares Green. I care! Who we telling first? Why not do Wind first? I always feel like Wind is left out of all secrets.

Four smiled, looking at Wind as he waved his hands energetically as he talked with Hyrule.

The day was sunny and warm. Wind strolled next to Four in the back of the line. They had been in an unknown time, somewhere between Twilight and Time, and as they strolled through Hyrule Field, Four cleared his throat.

"Hey Wind?" Wind turned to look at Four, who was glancing around like he was scared of someone eavesdropping. Wind glanced at the other heroes, the closest being Warriors and Legend, both loudly arguing over something again.

"Yeah? What's up Four?"

"I, I have a secret that I haven't told anyone." Four started and Wind perked up curiously. Normally, Wind isn't the first person to trust with secrets, as he had been apparently the last to know about Wolfie. He was curious and kind of excited that Four was trusting him.

"You can count on me to keep your secret!" Wind whispered quietly. "I promise no one else will ever know or hear it from my mouth!"

Four smiled, his multicolored eyes flashing more purple (Four always claimed that it was violet, like one of the colors on his tunic.) then the normal swirl.

"I am four raccoons in a trench coat. I guess five raccoons? But really the fifth doesn't count."

(Shadow blew in an offended gasp and huffed quietly.)

Wind blinked momentarily, his brain trying to process what Four just said.

"Wait, you mean you're not even Hylian?!" Wind whispered.

Four just smirked. "I guess that's up to your interpretation."

Then Four walked in silence, leaving Wind to brew over the words. He never clarified what he meant.

Next on the list was Time. But Four also wanted to get another hero. So They devised a plan to tell Time during one of the watches, while another hero was awake.

They waited a while, keeping a careful eye out on Time's watch for any awake heroes. They finally got the moment. It was in Wild's time, Time was sitting staring at the fire, and Warriors was moving just a little to much to be asleep. In fact, Four noticed his eyes fluttering open and closed.

***

Time was staring at the fire, his ears perked for strange noises. He heard Warriors shuffling a bit, and Sky snored quietly next to Hyrule. Suddenly, he heard groaning and shuffling of someone getting up. Turning around, he saw Four blearily walk towards him and taking a seat next to him. Facing the fire. Its light cast a soft glow on the surrounding heroes, bathing Warriors and Wild in an orange light, as they were the closest to the fire.

"Hello there little one." Time murmured as Four sat next to him.

"Hey Time? I need to tell you something." Four begain in a slightly husky voice. Time quietly turned to face Four curiously and waited for him to continue.

"I haven't told anyone yet... but I can split." Four explained quietly. Time tilted his head waiting for Four to explain.

"I can like, split myself and become four different versions of, well, myself. All my adventures had something to do with the spliting. Due to one of my adventures, I was split for so long that I sometimes gets headaches if I don't split for a while." Four explained, holding out his hands to the fire.

"Have you split recently?" Time asked, seeing Four nod.

"Yeah. I have."

They both sat in silence for a bit. Then Time asked a question that was burning inside of him.

"Does anyone else know?" Time asked.

Four shook his head. "No, not yet."

Time nodded. "Take your time in telling them."

They sat in silence again, listening to the crackling of the fire. Four got up and excused himself, walking back to his sleeping bag. Time stopped him before he went.

"Hey Four? Thank you for being brave and telling me." Time smiled gently.

Four smiled back, tucking himself in. Three down, six to go.

***

Warriors was very sure that he wasn't meant to hear that conversation, but as Time gently woke him up for the next shift, he sat quietly by the fire. His eyes flicking towards the smallest hero's form sleeping quietly.

He wondered if he should tell Four he over heard or not. He descided that Four would tell him later anyways, and he should respect his space, but he also didn't want to lie to his fellow hero.

He sighed quietly, looking up to the star filled sky.

What should I do?

Warriors did in fact tell Four the truth the next day, and was met with a lot less hostility then he was expecting. Just a smiled and a 'Thank you for telling me'.

It was after telling Time and Warriors that another joined the train of supporting the idea.

This is actually pretty fun! See, I knew you would see sense you fellow chaos incarnate. I mean, it is kind of fun, but I still feel a little bad about lying to them. You'll understand soon Green. That's ominous.

***

Hyrule yawned blinking at the shining sun. He covered his eyes at the bright light, taking a moment to gather where he was.

He saw the familiar walls of Malon's and Time's house spread before him. Noticing that Wind had probably already woken up and Four was quietly reading a book in the corner. Four glanced up at him as he stretched, sitting up in the comfortable bed. He could feel his magic replenished after the battle last night, ready and hovering at his fingertips ready to be used.

"Hey, good morning Hyrule. Did you sleep well?" Four asked, his eyes gleaming red and green in the sunlight.

Hyrule nodded. "Yeah. I am back to my full strength again." Hyrule smiled, cracking his neck quietly.

Four smiled, starting to stand up and leave, but he stopped in the doorway. Turning, Four stared at Hyrule with an intense expression.

"Hey Hyrule? Can I tell you something?" Hyrule tilted his head much like what Wolfie does.

"Yeah of course!"

"Well, hmmm. How do I phrase this... Take my name, but litterally." Four explained.

Hyrule blinked not knowing how to take that information. "Uh wh-" Hyrule trailed off noticing Four was already gone. He sat in the bed staring at the doorway blankly for a few minutes, processing what just happened. He came down a bit later, giving Four a confused glance as he sat down. Soon though, his attention was on all the delicious food Wild and Malon had made.

Four found Wild as he sat on top of the roof. A crisp cool air ruffled his long hair as he watched the sky. Below Wild could see the village laid out, seeing Legend and Twilight and some of the other heroes rushing to and fro in Hateno Village.

Four sat next to Wild, the smaller not making much noise as they surveyed the land.

"Hey Wild? Can I tell you something?" Four asked suddenly, and Wild blinked, jerking his head towards the smaller hero.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah! Of course what's up?"

Four scratched his neck, his eyes gleaming a mix of red and violet. (Wild swears that's violet. Violet is so much more bluer then purple!) "Okay, so imagine yourself, but there are more of you." Four simply said, gestering to himself. Wild stared at him blankly. "That's my life."

They sat in silence as the rest of the heroes marched back from a successful shopping trip. Trying to understand what Four had said kept Wild thinking about it and getting distracted. He was so distracted that he almost cut himself. Twilight glanced at him worriedly and he brushed it off as 'just being happy to be back!'.

Wild couldn't wrap his head around it.

If there were more of me, that would be everyone's worse nightmare.

Legend always thought Four was a little odd. His dislike of magic swords, his height, his hatred of a special pepper (Legend would even call it a fear), muttering to himself and so on. He always considered himself to be very observant, knowing when to push and when to pull, but he didn't know what to do about Four. The oddest part though was that Four was... somehow familiar to Legend which frankly scared him.

It wasn't until Four had slide up to him did he pay any mind to his thoughts. He noticed Four looking nervous, but he could also see something else well hidden in his eyes. Mischief.

"Oh no, what have you, Wind, Hyrule or Wild done now." Legend said, crossing his arms amused. Four grinned.

"Well, I haven't done anything yet. But I wanted to tell you something." Four said. Legend stared at the colorful hero.

"So, basically I can be in multiple places at once." Four said, and Legend stared at Four not knowing how to process that.

(I mean, you're not technically wrong..)

Four grinned at Legend's expression, hopping off and leaving a flabbergasted Legend staring after him. Then Legend's eyes flickered over to see Wild just as Twilight called out.

"WAIT WILD NO-"

Twilight hummed as he strolled through the street, Four stood close nearby as they hurried. There weren't many hylians out, so they were easily able to navigate through.

"All we need is some apples.." Twilight said thoughtfully, his eyes scanning for the red fruit.

Four gasped. "I see some over there" He pointed to a green stand with the red fruit. Twilight and Four hurried over, buying the apples and leaving some rupees for the owner.

"We have everything Wild asked for, lets go back to the inn." Twilight smiled, putting the apples in a bag. As the two made their way over to the inn, Four nudged Twilight. Twilight looked down at Four who pointed towards the nearby forest.

"Four? Something wrong?" Twilight asked. Four thought a moment.

"Well, first I want to show you something and second, I need to do something first." Four said, dragging Twilight over.

The two moved into the forest, finding a clearing surrounded by a thick wall of trees.

"Here." Four said, and Twilight glanced around noting that it was just leaves, rocks and trees.

"What?-" Twilight started, looking back at Four to see him draw his blade and point it towards the sky. A sudden flash of light erupted and Twilight stood there blinking dazedly as Four glowed several different colors and noticed how they split off. When the light cleared, Twilight blinked staring at now four separate Fours. Each looked exactly the same with the only difference being their main theme of color. Twilight noticed how all the Fours wore seperate clothes, the blue one wearing all blue, the green one wearing all green, and so on. There were a green one, a blue one, a purple one, and a red one. All their headbands were different colors also, each one corresponding to their color scheme. Twilight also noticed that none of the four Fours were wearing the colorful tunic, as they all had one color from the orginal tunic.

"Uhm-" Twilight started before he was interrupted by the blue Four.

"Wow Vio, very creative idea. Totally unoriginal. I'm sure that none of us ever possibly thought of this." The blue Four complained.

"I didn't see you coming up with any ideas!" Vio, or the purple Four resorted.

"Hey, now we don't need to fight right? I mean I'm sure Twilight is very confused." The red Four stated, waving his hands and getting between the blue Four and Vio.

The final one, one wearing a green tunic, walked up to Twilight. "Hi, sorry about them. They are... my siblings? Me? I'll just call them siblings. Hi, I'm Green, I know a very creative name, you can thank Red. The two arguing over there is Blue and Vio, and the one who is trying to stop them is Red." Green waved. "Okay now how to explain? Well we are Four. Its as simple as that. If you want more details, you can probably ask Vio, but unless you have all day to listen, I wouldn't recommend."

"Now the colors make sense I guess." Twilight chuckled.

Red grinned at him, Blue huffed and crossed his arms, Green laughed and Vio shot Twilight an unreadble expression.

"No one else knows about this." Vio started. Red chimed in. "Yeah we need you to keep a secret!"

Blue and Green looked slightly uncomforable, but nodded. Green a half second later then Blue. Twilight smiled.

"You can count on me!"

Four grinned. Eight down, one more to go! Okay, I agree this is fun. See I knew you would see sense soon! We're running out of things to say... Why don't we just tell Sky the truth. But we have been? No no no. Not like that... Oh that's evil. What can I say, I've been practicing. And you've had one of the best tutors! Four rolled his eyes playfully.

He tried to approach Sky several times, but never was able to get close enough yet. He was finally able to get his chance when the chain had landed on Tetra's ship. Wind had eagerly introduced the heroes to Tetra before, so Tetra didn't even bat an eye at the sudden arrivals. Instantly, she let them settle down (with the exception of Wind who she instantly put to work and he energetically followed) in the hull of the ship. The other heroes were up on the deck, with the only ones being Legend and Sky. The former hiding somewhere in the back end of the hull and the former being in the front of the hull.

Four moved towards Sky, stopping to stand right next to him.

Sky looked up at Four, smiling weakly. Four waved and stood next to Sky, leaning over to take a closer look at what Sky was doing. Sky had been carving a small wooden statue. Upon a closer look, Four noticed that it looked eerily like Tetra.

"Hey Four." Sky smiled tiredly.

Four smiled. "Hey, I wanted to tell you something."

"Do I tell the others? No? My lips are shut!" Sky sat straight miming zipping his lips.

"I've been telling the heroes my secret but also telling them that they are the only one who knows. Do what you what you will with this information." Four said, grinning as they saw Sky stiffen, and simply turned away and walked off.

Sky stared after the small colorful hero, blinking wildly thinking over what Four just said.

Wait I'm sorry. What? What secret?! Sky shook his head, confusion sweeping over him.

Well, I guess that makes sense why all the heroes have been doing their best to help Four, or at least Time, Warriors, Legend and Twilight...

**

Four practically cackled out of sight at the entire antics. He could hear the colors also laughing and snorting at the full on confusion that was going on.

You know we're going to get busted soon right? Yeah, but it was fun and so worth it. It was fun! Now, should we make a bet to see how long it takes for them to find out? We literally share a wallet. Yeah but its still funny. I would say maybe two weeks? Nah gotta be shorter then that. What about until our next switch! That's not very specific.

In the end, both Red and Four were right, as it was at the next switch, two weeks later, that they were busted.

But they all had their fun.

#lu #linked universe #fics of kit #lu green #lu blue #lu red #lu vio #lu shadow #lu four #lu twilight #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu warriors #lu time #lu wild #lu wind #linked universe four #linked universe legend #linked universe time #linked universe wind #linked universe wild #linked universe warriors #linked universe twilight #linked universe hyrule #linked universe red #linked universe green #linked universe vio #linked universe shadow #linked universe blue

[qvnthesia]

It’s been a bit of a rough year for you (and us), but throughout that, you’ve managed to build many OCs and outlines. What’s your thought process while you make character profiles and backgrounds? Where do you start and how much of it is intentional/planned?

(my reaction the second i finished reading the question)

While we definitely be hanging onto our lifespans, I indeed have somehow managed to create a grand total of 10 OCs (yes, I just checked the number and my eyes just went 👀).

Special spoilers for ye faithful and ever-loving readers of mine — the OCs belong from a range of fandoms, which are Marvel, Fantastic Beasts, the Hunger Games, Star Wars, X-Men, and Kingsman 😏

(coming back to the main point)

Why OCs?

I got frustrated and cringed out by the use of Y/N — and still do. Honestly, there are so many stories I've read that have impeccable structure and flow... until I have to read things like 'why-en' and 'why-slash-e-slash-see' (y/e/c) and it just distrupts the overall imagery you're building up in your head as a reader/writer and just sounds extremely stilted when it's overused.

This is THE main reason why I'm also going to be re-writing two fics of mine, replacing 'Y/N' with proper OCs, because I'm just too tired and embarassed of employing the usage of the term.

What’s your thought process while you make character profiles and backgrounds? Where do you start?

Suppose I'm writing a fic oriented around Obi-Wan Kenobi and a female OC during the Clone Wars time period. Here's how my thought process goes.

[Note that all of these points have to executed TOGETHER in order to create a satisfactory OC.]

Make your OC subtly unique. Whenever people tend to write OC fics, they always make the OC stand out to the reader, characters and the fic universe, which isn't supposed to happen. Part of creating an OC is to make them unique to the characters at the beginning of the story. That's it. A common example is that a majority of the OCs always end up having a double-bladed lightsaber with an uncommon colour. While that may look aesthetic, that just makes them stand out from a physical perspective. That's not the point - make them stand out from an internal perspective, i.e., by their thoughts and their problems. After all, your characters drive your story ahead - like when Anakin chose to kneel before Sidious, and when Luke chose to throw away his weapon because he wanted to be a Jedi just like his father before him.

Establish your OC's future relationships. They do say the company you keep ends up defining you and your choices. If I'm making my Star Wars OC a Sith, the logical thing for the OC would be in association with Sidious, Maul, Dooku, or the Separatists. If the OC is a Jedi, than a logical association would be to be childhood friends with Obi-Wan if you're going for friends to lovers, or a (former) padawan under Mace Windu and indulge in a rivals to lovers dynamic - or if you love the age-gap thang, you could have a master-padawan dynamic with the OC being a sister/friend to Anakin and Ahsoka.

Assign a set of characteristics to your OC — even the physical look. Why I'm saying this because while you're creating an OC, racial dynamics always matter. You can't run away from them, because they are a reflection of problems in reality - which are what all stories are in some manner or the other. How you create the look is a method unique to you.

Coin a name for an OC that tunes in with the vibe of your fic's universe and your character's personality. When you say 'Oh-bee-wan-key-no-bee', it's like a rhyme - there's a sense of synchronicity felt in the name when you say it. You can feel the same when you say Ahsoka Tano, and (-going off-universe-) Steve Rogers, Raven Darkhölme, Cersei Lannister, Darth Vader, Haymitch Abernathy, Natasha Romanoff, Theseus Scamander, etc. You could add middle names [Lucy Gray Baird], use alliterative names [Peter Parker] or use nicknames [Eggsy Unwin]. Names with meaning are also appreciated, but as long as they smoothly roll-off the tongue [Perseus 'Percy' Jackson] - even a ridiculous one, like Lester Papadopoulos, gets pulled off if it rolls off well.

Flesh out your OC. Strengths, weakness, potential reactions to seeing characters and being put in risky situations, everything. The more you get to know your character - and the in-universe lore - the more you can write them well.

Make it make sense - if your OC's as committed as a Jedi than Obi-Wan, maybe even more, why? What's their reason? What drives their spirit? If your OC's destined to be the most powerful Sith in existence and be a threat to Sidious' potential, how and why? What were the circumstances? The backstory? Don't go ahead and make your OC a messiah out of nowhere with no logical explanation. It's not just the backstory, but also the character's internal drive of morals, limitations and decision-making that make up the character's strengths and flaws.

P.S. Plotting is 10000% recommended, but as I said, the method/process is always unique to you.

'How you create the look is a method unique to you' - what methods do you use?

There are certain actresses/actors that always end up coming in my mind when I'm in the middle of creating an OC. Thing is, I'm comfortable with using present actresses/actors because I know the boundary between the character and the actor. I only use them for the look and the action scenes, nothing more. I also use ChatGPT (input a prompt and adjust it to my needs) to seek suggestions since I'm picturing real-life people as the physical manifestation of my OC.

If you're not comfortable with my methods, that's okay! You can use any illustrations or random face-claims you find, it's YOUR character and YOUR story 💖🎀

And finally...

...how much of it is intentional/planned?

It always begins as planned, but then I plot the story and eventually it becomes 50% planned and 50% intentional/instinctual.

Thank you for your ask <33 Have a lovely day/night ahead!

#writer #writers life #writing ask #writing #oc #oc stuff #qvnthesia's asks #qvnthesia #katherineholmes #marvel #x-men #star wars #kingsman #fantastic beasts #the hunger games #writing advice #writing adventures #oc adventures #writing stuff #character building #characters #original character #...yeah i'm running out of tags

[what-if-nct]

also also also daily anon here again: the golden age teasers look very cool but I find it so funny that most of the response I've seen to the trailer was "why does sm always minimise yuta and Kun's screentime in these+give them so few lines" (2/3 of my biases rip but not the point) and now they're in the first batch of teaser pics. which is not to say that I think sm suddenly gives a shit about being fair to them or that I think they switched/made the lineup to pretend they do give a shit about these two. but it is cracking me up to think of some corporate executives hurriedly changing the lineup like "of course we care deeply about Utah and Cunt, we have no idea what these kids are tweeting about"

You know what I was trying to figure out what pattern they were releasing them in, like what's the structure here. Kun and Taeyong? Leaders. Easy okay. but Jeno and Yuta what connects them. One member from each unit but since 127 is the biggest unit they get two members okay. But what is their angle. Safe to say Yuta's is my favorite teaser, I love the vibes and it suits him. Gave me fic ideas which I have so many half written fics and posts in my drafts I don't need new ideas. And Taeyongs feels like the nighttime version of Yuta's and fits his vibe so well. Kun's is completely different but so sweet and cozy and really fits him. And Jenos is very mature and romantic and makes me think of sex and the city for some reason. So I think there is a grand scheme that is probably very elaborate and these teasers mean absolutely nothing to the main concept especially the underlining boyfriend vibes. Which I at times fall victim too. But more may unfold as the teasers are released. I love how everyone's trying to figure out why Kun and Yuta who don't get much during NCT U projects are first in the teaser order. The first ones are usually forgotten its the middle to last ones that are the big ticket spots. Like when you'd see mark or Johnny or Haechan or Jisung Around there. Or again there is either no rhyme or reason names were picked out of a hat. Or there is a grand scheme and it's a huge confusing puzzle that doesn't even correlate to anything. They'll be dancing in a parking garage. No I will not let the exo path code teasers leading to call me baby go. That is the exact vibe I'm getting!!!! The unrelated aesthetic shots in different countries. It's happening again. Cause that was after kr*s and luhan left but before tao left. I also won't stop with the NCT and Exo parallels cause so far, I haven't been wrong. Winwin is Yixing 2.0 and it makes me nervous. Anyway it could really go either way.

[the-paper-monkey]

I love the title “Plastic Love”!

Thanks! It's from an 80s Japanese pop song which I quite like.

Plastic Love is a Tom Jr & Tom Sr fic which takes place in a world where Merope never stopped giving Tom Sr the Amortentia. Tom Jr is about 7 in the present day of the fic. I've written a decent amount of it, but the main challenge has been connecting with Tom Jr's characterisation. It's difficult to determine what kind of person he'd be if raised by two (admittedly dysfunctional) parents—nature vs nurture and all that. I'm generally of the opinion that it is specifically Tom's orphanage upbringing that led to the development of his empathy & emotional issues, rather than it being inherent.

Excerpt under the cut (cw: kind of child abuse?)

In being born, Tom had almost murdered his mother.

He knew that, and could never forget it, because Father would often remind him over breakfast, eyes fever bright. 

“If you’d killed her, I’d have drowned you in the river like a dog,” he said on one such morning. It was always when Mother served him a particularly liberal pour of his favourite special tea that his mouth would run away with him.

Mother laughed nervously. “Now, dear. Don’t say such things to Tom. It wasn’t his fault.” She plucked at her eyelashes as she waited for his response, placing the fine hairs in her handkerchief under the table. The kitchen was yellow with green and white tiles around the sink, but in the pale morning light it always appeared grey. 

Father gathered Mother’s small, frail hands between his, smiling in a familiar sleepy, dopey way. He said, “Of course, my love. Anything for you.”

Tom looked away then, because that soppy look meant they were going to start kissing a lot and that always put him off his breakfast. 

He preferred Father in the evening, when he’d get tired and serious and wouldn’t want to spend as much time around Mother. It was then that he’d become interested in Tom, asking him about school, friends, the books he was reading. And sometimes, later still, after Mother had gone to bed, Father would bundle Tom up on his lap and apologise for the things he’d said at breakfast.

“I didn’t mean it,” he’d say, the words muffled against the top of Tom’s head. He would rock, but it seemed as though he was comforting himself more than Tom. “I don’t know why I get so angry at you. It wasn’t your fault. It could never be.”

Tom said nothing. It was safer not to. Father became even more unpredictable than usual when he got into those sorts of moods. Agreeing or disagreeing was equally likely to either provoke a fit of anger or tears with no sense of rhyme or reason.

#asks #phantomato #my writing #monkey stuff #tag game

[mpregfrance]

my fanfiction

(again, sorry for spamming, but i need to post this in order to link it to my pinned and display it properly within my webpage)

greetings loved ones. let’s take a journey ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

if you’re interested in reading my hetalia fanwork, or a current reader curious to get to know me better as a writer, i thought it might be helpful to display some facts in a Q & A format.

Q: so, what do you write?

A: i mainly write contemporary/modern, human-verse, multichapter fanfics with romance at the center of the plot. i focus on my favorite ships/dynamics, including uk/fr, us/fr, scotfra, and the FACE family. my writing is typically a combination of fluff, whump, and angst. i like meet-cutes and established relationships and forced proximity tropes. jsyk, all of my frances are varying levels of bigender and/or genderfluid, i.e. amab transfemme bearded lady femboy. if you don’t like this, you might be lost. obligatory DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT.

Q: what are your current WIPs?

A: at the moment, i have 4 main multichapter projects and a few little treats on the side. 

Dancing With a Stranger: uk/fr, meet-cute, single dad arthur, hot mess françois. eventually FACE family fluff fic, slice of life, lots of ‘changing for the better’ tropes.

Boys Don’t Cry: my most popular by hits. widowed punk dad arthur, first-grade teacher françois (transfemme). also meet-cute kinda thing with eventual FACE family. lots of angst here, past character death, and addiction recovery.

Sugar We’re Going Down: established relationship, uk/fr sugar daddy/baby with background uk/fem!us. not FACE, but the NA twins are characters. raunchy. also everyone here is evil pretty much.

(You’ll be my) American Boy: us/fr roommates-to-lovers AU. himbo alfred/divorced cougar françois. this one is mainly fluff, it’s a refuge from the merciless whump i’m notorious for inflicting.

Q: *fic i’m reading* hasn’t been updated in a while. has it been abandoned??

A: not to worry!! i’m working on it, i promise. i don’t abandon things and if in the rare case that i do, i’ll make sure to state it clearly.

Q: why do you spell france’s human name françois?

A: alright listen up y'all. while i do acknowledge canon and respect the creator’s decisions, hetalia was originally published in japanese and the translation of the human names may not be perfectly accurate. i’m going to go out on a limb and assume himaruya does not speak fluent french. but who knows?

anyway, for those who don't know, francis is the anglicized form of the common given name françois which quite literally means frenchman. i’d believe he’d rather go by the french pronunciation.

also, françois bonnefoy? it rhymes. come on, that’s adorable. (pronounced fran-swah bonne-fwah, for the monolinguals out there)

overall, i find it’s more fitting, but this isn’t a hill i’m going to die on. i use francis as well and understand most people do, so no biggie. it’s the same name. 

Q: do you plan on exploring other characters/ships?

A: absolutely! i'm a fan of many different ships and dynamics.

Q: do you take requests or suggestions?

A: definitely!! i’d be delighted to.

Q: do you write explicit smut?

A: yes!! it’s not something i focus on heavily, but i do enjoy writing the occasional graphic sex scene.

Q: damn ma your fics are long af fr… do you write one-shots?

A: eh… maybe two-shots or three-shots? i’m a bit of a rambler and a perfectionist, so i find it difficult to put a whole story in one chapter. also i have a hard time letting go of stories and just putting them down for good! i always find myself coming back to old stuff. 

Q: will you ever write canonverse/nationverse/historical?

A: i would like to! i’m a bit unconfident in my ability, though. while i am interested in history, i’m more keen to explore sociocultural aspects of wartime rather than the conflict itself. i really do admire the attention to detail that historical writers use. it’s impressive, but maybe not my style at the moment!!

Q: what WON’T you write?

A: i am pretty open with the subjects i explore, including grittier aspects of life. abuse, trauma, drugs/drinking, loss, illness, etc. etc. i enjoy realistic/semi-realistic settings.

i can’t see aph england/arthur kirkland in any sort of submissive or feminized role. he’s an objectively masculine character to me.

aside from this, one thing i do not touch is active child ab*se. i can and have inferred it in the past tense, as it can be important to describe past trauma for the development of an adult character, but my main characters will never hurt a child. just a bridge too far.

i’m not a big fan of fantasy. since i’m an adult, i don’t usually write teen/high school/college AUs, with some exceptions.teacher/student is a no-no, professor/student is ok but let’s not romanticize it irl.

i’m into omegaverse in a human setting, and enjoy the occasional werewolf, but furry stuff is… not my thing, to read or write. no h8 tho.

i sure do hope that was a useful resource!! thanks for reading, and please leave me a comment on AO3, i respond 99% of the time!

i am always keen to answer any and all questions regarding my writing, so don’t be shy! xx besitos 

#biancacore #my writing #hetalia fanfiction

[youarestellarverse]

@starlightshadowsworld tagged me in a thing about sexuality headcanons!

For the actual canon, my general feel is that it started at a period of time when having a main queer character in a series for young people that wasn't specifically a Queer Series was unacceptable. This has fortunately started to change in recent years (partly because of Nico— I cannot overstate the impact it had that a hugely popular author who could afford to take that risk insisted on taking that risk; the difference in post-HOH mainstream queer youth characters is so massive it makes my fourteen year old self weep as she keyword searches "gay and lesbian" on her library network because David Levithan and Annie On My Mind were her only options). The books seem to be adapting from "everyone is straight because Hyperion Publishing is owned by Disney" to "young teenagers are still figuring things out". I like that method, personally!

So that's why I'm answering this over here on my ficblog instead of my main @stillneedsmorekissing. I present the sexualities I am using in my fic (plus a few kink roles for the ones I've actually considered):

Percy is a sub who uses both "bisexual" and "pansexual":

"You know I think you're breathtaking."

"Against all odds, yes, I do."

"How do you feel?"

Percy blinks, like he hadn't been expecting it.

"I feel...pretty," he says, after a long minute of quiet. Then he smirks, and Jason gets where he's going with it a second before he makes the West Side Story reference. "And witty. I have too much baggage from the 'that's so gay' craze to use it as an umbrella term for myself, but 'bi' rhymes with 'guy', so it almost works if you swap it in and moosh two stanzas together."

"Are you still using pansexual too?" Jason takes another photo, watching as Percy relaxes into the pillow again, his eyes closing.

"Yeah. They both fit, they're both comfy, so why not?" He half-shrugs. "Pan is probably closer if we're going purely by definition, but they're similar enough that I don't care about making a firm distinction for myself. Plus I got most of my pride stuff secondhand from Paul, and he got most of it, like, a decade before pansexuality was coined. He even gave me a couple vintage bi-angle pins."

Jason immediately pictures a set of two tri-tone portraits, one for each flag. That's a project he'll definitely have to use Rachel's studio for; he'll need oil paint and a large canvas to do it justice.

"I wonder how he'd feel about you calling them vintage."

(From Here in Our Bed, chapter 12)

Jason is a bisexual dom.

Nico is a gay switch.

The rest are under a cut because they spoil some plans.

Reyna is biromantic and asexual/sex-neutral (she's not bothered by doing it, but she wouldn't seek it out for fun). She is, however, very much a domme...which can be a tiny bit of a problem, because:

Piper is a lesbian, and also a domme-leaning switch.

This is set up for the bisexual Annabeth to figure out she thought she was a domme, but she's actually a sub-leaning switch— she was misinterpreting her bratty streak. She and Piper are both allosexual and she doesn't mind getting ganged up on and losing fights, which balances out the relationship and gets it running smoothly again!

Hazel is straight.

Frank is straight with one (1) exception.

Leo is the exception, and isn't actually sure how he identifies, because it doesn't occur to him until many years down the line when they enter a V with Hazel and he eventually has to come to terms with the fact that at some point he acquired a boyfriend and made the V a triangle when he wasn't looking. Tentatively, he ends up landing simply on "queer", because nothing else seems to fit exactly right and that's what it's there for!

I'm still considering gender, because I'm undecided on whether my current Brand New Genderfluid Awakening Process is something I want to work through fictionally yet, but I suspect Percy will ultimately decide he's a guy with an asterisk.

(Also, the mental image of Jason using drag as a vehicle for self-expression after a lifetime of being molded into the Paragon of Masculine Ideals will not leave me alone, so there's that.)

That's about all I got so far!

#meme answers #trivia tuesday #except not really because it's sunday but I want it under the same tag lol #stellarverse #fic spoilers

[yungbludy]

the hills have eyes

plot ↬ being attracted to one overwhelming person known as yungblud is alresdy too much for you. adding mgk in the mix is even worse.

warnings ↬ there’s tension here yes yes, smut!! threesome!! fingering & handjobs, writing colson is so fun i didn’t realize how hot he was lol 😳, hint at something going on between colson & dom, dom & reader like each other, maybe a pt 2?

a/n ↬ i know y’all have been wanting this for the LONGEST, and it’s easily my most requested fic. enjoy it!

When you left college with a degree in music production, you never would’ve expected to land in the studio of Yungblud, a young but upcoming artist with his own charm to set him apart from the rest. He was easily the most hyperactive artist you’ve worked with, someone with a truly pure heart that cared deeply for his music and his fans. It was a breath of fresh air, because out of all the artists you’ve worked with—big and small, you don’t think you’ve ever come across someone so genuine.

It was almost fate how you went from being in the studio with him every other week to nearly every day. He loved your presence; you made him see things differently, made him hear things he had never heard before. You made him feel smarter, more experienced.

A friendship blossomed. It was nice, because you didn’t have that many friends when you left college. Dominic introduced you to other people too, such as his band mate Adam, and they adored you. You were the calm before the storm of Dominic in their eyes. You balanced each other out, like some rock n’ roll version of a Yin and Yang.

Before you would hang out in groups. You, Dominic, and maybe a few other friends attending concerts or going to a restaurant together. You liked it—these people knew you and liked you, and you felt like you had a place.

You didn’t know when the... shift started. When it started becoming just you, and Dominic. When he texted you if you wanted to hang out at his place, (not a date or anything, just hanging out lol 🖤). When you still saw your friends, but you were seeing Dominic’s face more and more.

But you knew as soon as that started happening, that the feelings you had for Dominic—as a friend and as a partner, started becoming way too deep way too fast.

And honestly? It scared you. Your last relationship was in college and that didn’t go so well because you both had different outlooks on how you wanted to continue your life. You weren’t ever a relationship type of person and barely found yourself developing fucking crushes on people.

But you were crushing on Dominic. Hard.

As cliche as it sounds, being around him gave you literal butterflies. Seeing texts from him made you smile, and when his arms wrapped around you and he looked at you with all his teeth out, his eyes clenched shut—God. You were falling, and you were falling hard.

That was, until, Colson came into the mix.

You liked some of his music. You weren’t a big fan of “MGK”, and only really knew about him because of the whole beef he had with Eminem. You remembered that one song—fucking Wild Boy, being played in a few clubs and parties during college, but you didn’t have any liking towards him.

But... wow. He and Dominic together were a force to be reckoned with.

Colson was a good person. A loving father and a talented individual—not to mention he was also fucking hilarious too. Having him around in the studio guaranteed no bad days, because he could also make you feel better with a corny joke or a funny assortment of curse words.

You liked him, over time. Not to mention he was drop dead gorgeous, tall and tatted and pierced and just... fuck. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t intimidated by his presence.

But in reality, he was a sweetheart. A gentleman.

So why did you start feeling butterflies for him too?

Having a crush on two people just seemed so out of this world to you that you didn’t even understand it. It made no sense. You and Dominic had known each other longer, and you weren’t dumb—you knew he liked you back. But with Colson.. you didn’t know if those butterflies were in your stomach, or if they were somewhere were they definitely, definitely shouldn’t fucking be.

You were good at controlling yourself when it came to these two. It had been a few weeks since you’ve met Colson and two months since you met Dominic. They were working on music together—a song, that they didn’t know what to title yet, and you were right there, helping them with everything.

This also meant that they were together. All. Of. The. Time.

Having two extremely attractive men, men that you were also extremely attracted too together all the time was going to be very bad for your health. But all three of you had a main goal at the end of the day, and that was to make a song together. They wanted to make a song that pertained to them, that took both of their struggles and related them to each other. Being Dominic’s right-hand-man at this point, you were more than happy to oblige in helping.

But you just didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.

“Maybe some shit that’s like, kinda emo, kinda not?”

“Kells, man... you need to /make/ that make sense.”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you, smiling when both of their heads turn towards you.

“Y’all are just cute when you bicker.”

“Y/NNNNN,” Colson whines a little, his arms stretching to drape over your body. God, he has so many tattoos that you couldn’t possibly count them on your two hands and feet. “Help us. I’ve never been this stuck on a song.”

“Well, a mix of punk and rap, right?” You asked, humming as you scoot up to your monitor, going through a list of sample beats you always stored when songs were being made.

“That sounds ‘bout right,” Dominic spoke, both of his elbows being placed on his knees as he looked up at you. “Think that’s a perfect mix of us two, yeah?”

You picked out some beats—layering some, taking some away. While this process could be therapeutic to you, it could be also quite annoying, and it would’ve been if it wasn’t for the two grown men looming over your shoulder.

“What about this one,” you almost jumped as you heard Colson right near your ear, his voice powered into a whisper. He reached over you, his skin brushing against yours and you had to force yourself to look at the screen. Jesus Christ, you really needed to get laid. “How’s that?”

“‘ts good. I like it fo’ now!” Dominic joked, and a laugh rumbled in you stomach. “If we don’t like it, we could always change it tomoro or somethin’.”

“Okay, well, beats settled... now we need some lyrics.” you spoke, backing up a little—you would’ve backed up farther if Colson’s arm wasn’t on the back of your chair. “Got any?”

Silence. You rolled your eyes—you had told them days prior to come with lyrics. Nothing had to rhyme, but something to make an idea off of.

“Too busy clubbing to write lyrics-great.” you huffed, shaking your head as you stood to leave, but two hands reached out to stop you.

“Sorryyy, that’s our fault, really.” Colson spoke, locking eyes with you when you turned to look at the both of them. “Let’s make some together, yeah? All three of us motherfuckers. You know we couldn’t make up good lyrics without you anyway.”

You caved. Goddammit, he was so good at charming you and so good at fucking /flirting/. You found yourself sitting back down with a notebook out in just a few minutes of playful begging from the two of them.

“Since I watched The Hills Have Eyes for the first time yesterday with you two wankstains, I think that should be incorporated into here~” Dominic giggled, scribbling down the title of the infamous horror movie on a piece of notebook paper. “Where did all that shit happen, by the way? New York, Cali, Las Ve-“

“No, dipshit, Nevada. Did you watch the movie at all?” Colson huffed, reaching over to flick Dominic in the center of his forehead, in which the British male playfully bit down on Colson’s finger. The blonde grinned, and your eyebrows furrowed. What the hell?

“Nevada’s by Cali so we’re using California.” Dominic shrugged, scribbling more words down. “How’s... I wunna hide in the hills of California—but these hills have eyes, and I have paranoia?”

It took you a minute but you eventually nodded at it. “If we revise it a little bit then—yeah, that could work!”

“Awesome! Maybe you should get on your shit, Kells.” Dominic teased him, pink tongue pointing out at Colson, and your lips twitched.

“Fuck off.” Colson continued that grin—that little smirk, like they both knew something you didn’t. The day dragged on—more lyrics, more laughing, more inside jokes. By the time the session ended you were exhausted, your head kinda hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to head home and sleep, but Dominic stopped you before you left completely.

“Are you alright?” he asked, your hand in his as he looked at you with slight worry. His hair was pushed back, so he looked just too adorable with his forehead out and crinkled. He was worried. Worried about you, and that made your heart flutter.

“I think I’m good, just a little tired,” you offered a reassuring smile, lifting your bag up to your shoulder. “Why?”

“You seemed a little out of it,” he remarked, keeping your hand in his as he started to walk next to you. This was normal—Dominic walking you out to your car, then watching you drive to your apartment after he gave you a kiss goodbye, of course; some of them were on your forehead, some cheeks, and most recently, he’s teasingly brushed his lips against yours, only to see you blush and frantically push him away. “Just making sure you’re alright.”

“I’ll be okay, Dom,” you snicker, but you just love the fact that he can see through you. See when you’re uncomfortable or feel weird. “Thanks, though.”

“Of course darlin’,” his voice has dropped in volume and when you look at him, his eyes are boring into yours. You blink. “Drive home safe, yeah?!”

Both of his hands grab your face, squishing your cheeks—and you sputter a laugh as he kisses all over your face. Covering your forehead, your nose, your cheeks—and finally resting at your lips.

It’s like time has stopped. You smile, feeling warm—his hands haven’t left your face and you can feel his warm breath against your mouth. He leans in closer, and you feel that familiar thrum in your chest, his lips brushing against yours one, two, three times, before he only pecks you and pulls away.

You don’t even remember closing your eyes, but when they open, he’s walking back into the building, leaving you feeling lost.

To make it up for you for yesterday, the dynamic duo wanted to spend the entire day getting a good portion of the song done. This meant you had to wake up at nine am to be at the studio, something you were definitely not looking forward to, but you couldn’t complain about it. You three had a pretty good work ethnic, so you knew once you would get there, time would probably fly by.

You came to the studio in some fuzzy Hello Kitty pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt, not bothering to dress up too much since you would possibly be here all day. You didn’t look your best, but by the way Dominic’s eyes scanned you when you walked into the studio, you doubted he really cared.

“Well hello kitty-kat,” you heard Colson’s amused tone from the small couch by the door behind you, his body approaching yours to walk past you. His hand slipped over your waist, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Doesn’t Y/N just look the absolute cutest.”

“Shut up, asshole.” You grumbled, your cheeks hot as you ditched your slippers and made your way to your seat. You stretched, hearing some bones crack in your back, a tired yawn leaving your lips before returning to your sitting position and opening up your notebook. “So. Where are we starting today?”

When you looked up, both of them looked a little dazed—but the expressions disappeared in just a few seconds. That was weird.

“Welllll, I think I’ve got a title,” Dominic grinned cheekily, standing up with his hands clasped. “I liked what ya said yesterday... I think I’m good. That sounds pretty—American, doesn’t it?”

“Eh...” you started, but quickly took it back when Dominic’s face fell almost comically. “No! It’s not bad, but, I don’t know... how about another word, other than good?”

“Fine?” Dominic asked, looking at you with a smirk. Confusion racked through you.

“Okay,” Colson spoke up, reading over the page of lyrics with narrowed, concentrated eyes. “I think I’m okay.”

You contemplated it. It reminded you of My Chemical Romance, but there wasn’t anything wrong with that... their fans would probably like that, too.”

“I think I’m okay. Yeah, I like that.” you smiled, moving to your monitor to title the beats you already had. I Think I’m Okay.

“Perfect.” you beamed. “Now let’s get to work.”

The day went by pretty smoothly. Dominic and Colson worked better than you thought, and in your opinion, you were the icing to their cake. Being a producer meant you were there to perfect things—add something to make them sound just a tad bit better, to make the song flow just a little smoother. Perfecting the beats was something you absolutely adored to do, especially when you felt them both staring at the side of your face as you did it.

They admired you. And that sent shivers down your spine.

“Jesus fuck, ‘m hungry.” you grumbled. The clock above your head read two pm, meaning you had been here for six hours total. It wouldn’t have seemed like that if your stomach wasn’t grumbling like crazy.

“We can tell.” Colson joked, his fingers poking at your tummy. “Kitty’s talking to us.”

You knew it didn’t mean to be an innuendo, but you took it that way, and you’re sure Dominic probably did too with the expression that crossed his face.

“I’ll order some pizza.” Dominic sung out, British accent flowing through the air as he stood to grab his phone and leave. You had been alone with Colson once before, but that was before you recognized your attraction towards the male. Now, you were very, very aware of the fact.

“Cmon kitty, you’ve been sitting in that chair for hours and I know that ass hurts,” Colson smirked knowingly, grabbing your hands to lift you out of your seat. “Lemme help you stretch~”

“I don’t need help, you damn skyscraper.” You said stubbornly, but Colson paid no mind to you, grabbing both of your arms and lifting them above your head. It did make you feel much better, and you would’ve stayed in the position if his long fingers didn’t suddenly dig in your sides and under your armpit.

“I-get off of me!” you laughed loudly, squirming in his tight hold as he squeezed you even closer to his body. You could feel his chest press against your back, but you weren’t focused on it, just how much you were laughing from his antics.

“Hell nah! I’ve barely seen you laugh today, kitty~” he purred into your ear, and your thighs clenched. “Keep on fighting, nothing will happen babe.”

“Fuck you!” you shouted, successfully finding your way out of his grasp, but that didn’t stop him at all. He grabbed you again and while he did so, you were moving backwards—eventually landing you both on the small couch in the room. You wiggled your arms through his grip, letting your fingers dig into his sides in a similar manner—and your smile hurt with how loud he started laughing afterwards. You were sure after the short five minutes the tickle attack took that you were all over the place, and so was he—panting on top of you with both arms over your body.

“You’re an asshole.” you murmured against his shoulder, since his body was draped over yours. You wished it would’ve stayed that way, because he lifted himself, and you turned into jelly with how he looked at you—and that stupid fucking grin that spread across his face.

“Got you to laugh, didn’t I?” he asked, rolling off of you. The warmth that left your body—from your stomach, ribs, and a few inches below your bra, told you that the tickle fight was much, much more than that.

A month had passed since that day. It was more then enough time for more tension filled encounters—more of Colson’s hands on you, more of Dominic’s teasing kisses. It had gotten so bad that you needed to excuse yourself in the middle of a session to calm yourself down in the bathroom, because holy hell. Those boys were a lot—and the fact you had the audacity to think about taking both of them at once. You literally could never.

The song wasn’t that hard to make. With a few more helping hands, plus your expertise and their work as well, it was nearly done. Final vocals just needed to be recorded and some cleans up—and then, I Think I’m Okay would be released to the world.

This Friday would be a night that all three of you would go out clubbing, but you decided to visit the studio to listen to the rough draft the two had recorded previously. You were in matching all black outfits which definitely wasn’t planned. The dress you were wearing was a bit out of your comfort zone, but you decided—why not? You wouldn’t be the only girl there and you knew you looked decent, at least.

“Wow,” you murmur, a little speechless as the rough vocals of I Think I’m Okay fill the studio at full volume. The lights are off because it’s dark, so the only source of light in the room is your monitor. “Wow. We fucked this up.”

“What?!” Dominic shouted, eyes wide. You laughed.

“Not in that way! I mean, we fucked this, in a really good way.” you said, excited, bouncing a little in your seat. “Fuuuck, can’t wait to release this shit.”

Colson’s hand is hot and heavy when you feel it against your thigh, playing with the hem of your dress. “Couldn’t do it without you, kitty.”

You swallow. No, not tonight. You were going to have fun tonight. Not be in a state of sexual frustration because of these two.

“Right,” Dominic hummed, and you freeze when his arm wraps around your waist, his chin on your shoulder. “Y/N, I never really thank ya properly for all you do for me, do I?”

“Huh? Of course you do.” you tell him, but you’re a bit distracted by Colson’s wandering hand. It shifts, moving to the inside of your thigh, rubbing softly at your skin. His thumb is close, too close to your pussy, but you don’t push his hand away, because you don’t want to.

You like it. You want his hand to come closer, just a little closer—

“I don’t,” Dominic whispers, those thick lips brushing against your ear, and you almost jump out of your skin. “I should.”

“Dom...” you whisper nervously, eyes widening when his hand slides to the middle of your back and up your spine, fingers locking at the zipper. The slide of your dress being unzipped goes along perfectly o the tempo of the song, and so does Colson’s molding of your thigh, his hand eventually finding way because your closed legs, pressing right up against your underwear.

“Think the kitty wants me,” Colson sighs huskily, and your jaw drops. Holy fuck. “Am I wrong?”

“Is he?” Dominic presses when you don’t answer, his hand somehow making its way inside your dress, finding its way to your sleeves and yanking them down. Oh, fuck. “Ya want us both, don’t ya darlin’?”

“Oh my god.” is all you can whisper, earning chuckles from both of the men who play so deviously with your body. Colson finds your clit with no help at all, pressing against the little bud, right as Dominic takes both of your breasts out of your bra and palms them hungrily. Two sets of hands touching you makes your head roll back, and you can only comply as one of Colson’s hands presses against your left thigh, spreading your legs open.

“Put your legs on the desk for me, pretty,” he whispers and you do so, heels still on your feet. “Mm, yeah, that’s good—damn, look at you. So fucking hot.”

To your surprise, it seems like Colson is doing most of the talking, since Dominic’s mouth finds itself on one your perked nipples. He sucks it into his mouth, making it all pert and wet and your toes curl against the velvet surface of your shoe.

“When I had you on that couch, I wanted to ram the shit out of you, even if you were wearing those stupid ass pants,” Colson tells you, slipping your panties to the side and dragging his fingers up your slit. You’re almost embarrassed from how wet you sound. “Had to remember the British cunt has a little crush on you, though. Didn’t wanna break his heart.”

“Fuck off, ya asshole.” Dominic’s mouth leaves your breast, cheeks red at the fact that he was just exposed like that. “I was gonna tell her that my fookin self!”

“You’re telling me she didn’t know?” Colson chuckled, one of his hands grabbing your chin to roll your head towards him. “Did you?”

“Mmf—I-I knew,” you murmured helplessly, your back aching as two long, thin fingers push inside of you, spreading themselves. “Always knew.”

“But I like you too, kitty, maybe like you even more than him,” Colson smirks, his mouth pressing against yours, and you bite down on his lip when Dominic bites down against your nipple. “Now we’re both gonna make our girl cum.”

Our girl.

You could cum from those words alone.

Colson’s fingers work magic inside of you, pressing further until you feel lightheaded, then easing themselves out and repeating the process. Dominic’s fingers find your clit, rubbing it quicker then the pink vibrator you used before even getting dressed. Your hands are against both of their thighs as your body grinds down against them, both of their mouths meeting yours at different times, kissing you or letting you moan out against their mouths. I Think I’m Okay plays over and over again with no one to stop it, hiding your loud sounds.

You’re close. So, so close, but you don’t want to cum without giving them some type of pleasure—so, to the best of your ability, you start to unzip their pants, bulges very angry underneath the fabric.

“Ooh, fook yeah,” Dominic whispers, taking his jeans off quickly and wrapping your hand around his cock, going cross eyed at the feeling. “Yeah, jerk my fuckin cock.”

Colson isn’t too far behind in revealing himself. You try to stroke them both, but you’re so overwhelmed that sometimes your pace quickens on one and slows on the other. Their bodies are pressed as tightly as they can be against yours, and sometimes wet fingers find their way against your neck, or grabbing at your chests—with wide open mouths against your face.

“I-I think I’m gonna cum,” your pant out, your hips rolling in circles and your grip on their cocks growing even tighter, causing them to make their own sounds of delight. “So close-“

“Cum, kitty kitty,” Colson tells you, his lips wrapping around your earlobe. “Soak this fucking chair, pretty.”

And that’s exactly what you do.

Dominic busts right after you, feeling your clit spasm against his fingers was enough to send him over the edge. Colson isn’t too far behind, getting extra leverage because of both of your cum covered hands jerking him off until he shoots his seed out as far as it can go. It’s a heavenly sight, and for the first time you hear him whimper—a sound that’ll be engraved in your mind for days.

You three sit there, panting, covered in sweat and cum. You lick your lips, your hearing picking up the two shifting to clean you up and dress you, much to your confusion.

“What? You think you were gonna cum once tonight and that would be it?” Colson chuckled, already helping you out of your chair.

“Just wait till we get to this club,” Dominic continues, his hand tightly groping your ass. “You’re gonna have the night of your fucking life.”

And you’re certain that you will.

#dominic harrison #yungblud #yungblud fanfiction #dominic harrison fanfiction #yungblud imagine #colson baker #mgk #mgk smut #colson baker smut #mgk fanfiction #mgk imagine #mgk x reader #yungblud x reader

[randomingoftherandomness]

Fic: Coffee at the Window of Heaven

Fandom: Word of Honor

Pairing: WenZhou

Tags: Cafe!AU, meet cute, Modern!AU

A/N: No fandom is complete without at least one of these 😜 currently still accepting WenZhou prompts

--

Zhou Zishu likes to take pride in the fact that he supports the local industry around him; his coffee is ground daily from the third generation run factory a half-hour out of the city, his selected blends of tea are all served in cups made by his sister-in-law, the cakes and pastries delivered every morning at eight are from Hai Ying's bakery two doors down.

But even with all of that, he still can't figure out why of all the café in this side of the city, would Wen Kexing choose to patronise his. Surely the Happy Ghost has a richer blend or the Five Lakes and their exquisite seasonally imported teas are a better draw for a man who wears Chanel boots with his ostentatious purple suit that Zhou Zishu is sure costs nearly half his monthly rent. Yet, here he was, every morning at eight thirty with a smile and a wink, ordering a tall blended prelude to diabetes that he could have gotten at that place that rhymes with ducks.

"He's our most loyal customer," Chengling muttered, shrugging as he reaches for the almond milk they ordered exclusively for this man. "And he tips well."

Zhou Zishu can't deny that. They don't get as much traffic on this side street as those on the main row, and Chengling was practically only getting paid on the tips alone since he had haunted the store until Zhou Zishu gave him and apron and taught him the basics.

"Good morning beautiful," Wen Kexing greets, pushing his sunglasses up his perfectly coiffed hair. "Did you wake up on the right side of the bed or are you just happy to see me?"

Chengling's stifled giggle is still loud over the hiss of the machine and Zhou Zishu barely contains his eye roll as he turns to fix Wen Kexing's usual drink.

"Aren't you going to ask me how my morning has gone?" Mischief and glee oozes off Wen Kexing in waves. Even if everyone else is fooled by that handsome face, those full lips pulled back in a smile that Zhou Zishu would really like to--

He clears his throat, flicking the blender on.

"I'm sure you'll tell me anyways."

Wen Kexing pouts. "You're no fun today." Zhou Zishu frowns, already thinking up a quick retort when he spies the way those brown eyes usually so lovely and warm, go a dark fathomless blank as they watch the morning passerby. There's a subtle narrowing, a deadening that would have gone unnoticed by anyone who hadn't spent whole nights stalking Wen Kexing's social media and googling his name on every chance he can get.

Something Zhou Zishu has experience doing.

No one he has asked knows what Wen Kexing really does. His pictures on Instagram are either fashion editorials that look like they came right off a magazine page or of Ah Xiang, his little sister. All anyone does know is that he's rich, he's young, and he is one of the most eligible bachelors of the city.

The blender rumbles to a halt and he has to pour out the evil, sugar saturated abomination. By the time he turns back to Wen Kexing, that darkness was gone and all that he could see was a carefully crafted mask.

"Aren't you staying for pastries today?" He finds himself asking when Wen Kexing waves his card over the machine. The query takes him back by surprise.

"Oh? Did you want me to stay?"

"Nobody wants you to do anything," Zhou Zishu scoffs, waiting for the receipts. "You're free to come and go as you please."

Wen Kexing leans in, tongue darting out to curl around his straw. "If you asked me to stay, you know I would," He says with a grin.

Try as he might, Zhou Zishu is unable to stop his eyes from following the trajectory of pink. He thinks his face must be a flush of embarrassment and before he could say something stupid like, 'would you like to stay forever', the bell over the entrance rings with the coming of new customers.

Wen Kexing pushes back from the counter, sliding his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose and dropping a folded bill of fifty into the tip jar. "I'll see you tomorrow, beautiful," He says, waving goodbye and walking out into the sunlight.

Zhou Zishu watches his slender figure cross the road to his parked car, lost in the thought of having those eyes on him again. Which was how Chengling gently elbows him to the side to take the new orders and he is wordlessly delegated to making them.

He tries not to let the anticipation of tomorrow distract him too much.

#word of honor #wenzhou #wen kexing #zhou zishu #gab writes stuff #I may or may not pick this up again #coffee and tea at the window of heaven

[sidespart]

For the fic title thing: Make Up Your Mind/Catch Me I’m Falling

Make Up Your Mind (this seriously got away from me and became basically a whole string of conscious fic whoops)

Logince, Bakery/coffeeshop AU Mutual Pining/ Not-Actually-Unrequited love, + loceit friendship

So Janus owns a Bakery (struggling to think of a snake/lie based bread pun for the name but ehh). He is the head only baker and sends most of his time in the basement kitchen blasting the phantom of the opera soundtrack and kneading dough. 

Logan is his childhood friend. Janus hired him as cashier after Logan dropped out of collage but then he never left and is now basically manager/ accountant/ hbic of this whole operation.

So one night as Janus is leaving he’s casually like: ‘oh by the way, a couple are coming by tomorrow for a wedding cake consultation’

And Logan blocks the door and is like: ‘Janus. We don’t do wedding cakes. We don’t even do cake. You only make weird artisanal bread. it took me 6 months and 8 powerpoint presentations to convince you to sell banana loaf’

Jan, his eye enormous: ‘but Logan, you should have heard this guy on the phone. They only want to use LGBTQ businesses for their wedding, they want to support the community that’s supported them for so long. He spoke so passionately and eloquently about why it just had to be us I couldn't say no’

Logan, his eyes not enormous: did you tell this man we make wedding cakes just to make the phone conversation end?

Janus: I was going to miss the murder, she wrote marathon, Logan 

So Jan manages to escape, and Logan rolls his eyes but like. This is nowhere near the worst ‘cleaning up after Janus lied to get out of a situation and made everything more complicated for no goddamm reason’ incident that he has had to deal with during the course of their friendship so, whatever: he can tell the couple there was a miscommunication when they show up in the morning. 

Next day, the guys arrive. Virgil, who barley introduces himself and then stays hunched in his hoodie not speaking for the whole meeting, and Roman. 

Roman does not have a problem speaking. Roman has lots of ideas.

Roman has a binder. 

Somehow in the course of this conversation Logan goes from ‘we don’t make wedding cakes’ to ‘I’LL SHOW YOU, WE’LL MAKE THE BEST GODDAMM WEDDING CAKE THIS TOWN HAS EVER SEEN’

Maybe it was the passion of Romans argument. Maybe it was the slightly disdainful look on his face when he looked round the shop. Maybe it was the ridiculous amount of money he was prepared to pay (see: Janus insists on only making specific, weird bread as to why the shop’s always on the brink of collapse). Maybe it was the power of the binder (Logan is like 80% sure Roman hit him with the binder at one point). Maybe its just Logan hasn't had a full blown passionate argument like that since high school debate club and the rush of adrenaline made him dumb.

Whatever the reason - they’re now fully committed to making this 6 tier, purple and blue, Disney inspired, multiflavoured wedding cake

(Janus, who skipped out on the meeting because he is Like That: But Logan....we don’t make wedding cakes...this was really irresponsible of you...

 Logan: I know where you sleep. I could kill you at any time) 

Which would be doable (the weddings a while off, and Logan is ready to RESEARCH) except Roman keeps. Coming. Back. 

With new ideas. And tweaks. And suggestions. All of them seemingly designed to make the cake less structurally sound. 

Basically every time he comes in they end up having a blazing row, first about Romans inability to make up his mind about the cake and then about...literally everything. One time they spent 25 minuets arguing about whether or not Shakespeare wrote all of his plays, which somehow turns into ‘who was the best host of blues clues?’ which then turned  into ‘how would nationalised healthcare best be implemented?’ (the loudest arguments were during the blues clues section).Logan had even fewer customers then normal that day.

(Logan: I hate that guy so much! He shows up at 2pm every day and now my blood pressure has started going up at 1.55pm in anticipation of the fight! He’s causing me actual medical distress because he’s so stupid!

Janus:...you’ve memorised some guys schedule and your heart starts racing whenever you see him?

Logan: yes! because he is my enemy!

Janus:...

Janus: mmKay.)

ANYway, one day Roman turns up and is like: Can’t fight today. Need caffeine. Must Study. and sequesters himself on one of their two rinky dink tables and starts pulling enormous textbooks out of his bag. Turns out Roman is in law school, he’s back home for the whole summer to help with wedding prep and has been neglecting his summer reading. He wants to be an environmental lawyer and, ideally, singly handily prosecute every oil company and give a speech at the UN whilst wearing an immaculately fitted Italian suit. 

Logan has a panicked moment of OH NO HE’S SMART (he doesn't need an oh no he’s hot moment because Roman’s been hot the whole time). Very carefully he does not think about how upset hearing Roman mention the wedding again made him feel, and then shares a bit about his own anxiety during college which led to him dropping out.

Roman says degree or no degree its obvious Logan is one of the smartest, most capable people Romans ever met.

Cue: blushing, stammering, Logan standing up to quickly and knocking half a pot of coffee over etc etc all that good fluff. 

And after that their conversations are less confrontational (although they still debate like. everything.) and more friendly.

They have one (1) more conversation about the wedding wherein Roman apologises for being so stressed and snappy over all the preparation stuff but he just wants everything to be perfect for Virgil. (Logan, awkwardly: you must love him a lot. Roman, himbo-ly: Yeah!) aaand then Logan changes the subject to the best rhyming structure because Romans big sappy grin is making his heart do awful twisty things-

And eventually, Roman asks Logan to go out with him outside the bakery.

Logan: hahaha this is friendship, we are great friends, we are going out as friends. I am not going on a date with a man with a fiancé because that would be the actions of a crazy person.

 So they go on their date. It’s amazing. Roman leans in for a kiss at the end and Logan is delighted!

And then devastated.

He pushes Roman away, yells some creative insult (malodorous centurion?) and flees. Spends the next week basically hiding in the kitchen area, refusing to see any customers and working on the wedding cake.

(which is looking perfect by the way)

So after a week of Logan moping round the kitchen Janus finally blocks the door to stop him leaving and demand he tells him what the hell is wrong. And after a few minuets of filibustering Logan ends up telling him everything.

“In any case, the very fact that he is the kind of man who would cheat on his fiancé means he’s not the kind of man I thought he was. Therefore any alleged feelings I may have developed towards him would now be null and void” says Logan, looking like the worlds sadist accountant

Janus: So...wait. You’re saying wedding cake guy and hot lawyer guy are the same person?

(Logan: you need to come out of the basement more often Janus: YOU need to tell me what’s going on in your life more often. (they have had this conversation many times in the past))

So Janus sincerely tells Logan he’s sorry...and that he’s even more sorry that he needs him to help him deliver the cake to the venue tomorrow.

(this thing is way to big for one person to carry and there’s no way Jan would trust any of their occasional teenage cover staff to do this and ‘we’ll go round the back and you wont have to see anyone anyway comon Lo’ you basically built this monstrosity you should see it home)

So, reluctantly, Logan goes. And they go round the back as promised, and get this enormous cake settled, and then get told to wait there one sec cus one of the grooms is going to come sign for it and before Logan can throw himself out of the widow (get OFF me Janus we’re on the ground floor it’s FINE)  from behind them they hear squeeing.

There’s a curly haired dude in a pastel blue linen suit who Logan has never seen before in his life looking at the cake and cooing over ‘all the little details! its perfect! oh Virgil is going to love this! You know he was so embarrassed about asking for a Disney themed cake he had to ask Roman to go with him to -”

“Who ARE you?”

The man blinked at Logan, who realised dimly that he still had one foot up on the windowsill and slowly returned it to the floor. 

“I’m Patton” said Patton.

“And I’m Janus” said Janus, removing his arms from where they’d still been clamped around Logan’s waist and stepping smoothly towards Patton, clipboard held aloft “A pleasure to meet you, if you could just sign here...”

“BUT-” Patton paused, hand still raised to accept the clipboard, and looked over again at Logan who found himself mumbling:  “but - but the groom is supposed to sign for it?”

And Patton just smiled at him looking a bit bemused and goes ‘I am the groom? And who are you kiddo?”

Logan says he’s Logan. Patton suddenly looks a whole lot less friendly. 

“Oh.” says Patton. “You.”

And since Logan’s mind is currently refusing to take in the information in front of him Janus is the one who ends up stepping in between them and going “so just for 100% transparency - you are Patton. 

“yes?”

“and today you are marrying the love of your life: Virgil?”

“Yes!”

“And are either of you, at any point today, also planning on marrying one Roman Sanders, caffeine addict and terrible communicator?”

And Paton burst out laughing and says “ROMAN? Virgil’s big brother Roman? He’s my best man but I don’t think we’re planning to take it any further...”. And because Patton is apparently much quicker on the emotional uptake than Logan he gives him a vey soft, if slightly exasperated, look and says:

“Roman - who again, is my future brother-in-law- is helping set up in the main hall.”

And Logan likes to think he said thank you before he took off fucking RUNNING through the building but he can’t be sure.

So he gets to the hall, where a load of people are setting out chairs, putting up flowers etc,  and skids to a stop at one end of the aisle. Shouts: “ROMAN.” (Roman and Virgil, who were standing at the other end arguing over a flower arrangements, both look up) “YOU’RE NOT MARRYING YOUR BROTHER.”

“um.” Says Roman “No?”

Explanations are given. Virgil, who is a lot more talkative now that he’s not on 7th wedding appointment of the day burn out, is ready to physically fight Logan for breaking his brothers heart. And then once he understands the full story is ready to kill both of them for being such dumbasses.

Roman: But I s2g I told the guy on the phone that it was the groom and best man coming??? Logan: Yeah he might have lied and said you were a couple for a joke, or he may have just straight up not listened to you. Either way, he is just Like That.

Logan: WHY DID YOU NEVER MENTION VIRGIL WAS YOUR BORTHER?? Roman: I WAS TRYING TO GET TO KNOW YOU AND ALSO SEDUCE YOU WHY WOULD I WASTE TIME TALKING ABOUT MY LITTLE BROTHER??? Virgil: Yeah...he does like talking about himself, sorry he’s just  Like That.

Anyway it all ends fluffily, Patton and Virgil get married. Roman cries. Logan and Jan hang around for the wedding. Roman and Logan hold hands throughout the speeches and dance during the reception. Roman has to go back to law school soon but they agree to call each other every day at 2pm to catch up and argue. 

Janus gets off with the moustachioed DJ. 

And Roman and Logan get another chance at their first kiss.

#sanders sides fic #logince #roman sanders #logan sanders #Loceit #Platonic Loceit #janus sanders #SANDERs sides #YEAH THIS ONE ALSO GO AWAY FROM ME #i might write some of these scenes up properly or draw them out #this was fun #fake fic meme #sidespart writes #Anonymous

[falsegoodnight]

this month was a mess but somehow i still managed to read 18 fics this month! as always, they’ll be organized into categories: main list, rereads, and non-1d. as always, this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 28th only – I also do not have my usual thoughts section for each because i’m putting this together last minute. just know that i really enjoyed all of these lovely fics!

—

main list ~

✰ in the crooks of your body (i find my religion) by @dehydratedpoolfics | E | 2k

She should probably go back to bed, try to pretend her girlfriend isn’t getting off to whatever she’s dreaming about right next to her. Louis’ll probably forget the dream when she wakes up, won’t even know she did this.

Instead, her body flushes against Louis’ side like a magnetic pull, one Harry can’t control. Carefully, she pulls the sheets down to their ankles, exposing Louis’ hand shoved down her cotton underwear, fingers rubbing at herself, squelching from how fucking wet she is, the sound ringing in Harry’s ears.

A suppressed groan escapes her lips, eyes rolling back into her skull from her attempt to keep her hands to herself.

But Harry’s never been great at denying herself the simple pleasures in life.

✰ These stars will guide us home by sunnylouh | G | 3k

Louis is a god that takes care of the stars and every night makes sure they´re in their place. One day, the satchel where he keeps them breaks and he has to find someone to fix it.

✰ baseball, dancing, same game by @vogueharrystan | E | 4k

AU based on Chad and Ryan in the baseball scene of high school musical 2 because something definitely happened there. 

✰ all the things she said by sweetielouis | E | 6k

Louis never knew what she wanted until Harry came into her life but now that she's here Louis is scared of ever having to lose her.

✰ i drink the honey inside your hive by @levelofcharm | NR | 7k

“Look at me,” Harry demands lowly, suddenly grabbing Louis’ jaw and forcing their eyes together. Louis’s face is squished in between the fingers, wide eyes looking up at him when he sneaks a gloved thumb in the corner of his mouth. He smiles, the finger tugging on his bottom lip and opening his mouth slightly, “That’s better, blue.”

Louis’ shoulders hunch slightly at the nickname, neck straining to maintain eye contact, his panties get tighter as his cock hardens at the sight, eyes blinking slowly to ease the stinging tears. Catching a glimpse of the growing bulge in Harry’s navy trousers, the standing man notices, tsking and shaking his head disappointedly, “I thought you were going to be good tonight. What happened?”

“It’s just-” Louis looks up at him again with watery eyes, babbling around the thumb in his mouth, “Haven’t got to play with you for so long, sir. I need-”

Harry nods sympathetically and Louis cuts himself off. “I know, baby. It’s okay.”

✰ ain’t ever been vanilla, honey (just wait till you get a taste) by dilfrry | E | 7k 

Louis thinks his boyfriend is shit in bed but in reality it’s just one big miscommunication.

✰ let’s shack up by @breadylou | E | 11k 

In which Louis wants to wake up in Harry’s arms forever. So he makes a list.

✰ Blind Faith by @2tiedships2 | M | 18k 

“Harry?” Liam prompted.

“I’m blind,” Harry eventually said, trying his best to keep himself from crying.

Liam was silent for a few moments, before responding, “That’s not exactly news, H. You were blind when I met you a year and a half ago. Have you been in denial this whole time or something?”

“No, Liam,” Harry cut in. “This is different. I’m not legally blind like I used to say. It’s not just my night vision. The tunnel from my tunnel vision has closed. I’m fucking blind! I moved halfway around the world in the hope of finding my soulmate and it’s obviously not happening now. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not even a soulmate is going to want to put up with a blind alpha."

✰ no i love you’s, no goodnight’s by @causeiwasinlove | M | 20k

Harry and Louis deal with the biggest obstacle of their marriage. They fight using all the fight that’s in them.

✰ you fit into my poems (like a perfect rhyme) by @defencelesst | E | 28k

Harry works in an old bookshop and Louis is the pretty stranger that ends up stranded there in the middle of a storm.

✰ take my hand (my whole life too) by @beckydoesthings | E | 44k

Harry is a prince, Louis is most definitely not, and there’s a royal wedding to attend.

✰ Memory of a Dream by @tomlinvelvetfics | E | 65k

Sleeping Beauty AU.

✰ ‘cause all our tomorrows lead the way by @loubellies | E | 87k

So maybe Louis’ in over his head.

He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.

✰ the entertainment by @tllthesundies | E | 95k

For Harry's upcoming album release, his team dreams of hiring him a PA to help assist with the burden that comes with a launch. Louis Tomlinson is a highly sought-after PA who's worked with many A-listers.

rereads ~ 

✰ glimpse of silhouettes by orphan_account | E | 7k

Harry isn't sure what the rules are for this. It's hard to believe that there are any, that's there's a handbook just waiting for him to buy: why is my best mate getting hard in my lap when I touch his arse?

✰ Two Steps Behind by orphan_account | T | 39k

Louis is two years younger than his neighbors, Harry, Liam, Niall, and Zayn, and he grows up bending over backwards to get their attention and acceptance. Especially Harry's.

non 1d ~

✰ redemption lies plainly in truth by @hadestyles​ | T | 2k

Homes, loves, fears all take form of a boy and Hyunjin is lost.

my fics ~

✰ lead me to paradise by falsegoodnight | E | 15k

No one told Harry that a paramedic could be this pretty.

If you read any of these lovely fics, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

+ if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

#my fic recs #fic recs #28th appreciation #2021 recs #april recs #april 2021 recs #scheduled

[tickly-trashcan]

Drunken Yaksha {XiaoVen}

A/N: This fic contains mild spoilers I think? Like for the main quest and Xiao’s story quest. I guess most people in the fandom already know anyway but if you aren’t aware and don’t wanna get spoiled then probably skip this one for now. I’ve had this idea for a while now and was pretty much dying to get it written out, thanks to my friend for proofreading for me! I also have no idea how alcohol works so please bear with this fic being very inaccurate in that regard. also don’t mind my poor editing skills, i tried my best lol.

Summary: Xiao has decided to peacefully finish his day with a bowl of almond tofu. That is, until a certain someone shows up.

Word Count: 2.5k (under the cut)

Xiao hiccuped, head on the table as someone next to him laughed. How had he gotten into this situation?

Xiao had been making his rounds near the Wangshu Inn, deciding to stop inside for some almond tofu. He had been peacefully enjoying his meal as he always did, sitting alone when suddenly an arm latched around his shoulder and a cheery voice yelled in his ear:

“Well, well! The Vigilant Yaksha! The one who guards the night and day, sending hilichurls and slimes away!”

Xiao groaned. He already knew who it was from the rhyming before turning his head, realizing that the Archon’s face was right next to his, their noses almost touching when Xiao turned. He jumped back, the Archon giggling as he floated away from Xiao, moving softly along the wind.

Xiao sighed. “What is it you wish to talk about, Barbatos?”

He shrugged. “I go by Venti now, no need for formality either. What’s that you’re eating? Can I try?”

Xiao narrowed his eyes at Venti and pulled the plate closer to him, making Venti giggle.

“Say, why don’t we spend the night together in Mondstadt? We have some catching up to do, I haven’t seen you in so long!” 

Xiao grumbled. It wasn’t like he could say no to Venti, he was the Anemo Archon, someone that Xiao had lots of respect for. He was also the person who had practically saved his life all those years ago… 

He could still hear it clearly, the sound of the dihua flute echoing through the harbor, finally bringing peace to the Yaksha’s unbearable suffering, even if just for a moment.

He had longed to hear that sound again, for it was one of the only things that made him feel free from his karmic binds, but pride was what kept him from ever seeking out the Archon to ask for him to play it once more.

“Are you spacing out now? Come on, if we head out now we’ll be able to reach Mondstadt before sundown!”

Venti hooked his arm around Xiao’s, the sudden contact making the Yaksha flush slightly. He pulled Xiao away from his table and out of the Wangshu Inn, dragging him along until they had made it roughly halfway back to Mondstadt.

“They have the best wine at the tavern! It’s Dandelion Wine, I even know where the cellar is that they keep it in!”

Xiao nodded as they walked along, listening to Venti as he gabbed on and on about this and that, frantically switching topics like that of a young child. It had been a while since Xiao had heard so much information at once, but he surprisingly didn’t mind the god’s company. 

His voice, much like his skill in instruments, was soothing, and it made him temporarily forget about his karmic binds.

“Oh look! We’re here! Now, is this your first time in Mondstadt?”

Xiao nodded quietly, and Venti quickly grabbed Xiao’s hand.

“I’ll show you around after we’ve had our drinks then!”

He pulled him along again, and warmth started to flutter in Xiao’s chest. What was this? He had never felt anything like this in all his long years, so why now…

“Diluc! Two rounds of Dandelion Wine, if you please!” Venti yelled as soon as he entered the tavern, and a tall, red-headed man groaned.

“Get out of my tavern if you’re not going to pay this time,” He said, shining a glass as Venti chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck shyly as Xiao took in the sights of the tavern around him.

The architecture was nothing like that in Liyue, from the size of the building that made Xiao feel slightly claustrophobic to the rich lighting that came from the candles that decorated the tavern.

“Just put it on my tab! Here, it’s not so crowded tonight, let’s go to the back!”

Xiao followed Venti who skipped to a table that sat in the far corner of the bar, where it was nice and quiet. Xiao smiled. He liked spaces like this.

“Oh? So you can smile!” Venti teased, poking Xiao’s cheek, who quickly pushed his hand away.

“I’m not… smiling,” Xiao said, sitting down. Venti chuckled, sitting across from him as Diluc brought them two tankards of wine, letting out a sigh as he watched Venti quickly start to guzzle his down, Diluc walking away.

“Diluc! Two more bottles please!” Venti called, having just drunk his entire tankard in one sitting. Xiao looked at him with curiosity. Archons were incredible…

“You should try it Xiao! Have you ever had alcohol before?”

“Adepti normally do not… drink unless it’s a truly special occasion, and even then we tend to drink glaze lily nectar.”

Venti nodded, giggling excitedly when Diluc brought over two more bottles of wine, setting them down on the table as he flashed Venti a look, who immediately popped open the new bottle and refilled his tankard.

Diluc walked away and Xiao finally took a sip of his wine, immediately repulsed by the taste. He didn’t want to upset Venti, however, so he took a bigger sip, quickly swallowing the odd tasting liquid.

Venti started drinking more of his, pulling his tankard away as he let out a satisfied “ahh!” as he turned his attention back to Xiao. He rested his head on his hands, raising an eyebrow as he smirked.

“Do adepti have any weaknesses?”

“No. Weaknesses are for mortals, they’re trivial things.”

Xiao took another sip of his wine and felt his face go hot, his head was also starting to feel a bit dizzy. He looked over at Venti, confused by the sensations, and the small god only chuckled.

“Looks like your weakness is alcohol.”

“Nonsense,” Xiao said. Venti raised an eyebrow at him, and Xiao quickly took a big glug of wine to prove him wrong. He slowly felt his face grow hotter, and he continued to stare at Venti as his mind went fuzzy, Venti seeming completely unfazed despite how much alcohol he had already drinken.

“Didn’t expect the great Vigilant Yaksha to be a lightweight.”

“I’m not - I’m not a lightweight,” Xiao said, a quiet hiccup escaping his lips. Xiao giggled at the sound. Venti’s eyes widened along with a big smile.

“You can laugh?! I didn’t know adepti laughed!”

“I’m not laughing,” Xiao said, hiccuping again, making him giggle more.

“Yuh-huh, you’re totally laughing right now! In fact, you’re giggling!”

Xiao shook his head groggily, losing his balance as he did so and dropping his head on the table. Venti cackled, almost falling out of his seat. He supported himself with his arm as he watched Xiao who continued to hiccup and giggle, Venti doubling over in laughter again.

“You’re laugh is so cute! Hey, I wanna hear more of it!”

“M-My laugh isn’t - cute,” Xiao said quickly, taking another sip of his wine as he managed to get his head off the table. He bit his lip to keep himself from making any more noises, especially giggling

Venti noticed this and pouted, quickly getting up out of his seat, walking over to Xiao as he squished his cheeks, turning his head to face him. 

“Laugh for me more!” Venti whined, and Xiao shook his head, hiccuping again.

“I don’t… Yakshas don’t… laugh,” Xiao said quietly, his words slurring. Venti chuckled.

“You’re like a drunk puppy right now after only a few sips of wine…” Venti teased, and Xiao’s face got a tinge redder, despite having an already heavy blush from the alcohol.

Venti smirked, letting go of Xiao’s face as he walked behind Xiao, giggling.

“I think Yakshas can laugh, and if you won’t laugh for me I might have to make you~”

Xiao was barely even processing what Venti was saying, he let his head rest on his arms against the table as he groaned, his head hurting slightly. He felt so fuzzy, he wasn’t sure he was going to make it back to Liyue that night…

His head shot up suddenly when he felt Venti experimentally poke his sides. He managed to muster a glare that he quickly shot at the Archon, who chuckled deviously. Venti poked him again and Xiao flinched, making Venti smirk.

“The great Yaksha wouldn’t happen to have another weakness, hmm?”

Xiao hiccuped as he realized what Venti was planning, and he quickly went to stand up, only to totter a bit before falling back into his chair, making Venti laugh.

Venti poked Xiao a few more times, this time managing to get a squeak out of the Yaksha as he flinched a few times. Venti’s eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint as he raised his hands up above Xiao, wiggling his fingers as Xiao leaned away from him, his drunken self only managing to make him fall out of his chair onto the floor.

Venti laughed again and finally dove at Xiao, sitting next to him as he started squeezing Xiao’s sides, making him shriek as laughter started to pour from his mouth, making Venti beam.

“Your laugh is simply divine, so easy to hear from all that wine!” Venti rhymed again, chuckling as Xiao drunkenly flailed around, his arms uselessly pushing at Venti’s hands before eventually just falling against the floor.

“B-Barbatohohohohos! Stohohohohohop this!”

“I already told you to call me Venti!” He said, now attacking Xiao’s helpless tummy as he cried out, somehow using his arms again to swat at Venti’s hands as he laughed.

“GAha! Venti - Venti plehehehehehease, not thihihihis!”

Diluc groaned loudly in annoyance from the bar of the tavern, it was never quiet when Venti was there. 

“I love seeing you laugh! Hey, I wonder which spot makes you laugh the most, can you tell me?”

Xiao shook his head, shaking with laughter as Venti danced his fingers delicately all over his tummy, skittering along in an almost feather-like touch that was driving Xiao completely mad. 

“NOHOHOhohot there! Vehehehehehenti!”

“Not here? Hmm, okay! What about here then?”

Venti slyly moved his hands up to Xiao’s ribs, dancing along them and digging softly between each one. Venti’s movements were swift and ticklish, and Xiao was just along for the ride as the Archon continued his odd torture.

“Ehe, you’re easier to play than the lyre!” Venti said as he continued to tickle Xiao, dancing his fingers along his ribs as if he were an instrument.

Xiao’s laughter escalated, and soon he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t able to do anything to defend himself except uselessly swat his hands. Xiao silently swore to himself to never drink alcohol again.

Venti’s hands rose to Xiao’s upper ribs, scribbling his fingers around and even diving under his arms as Xiao’s arms clamped down slightly, barely protecting himself as he arched his back, digging his heels into the ground as he shook his head back and forth.

“Tickle tickle, Xiao!”

“STOHOHOHOHOHOhohohop!”

Venti stuck out his tongue playfully as he drilled his hands under Xiao’s arms, Xiao cackling as he did so. He had never laughed this hard in his life, he didn’t even know he was this ticklish. His tummy hurt a bit from laughing and tears started to trickle down his beet red face. In any normal situation he would’ve already freed himself of the tickling, but since he was drunk, his motor skills and coordination had seriously plummeted. 

“GohoHOHOHODS NOO! NOT thehehehehere!” Xiao yelled, roaring with laughter as Venti dug into the dip of Xiao’s hips, and Venti beamed.

“Looks like someone’s extra ticklish here!” Venti teased, vibrating his hands as he drilled them into Xiao’s hips, Xiao throwing his head back as he howled.

Venti went back to pinching along Xiao’s tummy, poking and prodding as he giggled.

“Boop, boop! Hey, what happens if I boop here?” Venti asked, poking Xiao’s navel as he squeaked, swatting at Venti’s hand as he curled onto his side, pushing at Venti as he giggled helplessly.

Venti grinned, taking advantage of Xiao curling on his side as he gave him a small push, setting Xiao up on his tummy as Venti straddled him, now wiggling his fingers against Xiao’s sides as Xiao whined through his laughter, pounding his fists into the ground as he laughed.

“V-Venti! Plehehehehehease!” Xiao yelled, twisting weakly from side to side as he tried to escape Venti.

“Please what? Please keep going? Sure!” Venti quipped, dancing his fingers along Xiao’s lower back, slowly travelling up to his shoulder blades, making Xiao holler with laughter as he scribbled on the small bit of exposed skin on Xiao’s back.

“Hehe, looks like I found a good spot! Tickle tickle!” 

Xiao banged his fists into the ground as he squirmed helplessly, desperately trying to escape the excruciatingly ticklish sensations. He didn’t even know he was ticklish on his back, but it tickled worse than any spot that Venti had tried previously. Between that and Venti’s teasing voice, it was too much for Xiao, especially in his drunken state.

“I cahahahahan’t! V-Venti plehehehehease stohohOHOHOP!”

Venti continued to skitter his fingers along Xiao’s sensitive shoulder blades, sliding his fingers skillfully between them and around them as Xiao laughed hysterically beneath him. This was so unlike him, laughing like this… 

After a few moments, Xiao’s laughter went silent. Venti took that as a sign to stop the tickling, though he didn’t stop until a little bit after. Xiao panted heavily beneath Venti, who quickly got off of him, giggling as he watched the slightly shorter man catch his breath.

Venti giggled as he poked Xiao again, making him squeak as he covered his side weakly, a few stray giggles still escaping his lips as he curled up.

“Your laugh was a melody, though I have to offer an apology,” Venti said, rubbing the back of his neck as he smiled sheepishly.

Xiao glanced up at Venti, still panting.

“Wh-why?”

Venti stood up, dusting himself off as he reached a hand down for Xiao, who quickly took it as he was helped up.

“I went a bit too far, I couldn’t help it though, you were too cute!”

Xiao flushed at the bard’s words, turning his head and shaking it.

“It’s fine just… don’t do it again… ever,” Xiao said, growling slightly as he spoke, making Venti chuckle.

“I can’t promise anything~!”

Xiao sighed and Venti laughed, patting Xiao’s back lightly. He flashed a quick grin as he lightly scribbled his fingers on Xiao’s exposed shoulder blades, making him yelp before retracting his hand quickly and putting his hands behind his head, acting innocent.

Xiao grumbled, and Venti chuckled, leaning close to him. Xiao backed away slightly from the Archon, who got on his tip-toes and leaned over Xiao, smiling.

“Let’s get back to the wine, shall we?”

Xiao felt his heart thumping in his chest when Venti finally backed away from him, skipping back over to his seat and quickly drinking more of his wine, then pouring more into his tankard. Xiao put a hand to his chest as he sat down, taking a sip of his own wine. He shook off the odd feeling, and instead engaged in more chatter with Venti, spending the rest of the night with the strange god.

#xiaoven #xiao #venti #genshin impact #tickle fic

[oftenderweapons]

The Studio - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 9.7k words

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Rating: 18+

I told you I’d be back really soon ;) Tonight there’s a lot on schedule! I’ve been working on this piece for two weeks, since it carries a lot for both Namjoon and Vixen, emotionally speaking. It means a lot for me too, since to me it was truly a challenge in terms of the different levels of knowledge that Joon, y/n and the narrator hold. I think I’ve grown a lot in terms of writing even from Tiktok Towel Trick, which I wrote last May, but I’m really proud of myself comparing to what I used to produce a couple years ago.

Now, let me introduce this fic. The piece takes place two or three months after the two have started sleeping together (ideally late January or February). In this piece Vixen visits Joon at the studio after a bad fight and Joon’s self-imposed isolation. The two feel like they’ve come to a dead-end as they wait for the other person to cut ties. Namjoon is suffocated by his job, his tendency to lash out at his closest ones when he’s stressed and his previous traumas; Vixen is locked in her head, shut out by Namjoon and repeatedly accused of infidelity, as a sign of Namjoon’s lack of trust. Will the two manage to work things out?

Description and trigger warnings: The piece was written referring to Namjoon’s Rkive as in his vlive log. There is ANGST. Loads. There is some crying and it is not Vixen’s. Longing and miscommunication. In terms of filth: so much dirty talking the walls exude holy water by now. Unprotected sex (STAY SAFE GUYS!!!!!!!!), DDLG/daddy kink, Masturbation paired up with Voyeurism and Exhibitionism, Fetishism (Shoes, tights and lingerie), Oral (female receiving), Cumplay (eating), Marking, Spanking, Angsty doggy fucking followed by a very soft ride on the sofa. That should be all. Fluff alarm: Namjoon doesn’t want to lose his little fox and Vixen just wants to cuddle her big teddy bear Joon. 

Wordcount: 9.7k

Here is my masterlist

Enjoy!!! 

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Standing in the main corridor of the studios felt very strange. You looked around, uncomfortable, while the receptionist at your side stared at you, waiting. "Don't worry, he's busy all the time. We can wait, no big deal." The fact that you'd been greeted by Namjoon's driver at the entry desk had helped you get to the studios unannounced. "That boy always gets caught up on something. He shouldn't make you wait." He tutted, looking at you with a kind smile. 

"____? What are you doing here?" Taehyung smiled at you brightly, close behind him Hoseok and Yoongi approached with heavy-looking bags on them. 

"Oh, hi. I sort of stopped by for Namjoon." You bit your lip, smiling embarrassedly. 

"He's still in his room. I can show you the way." Taehyung said, grinning. 

Yoongi seemed to be observing him closely while Hoseok looked absolutely oblivious. 

"No, I only have to give him this." You showed them two small bags, one containing food and the other a few things he had left at your place. 

You tried not to let your heartbreak show. 

"Maybe you could bring them to him, I don't want to distract him." 

You smiled but you felt the tears welling up. 

Yoongi's glance moved to you. It felt scorching. "I think you should bring those to him. I think he'd like to see you." His serious tone made you realise that maybe he did know what was happening. Maybe he did know better. 

"I think he'd rather not see me right now." Your lips tightened in a thin line. 

Both the guys turned to Yoongi. "Go, I'll see you tomorrow."

They both patted him on the shoulder and waved at you, Taehyung hugging you close. "It'll be alright. I'll see you."

Taehyung smiled at you, his cute cheeks popping upwards. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you had just granted him an exclusive piece by one of his favourite photographers. Maybe he was just friendly, maybe he simply liked you because he deemed you a decent human being. 

Right at his heels, Hoseok gave you a cute wave, saying bye-bye in a cartoonish voice. 

Beside you, Yoongi shook his head, still sporting a fond smile. "Uhm, I never know whether I should introduce myself. Anyway, we've never met before, so– I'm Yoongi. " He said with a tiny smile, his cheeks jumping upwards. 

You introduced yourself with a small bow. 

"You are just like he described you. He talks about you a lot." He commented. You blushed, almost feeling like dissolving into thin air. You never thought you would meet his friends like this. 

Yoongi looked at your face. "You're exactly his type — in the best way possible." He blushed. "Let's go." He said, leading you. "I actually want to say a few things." He threw his bag on the floor, getting comfortable on the sofa in the common room. "How are you doing?" 

You stared at your feet. "Decent enough."

"I'll be honest, ____. He hasn't been doing good. Not even decent, in my opinion." Yoongi announced, as if trying to prepare you for what you were going to see. "I feel like telling you a couple things about him. He can be hot-headed, and an absolute pain in the ass. He is a perfectionist, and a terrifically clumsy one at that." Yoongi huffed out. "He holds himself to extremely high standards and punishes himself whenever he feels like he's not delivering. And he has the horrible tendency to lash out when he's stressed. He just takes it all out on those who are closest to him." Yoongi patted the spot at his side, inviting you to sit. "I'll be inappropriate, maybe, but I have to say it. You don't have to stay at his side."

The sentence was like a slap to your face. It had never come to your mind to part ways with him. 

"You don't have to put yourself through his tempers and tantrums. You need to be ready to handle those emotionally. If you aren't, I don't think you'll be able to go for the long run." Yoongi looked at you in the eye. "Sorry if I overstepped, usually people come to me to talk, I'm not used to giving unsolicited advice." He blushed and laced his fingers together, laying them on his thighs. 

"I don't want to let go of him, Yoongi." You confessed. 

"Then you should go bring this stuff to him in person. And remember, you don't have to be his therapist. If you want, you can be his partner, walk by his side, but it's not your duty to carry him." The man was incredibly smart and thoughtful. And sensitive. The more you got to know him, the more you understood Namjoon's adoration for him. 

"Thank you so much." You bowed your head briefly, placing your palm on top of his hands. 

He moved one on top of yours, patting gently. "Let's go find your grumpy bear, uh?" 

With a groaned "aigoo" He pushed himself up, standing on his feet like an old man before bending to catch the strap of his bag. "This way." 

He led you through the winding corridors until you recognised the door to Namjoon's studio. "Go on. Knock politely and be smart. Discuss. Negotiate. Compromise. And be kind to each other." He gave you the official salute and left. 

You found yourself staring at the door, wondering if he'd roar at you for interrupting him. 

The room sounded quiet. 

You counted to three. Knocked. 

"Come in." Said his voice with a weak rumble. He was probably distracted. 

His studio was warm and welcoming, if a bit clustered. The lights were low and yellowy, coming from his desk and contrasting with the white gleam of his computer screen, still you could see everything perfectly in the slight penumbra, your eyes perusing your surroundings. It was easy to see why his apartment felt like a hotel room: he barely spent time there while this place really felt like home. It felt like stepping into his soul. Small sculptures and toys and collectibles were neatly lined in his bookcase together with some books. Then the baby shoes. Art catalogues. Candles. Art. A drape too big for the wall, but still there, a painting, probably from Yoongi, since you vaguely recognised his style. On the back wall, you noticed two drapes embroidered in traditional patterns. The floor was covered in thick cream carpets with geometric prints that reminded you of tribal symbols. And sweet lord, that was his wooden, swoon-worthy, customised low table, matching with the piece by the door holding one of his bonsai. A comfy couch with a fluffy, warm blanket, and embroidered pillows. You were mesmerised. You didn't have time to take it all in, your glance running from the upright piano to the microphone standing beside his chair. He didn't turn around, he kept staring at the screen, typing every now and then. His beautiful desk was crowded with stationery, electronic devices, a keyboard and all kinds of knicknacks. 

"What is– oh. Hi." His expression was ice-cold. 

"Hi. I was passing by, I wanted to bring you some stuff you'd left at mine."

His heart froze. This is the end then.

He'd been avoiding it for almost two weeks, hiding from you in his studio, even though the only things he could write were heartbreaking blue rhymes that had Jimin and Jeongguk exchanging pitying glances. 

The beginning of this tragedy was almost comedic in its stupid futility. It was just him incapable of perfecting a pre-chorus. A dumb verse or something. He had called you, talked it out but apparently all he did was just turn down your ideas and suggestions, snapping at you until you exhaustedly told him that you were tired and needed some sleep. He took that as you umpteenth sign that you didn't care about him — which you both knew was entirely wrong — and caused a huge fight which ended on you telling him to go fuck himself, at which he unceremoniously replied that he was okay with that since you were clearly already fucking someone else. 

You didn't bother correcting him, since no matter how many times you told him, he always seemed to get back at you being unfaithful and uncaring. You were done justifying yourself, apologising for things you had never done. 

"Uhm. I also brought you some food. I didn't know if you had already eaten."

He looked at you like you had finally lit a candle in a dark and cold room. 

Your heart broke some more. You asked yourself if there was any more breaking to do, at this point. 

You figured there was the moment you heard his hoarse voice speak. "Let's eat together."

You didn't have the guts to deny him. 

You laid the bags on the small table and took off your coat. He stood on his feet immediately, crossing the room in a few broad steps and hugging you to his chest. 

Let it hurt. You told yourself. It heals faster like that. 

His palms settled at your waist and his eyes closed. He breathed you in. He had never felt something really end. His exes were like a song slowly slipping into a diminuendo until they became silence. His interest burned out, his curiosity simply died down and the feelings never seemed to grow fully. They felt like a balloon which was never supposed to be blown that big. This thing with you was like a song being stopped mid-chorus, silence biting in where it wasn't supposed to be. Is this what the end feels like? He asked himself as he held you tighter, one of his hands climbing up and burrowing into your hair. He pressed your face into his chest, where his heartbeat was so strong and so loud that you asked yourself if you could somehow amplify it, if your body could register it and replay it once you were alone in your bed, mourning over this. "You feel taller." He said, noticing how your forehead reached his lips instead of slotting under his jaw. 

"I still have my heels on." You replied. 

"Wanna take 'em off?" He asked. 

You shook your head. "No, if that's not a problem. 

He breathed out heavily. He interpreted your refusal as a sign that first, you were keeping your tough-woman shield up — which he couldn't blame you — and second, you weren't intending to stay long. 

You tried to part yourself from him. "One more second, little Vixen. Just a second." He whispered. 

You allowed him. 

"Come on, dinner is getting cold." You said softly. 

He didn't let you go, he simply loosened his grip and dragged you to the sofa. He was willing to keep you as close as he could until you ripped the bandaid off, unraveling this small spell that had turned his life into a perfect, dreamlike snowball. 

Sitting on the sofa, he made you sit beside him, your side sticking to his from shoulder to hip to knee to ankle. 

It was all too much but you didn't have the strength to part from him. He bent down and opened the small boxes. 

It was fried chicken. 

Like the first time at his place, at two am, naked in his bed after he had owned you in every way that mattered. 

He loved fried chicken. And now it would always mean you to him. 

No chimaek after fucking with anyone else. He wanted to keep it for you, in case one day you decided to come back, and he would say he had never done that with anyone else, that he had been waiting for you. Because some part of him told him that you would come back. 

Both your brains were going on the same path, already mourning someone who was right there in that moment, but already felt so far away. The room was quiet but both your minds were screaming, thinking so loud that the silence was welcome. 

"I got you fried chicken. I know you love it." 

I love you, his brain replied. But his mouth stayed silent. It was too late anyway. 

"Thank you." He said brusquely. He reprimanded himself for sounding so harsh. 

"It's okay." You said quietly, using the lid to grab a couple pieces out of the ten or so. You didn't feel like eating and he always ate two thirds of the box anyway. 

He exchanged one of your wings for a leg. "You prefer the leg." He said with a shy smile, trying to make up for the coldness he had shown previously. 

You had been sleeping with Namjoon for three months now, spending all your spare time together at his place, sometimes moving in for the weekend, the both of you leaving your job early so you could spend Friday afternoon together and go on small dates. He usually had his schedule on Saturdays and Sundays too, so it wasn't uncommon for you to spend several hours alone at his place. You had made small improvements, making his house feel more like a home with small handmade crafts. And when he came back, you would usually try to keep it chill but eventually you ended up in bed, or on the sofa, or the kitchen counter. Or the carpet on the corridor leading to his bedroom. Or the shower. Let's just say that you would be all over each other. 

You thought how different it would be now, and how difficult it would be to get him out of your system. 

"How is it going." You asked quietly after you swallowed your first bite. 

"Tough. I'm polishing some stuff, but this is the part where I doubt everything and want to rewrite all of it." He explained, his fingers gripping the chicken with a precision and finesse that reminded you of his delicate, careful side. 

"You'll get through it. You're a pro by now. And I'm sure you have excellent taste. You know what you want and you'll find your way to it." You praised him, rubbing your shoulder against him since your fingers were dirty. 

He leaned his head on your shoulder, shrinking down to reach you. "Thank you."

The more time passed, the more you realised he still hadn't said sorry for what he had implied during that phone call. 

"That's okay."

"How have you been doing?" He asked, trying not to let his worry show. It still showed, though. 

You decided on being honest. "I've been missing you."

He paused eating. "I've been missing you too." He put down the chicken, using the ball of his wrists to press against his temples. "I'm sorry about what I said that day. I know my past relationships and nerves are not valid excuses for how I treated you, but I got swallowed in those and I dragged you in."

You looked at the leg and finished munching on it, stripping the bone of the last few strings of meat. You put down the naked bone, licking your fingers. "You never talked about your most recent ex." You commented. 

He picked up his head. "To put it simply, I was her side piece." He said, plainly. "She was getting married to someone else. And she messed around with me." He looked at his feet. "At the beginning I didn't know. It lasted around eight months, as she was waiting for her fiancé to finish his military service. After I discovered it, we kept going for a couple weeks, but I found the whole thing so upsetting and disgusting that we parted ways. Her fiance forgave her and they got married a while ago, a few weeks before I met you." He snickered sarcastically. "I even sent them flowers." 

You blinked distractedly. "Joon, I'm so sorry, baby." You brushed your forehead against his arm. 

"It's cool. I mean, it's not since I'm still traumatised by it. I've been talking about it with my analyst, but it's been a while since I last went, almost three weeks, because this project had been swallowing me whole — after chewing me a little, clearly." He had his exhausted laugh on. 

You felt like you needed to talk about the whole story about that girl, but right now he didn't seem in the right mindset to do that. For now, knowing that he knew he had a bias and he was tackling the issue with a therapist was enough.

"Have you been sleeping, babe?" All the breaking up was momentarily suspended. There was something to save here. You had a lot you still wanted to save from this. 

He seemed relieved when you called him that. Don't get your hopes up. He shook his head. "A couple hours at a time. Small naps when I'm tired."

"Okay, so once you're done eating, we're gonna take a good, long nap."

He didn't want to sleep though. He wanted to hold you close, kiss you, make sure that he did everything he could to make you stay. The meal continued quietly, and as soon as you were fed he asked you about your job, how it was going, if you had any new clients or if you had met any new artists. You replied to each question fully, telling him about curious accidents and little inconveniences. 

And he listened. He had missed your voice and it felt good to listen to someone who wasn't himself or the boys' voices over speakers and headphones. 

As you were both done with dinner, he guided you to the bathroom, standing behind you as you washed your hands. He took some soap, foaming it up between his hands before he caught your left palm within his, pressing and rubbing them together to clean you up. And then he laced his fingers with yours, lathering your digits in bubbles and making sure that the sticky sauce from the chicken disappeared completely. He moved to the other hand as you laid your head against his chest at his collarbone, tipping it back so you could stare at him. You were sure you had never adored someone this much. He turned slightly to look at you, smiling softly. He bent down and pressed his lips to yours gently. No man, no person in the world had ever touched you or kissed you like he has. No one has ever talked to you like him, showed you their world like he has. He reluctantly parted from your lips. 

He led your joined hands to close the tap, moving to the hand dryer. It felt all too intimate. 

"Joon." 

"Let's get back to my studio, yeah?" He whispered in your ear. You nodded. 

He laced his hand with yours. 

Once you reached the studio, he quietly dragged you to the sofa, pulling at your arm so that you fell with your ass on his lap. He hugged you again. "I am so sorry about what I said. You have told me countless times that I'm the only one."

"You hurt me, Namjoon." You said quietly. 

It felt like a slap, his full name. 

"Let me make it right." He kissed your cheek and your eyes fell shut. "I want you."

And you wanted him too. You thought yourself crazy for wanting a man so complicated, someone who had disrespected you, who had repeatedly and blatantly demonstrated his lack of trust towards you. Still, when you needed reassurance, affection and devotion, your bodies always came into play, talking with a language so simple and obvious to each other that you simply nodded, whispering "I want you too."

With his index finger he turned your head, kissing you square on the lips and forcing you to part them, his tongue sweeping in your mouth, making your head spin with the intimacy and intensity of it all. 

Let him take you, if that would reassure him that you only thought about him, you wanted only him and no one else. 

His free hand curled around your thigh, climbing up under the tight knee-length dress you were wearing. The woolen grey number was the first thing to come off as he tugged it over your head and off his way. "You're so gorgeous," He murmured painfully, looking at you and taking in every small detail. "A work of art, little Vixen." He kissed your shoulder. 

You smiled shyly, trying to straddle his waist. He toyed with the lace covering your breasts and nipples, teasing them with his fingers until they pressed hard against the fabric. Next he fooled around with the waistband of your tights, making you stand between his legs as he dragged the nylon down your thighs and calves. He stared at your feet, where the garment bunched up, noticing your black stilettos. "Off." He whispered, tapping his foot against yours. Once you took off the shoes, he bent down to help your feet out of your tights. He bit your leg harshly, leaving a mark behind. "Heels on again, Vixen."

Smiling darkly, you slipped them back on, shivering a little, but so happy to wear your favourite black lace set and stilettos for him. 

"Walk for me?" He asked, making you put on a little show. 

And God, did you enjoy it. His jaw went slack at the Brazilian cut of your panties, exposing to his hungry eyes the perfect curve of your ass, the way it swelled fully before meeting with the back of your thigh. 

That was his favourite place to bite. And spank. 

You did a small catwalk with your back to him, reaching his chair, which you turned around from his desk to the sofa. Facing the chair, you bent forward, your thumbs catching the fabric of your panties at your sides and pushing them down as you bent forward, offering him the whole panorama. 

He groaned. "I'm gonna get an heart attack, baby." 

You smiled at him viciously over your shoulder, letting your lower piece of underwear fall to the floor. Next you dragged your full palm up the curve of your ass, smacking it playfully as your fingers made their way to the clasp of your bra. 

"You're gonna kill me, Vixen." He cried out. 

Bra undone, you let both strings fall down your shoulders, removing one side first and letting the garment dangle from the other side, making your arm fall and drop the delicate lace ordeal. 

Your smile disappeared in an innocent pout when you turned around, completely naked except for your shoes. 

"I'm gonna sit here." You announced, waiting for his approval. 

He nodded eagerly. "Make yourself comfy, Vixen."

You sat down, crossing your legs and propping your elbows on your knees. Shyness was not a word in your vocabulary in that moment. Your only intention was that of distracting him from whatever it was that was mauling his brain. 

"Are you going to make me wait, Joon." You teased demandingly. 

He stared at you, meeting your glance. "Stay there and sit still." He ordered before grabbing the hem of his sweater and pushing it upwards, taking off both sweater and undershirt in the process. His upper body appeared, a bit skinnier than two weeks ago but maybe it was just the distance and the slouching position. His sweatpants were taut around his lap and you bit your lip as your eyes traced the outline of his length. He laid his palm there, stroking himself over the cotton. "Missed you so much, baby." He groaned and huffed. His eyes closed, his hand grew tense, stronger and heavier. Licking your lips, you kept staring at him, squeezing your thighs as he touched himself for you. 

He was hot, all the time, but this… This felt like a fever dream. You were soaked. Thank god his chair was leather and it could be cleaned easily.

He moaned your name, his eyes struggling to open enough to look at you. His voice was so deep and needy, mixed with heavy huffs. "Namjoon." You whined. 

He opened his eyes fully, his hand coming to a halt. It was like a cold shower. He was reminded why you were doing this, why you had come to this, the sudden distance that had come within the two of you. "What is it, baby?" 

You pushed your ass against the chair, looking for friction. "Come here. Touch me." You begged. 

It pained him seeing you so needy and whiny and stressed. "Listen to me, baby thing. Listen very carefully." He wanted to reassure you but he couldn't come to you. "I need you to touch yourself, little one. Can you do that for me? I promise I'll touch you after you cum, baby, but I want to see you first." He asked, palming himself again. 

You licked your lips. "Can I?" You questioned innocently, placing your palm on your thigh, your fingertips grazing your crotch. 

"You can, doll. Do it for me." He growled, pushing his fingers under his waistband, grabbing his hard on at the base and stroking it as you parted your legs, exposing your wetness. You were beautiful, naked on his chair, dragging your middle finger along your dripping slit. Your other hand grabbed your breast. 

"You're a vision, Vixen. You're magnificent, pretty thing."

"I want your tongue, daddy." You mewled, your finger dipping inside, emerging covered in glossy wetness. 

He groaned, taking his cock out of his pants, moving the waistband to his thighs. “I’m gonna eat you later, pretty doll. I’ve been starving for weeks for that sweet cunt of yours.” His erection immediately sprung up, arching to his belly button, the lower tendon looking so inviting along that thick vein that always had him throwing his head back whenever you traced it with the tip of your front teeth. As your fingers met your clit, eliciting a whine from your throat, he used four fingers to press on the vein, his thumb already playing with the tip. His hands always looked incredible whenever he used them on himself, strong fingers and spidery tendons making the vision sinfully erotic. However, he was lost in you as much as you were lost in him, his lips parted, his breath panting while you opened your legs wider, using two fingers in small upward circles that teased the underside of your clit. You felt a chill run down your spine, your legs trembling and closing a little with an involuntary reflex. You giggled at that, closing your eyes and moving your grip to the armrest of the chair. Your upper body inched forward a little and your hand stopped. 

“Too much, babygirl?” He asked and you smiled brightly, nodding. 

You’re gonna miss it, the way she smiles when you’re doing it right, his brain reminded him and as a way to shut it up, he stroked himself faster, with more pressure, his spare hand brushing his abdomen and moving upwards, spreading over his pectoral, scratching the skin there before his thumb and forefinger curved around the base of his neck, pressing there. 

You observed the motion, unpausing the movement between your thighs and humming as he gave you his desperate stare, the one that meant that he couldn’t take it anymore, that he was on the verge of it and even the smallest addition to the current situation would have him screaming and cumming.

“Joonie, lemme get close. Cum in my mouth, Joon, please.” You whined. 

“No, naughty girl. Stay there and cum for daddy.” He groaned. “Come on, baby, I’m waiting for you.” He said, with a harsh and strained command. 

Arching your neck, you started moving faster, opening your legs as far as the armrests allowed, but they only allowed an inch more than what you already had. Huffing with disappointment, you closed them and propped the back of your right knee on top of the armrest and repeated the gesture with your left leg, spreading yourself wide, almost hitting a split with your legs bent at the knees. 

“God, you’re the dirtiest. You stretching it out for me? You’re so good, showing daddy how wet you are for him.” He teased, using that raspy voice that he knew always drives you insane. 

With short, quick breaths you brought yourself closer and closer to the edge. “Daddy, please, keep talking to me.”

His hand slowed down. “Need to hear my voice, babygirl?”

You nodded and he snickered. “Then I’ll talk to you, little one. You know what I’m gonna do after you cum? I’m gonna crawl to you and kneel between those wondrous legs of yours. I’m gonna push your ass to the edge of the seat and feast on you like I’m trying to die eating that pussy. And do you know what you’re gonna do, Vixen?” He provoked. 

You shook your head. “What am I going to do, daddy?” You questioned innocently, your words stumbling a few times as your breath got stuck somewhere in your throat.

“Oh, little fox, you’re gonna grab my hair and push that lovely cunt on my lips and tongue, fucking my face so hard and fast, pressing your sexy heels on my naked shoulders. I want to hear you gasp for air because I make you cum so good you forget to breathe, you forget how to speak.”

“Joon, I’m cumming.” You cried out, your legs starting to quiver and your clit getting too sensitive to stand the movement of your fingers, slipping them inside and pushing them in slow circles around your cervix. 

His fingers moved back to the tip, the other hand massaging his balls. “Take it, Vixen, that’s it baby. I’m cumming, ____.” He moaned your name, spilling his release on his lower stomach. 

You were still staring at each other with your chests heaving, eyes wild, hands stained by your pleasure. It was always the two of you. Always getting caught up in each other, always getting tangled in each other's fantasies with this constant lust pulling you in and never having enough. You wondered when the hunger would stop, when you would grow tired of his insecurity and possessiveness, when he would find out you're too kinky, too needy, too fucked up for a busy man like him to handle. 

He cleaned his hand with one of the unused paper towels from dinner, crumbling it and throwing it in the box with the garbage from dinner. 

"Joonie." You whispered, waiting. 

"Coming, baby fox." He replied, standing up and taking off his sweatpants and boxers, walking straight to you. You closed your legs, a bit cold and embarrassed now that your high was over. Standing right in front of you, he cupped your cheek, making you look up at his face, however, even though your head was tipped back, aimed at his eyes, your glance hung low, staring at the droplets smearing his abdomen. "What are you looking at, spoiled little fox?" He said, with a sardonic smile. 

"I wanna lick."

He grinned and scooped some liquid with his digit, bringing it to your lips. 

Parting your lips, you licked your lower one first, then you let your tongue dart out and swipe at his finger, carefully sucking it into your mouth before he lowered his eyes, staring into yours and smirking seducingly as he pulled his digit out. You smacked your lips and savoured his taste, your eyelids falling shut as you hummed at his flavour. 

His cock, once half soft, was now hardening again, swelling intermittently and slowly rising to his navel. But Namjoon's eyes were focused on your face. "Want more?" He asked once your eyes opened and your gaze focused on his face. With a sex-addled, lazy grin you nodded, opening your mouth. 

He grinned right back. "Such a hungry little girl."

Impatient, you grabbed his hips, pulling him towards you and licking his belly clean. He groaned, observing you closely. 

I'm going to teach her some patience and some manners, he thought darkly. However, he immediately reminded himself that he would never have the time, your liaison coming to an end.

With this unfortunate thought, he cupped your face. "I'm the one supposed to be eating now, ____. Let me take care of you, darling." He said, before falling to his knees. Immediately he pushed the back of the chair to the table, so that it wouldn't cartwheel out of his grasp. 

Once more you asked yourself how many times he had done that before, thinking about how the relationship with the bride-to-be must have been mostly sexual, since you don't usually have much romance and dates with someone who is taken. Even though he didn't know she was taken. Whatever. 

In that moment he was there, kneeling before you, placing your heels on his shoulders, cupping your ass and tipping it forward so he could easily and comfortably give you that first, glorious lick from your hole to your clit. "Taste so good." He said, nuzzling his lips side to side as he spoke, mixing the movement to the vibration of his voice. He bit the small tattoo at the top of your thigh, where it met your pelvis, just shy of your hip bone. "Sexy little thing." He kissed it. "Drove me insane since day one." As usual, he sucked at it, causing a dark purple mark to bloom over it. "Fucking perfect."

He laid his tongue flat against your slit drawing the tiniest circles with the whole length of it. 

You hand-combed his hair back, holding it so you could look into his dragon eyes. He looked vicious and dangerous and so cunning, so smart in the most atrocious way. 

"Namjoon." You moaned, your hips arching closer to his mouth. 

He snickered cockily, moving his tongue slowly back into his mouth, allowing only the tip to wander up your crevice and reach the apex of your labia. He delivered a set of ten licks, slow and curling perfectly against your nub. "Are you good, little fox?" He asked. 

You nodded and pushed his head back between your legs. 

He laughed loudly, fighting against you. "I'm not done talking, brat." He bit your lower belly gently. "I'm gonna pump your clit with my mouth, Vixen. I'll suck it twenty times, then I'll let you rest until I'm ready again. I'll keep going until you cum. Remember that after twenty I'll pause. This could easily turn into edgeplay, baby, so you'd better get very horny very fast. You okay, Vixen?"

He checked on you and you nodded, impatient to simply have him on your clit.

"Be verbal, little girl." He reprimanded.

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl. Let's get started."

He wasted no time. He wrapped his lips around your clit and started sucking, sucking so hard that you knew the following day his jaw and ears would hurt. At pump fifteen you already knew you needed more than twenty to cum. And as twenty arrived you whined but you felt confident that the next set would suffice. 

This time you felt your edge at twelve, still you needed more. You were getting wetter and wetter, so soaked that his saliva and your slick mixed up and made you feel uncomfortable between your asscheeks. 

"Joon–" You said, at which he mumbled "language" in between two pumps. 

"Daddy, I want your fingers inside." You said, indulging his every whim. 

He fumbled around with his arms, securing you with his left, making sure that your backside wouldn't get too close to the edge of the seat, and cause you to fall. His right arm moved back to your front, his index and middle finger coming to your entrance and waiting, his drool sliding from his tongue down your slit and directly on his fingers which, now lubricated, slipped in with no friction or resistance. The pressure was mind-blowing, your head spinning. "Daddy, please."

"Please what?" He said, hitting his pause. 

"Make me cum. Let me." You asked, as meekly as you could. 

"Why should I, uh?" He teased. 

"Because I am a good girl." Because I love you, said an obnoxious part of your brain. 

"Then I need you to say it one last time, Vixen. I know I've tormented you, but I need to ask it once and for all. Is there anyone else?" He said, his voice almost breaking. 

"No, Namjoon. I swear to God, there's no one else. I promise it. I swear on everything that I love the most. Please." You begged, hoping that he would feel the desperate honesty in your voice. "Please. You're my only daddy. I have you, only you. I am yours." You said, and God if it felt right, if it felt true, being his, belonging to him. 

Tell him you love him, your brain said again, but you refused. 

He smiled brightly at your declaration. "We're done playing, if you want to, Vixen."

You simply nodded, batting your lashes at him. "I want to."

"Then hold tight because I'm not going to stop until you're fucking my face and screaming my name and shaking on this seat. Understood?" He warned you. 

"Yes, daddy." You replied. 

"Then hold tight, baby fox. I'm gonna eat you alive."

"Try." You challenged him. 

And that's when he pounced. His pumps became longer, impossibly tighter, and the small pause between one and the next became shorter. Your eyes locked with his, brows knitting together, lips parting in a mewl as you threw your head back. "Namjoon. Please, daddy." 

Smirking, he mixed the pumping motion with a barely-there curl of his tongue, teasing your clit with such delicate pressure that you couldn't even wrap your head around the incredible amount of tension that it was causing in your body. Your hands tightened in his hair, your moans dissolving into small giggles. 

He wanted to tell you how good you sounded, how pretty you looked, how he wanted to see this every day for the rest of his life. He loved seeing you this happy, this carried away. He loved your morning voice and your late night cuddles. He loved breakfast in bed and midnight snacks and three a.m. quickies. He loved watching you take off your bra from under your t-shirt before going to bed, he loved seeing you shiver as you went to the bathroom early in the morning, clad in his t-shirt, plain cotton briefs and a pair of socks even in the dead of winter, since he always kept you warm under the covers by holding you close. He wanted to confess it all: the heartwarming wonder he felt staring at you had when you focused while reading and studying, when you brushed your hair, when you got dressed before leaving for the day, when you stood at the kitchen counter, cooking, with your back to him, and again when you applied lotion all over your body after showering, when he kissed your nape, standing behind you and donning the zipper of your dress. 

However, he stayed silent, showing it all with the reckless ministrations of his mouth as your chest blushed, your hands grabbed his hair almost painfully and your hips snapped, your mouth opening in a silent scream. 

You hadn't even bothered telling him you were cumming. He knew anyway. His mouth became more gentle, resolving to small licks while his fingers massaged your walls deep and slow, perfectly responding to the contractions of your muscles. "Here, pretty thing." He murmured, his hair tickling the skin of your stomach. "I've got you, baby. Shhh." He calmed you down, your breath coming in heavy pants, your heartbeat going like crazy. He rubbed his soaked fingers against his thigh, briefly cleaning himself before coming up to your face, cupping your cheeks. "Are you okay, little one?"

You nodded with your eyes closed, getting sleepy. 

He caressed your face. "Open your eyes for me, baby girl, let me see your pretty eyes." 

With a beatific smile you tried to look at him, eyelids lifting, taking a few seconds to focus on him. 

"There she is, my moonshine." He cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips. "You look really happy, baby thing."

You simply moved your head in a nod. 

"Do you want more, little fox?" He asked, still fussing over you. "Can you take it just one more time, babe?" 

Licking your lips you nodded again with a giggle. 

He smiled. "You keep nodding, baby. Are you saying yes to daddy?" 

"Yes, Joonie." You whispered slowly. 

"Good girl. Can you walk, Vixen?" 

"Yes."

"Great. I want you to kneel in front of the coffee table, darling." He commanded, rising to his feet and helping you stand up. 

This would be the last time, he decided. 

He would allow himself your heaven just one more time, then he would hold you close for a few minutes, clean you up, accompany you home and let you go. He wasn't man enough to look into your eyes. He was weak and unfair. He turned you around with your back to him, his erection brushing against the small of your back. Once you were in front of the table, he moved your hair to the side, skimming the curve of your ear with his lower lip. "Kneel, Vixen."

You did. 

He kneeled behind you, moving the books and magazines on the floor, away from the two of you, while the traces of your dinner were thrown into the bag, which he would discard later. With an empty table, he pushed his palm from the small of your back to your nape, making your front adhere to the table and making sure that your hair was out of the way. "I know you love this table." He murmured. 

"I do."

"I do, too." His heart felt like a burden. Without further hesitation, he grabbed his length and rubbed his tip against you. "You ready, ____?" 

"Please."

With a groan he slipped in, the filling sensation causing a loud whine on your behalf. "Quiet." He reprimanded. 

You got a little scared at his dark voice, knowing that at this point you'd better obey. However, it lasted little. Once he bottomed out, he growled, bending down to your neck. "You good, little one?" He said, his sweet persona back in place. 

"Yes, daddy."

He was breathing heavily through his nose as he sucked at the skin of your neck, marking you. As soon as he was sure the mark would bruise and stay for at least a couple days, he released your skin. "Do you want your spanks, baby girl?" 

Your eyes rolling with pleasure, you hummed. "I want them so much, daddy. Spank me, please."

He simply breathed. "With pleasure, little one." He knew no one would ever be this good to him. 

His chest parted from your back, a small shiver settling in instead. 

The first smack was harsh, angry. You clenched around him and he thrusted in violently, growling. 

The second one hit the tender skin of your outer thigh, where it met your ass. "Daddy." You whined. 

"Quiet." He chastised again, his voice strained. He hammered into you four or five times. 

"Daddy, it hurts." You cried out, at which he stayed silent, simply spanking you again, twice, without rubbing soothingly at your skin. You emitted a shrill huffing sound of complaint, at which he answered with violent ramming into you, using both hands to push you onto his lap. 

This was not how Joon usually did it. This was not normal. With worry distracting your mind, you turned your head, looking at him. His eyes were closed, droplets falling down his cheeks. Was it sweat or tears? 

"Namjoon?" You asked, alarmed. 

He shook his head, biting his lip. "You good?" He asked, eyes still closed. 

"Stop." You murmured. 

He obeyed, exiting your warmth and opening his eyes, still avoiding your gaze contact. "Did I—?"

"Look at me." 

He shook his head. "I can't." 

"Namjoon." You reprimanded. 

As your eyes met his, you noticed they were rimmed with tears, and he was biting his lip to hold back a sob, shaking his head in shame. 

Your initial shock was followed by an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the beautiful, delicate man in front of you. 

You quickly decided what to do. 

You turned around fully, facing him as you stood on your knees, your hands caressing his cheeks. "What is it, Joonie bear?" 

He simply frowned and hid in the crook of your neck, desperate. 

"What is it?" You asked again. 

He nuzzled even more into your chest, inhaling the damp feel of your skin. "I just want it to be a good memory." He huffed with a broken whisper. 

A memory? "Why would it be a memory, Namjoon?" You asked, confused. 

"If it's our last time, I wanna be good to you." He said, and you could feel every ounce of sadness in his voice. 

Last time? "Joonie bear, why would it be our last time?" 

His shoulders shook with sobs as he stopped holding back his tears. "I've been a bastard, it's okay if you want to go." He tried saying in his most composed voice.

You frowned in confusion. "No, Namjoon."

"You want to leave me. It's okay. I need it only one last time."

You shook your head, trying to grab his chin and make him look at you. However, he strongly opposed. 

"Joonie." You murmured, hugging his head and caressing his hair. "I'm not here to leave you." You whispered. "I want to be with you." You continued. 

He shook his head even more. "I was dumb. You have every right—" 

"No." You kissed his head, caressing his shoulders, hugging him tight. "I'm not going anywhere." 

He looked up at you, his face covered in tears. 

"Oh, baby bear." You cooed, touching his cheeks, kissing his forehead. "Don't cry, Joonie." He disappeared even more into you, hugging your entire figure, dwarfing you. "Don't cry, my love." You whispered, the word tiptoeing out of your lips. He sobbed harder. "I'm so in love with you, Joonie bear." You crooned, offering him all your soul in those simple, childish words. 

"You love me?" He asked, confused, alarmed, petrified. 

"I love you, Namjoon." You repeated. 

He completely forgot his messy face and brought his lips to yours, his mouth melting into you eagerly as your tongues spoke a language that came so natural to both of you. 

Breathless, he parted from you. "I love you. I love you so much." He pressed tens of kisses on your face with such speed and pressure that you felt like disappearing into him. 

"I love you too." You giggled, trying to clean his face. 

You both laughed, elated, his hands coming to your waist, holding you closer and closer. "I wanna make love to you." He whispered. "Let me love you."

"Missionary on the carpet or cowgirl on the sofa?" You asked. 

"Why choose when you can have both?" He wiggled an eyebrow. You smiled. He smiled back. "Let's get on the sofa." He replied gently. "You'll catch a cold with your sweaty back on the freezing floor."

"But no missionary on the sofa…" You cried out like a child. 

He smiled. "Do you want missionary so bad?" He kissed your temple, smiling. 

"I guess I'll be happy with anything you want." You pouted, still doubtful. 

"C'mere." He said, getting even closer. You slipped your stilettos off and he picked you up by the back of your thighs and with some strength you didn't know he had, he carried you to the sofa, careful not to step on your shoes. "I'm going to sit. Careful with your legs." He warned, plopping down as carefully and as gently as he could, mercifully avoiding to sit with your calves underneath him. 

"Don't worry, I won't make you ride me, baby." He kissed your brow. "You're too tired for that." He cradled you to his chest, offering you a bit of his body heat. "Can you push it inside you for me, love?" He asked seducingly, kissing your neck. 

You smiled and reached between your bodies. He was already pulsating, you knew he would come undone in a few strokes. Slowly, you lifted your hips and pushed his tip inside, making him groan. 

"You're always so tight, babylove. Fuck, you feel amazing." He sucked at your neck some more, drawing a twin bruise to the one you had on the other side of your throat. "I feel like a fucking teenager with you. I can never get enough." His hips jutted a little, pushing into you while his forearm around your waist pulled you down, his hand gripping your ass. 

"Daddy." You breathed out, your forehead pressed against his neck as he bottomed out. 

"Yes?" He replied, soothing you with long caresses down your spine. "Does it hurt, doll?" 

He had so many nicknames for you but you couldn't wait for your next. "No, daddy." He held your face away from his shoulder. "Are you sure babylove?" 

Your face stretched in a slight grimace. "Maybe."

He giggled and kissed your cheek, sliding down to your mouth. "I'm sorry, Vixen." He pressed his lips to yours once and then again. "I'm so sorry, baby. For everything." He combed your hair back. "I can't promise you I'll never hurt you, but I can promise I'll try to make it better every single time." He held you close as your brow furrowed. "I love you." He whispered, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressing on your lower back. 

"I love you too." You said right back. "But please, Joonie…" 

"Need me to move?" He asked.

"I want you to cum." You murmured. 

He smirked and nodded. "Want me to finger you?" He asked, already drawing short thrusts into you and helping you ride him with his forearm around you. 

"Yes, please, daddy." You whined.

His right hand left the crown of your head, coming to the top of your thighs and beginning to draw small circles at the apex of your labia, the flat of his thumb wide enough to cover your bundle of nerves entirely.

"Would you like to take your time, Vixen?" He asked kindly, knowing that sometimes it took you a bit longer than him to actually get worked up. 

"I just need you to keep going exactly like this. You're perfect, Joonie."

He grunted and started pushing into you from below. "Like this?" He said, his voice a tad strained. 

His thrusts were low and deep, curling just enough to hit your sweet spot. He realised you started holding your breath. Usually that meant you were close. 

He bent his head, looking down where your bodies joined. It was hypnotizing, his thumb drawing perfectly identical circles. He started kissing and licking any and every inch of skin that came close to his mouth, your shoulder, your chest, your neck, sucking whenever he managed to grip the skin for long enough to bruise and mark. 

When you started shoving yourself on him, bouncing in earnest, he kept his cool and stopped fooling around, staying focused on lasting long enough, doing the exact same thing, knowing that with a few thrusts delivered just right, you would become like putty in his arms and he could just get crazy and chase his high. 

With your lips parting in a high pitched moan, you pressed your hips to his two more times before your chest collapsed into his with a tired whimper. "Take what you need." You murmured before propping yourself with your forearms against the back of the sofa, lifting your hips. Your face was pressed at the crook beneath his jaw, your tongue blindly chasing the droplets of sweat sliding down the column of his throat. He emitted an animalistic groan before his palms thudded heavily against your glutes, gripping your hips so hard that both his knuckles and your flesh turned white. And then he started ramming into you from below. The sounds in the room were a mix of his grunts, the smacking of flesh and the wetness between your legs, but more quietly, under all those layers, in between a groan and the next, there were his whispered love declarations, which poured out of his mouth like prayers, until he was so close, so fucked out that he could only repeat 'I love you', over and over, interrupted only by a final howl as he spilled inside you. 

In all of this you had tried to stay quiet, shushing him and kissing his neck, not sure that you were allowed to mark him. 

You laid both exhausted, his body sliding sideways down the sofa, trying to rest on the seats, his head laying on an armrest as his ankles dangling from the other. You covered him like a blanket, your hair draping over his chest and tumbling down the edge of the sofa. 

You were both sweaty and messy with cum and drool, still you simply laid there, until you felt too cold and shivered. 

"Blanket?" You asked. 

He shook his head. "I'd better dress you and take you back at mine. I can go home tonight. There's no use working late. I need to rest anyway."

"Are you sure." You asked, touching his face. 

He kissed your wrist. "Sure."

"I have to clean your chair first. I should have some wet wipes in my handbag." You mumbled. "And I should clean myself too before I drip on your lovely sofa."

He hummed, tired, fake-crying as he said "I don't wanna get up."

"My bag is right beside the sofa, just stretch your arm backward." You directed him. 

He fumbled around a bit, moving the bag from behind his head to your side, where you could easily reach inside. After a bit of rummaging, you fished out your wipes, making a quick work of pulling him out and cleaning yourself. 

"Cold." He muttered with a pout, which you kissed away from his face. 

"Come on, baby bear, get up and get dressed. I wanna shower with you and shower you in kisses." You pampered him, trying to convince him to get ready to leave. 

He whined as you sat up, quickly dashing to recoup your underwear. Once you were wearing it, you cleaned his chair, quite happy when you noticed that it wasn't half as bad as you though. When you turned, you noticed he was staring at you, already completely dressed, your dress in his hands. You moved closer.

"Up with your arms, love." He said gently, and for a second you realised that your simple and emotional confessions weren't a mirage caused by arousal or desperation. 

You followed his instructions as he helped you wear your dress, slipping it over your head and helping you find both sleeves. Next he gripped the hem at both sides, delicately rolling the fabric down your body. Once it reached your knees, he let his hands skim back up your hips and waist, crossing his wrists behind your back before squeezing your ass. He stared at your throat. 

"Will I have to wear a turtleneck for the next ten days?" You asked, slipping the neck of your dress aside and checking the damage. 

"Sorry." He murmured. 

"It's okay. I like it. I'm just teasing you." You said with a playful smirk. 

"Brat." He mouthed with a snicker, bending down to pick up your tights. 

You tutted, stealing them from his hands. "Let me do these, they're tricky."

He simply stared, his body trembling with a new tide of arousal at the mannerism you used to put on the garment, rolling up one leg between your thumbs and forefingers, pressing your toes against the stitching and dragging the nylon up your leg. He had seen this scene in an old Italian movie, but seeing the gesture in real life helped him understand the frenzy that the main character experienced after such an act. After you repeated the movement on the other leg, his mouth practically salivating, he watched some more as you fixed the gusset and the waistband, stretching the garment around the curve of your ass. 

"Call me whenever you need to wear those." He whispered in marvel and agony. "I might take them off you just to see it all over again."

You smiled coquettishly, grabbing your coat and wearing it. 

He kneeled in front of you, holding one of your shoes. "When's your birthday?" He asked, making you lift one foot as he slipped your heel on. 

You frowned, the connection unknown to you. "Mid-november. Why?" 

He held your other shoe and you held onto his shoulder as you lifted your other foot, wearing the black stiletto. "I loved seeing those on you tonight. I might buy you another pair or eight as a birthday gift."

You shook your head and laughed. "I don't need a sugar daddy, I'm happy with my plain, regular one." He rose to his feet and you grabbed his cheeks, planting a big, fat smooch on his mouth. "I'm actually very, very in love."

"Hello, Actually Very, Very in Love. My name is Head Over Heels — he pointed at your shoes — in Love. Pleased to meet you."

You laughed and he felt his heart explode with joy, his nose brushing against yours with Eskimo kisses. "Your bag." He said, bending to pick it up. "My bags." He said, collecting his tote and the small paper bag with his belongings that you had brought him. He neared his desk, checking the various devices. "Equipment off, computer off–" He mumbled as he moved the mouse to shut down the system. Meanwhile you fixed the low table, putting the magazines back on top of it. He switched off his table lamp and moved towards the door. "Dinner." He reminded himself, picking up the trash bag by the entrance. "You ready, Vixen?" 

You hummed in confirmation. 

"Let's go." 

#bangtan smut #bts smut #bangtan sonyeondan #namjoon smut #namjoon one shot #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fic #Namjoon x reader

[actualbird]

AFAHSJSSK ITS OK!! I just wanted to make sure it didn't get lost in transit or smth b/c ik tumblr is an abyss sometimes and likes to devour things AFAGAJS. 😂

I actually totally forgot that I asked about nxx polycule meeting mc's parents, so whenever u have the time, I'd love to hear more about that from u...and whatever my original question was for it 😅

IVE READ THE WHOLE SHIP TAG FOR DARIUS/ARTEM TOO! it is *sob* so small, but very very good! There was also a single marius/artem/darius fic in there that I Think about A Lot. It's a very delicious sandwich of age and height difference and a lot of other things haha

YES YES YES! I love how in darius/artem, darius is the older one b/c with the other nxx members, artem is the oldest, so it's an interesting dynamic. Their dynamic in general is SO GOOD I love the few moments we see them interact in the game. (also also insert horny thought here about darius' stubble and artems thighs 🙈)

Oooo looking forward to outsider pov darius fic on the nxx team whenever u get to it 👀 we just need more darius content in this fandom in general in whatever capacity that may be. (Also I hate that my 1st thought when u said that darius looks tired was "yeah I'm sure he definitely has a reason he looks tired all the time *winky face*" AFAHSJSJ- (darius has a secret lover, mayhaps?))

For my marluke question: yes, they're so funny!! I love the way u write them, their banter is always my favorite part of ur fics. Oooo I really like ur point about them being two stubborn people that push each other. It's always interesting to have a dynamic where the characters push each other in productive ways and where they are able to inspire each other to new heights, but they do so in very supportive ways where there's this equal give and take between them, and you see how they grow both together and individually. I love it!

I've been doing well too! just really busy, but I enjoy reading ur blog posts and catching up on ur tot thoughts and analyses whenever I get a break!

- 🐍

eyyo, snake!!! ( ﾟ▽ﾟ)/

irt asks MIA: oh man, felt. ive been using this website for a Very Long Time and am well aware of it's voracious hunger for certain asks kjgksg.

irt nxx polycule meets mc's parents: YEEEE, I'LL DEFFO get back on the topic. eventually. someday. who knows? certainly not me. i want to but i have a veritable PILE of ideas and topics im working on omg.

irt that sandwich: oh my ggOOOSSH I READ THAT MARIUS/ARTEM/DARIUS FIC. it was very good i loved it because 1) hoo boy, artem as the so called hinge in that poly relationship is incredibly fascinating and 2) ARTEM GOT DP'D?? TWO DICKS??? IN HIM??? AT THE SAME TIME???? everyday we are blessed.

(sidenote: another reason why i havent written darius yet is because his name rhymes with marius KJBKJKGSD. if ever i write him, i think i'll ONLY call him by his last name, morgan. tot eng localization team, why did u do this? ur making shipping harder...)

irt darius and artem dynamic: their canon interactions are GREAAAT. one i remember very clearly is main story 5.1 (or .2 or .3, not sure) where darius was like "hear that, wing? he wants to sue you. who would you get as your defense attorney, if that happened? that partner of yours---" and then artem is like "Stop." which is SO FUNNY and indicative of the fact that darius is comfy enough to playfully jab at artem like this and that artem seems to be used to it HAHA.

irt horny: ah. your horny thoughts and my horny thoughts shake hands. obsessed, im OBSESSED with artem shivering at the feeling of darius languidly dragging his stubble face across places where artem is most sensitive.

thighs is very good, yes. but im also thinking that if darius wants to be a rascal, he could just give artem a nuzzle on the neck at the station and artem is like "ALRIGHT. WE'RE LEAVING." because he gets so worked up just from that. i mean, how could he not? every time he feels that sensation, it's always followed by....much more intimate sensations. darius morgan has pavlovian conditioned artem wing to get horny at stubble feel. BLESS UP!!!!

irt why darius looks like he isnt getting any sleep at all: JSBGDJKSGKSD!!! HES TIRED BECAUSE HES FUCKIN ALL NIGHT!!!! i second the motion because it's hot and also hilarious

irt my wonderful baby boys: hhhh im glad u like how i write marluke!!! im on a mission to just flood the marluke ao3 tag, i live here now (but will occasionally make grocery trips to write for other ship or no ship tags) but i do get worried like oH NO AM I WRITING A FLAVOR OF MARLUKE THAT LIKE....SUCKS??? so ur words mean a lot :'). and YEA. characters who push other characters and also the story are just so much fun to work with.

oftentimes when im writing marluke, all i have to do is put them in the premise. and like....the characterization i have for them, they make all the choices from there on out. i, as a person, dont have to make the decisions, if that makes sense? theyre doing it for me.

truly, writing for me just feels like me running around and filming a documentary of little guys in my brain.

glad youre doing okay!! and i hope you have a nice day :DDD

#once i have a bedrock of characterization i just keep plopping characters into premises #like a terrarium #and then i watch and see the ensuing emotional WWE match #asks #snake!anon

[kookiesjoonies]

bad day | knj.

main pairing: idol!namjoon x reader (established relationship)

fic type: drabble

word count: 658

genre: fluff

warnings: themes of depression if you squint ig?

summary: namjoon leaves the studio early to come home and be with you while you’re feeling down.

a/n: i wasn’t feeling the greatest, so i wrote this to be purely self indulgent. i know that many of us feel down sometimes with no rhyme or reason, so i feel like this is super relatable. if you’re feeling like this, i hope it makes you feel better. and just fyi, i’m always available if any of you want/need to talk. xo & also, quick thank you to my angel lindy, (@ppersonna​) for reading this for me! 

May 4th, 2020. 8:52pm.

Me: hey baby. you gonna be home late? 

Joon: Shouldn’t be much longer now. Two more hours at the most.

Me: are you doing anything like, super important right now? i mean, can what you’re doing wait until tomorrow?

Joon: It could. Why, is something wrong?

Me: i’ve just… had a bad day, and i really wish you were here. 

Joon: On my way.

Namjoon was home twenty minutes after his last text. You were lying in your shared, king sized bed waiting for him as you re-watched Friends for the millionth time. 

Your hair was a mess and in desperate need of a wash, but you couldn’t be bothered to wash it today. You were lounging in one of Namjoon’s old shirts, one that he’d outgrown years ago, along with a pair of stained grey sweatpants. 

It was just a bad day, like you’d told your boyfriend through text. There was no rhyme or reason as to why you felt so down, felt so bleh. But you did, and it was as though all of your energy had been sucked right out of you. 

The familiar shuffle of your boyfriend’s feet could be heard as he made his way from the hallway into your master bedroom. You offered him a gentle smile as he stripped himself of his denim jacket, folding it and letting it rest on the back of the leather desk chair in front of him. 

“Hey, you.” He returned your smile with one of his own, kicking his shoes off at the foot of the bed. 

You felt the weight of the memory foam mattress shift as he crawled onto it and laid down beside you, immediately pulling you against his side.

“Hi.” You sighed, your head resting on his chest as your leg swung to lazily lay over his. 

“What happened today?” He questioned, carding his long fingers through your head of thick curls. 

You shrugged, tilting your head so that you could look up at Namjoon, “Nothing? It’s just… been one of those days, I guess.” 

He simply nodded, pressing his soft lips against your temple. 

“I’ve got you now, it’s okay.” 

Your lips tugged into a smile, and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing you. The kiss was slow and sweet, his thumb on his free hand coming up to graze along your cheekbone. Your palm rested on the side of his face as your lips moved against his and you savored the very taste of him. He always seemed to taste like a mix of coffee and caramel. He tasted warm— which made sense in every single way. Namjoon was a warm person, so of course his kisses were warm too. 

“I’m sorry that you had to come home early.” You frowned as the two of you pulled away, and he responded immediately by shaking his head. 

“Baby, I didn’t have to come home. I came home because you needed me and I wanted to be here for you.” His voice was gentle as he spoke, and you were suddenly very aware that you were the luckiest girl on the planet. 

“I love you, you know that?” You smiled up at him then, and a quiet chuckle emitted through his lips. 

“I had a feeling,” his lips found their way into your hair as you laid your head back onto its rightful place on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, inhaling the sweet scent of your fruity shampoo, “I love you, too.” 

You spent the rest of the night tangled up in each other, and Namjoon made you smile every chance that he could. And you were thankful for that— for him, and you were eternally grateful that you found someone who loved you on your bad days. Even when you couldn’t find it within you to love yourself, that was okay. Because he loved you enough for the both of you. 

© kookiesjoonies 2020.

*do NOT reupload/repost on any site, translate without my permission, or claim as your own.

#bts #bts imagine #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #bts reactions #bts drabble #rm imagine #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #namjoon one shot

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

I will never forget the day we met - A Ty & Anush Fic (snippet)

Here is a snippet of my Ty and Anush fic! It's about their growing friendship (which may or may not evolve into something else...) at the Scholomance. The events are set after The Lost World. Shortly after Ty has received the Herondale heron shaped pendant from Kit (through Magnus), he gets wind of a certain letter from Tessa to Magnus which mentions a girlfriend...

****

Anush hated Monday mornings at the Scholomance. Breakfast was taken, as it was every single day of the week, in the dining room, which looked like the inside of a cathedral, with a high ceiling, rough cold stones and narrow windows.

Every second Monday though, there was always a crowd gathering in the main hall, where a large black board had been hung next to the entrance of the dining room. On it, in thick white chalk, were inscribed the initials of the ten students who had distinguished themselves in the past fortnight. They were ranked, first to last, every two weeks.

It was the same show every time, Centurions huddled together and craning their necks eagerly, and Anush wondered why they even bothered checking. The initials for the first place had been consistently the same since the school year had started. TB. TB. TB. TB. For Tiberius Blackthorn.

Fighting for next ranks were Seela and Joshua. The Scholomance being more about brains than muscles, Seela usually landed the second place and Joshua the third. There she was, her dark ponytail bobbing, half smug half furious she had been beaten yet again by the youngest of them all.

Anush remembered his first day back at the Scholomance, after the end of the Cold Peace. Divya had introduced him to Seela and he had immediately found her pretty. She had an angular face with smooth golden skin and big dark eyes, framed by black silky hair. But she had barely spared him a glance, looking past him for any more interesting acquaintances. She had won several national chess championships and, Divya, always kind and helpful, had pointed Tiberius Blackthorn in the crowd. “You should play him. Diego told me he loves to play chess and he’s pretty good at it.” Seela had looked the Blackthorn boy up and down dubiously. He was standing awkwardly, looking like a frightened little bird next to his big brother Julian, who was clutching his sibling’s arm tightly, his blue-green eyes shooting daggers at the throng of admirers closing in on them. “That little boy over there? I play chess. I don’t babysit.” Anush had disliked her there and then.

Wall that served her right. Seela. Rhymes with karma, karma, karma.

Joshua, on the other hand, had always been a nice guy. Even now, he took his third position gracefully, flashing a smile of perfect white teeth against dark skin, like the younger version of Idris Elba that he was. A group of giggling girls were surrounding him, as usual. Not only was he a hunk, he also had amazing weapon skills. Some called him the “new Perfect Diego”. He was the guy who had it all. Still, even in combat, he was no match to TB, who had apparently received excellent training at the LA Institute.

Suck it up, bitches, Anush gloated, as he weaved past the legion of Centurions and joined the dining room. He started piling up food on his plate. He always had his biggest meal at breakfast because he hated the food they served at lunch and dinner time.

He had set himself a task that day and was eager to go through with his plan. When his plate was so full he could almost hide behind it, his gaze went directly to the far end corner of the room, where one could usually find Tiberius Blackthorn sitting alone, eating quietly, a book propped up in front of him.

And there he was, exactly where Anush had expected him to be.

He approached making deliberate noise, so as not to startle his prey. It worked. TB looked up, his fork frozen mid-air.

Up close, he looked fragile and delicate. Or maybe it was because Anush had witnessed him collapse a few days before and had brought him to the infirmary. He wondered if he had health issues, but that wasn’t the type of questions you asked when you were trying to make a new friend. And that’s exactly what he planned to do. TB seemed to be a nice guy, and Anush had taken care of his Carpathian Lynx after all, when the boy had been ill. The scratches he still bore on his arms were evidence of that.

But just as he opened his mouth to speak, he heard them. The mutters he was used to suffer behind his back. But this time was different. It was not only about him.

“Look. Joshi made his way to Blackthorn."

"Do you think he is going to apologize for what the Cohort did to his twin sister?"

"We all know they are responsible for her death. They could as well have been the ones wielding the sword.”

"Those bastards laughed at her funeral."

Anush froze. He had assumed Tiberius’ reserved demeanor was only shyness. Had he been mistaken? Was there something else?

The Blackthorn boy straightened up as if he was about to say something, but whatever it was, Anush never got to hear it.

He had already turned on his heel and fled the scene, his breathing uneasy.*

Everything changed two days later. The Centurions had been summoned to gather in the amphitheatre which also served as a training room. Anush sat on a bench, in the second row, his hands folded in his lap. The buzz of voices subsided as the martial arts instructor came to stand in front of the students and gestured for quiet. He was to make an announcement on behalf of Jia Penhallow, who was spending the week at the Los Angeles Institute for family reasons (apparently her daughter Aline and her wife Helen Blackthorn were contemplating adoption).

“Until now, we have tested you individually. We have identified – you have uncovered or confirmed – your strengths and weaknesses. From now on, you will be working in pairs. Starting tomorrow and until the end of the year. This means you share points… and rank.”

A chatter erupted in the room. Grades, and above all rank was everything at the Scholomance. They were all elite, but who wouldn’t want to be the elite of the elite? Depending on your rank, you belonged – or not – to the Primi Ordines. The First Order. The Holy Grail. Amen.

All eyes flickered to the slender figure of Tiberius Blackthorn, who was lounging on a bench at the far end of the room, totally oblivious of his surroundings. He was playing with a silvery item in his hand, turning it this way and that. Anush realized he seemed much happier than usual, his pale face alight.

The instructor called names randomly and, one after the other, the students filled in the name of the fellow Centurion they would be pairing with until the end of the year. There were heated discussions, tears shed. It was a big deal. The only one who seemed unconcerned was Tiberius Blackthorn. Of course. He didn’t care who he would be partnered with. He just had to say the word, and anyone would crawl – vows of eternal friendship broken in the blink of an eye – and stand next to him. First place. A spot in the Primi Ordines without breaking a sweat.

Anush needed to be strategic. TB was not even an option. Who else? Anush was not nearly as strong as Joshua or as clever as Seela, and they would probably pick someone who mastered another subject. He needed to find someone like him. Not excellent, but not mediocre either. Too bad they didn’t teach music at the Scholomance.

Why not Liam? He sat next to him in Faerie studies, and they had made small talk several times before the class started. He wasn’t particularly bright or skilled, where Centurions where concerned. They had all been top of their classes at their Institutes or at the Academy, but that was the Scholomance.

When the instructor called “JOSHI,” Anush moved to stand before Liam. His palms were sweaty.

“Liam,” Anush asked, his mouth dry. “Want to pair up?”

Liam looked at him with undisguised contempt. It almost shocked him. What had he done to deserve it?

“Hmmm, I’ll pass. I don’t really want to pair up with a coward.”

“WHAT?”

“Well, you were with the Cohort, weren’t you? Then you fled from a battle, and they made you do the chores.”

Most of the students around paused in their babbling and… either snickered or stared at Anush in disgust. His gaze moved automatically to Tiberius. He wasn’t looking their way, but he seemed to have suddenly stilled, as if he was listening in.

“I changed sides! I fought in the battle of the Imperishable Fields!”

“Yeah, you betrayed them for the winning side! How brave of you!” Bursts of laughter filled the room.

“We weren’t winning then! Where were you while I was risking my life? Still sucking your mother’s tits?”

“QUIET!” The instructor ordered. They all fell silent – Centurions were obedient that way – though Liam still had a smirk on his face. “So, who’s going to pair up with Joshi?”

A terrible, humiliating silence ensued, but it was fortunately of short duration.

“I am.”

The words had not been shouted, but the quiet, deep voice that uttered them commanded attention.

Every face turned toward the far end corner of the room. Anush realized with a jolt that Tiberius was now standing. He was no longer playing with the object in his hand. He had tied it around his neck. He wore two chains now, one slightly longer than the other.

A chorus of angry voices erupted. What the hell? Why is he doing this? Why would a Blackthorn pair up with a yellow-belly and a double-crosser who used to be Cohort?

“Joshi and Blackthorn,” the instructor barked as he scribbled on his notepad.

And that’s how it all started.*

****

To be continued.

Tagging @gabtapia and @amchara :)

#the secrets of blackthorn hall #the wicked powers #the dark artifices #ty blackthorn #tiberius blackthorn #anush joshi