#‘d like to take this opportunity to apologize to anyone in the tags who is sick of me

[dirtbra1n]

the river looks different than it normally does.

it’s nighttime. the moon hangs gaunt and yellowed over his head.

more than that, masato stands knee deep in the water and watches people walk the paved riverside, red neon carving shadows into the hollows of their eyes.

the river looks different than it normally does, but so does he.

a white kimono, fitted too well, is wrapped wrong over his chest.

the water tugging at him is murky, the smell over-sweet. the kimono is taking on the color.

evidently, though he can scarcely see, it’s red.

his room is pitch dark when he opens his eyes. masato damn near throws up. moving to stand, his knees buckle beneath him. gravity acts particularly cruel in the dark.

—

aegri somnia, latin; a sick man’s dreams.

—

it’s usually green. the space outside the water is usually green. masato would even go so far as to say it’s always green. washed out, sun bleached, makes him feel a little like he’s always being watched, but it is always daytime and it is always green and the water is always clear enough for him to see his hands in front of his face as—

this doesn’t actually matter right now.

what matters is that it has never been anything but green before.

(when he was sitting cold and dying in a frozen river, that was a fluke. that doesn’t count.)

ordinarily, he stands in the river—unpaved, the riverbank wasn’t ever paved either—and watches what he’s decided has to be centuries old scenery exist, only here, to torment him.

then masato drowns himself. ordinarily.

(with the development in the subconscious violence he’s inflicting upon himself now, he figures he might as well admit that much plainly.)

masato is good with history, not that this topic takes much savvy—river valleys universally birth societies. they tend to be fertile and bursting with opportunity. lively. full of life.

all those flood myths are universal because the destruction is always catastrophic.

the overlap of history and literature here isn’t something he’s left wondering about; he’s had plenty of time stuck with himself to think it over.

what existed must be razed to be remade.

what masato is wondering is if he missed something else.

—

all those drownings, but the coffin bobbed downstream to save him only once.

but this last time… he didn’t drown, did he?

—

he doesn’t know what he was expecting.

when masato finds himself, this time, past his knees in changed river water, yellowed moon hanging over him like a sickle, deep blues of the night muffling the sound of his own breathing, lantern light and buzzing neon so red that it masks the dyed water creeping its way up the same white kimono as before…

he doesn’t know what to think. it’s horrifying. it’s gorgeous.

it has to be blood, though.

why the hell is there blood?

masato squints up at the masses of people shifting on the pavement. their faces are indistinct, their movements stiff.

they don’t so much as glance at him. he’s standing in the river with an audience for the first time and no one even looks at him.

reluctantly, he looks down at himself.

he’s bleeding.

—

it wasn’t really the first time, though, was it?

—

masato forgot how annoying it is to be in this situation. he got too used to the old scenery, and he forgot.

he only wishes that this scenery wasn’t so breathtaking. only one thing is supposed to be taking his breath away, and it hasn’t done it in… a while.

(he doesn’t remember. he figures that’s bad, but look where he is. everything, it turns out, is bad.)

his latest observation: the moon, waning and never any closer to full, is getting sharper. its reflection in the water is rippling harmlessly, but the real thing, when he squints, looks to be pointed right at his stomach.

and the water is past his hips now.

oh. oh, good.

his new latest observation: time loops, and it warps the blood in the water over and over and over again. every time the water level’s higher. every time the moon gets sharper.

every time masato is surrounded by ghosts, and every time masato is the only one dressed for a funeral service.

as the corpse.

—

so what if graduation is less than a week away. yes, masato has been waking up in the middle of the night because of an unsettling now-recurring dream where he is a corpse in a world of faceless ghosts. yes, it sucks.

but he and tashiro are playing rock paper scissors over which of them has to turn off the gym lights and make a run for the lights outside, and this is the last time masato is ever going to hold any responsibility here.

and they both keep tying on rock.

so they agree to do it together.

tashiro’s the one to flick the lights off, and they both drop into a dead sprint towards the open doors. they hear a noise. they find it in themselves to run faster.

they make it outside in one piece, and masato fumbles the key into the lock, and they fall halfway into each other’s arms from the adrenaline and the fear. and masato is laughing.

as they’re walking away from the gym, towards the front gate to head home, masato is hunched over, clutching his stomach.

tashiro walks alongside him with his hands on the back of his head, pouting a little. “we could have DIED, you know.”

so it’s like that.

—

the moon is falling. pierces his lungs clean through.

—

tashiro gonzaburou doesn’t actually dream very often. this is something he can tell you in confidence, and he will tell you in confidence.

but this is definitely a dream, and he has no idea where something like this came from.

to set the scene: he’s at the bank of a river. he’s alone. the sun beats down on him, and the glare of it on the water makes him turn his eyes away.

apparently, in this time, the river floods. it, also apparently, took basically everything with it. including the sun.

it’s night now, and everything that was green is either dark orange or blood red. dim and damp alleyways run jaggedly between impersonal skyscrapers and crumbling, very old storefronts.

gonzaburou’s scared as hell about it. it’s all really cool.

he’s standing on damp cobblestone, staring down at his scattered reflection. his hair is loose, and his roots have grown out way more than he likes. a dark kimono hangs loose off his frame. he frowns.

he looks back up and around. it looks like there are other people, but he can’t get a good look at anyone’s face. the lights glazing their skin are distorting common features, or they’re facing away from him, or their hands are resting over their eyes.

for all his sightseeing, the river never lets him forget that it’s there. from two steps away he looks into murky water, sees a yellow crescent moon flickering, like it’s trapped, in its reflection. then he sees the briefest trace of a hand, and white cloth, and bubbles surfacing.

and then he sees his room’s ceiling fan. dusty.

gonzaburou feels a little like he wasn’t supposed to see that. and he feels even more strongly that he definitely isn’t supposed to remember it awake.

but how could he forget? how could anyone forget something like that?

it was really pretty. up until he saw what looked like someone drowning, anyway.

—

masato sits up. lays down. sits back up.

he wants to break his windows. he doesn’t, though.

he was underwater looking up, and he was bleeding, and he saw the moon, yeah, but what matters is that he also saw the faintest silhouette of a person against the red light, ripples only just obscuring his face.

and then he gasped, and the water burned as it flowed into his lungs and made him heavy.

he’d been in that situation before, usually by choice, but it hasn’t ever been that thrilling.

4:00 in the morning. not a chance in hell he’s getting back to sleep.

…he has to have weird tastes, right?

—

hanzawa masato is a high school graduate when he eats shit on the pavement.

a little flatly, masato tells tashiro, “I’m usually better at compartmentalizing than this.”

tashiro, his sole witness, only replies, “I know.”

[cattyanon]

you got any more scrapnic stuff you want to share?

Gkdksgdktlabjdkgiuwvg I really do need to work on some more Scrapnic stuff, huh? I mean I have something but I just wanted to complain real quick about my brain for giving me that Sonic Prime AU idea I mentioned in the tags of that one post. And dont get me wrong! I want to work on that AU! But like now there's this other AU I wanna figure out too, ya know?

Anyways I will take this opportunity to expand upon the relationship between certain characters since I either 1. Only briefly mentioned them 2. Havent mentioned them at all or 3. Have talked about them to some degree and not in depth.

And since you've specifically mentioned Scrapnic, we'll focus on him and, in this specific post, a resident of Scrapnik Island seeing as I've talked about Scrapnic and Tails aplenty. Although before we start I wanna say I was actually considering doing Sigma first since I wanted to make these posts in the order they met... Then I realized I've barely touched on someone you guys (probably) really wanna know about.

So first up we have Scrapnic's view on Mecha Sonic!

Starting with getting something pretty obvious out of the way, it's definitely complicated between them for a while.

First we must take into consideration that the conditions for Sonic's arrival are different than canon. In this case it means it takes more than seeing that Mecha has taken up gardening to warm up to him, although it does help, as fast as in canon.

It starts out, which is also obvious, the way it does in canon with Scrapnic just straight up not trusting him. Whenever he sees Mecha it's very clear to literally everyone that Scrapnic is very skeptical of Mecha's change. When Scrapnic sees Mecha he will regularly glance at him to make sure he's up to no good. I mean sure, he's not attacking him, but who knows what he's up to! He also make sure theres a good distance between them at all times. This is because it would give him more time to react if Mecha were to attack him.

About a week of this goes by when Sigma eventually gets completely fed up with seeing Scrapnic's distrust towards Mecha. In an attempt to get him to warm up he convinces Mecha to let them show Scrapnic the flower. To their delight this actually seems to have helped. Scrapnic no longer starts regularly glancing at him when he sees him. Instead it's only whenever he gets too close for Scrapnic's comfort.

As time goes on Scrapnic starts to accept that Mecha isn't conspiring against again and might truly be good. So eventually, in a show of good faith, he decides to apologize to Mecha and give him an actual chance. He actually let's him get closer than he'd usually allow.

And as a clarification, I dont mean "closer" as his personal space. Just that he'd actually let Mecha stand next to him without scooting away. And as an additional clarification, that was just an example. I can't imagine theres many times they'd actually end up standing next to each other. Oh yeah and before moving on from this specific topic I do wanna mention something extra. Scrapnic gets a little anxiety around Mecha for quite some time, even when he starts officially giving him a chance. It does eventually completely go away though!

Scrapnic actually starts to converse with Mecha and teaches him sign language, as difficult as it might be in Scrapnic's current state.

And before anyone tries to question why he'd need to learn sign language since he speaks in the comics, it's due to an observation I remembered making. I even fact checked before I started writing the explanation below:

For more than the first half of all the issues, Mecha doesn't speak. The first time he does is through Tail's Tablet (aka the Miles Electric). But this is only after Tails had modified it to translate the Sprapniks.

There's a bit more I wanna say about this but I think I'll save it for Mecha's post.

Anyways they do eventually become friends! :D

...which will make it heart wrenching when Mecha malfunctions and reverts to old protocals.

[chaoticspacefam]

SWTOR Alliance Commander Ask Game!

Good god I found this in my drafts from like 5ever ago, oopsieee. Better late than never ig? :’)

I was tagged by the wonderful @outcastcommander, thank you Cast! :’D I’m super late to the party (as usual), so apologies for any repeat tags etc. qAq

I’m not tagging anyone in this purely because I am so fucking late to this party I’m so sorry ;w; XD but if you want to do this then go for it!!

1) Who’s your Alliance Commander? What class are they? Alignment? Random other facts you wanna share?

I actually have 2(3 counting Aria!) that all take different “parts” of the Commander storyline if you will.

Vano Shenly - Neutral Good/Light IV - Sith Warrior. The one who takes a carbonite nap, and who ends up subjected to Valkorion in her head. Aria’s wife and (one of) the one(s) who can actually keep Aria’s...murder tendencies, under control.

Saarai Ahaszaai - Chaotic Good/Light III - “Sith Warrior” (not actually a warrior and is in fact a descendant of the former Sith Royal Line, forced into exile when Valkorion/Vitiate took over the Empire as otherwise she would’ve been killed), Takes the Eternal Empress half of the Commander saga and commands the Eternal Fleet. Extremely tired of Valkorion’s shit, wants to Go Back To Her Beach Hut On Rishii Please And Thank You. XD

Aria Saal-Shenly - Chaotic Neutral/Dark II - Jedi Consular (Sith Assassin). Worked as a Sith plant for years, culminating in the Assault On Tython flashpoint battle. “Local dumbass tries to fight Satele and gets her vibes checked into next YEAR” LMAO. Vano’s wife, would fistfight Valkorion to get him out of Vano’s head if that were physically possible.  Technically not a full Commander in that she doesn’t take any of the “important” story strands but she’s Vano’s Emotional Support Commander ok? /lh

2) What’s a reason or two you like that this character is your Commander?

Vano - She was the first toon I ever did the expansions with, so she kinda got slid into the Commander role by default there. I’m also very much of the angle that the Alliance genuinely is a melting pot of all the better things from both Jedi and Sith and having Vano be (one of) the leader(s) of that really helps to show that. She’s not perfect and has done some dicey things and killed some people she shouldn’t have in the past, but for the most part just wants to solve things as peacefully as possible.

Saarai - She’s my favourite. Ahem I mean....I’m a sucker for “long lost princess taking her crown back but not in the way her overbearing ghost mom wanted her to”. Rai’s just a Very Fun character especially being a big and scary Sith who, when you get to know her is Actually A Very Sweet Person and its really fun to have her do the opposite of what’s expected and watch NPCs be super shocked about how nice/chill she is. Rai’s also the only one Strong Enough to actually kill Tenebrae when they get to that point

Aria - Honestly its just funny. Saarai or Vano try to go about things diplomatically and Aria’s first idea is always “Murder? >:)” She’s the one standing behind them with a “Want me to kill them for you? :’))” sign. Also, again, sucker for an anti-hero and Ari fits that bill to a T. She doesn’t like being nice to people but she’ll do it for her wife even if she complains about it at every possible opportunity and its incredibly funny to work with sdkjdhgjkdgj

3) What’s a reason or two you don’t like about them being Commander?

Vano - Despite being nice Most of the Time, she’s a petty ass bitch sometimes and does not know how to let things go, which creates a lot of tension with certain important alliance personnel (Koth, among others...) that makes certain plot points more difficult. There are certain points where she makes very Darksided decisions (due to stress, Valkorion’s influence etc etc) that are pretty Hard for me to stick to even if its what makes the most sense story-wise.

Saarai- SHE’S TOO DAMN NICE AND WANTS TO HELP EVERYONE INCLUDING VAYLIN. Rai please some of these people Legitimately Want To Kill You, they don’t want Hugs /hj

Aria - Same answer as above, re: “want me to kill them?” “NO”. Also when running her through that content I have to pick a lot more DS options than I myself would normally choose to because I know its something Aria Would Do and that is often Challenging for me!

4) Why did this character of all your OCs become Commander?

Vano - She’s canonically Vitiate’s Wrath, so it made most sense for her to deal with the carbonite nap side of the storyline. Also it would be way more boring and confusing if Rai did all of it lmao

Saarai - She’s my favourite. Valkorion/Vitiate/Tenebrae killed her parents and the rest of her family and for the most part I really wanted to give her the opportunity to canonically run him through for that. Girl deserved it after everything she went through cause of what he did to them. Also in spite of Vano’s other life experiences, she often backs down too easily and that’s where Rai comes in. She’s 6 ft 3 and built like a semi truck, she can intimidate people into backing off/calling off attacks without ever actually having to Get Violent, most of the time.

Aria - She and Vano are a package deal, you take em both or you get neither of them. Fully srs LOL

5) Who did they side with? Did they stay loyal or go saboteur? Or maybe you headcanon they defect properly?

At first, they side with Acina/the Empire, but especially towards the newer expansion stuff (AFTER KOTET), even Acina starts to get on their nerves and I headcanon the Alliance goes fully neutral at that point. They refuse to pick a side but can (and do) choose to get between the Imps and the Pubs before they Blow Each Other Up again.

6) Are there any NPC’s from the class stories you’d like to see/HC join the Alliance? Ex: Master Timmns, Ardun Kothe, Watcher One, etc.

YES! I HC that both Catha Niar and Cytharat go with Vano to Odessen/the Alliance (more accurately Catha replaces Quinn as Vano’s second pilot after the Quinncident, and Cytharat becomes apprenticed to my Sith Inquisitor who follows Vano to the Alliance)

I’m also kidnapping Vowrawn and Abaron (even tho Abaron has one (1) sidequest in-game I accidentally gave him Lore so he’s Mine now /hj), they join the Alliance shortly after the Iokath arc :D 

And I would love for Master Timmns to come join the Alliance too tbh, I just haven’t worked out how/when yet! 😅

7) How’s your OC feeling about the current Malgus situation?

I have not actually played fully through anything past the Tenebrae part yet so I’m not 100% sure to have an answer to this. Although, probably “annoyed”. ala “can we not leave you people unsupervised for FIVE MINUTES?!” 😂😂

8) Are any of your other OC’s part of the Alliance? If yes what do they do for the Alliance? Do they get along with your Commander?

Ni’kasi Ahaszaai - Lawful Neutral/Grey/Light I -  Sith Inquisitor. Saarai’s twin sister and Vano’s best friend. She dips out of the Empire the moment Vano and Lana do and goes with them to the original meet-up on Yavin IV, and this only cements her decision to defect to the Alliance when she discovers her twin is alive and also leading it alongside Vano. Ni’kasi is part of Vano and Rai’s inner circle of advisors, or the Alliance High Council if you will (alongside Lana, Koth, Theron, Hylo etc etc.). Ni’kasi is in charge of the Force Enclave as she’s the most experienced with the Force Fuckery side of things, in all honesty hahaha Adores Rai the most but is pretty close with Aria and Vano as well and considers them her best friend/a good friend respectively!

Merak Shenly & Ziv’erikreen - True Neutral/Light II - Smugglers. Merak is Vano’s little brother, and Ziri is the street kid he accidentally-on-purpose adopted after he found her as an orphan in a run down hospital on Taris. They work for Hylo as the Alliance’s main cargo freighter/transport pilots! They love Vano & Aria but Saarai kinda scares them. Giant Sith Lady = Scary, even if she’s Nice All The Time. Merak can’t quite shake the Sith = Bad mentality after all it was the Sith that took Vano from them on Mirial even if Rai had nothing to do with that, it’s a hurdle he can’t get past D:

Tyûk Ahaszaai - Neutral Good/Light IV/V - “Sith Warrior” - Saarai’s son and Ni’kasi’s nephew. Like Rai, he has the SW class in-game but doesn’t enter the plot until Forged Alliances/Rishii because he and Rai are hiding out there. He’s just happy to be here, honestly XD He’s not very good at fighting (and hates doing so) but he is an extremely talented blacksmith/weaponsmith. If someone in the Alliance has a broken saber or damaged armour, Ty’s the one they go to to get it fixed up uvu He adores his mom and thinks Va and Ari are “okay”. Aria’s a little stabby for his tastes. Vano’s alright but where Vano goes, so does Aria so he tends to prefer to stay away from them bc he...doesn’t really like Aria hahaha

D’leah Ahaszaai - Lawful Evil/Dark I/II - “Sith Inquisitor”/Force ghost - D’leah’s already dead by the time the Alliance is made, but she’s one of the Force ghosts hitching a ride in Kas’s head so by extension she does end up here lol. She’s the only ghost Ni’kasi doesn’t “release” after the Thanaton fight, because for the most part she kinda still likes having her mom to go to for advice 🥲 Come the time of the Alliance setting up on Odessen, D’leah tends to hang around the Force Enclave watching them teach the kids and occasionally giving the twins advice when/if they ask for it, rather than being directly attached to Kas herself, but as long as the girls are happy to have her there then her ghost ass is staying right on Odessen and not leaving hahaha Surprisingly, likes all 3 of the commanders and ofc loves her daughters tho she and Rai had a bit of a confrontation first (there’s backstory stuff they had to sort out first before they could go back to being OK :3)

I also have a (Light-side) Jedi Knight that I plan on chucking into the mix at some point but she is very much Not Fleshed Out At All rn so I can’t say any more than that currently LOL

9) How does your OC feel about Odessen? (Bonus: how do you feel about it)

They like it! It’s peaceful and balanced in the Force, what’s not to like about it? :D Saarai and Ni’kasi in particular are quite fond of it as its a bit closer to Dromund Kaas and/or Medriaas than say, Rishii was, and so it reminds them of their childhood etc etc,

Also I LOVE Odessen, I just wish we could explore more of it when not directly involved in the quest parts. LET ME GO RUN AROUND IN THE JUNGLE BIOWARE I BEG

10) How does your Commander feel about being the Commander?

Vano - She’s committed to trying to provide a safe haven that doesn’t force Force sensitives (esp. younger ones) to make an impossible choice between family & learning about the Force so she’s all in 100%. She’s not perfect and makes mistakes sometimes but that’s what her advisors are there for!

Saarai - She doesn’t exactly like it, but she understands that she has a natural air of authority and that people look up to and/or respect her. Her attitude is very much “If I don’t do this for them, no one will” sort of deal. But she’s never wanted to be a leader she just wants to go back to the beach with her son before all this complicated stuff happened ;-;

Aria - Actually enjoys it. She doesn’t like being the one calling all the shots but she’s taken surprisingly well to helping Vano with it.

11) Favorite place in the Alliance base?

Vano & Aria - I’m not really sure tbh, they really like the whole planet and don’t have a specific fav place.

Saarai - definitely the jungle. It reminds her of Dromund Kaas which she’s never been back to without having to worry about Diplomacy so she likes that she can just wander off into the jungle and sit out there and watch the wildlife for a bit and pretend that it is Kaas <’3

12) Favorite mission in KotFE?

Chapter 4 where they get the Gravestone, and Chapter 14/the Blood Hunt flashpoint where they first meet Shae Vizla and her Mandos. I care that Mando husband/wife duo so much ok. ;w;

13) Favorite mission in KotET?

Chapter 6 where you crash that big party of Vaylin’s. It’s so much fun. Also the final boss fight is p cool :’3

14) Least favorite mission in either? Why?

The fucking walker missions. That needs no other explanation LOL

15) Is your Commander successful because they’re skilled? Or are they perhaps just really lucky?

Honestly, a bit of both for all 3 of them lmao

Vano - She’s an incredibly talented saber duellist, and also has the most experience (much to her dismay) with Vitiate/Valkorion so naturally it made sense for her to be the leader as she’d know how to “deal with” him best.

Saarai - Slightly because of Luck since its Sheer Dumb Luck that she got away from Vitiate’s Inquisitors and they were too stupid to Check How Many Kids D’leah Had And Make Sure There Was More Than Just One (Kas) before they assumed They’d Won. BUT she’s also (despite preferring not to get physical if she can help it) incredibly powerful and strong so it’s nice for the Alliance to have a giant Pureblood who is Almost Bulletproof leading the battle party. Good for morale, ya know? XD

Aria - More luck than skill. Ya girl is just stupid foolish lucky LMFAO but she’s unrivalled when it comes to stealth/sneaking around so she’s got that going for her too! :)

16) From our OC’s point of view, SoR -> KotET wasn’t a fun experience, did they develop any fears as a result?

Vano - Force ghosts. And if Lana keeps trying to poke needles into her she’s gonna develop a needle phobia I swear to fucking god LMAO

Saarai - I wouldn’t say she developed any new particular fears but a running theme for her is that she worries she’ll be a bad leader/make the wrong call and someone (else) will die for it. The Vette/Torian thing was Rai’s worst nightmare qAq, also Vaylin’s death was pretty hard on her. She could relate to Vaylin and really wanted to help her (even tho Vaylin...did not want to be helped) and that weighed on Rai for a long, long time D:

Aria - Vano dying (again).

17) AU time! If your Commander wasn’t Commander, which of your other OCs would have likely taken their place?

Honestly I think it would be a hilarious disaster if Vano and Aria switched places and Valkorion ended up in Aria’s head. I think Valk would give up and leave bc he would not be able to do anything that phased Aria XD

Otherwise on a more serious note, Ni’kasi being the sole commander would also be pretty cool! And the ending would’ve worked out pretty different cause I don’t think Kas would’ve given up on taking the original Sith Empire back quite so easily so she prolly would’ve given Acina the boot in the end (not via killing her, I don’t think, but she would’ve produced centuries worth of geaneology and/or her mother’s ghost to basically tell Acina to hit the bricks cause that throne is hers so cough it up bitch 🤣)

So we prolly would’ve ended up with the Alliance taking over the Empire’s territories except Kas wouldn’t let the Republic bait her into Useless Turf Wars either, she’s also tired of that crap, so it’d prolly be just Malgus that they’d have to worry about. Maybe one day I’ll write a short AU thing about it idk. its not priority rn hahaha

18) Who’s someone your Commander hopes they never have to deal with again?

Arcann and Senya. All the way lmao Those two are not in any of the Commanders’ good books after what happened

Saarai is lowkey getting to that point with Acina now too tho. If she doesn’t stop trying to drag the Alliance into the petty ImpPub squabbling Rai is gonna throw hands LOL

19) Does your Commander hold on to/still use any titles they earned before KotET?

Vano & Aria both kept their Darth names and/or title(s)! Vano is Commander Wrath, Aria still goes by her Darth name (Canis) and is Commander Canis, though many in the Alliance have taken to calling her the Wrath’s Shadow as well because she’s usually stuck to her wife like glue to make sure nobody else tries to murder Vano again LMAO

Saarai - technically she does still have her Darth title. Just unlike Aria and Vano she hates using it. She doesn’t want anyone to feel she has more power over them which is typically associated with a Darth name, and would prefer everyone just called her “Saarai” <3

20) Share something, anything at all, you want about your Commander that you’ve not really gotten the chance to share before but really want to.

Rai may be a Reluctant Leader but at this point she’s so deep into it (and so fond of like 98% of the people in the Alliance) that even if she did get the chance to step down and leave I don’t think she would. She secretly is really glad to be able to protect and help people that have nowhere else to go :’)

Rai’s Darth name is/was Kemodu, which is a play on “Komodo” as in Komodo dragon, because the House Ahaszaai emblem is Chirikyât in his Hssiss forms and another “name” for Hssiss in canon is “Dark Side Dragon”. I lowkey wish Rai would want to use her Darth name bc its my favourite out of everyone’s but she hates using it so I don’t get to hahaha

Oddly enough Vano is probably like, the least mentally stable of the three now. What with the whole Valkorion thing. I’m not saying she’s gonna go full Vaylin but she’s defo not doing ok someone please give this woman a hug- XD

Rai is the Eternal Empress but Bioware can fuckin fight me about it being a solely-DS! title/thing. She’s a LS! Eternal Empress and I will not change that /srs

At one point Rai did offer the Eternal Throne/the Fleet to Aria instead as Rai really didn’t want to be in charge of that but in a shocking moment of responsibility Aria turned it down - she was worried that she’d make an errant spite thought about how much she hated the Jedi and end up nuking a planet by accident so she opted not to have that kinda power in her hands LOL

Aria’s Darth name (Canis) is a reference to her father’s Darth name (Noctis), who was killed by Baras shortly before the final confrontation with Vano/the SW in the DC Chamber. She was very fond of her father and wanted to have a Darth name to remember him by, and because his Tuk’ata ended up deciding She Was Pack Now she went with Canis :3

[utilitycaster]

I feel like I should apologize for that reblog of your Drizzt post I just did, all things considered, since I just read in your last ask that there's a reason you don't use the fandom tag for it. Sorry! I was following your blog for your mechanics posts and critrole content and didn't know!

Thanks, I appreciate it. With that said it led to an unfortunate chain reaction, so I have made the post nonrebloggable and will be doing so for all Drizz't posting for the forseeable future, and I'm taking this opportunity to outline my reasons. I do want to say that it's mostly because people were, as you saw, already being really fucking weird about these posts.

The first is actually on my mind because someone mentioned the Belgariad in the tags, before I locked down that post. The Belgariad was, for what it's worth, my personal Late 20th Century Epic Fantasy Series With Ehhhhh Gender Politics. My mother handed me Pawn of Prophecy when I was was in my early teens and in the precise state of the minor illness process when one has no actual fever, severe cabin fever, and the exact incorrect amount of energy to do anything to alleviate this. And so, finding myself in that same precise state, I have done as my mother once did, except the book I have handed myself is Homeland by R.A. Salvatore. Which is to set the following scene, namely, I am not at the moment feeling great, and, also at this moment, I am all of 97 pages into the ebook copy of Homeland by R.A. Salvatore. I have otherwise never read an R.A. Salvatore book nor a Forgotten Realms book nor any D&D novelization in my entire life. Outside this and the two pages of the Forgotten Realms wiki I skimmed a month ago, I have no idea what or who anyone else is talking about.

The other is that, with all due respect, as someone who came to D&D in 2016 by way of 5e and the actual play boom and who has no reverence for the Forgotten Realms, Forgotten Realms fans on Tumblr are. Hmmm. I think the best way to put it is that their understanding of Tumblr etiquette is very unique, very different from mine, and seems to inherit a lot from that of a web forum circa, perhaps, 2005.

[bitchlessdino]

HorKnee ABCs with Seventeen

A/n: Hi demons, it’s me, ya boi. I am not apologizing for what you guys are about to read. In fact, I hope you suffer. Love you 💕

Tags: too many to list, just don’t interact if you a minor

A- Asphyxiation because you know how you love the way it feels when your breath leaves you airways as Seungcheol wrapped his hand around your throat, dipping his cock deep in your warm and eager cunt

B - or how he Bites you for fun, it’s beyond the limit for fun when you see his teeth marks on the center of your ass cheek

C- Cock and ball torture because Jeonghan loves how you give him a taste of his medicine when you tease his cock they way he teases you 24/7 and since he enjoys the pain

D- or how he Doubles down, fucking you twice as hard against the glass window so anyone from your apartment complex can see who’s giving the best dicking in the world

E- Eating you out for the first time because Jisoo never felt comfortable or confident enough to do it to anyone one until you and that when he learned he loved it

F- or Fucking like rabbits given the opportunity because god knows when he’s get another free day so he takes every free day off to show you how special you are to him

G- Gagging against Jun’s cock like a routine because you just can’t start your day without it

H- Humping you through your clothes because his smiles get manic and has been waiting to have you against him all day

I- Ice cubes for experimenting because Soonyoung learned this shit online and found how fast your pussy melts one, making him cum even faster

J- Japanese rope bondage or shibari for short, he was reading up a lot online for ideas, hardly controlling himself when he has you tie him up so intricately

K- Kissing up your inner thigh because you’ve seen his fast reflexes on his tongue. Wonwoo for sure knows how to use it

L- Licking in your most private of places he’s pretty intuitive about where you liked to be licked and how you lived feeling worshiped

M- Muffling your screams, Jihoon thought the only person that should hear how good sounded taking his cock was him

N- Not letting you cum, because what better way to punish you for making him jealous was using a toy on you with his control over your climax

O - Opening your mouth wide and nice being visual appealing for Seokmin to shoot his load down your throat

P- Pushing his spilled cum back into you since you were never once allowed to waste a single drop

Q- Queen, Mingyu willing calls that you when your wet cunt is pressed against his face, using him like a seat

R - ripping up your panty hose for easy access, considering he’s a pretty destructive person, there was no harm tearing your panty hose if It’d only result in your pleasure

S- Spitting in your mouth or pussy for that matter because Minghao is a mean bitch that likes hearing you gravely moans in your reactions

T- Teasing you in public because he likes how you squirm with his fingers in your pussy at the dinner table, smile as if he couldn’t do anything wrong

U- Underwear you’ve worn because Seungkwan is consumed with you scent, fucking into his hand as he buried his face with your day old panties

V- or Vacation sex, because stroking his cock in you under a nice shade with cute cocktails was his favorite kind of holiday

W- Worrying about hurting you, all Hansol wants to do is make you feel loved and satisfy your every needs

X- E(x)planning the things you like in bed for the first time, making you vulnerable and scared but he reassures you how good he’ll make you feel as he rams in you nice and hard, just how you like it

Y- Yearning the escalation of your orgasm, not because Chan wanted to rush you, but because he fucking loved how loud and careless you get fucked like the dumb slut you are

Z- the Zipper of your dress being pulled down, revealing the skin he’ll be marking for all the world to see how you’re his and only his

[angel-anoetic]

Hello! Hope you have a great day or night ahead of you! Could I have some platonic HC's of irl!Quackity who becomes friends with the reader when they were around 10 years old. The reader had recently lost their friend in a car crash, and was scared to open up to Quackity, in fear of losing him too. But eventually, they become close friends, and now reader lives with him. How would other irl!mcyts meet the reader. Reader is gn and shorter than Quackity. Its all just platonic stuff! :D

hiii, of course! im not going to lie i got all sappy reading this, so i hope this is what you expect and apologies for taking such a long time to publish this. enjoy!

don't forget to like to save, reblog to share!

irl!Quackity x [gn!]Reader - Little Talks

genre: /plat, irl!Quackity, cc!Quackity, head canons, hurt comfort if you will

warnings: light mention of death, car crash

masterlist <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you met

You were both around 10 or 11, and he was super nice. He found you playing at a playground and decided to join you.

What he didn't know was you were there to escape the gray that had plagued your head space for the last week.

He refused to leave you alone, following you around and trying to talk to you as much as possible and eventually you had to give in.

That day before he left he asked if you'd want to hang out again, and you figured it couldn't hurt so you agreed that in two days you'd meet back up at the park.

Eventually you two became inseparable. Almost joined at the hip. If he wasn't at your house you were usually at his.

Then the one year anniversary of your friends passing hit you hard. You didn't want to speak to anyone, couldn't leave your bed, much less your room.

Q showed up and refused to leave you until you told him what was wrong. He was super comforting, telling you that you'd be okay, and that your friend wouldn't want to see you like this. He was really the one that pulled you out of a dark place.

It wasn't the last time he would have to do that, but he made it a hell of a lot easier.

When you become roommates

You both decided to become roommates right as you both turned 18, you both already basically lived with one another, why not just move out of your parents and start living your own lives.

You worried that it would drive a wedge between your friendship but instead it made you both closer, since you both recognized each others boundaries and respected them.

Late night movies and terrible sleeping schedules are all you both know, except when either of you has to study for school

In which case you both are very supportive and try to help one another as best as you.

Sometimes you get up early to make you both breakfast, since otherwise its likely he won't eat till after noon.

To be honest, I feel like takeout is a normal part of your diets, since you both can tend to be busy.

He makes fun of your bed head every morning.

How other MCYT's meet you

He gets invited to hang out with others a lot and sometimes you'll tag along.

Notably, you've met Karl and Charlie mostly.

Karl

When you met Karl he would not shut up about how lucky you were to live with Q, and begged to paint your nails.

He was super sweet about making sure you had anything you needed.

Q complained about how you both had ditched him for each other (joking obviously)

Was very sad about you and Quackity having to leave and made you promise to come back and visit sometime.

Charlie

When you met Charlie he was funny as ever and made you feel comfortable, your nerves about meeting with him irl just disappeared.

You loved hanging out with him so much that he introduced you to others, like Ted.

Absolutely no rest while you and Q hang out with him. It was a fun but absolutely crazy.

Sapnap

I feel like the first time you meet Sapnap is during a voice call.

Q walked away to go grab something and you could hear the typing so you decided to say hi.

"Hey."

"Who the hell is this?"

"Y/n."

"Oh. Hey." You guys talked a little bit before Q finally came back and you still have no idea why you didn't talk to him more prior to that encounter. You both clicked pretty quickly.

You both could build on one another's jokes and keep everyone laughing for a long time.

You get to tell him all the embarrassing stuff that Q does, which he then uses against Quackity.

Jack Manifold

Met when Quackity was doing the YLYL challenge with him.

You guys clicked really well also, and stayed on call for a while.

Quackity took this opportunity to tell Jack all the embarrassing stuff you did.

Jack was super kind yet was willing to have really heavy discussions with you, a nice change from the usual jokey atmosphere that followed him.

[mdemontespan1667]

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve seen a marked increase in hate directed at my fellow writers of DARK fics by cowardly Anons. While each and every writer has undoubtedly held their own against the stupidity aimed at them, I have reached the point where I can no longer just Like and Reblog. So settle in and buckle up. This may be a long and bumpy ride.

1) First and foremost, YOU, AND ONLY YOU, ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CHOOSE TO CONSUME. It is not your place to decide A) What someone else writes and B) What someone else reads. I follow hundreds of Blogs on the site. The vast majority contain consensual sex, fluff, angsty etc. In other words not DARK content. Non-DARK content is incredibly easy to find. Even though DARK fics are becoming more popular they are still out numbered at least 100 to 1. You either have to be specifically looking for the DARK tag or following someone who consistently posts DARK fics to find them. So if DARK fics offend you unfollow the writer or filter out the DARK tag. If a DARK fic does somehow make its way onto your feed, be a damn adult and scroll past it. No one is standing behind you holding your eyes open making you read.

2) DARK fics are just another extension of “rape fantasy” which is a well documented (both scholarly and unscholarly) phenomenon. Rape fantasy “fics” have been found in print since at least the 1600’s. They were extremely popular during the Victorian period. In fact I’d be willing to bet that your mother, grandmother or great grandmother (depending on your age) read romance novels that, at the very least, contained dubious consent sexual situations. Do a quick search of the best selling romance books of the 70’s and 80’s. Most of them contained non-consent sexual situations. Today’s DARK fic is nothing new.

3) Rape fantasies/DARK fics have ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING TO DO WITH ACTUAL RAPE. It does not in any way, shape or form mean a person wants to be violently sexually assaulted. Nor does it mean they want any other person to be violently sexually assaulted. It’s a fantasy. Make believe.

4) DARK fics aren’t written because the writer is “sick,” “disgusting,” “perverted,” etc etc etc. That’s it. That’s all.

5) DARK fics/Rape fantasies have always been a way for women to take control of their bodies. Historically (and even currently) women have had their sexuality suppressed. “Good” girls weren’t supposed to actually enjoy sex. Sex with their husband has been referred to as the “woman’s curse,” “wifely duty,” etc etc. Women who enjoy sex, actively pursue sex, have more than one sexual partner, or experiment with sex are referred to as sluts, whores, wanton, nymphomaniacs, unnatural, witches, the list goes on and on. Out of sexual repression and frustration the “rape fantasy” was born. Rape fantasies allow women to enjoy sex without the guilt. Most DARK fics include the woman orgasming, usually multiple times, which in and of itself is unusual in the real world. (Hell, women fake orgasms so they don’t hurt their partners feelings or are too shy to ask for what they need in bed). Rape fantasies give women the freedom to experience sexual acts they may have been told were “gross” ie receiving oral sex or “taboo” ie anal sex or multiple partners. DARK fics work the same way. In the enlightened age of 2021 women’s bodies are STILL being regulated. We are still being called sluts and whores for actively pursuing sexual satisfaction. DARK fics give us the opportunity to explore our sexual desires and needs in a guilt free environment. You have an earth shattering orgasm from having your pussy eaten until you cry? No shame because you didn’t have a choice. Get off from having your face fucked? No shame because you didn’t have a choice. See how this works? Rape fantasies/DARK fics are an escapist way to enjoy sex. To wallow in pleasure that you have no choice but to enjoy.

5) Some DARK fics pull in aspects of BDSM or rather subsets of BDSM. The BDSM community is a large and varied one. There are hundreds of kinks. One of the subsets includes Edge play which involves kinks such as pain, knife, fear, degradation, blood etc. DARK fics can also include some form of a Dominate/submissive dynamic. Again, it’s a subset of D/s relationships that delve into “consensual” non-consensual sex acts. Play or scenes revolve around the submissive being taken against their will, “forced” to engage and enjoy the sexual acts being performed. As with rape fantasies/DARK fics it allows the submissive to enjoy sex, in a safe environment, without the guilt. This is probably TMI but as a submissive myself Edge play allows me to fully experience my sexuality by allowing me to give control over to someone else. DARK fics serve the same purpose. (True BDSM ALWAYS involves willing partners and healthy power dynamics.)

6) People deal with trauma in a million different ways. DARK fics are a way for people to work through their feelings. NEITHER YOU NOR ANYONE ELSE GETS TO DICTATE HOW SOMEONE DEALS WITH THEIR TRAUMA. I will not expand on this because I have no idea how others deal with trauma and I will not make presumptions as to why they choose the methods they do.

7) It is perfectly normal to become sexually aroused or think a DARK fic “is hot.” It all goes back to allowing oneself to enjoy sex without the guilt. Having numerous partners at the same time, anal sex or female receiving oral sex are common themes in DARK fics. In the real world women who participate in multiple partner sex or anal sex are still, unfairly, seen as “dirty” or “slutty,” or “freaky.” However, men who engage in the same acts with women are not. DARK fics allow women the freedom they are denied.

8) Despite the reasons I have listed above, no one needs a reason or your permission, to write, read, and enjoy a DARK fic.

I apologize if I rambled on. But this subject pisses me off. It is neither mine nor any other writer's job to cater to what you deem acceptable.

(This post focuses on the cis female/male dynamic of DARK fics. “Female” could be replaced with gay, lesbian, trans, bi, asexual, pansexual, gender fluid or any other individual/gender who has been denied access to enjoy their own sexuality. I do understand that there are many other factors that affect those not considered cis female or male but, due to my own lacking, I don’t know enough to properly and respectfully address those factors. I apologize for this.)

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Porcelain Obsession•

Summary: Tamaki has a problem, a bad problem. He's obsessed, he's desperate, and he'll do whatever it takes to have you the way he wants you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Yandere Tamaki Amajiki x Reader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, noncon voyeurism, mild manipulation and sabotage, mild coercive behavior, male masturbation, panty theft, male ejaculation, cum eating. It's just real graphic, strap in.

A/N: I am hopeless, this will have a second part that will be so much more sinful with gratuitous tentacle content. Just tagged those that interacted with the posted about this fic as usual. This little series was inspire by a tiktok I saw, and I'm literally writing it for the sake of putting one zinger of line in it lol.

Playlist

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJbubhQN/

Word Count: 4,184

Part Two: Love Me Tender

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Stunning, astounding, enchanting. You're an angel, you have to be. That's the only explanation for the way you shine, surrounded by some ethereal glow.

Tamaki Amajiki has a problem. No, it's not a problem, it's completely normal to fall in love, he's under a spell. He can't be blamed for it, he never stood a chance. Although, most people would call this a problem, but only people who don't understand.

An ignorant person would have seen him watching you from around the corner for weeks, following you to your house after work under the cover of darkness, and finally, finally getting a glance into your window at night and label him as obsessed or disturbed. He should have felt dirty for that, but he didn't, not even close. He felt almost holy.

He felt like some chosen follower that was allowed to witness a sacred ritual. He watched you all evening with immeasurable reverence. He took note of the way you ate, how intently you read, but his favorite part was watching you settle into your bed and fall asleep.

As soon as he saw it the first time, it became an addiction. Watching your body curl around your pillow, clutching the fabric as you snuggled into it. How sweet you looked, so soft, so innocent. It made his chest ache, it made him feel starved. He had to have you, smell you, feel you.

That was nearly three months ago. Now, he watches you every chance he gets. The days he doesn't get to, he feels like a pitiful addict going through withdrawal. He has to at least speak with you, know your voice, see your skin up close.

During his patrol around the city he comes to the conclusion that it has to be today. He feels like he's losing breath without knowing you, captured by your existence but suffocated by the distance. He will have you, he will do whatever it takes.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

At your age, you should at least have a friend or two, maybe go out on friday, possibly even work another job. None of that ever seems worth it, not worth the time or the money or the effort to pretend you enjoy it. Here you stay, stuck somewhere in between discontent for your situation and the refusal to do anything about it.

You only have a half hour left of your shift, everyone else has gone home and you’ve been left to do dishes and lock up, as usual. You huff and puff around the shop as you complete the final closing tasks. Anybody else could have stayed and closed, they probably should have too, considering how often you shut down by yourself so they can all go home.

Naturally, you jumped at the opportunity to stay late, where else are you going to go? Certainly not on a date or out with friends. You feel slightly better about making money while you burn the hours away, so you always end up here.

The sun has set already, leaving the illumination of the shop to the awful fluorescent lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s all so mundane, so simple, so dreadfully boring.

Then the bell above the door jingles.

You roll your eyes and throw your rag into the sink, the sign says closed. Why don’t people read? You huff out of the kitchen and into the serving area.

“Hey, sorry but we’re closed right now, we open again tomorrow-” You freeze, it can’t be him, it has to be some cosplayer, some wannabe.

“I’m sorry, I just- my phone died while I was on patrol and I needed to call my boss to let them know I was finished for the day. I was hoping there would be a phone in here that I could use.” His voice is so timid, so unsteady. It doesn’t sound anything like you would imagine the voice of a pro hero to sound.

You try to stay uninvolved with any hero business, all of the flashy quirks and the gossip and the drama. The theater of it bores you to tears, and you lack respect for anyone that uses their ability to save lives as a tool for gaining popularity. You find most heroes to be so incredibly irritating. Most of them, except one.

Suneater, the emerging pro hero that has been the focus of all of your thoughts lately. You've only seen glimpses of him in the news, seen his face on the back page of a magazine, or heard his name from other people. Any evidence of his existence rapidly became precious to you. You are not some hopeless fangirl, you do not collect merchandise or follow him around and beg for autographs.

You admire him, his subtlety, how genuinely different he is from all the other heroes. He isn’t some attention whore, he isn’t some pretty boy that’s always posing for fan service. His quirk is so unique and powerful, unparalleled by any hero on the charts right now. He’s a real hero, and so much of you wanted him to be your hero.

There he stands, right in front of you, in your shop, asking you for help. He’s far more beautiful than you could have possibly anticipated. He’s all porcelain skin and inky hair, deep indigo eyes pear out from under his magnificent hood. He stands so tall, yet comes across so reserved. He’s spectacular, he’s an angel, he has to be.

“Of- of course, it’s in the back, follow me.” You say, motioning for him to come around the corner with you as you tuck back into the kitchen.

“Thank you, this is very kind of you.” He says as he follows, cape swishing behind him as he moves. You don’t know, you can’t possibly know, how badly he wants to take you into his arms and finally know what your body feels like against his, how he wants to bury his face in your hair and inhale your scent. If he could get away with it, he would, oh how he would feel every inch of you. He can’t though, not yet. He has to be careful, he has to be smart.

I will have her, and she’ll have me.

“It’s no problem, it sucks to be stuck without a phone. I’m happy to help.” You say as you round the corner to your shop’s makeshift break room.

It’s not even a room really, just a corner tucked away with a phone on the wall and a few chairs around a cheap foldable table.

You turn to him and motion to the phone awkwardly, heat settling in your chest and all over your skin. Your heart races and you can feel your palms turning wet.

“Take as much time as you need, did you uh- are you hungry?” You ask, “I’m technically closed, but I can only imagine how hungry you are after a whole day patrolling, I could throw something together for you?”

God, you’re so sweet.

“Oh no, you d-don’t need to do that, I can eat at home.” He insists, your mind fixates on the way he stutters, the way his eyes dart down and his feet shift as he talks.

“I would like to. Please? If you’ll let me?” You say softly, heart pounding even faster when he shifts towards you slightly.

How perfect you are, already asking for permission…

“Are you sure, I really don’t want to create more work for you.” He says, eyes flicking up to meet yours. His gaze makes it hard to swallow, he looks at you so intently, you almost feel like you don’t have enough clothing on.

“No! I promise you won’t be. You’d also be missing out on the best takoyaki around if you didn’t let me, and that would be a tragedy.” You say, trying to entice him with your bold claim.

“Well I g-guess, if you put it that way.” He offers you a trace of a smile.

“I’ll get started while you make your call.” You say as you move to squeeze past him in the narrow hall. As you slide by, there’s a brief, precious moment where you stand inches from each other. You don’t dare look up at him as you skate by, You know your legs will fail you if you meet his eyes while standing so close, and you can’t risk the embarrassment of dropping to your knees in front of a stranger, even if he is a hero,

He doesn’t say a word, simple stalks towards the phone as you glide down the rest of the hallway and into the kitchen.

You slip into autopilot in the kitchen, your brain is far too fixated on the fact that Suneater is down the hall, in your shop, using your phone. You clink around some pans, prepare the octopus meat and the batter and get to work. You can’t overhear him talking to anyone with all the noise you’re making, you almost want to apologize for being so noisy.

Your mind settles on thinking about how beautiful he is, how strong he looks, how easily he could overpower anyone… especially you. The thought makes you squeeze your thighs together, it shouldn’t, but holy hell it does.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him come into the kitchen, you immediately start to berate yourself for thinking that way about him. He’s a hero, he would never be interested in something like that with someone like you.

“I think the phone is down, do you maybe have a- a cell phone i could use?” He seems almost ashamed of the question, it makes your chest ache.

“Shit, that line is always being funny. I’m sorry, but I left my cell this morning.” You say, flipping the takoyaki around in their tray so they’ll cook evenly.

“I live just across the street though, I can run and grab it while you eat.” You say, desperate to help him in any way you can.

I know you’re just across the street.

He just shakes his head and bunches his cape in his fists, a very faint blush spreads across his cheeks and it makes your heart do summersaults.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing t-too much for me. You don’t need to make the extra t-trip, I can just call my boss when I’m home”

“Really, it’s not too much, if you’re worried about the extra trip you can just walk me home and use it when we get there. I imagine you would need to call as quickly as possible and get somebody on patrol now that you’re off.” You say, catching yourself a little when you sound too desperate.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable?” As he talks, he shuffles so he can press himself up into the corner of the kitchen, almost looking like he wants to melt into the wall.

“Well, considering your occupation is literally saving people, I definitely don’t feel uncomfortable, it’s not like you’re some crazy kidnapper.” You chuckle a little as you plate up the takoyaki. You try not to give attention to the twisted thoughts that enter your mind when you mention the kidnapping, pushing down the desire to be taken away from the colorless life you live.

If you only knew how badly I want to take you, to have you, keep you…

“I guess you have a p-point.” He says, taking the plate with a soft thank you. He starts stuffing his face with the spheres of breaded octopus immediately, letting a small content sigh leave his body.

“This is incredible, thank you, um, can I ask what your n-name is?” That damn stutter is going to turn your bones to jelly.

You say your name quietly, he responds by repeating it back to you, like he’s checking the pronunciation. You just nod as you open the fridge and pull out a gallon of green tea so you can pour him a glass.

“T-Tamaki, my name’s Tamaki Amajiki.” He says with his shy voice.

A warm, invasive feeling spreads through you. You have to remain calm, pretend that his real name is news to you, pretend that you haven’t spent hours searching through fanfictions listed under that name.

You chat as he finishes his food, thanking him as he mumbles compliments about you cooking in between bites. It doesn’t take long for him to take down the plate. He thanks you over and over as you clean the rest up. He stays glued to his spot in the corner until you take your apron off and hang it on the rack with the others.

“Alright, let’s get you to that phone.” You say as you grab your keys off the hook and switch the lights off.

When you turn to look at him the breath is stolen from your lungs immediately. He looks so celestial in the dark, somehow glowing in the dark. He’s stunning, he’s perfect, he’s painfully out of your league. You remind yourself of that last fact in order to still your nerves.

You turn on your heels and walk towards the door as quickly as you can without seeming rushed. He follows silently, the heavy sound of his thick cloak floating around him makes the hair on your neck stand up. He even sounds powerful.

After you exit the building, he stands with his back to you as you lock the door. His stance is protective, surveying the streets around you like a real hero. You can’t let it go to your head, it’s not for you specifically, he would do this for anyone, it’s his job.

The walk to your house isn’t really uncomfortable, but it is tense. The energy between you is painfully obvious, just not to each other. You both want to speak, ask about each other, know each other, but neither has the guts to make the first move.

While you walk, Tamaki’s head is constantly on a swivel, and he stays so very close to you. It makes your chest ache, the feeling of being so safe next to such an intimidating man. Nobody would dare approach you with him next to you. You would damn near kill to have this all the time, if not all the time at least as often as possible.

You arrive at your house after not even two minutes of tension filled strolling. Silently, cautiously, you both enter your home after you unlock the door.

"It's so cozy." Tamaki says immediately upon seeing all of the soft lights and pastels that make up your decor. He’s nearly trembling with excitement from finally being able to see inside your little world. After watching from the outside for so long, he can finally learn more about you.

"Oh, thanks, I try to keep it soft looking in here. It helps me decompress after a day at a busy restaurant." You explain, setting your keys in their dish before leading him down the hallway to the kitchen.

The house is nothing special, a simple little single bedroom, one story with a relatively open floor plan. It’s small but easy to afford and keep clean. It works for you.

“I’ll go grab the phone from my room, feel free to sit down.” You say, gesturing at the two chairs on either side of your tiny breakfast nook.

He just nods quietly, taking small glances around the rest of your house. You find his hypervigilance charming. It makes you feel incredibly secure to know he’s so aware of his surroundings.

You walk off to your bedroom then, leaving him to stand in your dimly lit kitchen.

Instantly, his eyes zero in on the laundry basket full of clothes that’s sitting on your counter. His body moves without his mind’s permission, his heart thrums in his chest once he catches something pink and lacy.

He can’t help but think you’ve done it on purpose, like you’re some spider sitting up in your web waiting for a poor little bug to stumble along and get all caught up. He’s more than willing to be that bug, and so desperate to get caught up.

He grabs the fabric quickly, as it unravels in his hands he sees what it is and his breathing stops.

It’s a pair of underwear, your underwear.

His fingers go all twitchy as he shoves his hood off to expose his pointed ears, wanting to be able to hear your footsteps.

He brings the panties and takes a deep breath in.

They’re not clean.

He has to choke back the noise that threatens to escape when he finally smells the intoxicating aroma. You smell so fucking sweet. His body reacts instantaneously, goosebumps raise on his flesh as he’s dick twitches in his pants.

God he feels dirty, but why should he? You lead him in here, after cooking for him and being so kind. You left this little gift out for him, you had to know what you were doing.

The sound of soft footsteps jolts him back to reality. He shoves the underwear deep into one of his pockets, he’ll keep them as long as he can, preferably forever.

“Sorry it took me a minute, I’m constantly misplacing everything. One of those ‘lose my head if it wasn’t attached to me’ kind of people.” You give a half hearted laugh, which he returns with a cute little chuckle as he takes your phone.

“Oh sorry about the laundry, I’m a bit of a mess today.” Hot embarrassment fills you as you grab the basket of dirty clothes off the counter and hoist it onto your hip.

“Don’t be sorry, you weren’t expecting any visitors.” He assures you, voice soft and soothing.

“I’ll run this to my room and give you some privacy.” You say, turning once again to leave him alone.

As soon as you’re out of the room his shoulders drop and he lets out a quaking breath. Having you so close after filling his mind with your smell pushed him to the very limit. He wants to grab you and lay you out on the counter, rip your pants off and shove his face between your thighs. He wants to drown in every smell and taste you can offer him. He wants to gorge himself on your sweet little cunt.

He can’t think straight. He’s fully hard, his skin is boiling and his mind is fuzzy. He has to get out of here, he has to get to somewhere hidden, Somewhere he can fuck his fist and think of playing with your soft body. Maybe, just maybe, if he stuffs your panties in his mouth he can taste a trace of you.

When you return he says a very quick goodbye, says something about stopping by your shop again so he can see you again. He doesn’t know for sure what words he uses, he’s too focused on getting out before you notice his erection, before you smell the shame wafting off of him in thick waves.

He has to go before he makes a mistake, before he ruins all of his plans.

You follow him to the door to let him out, bidding him goodnight with your gentle, enchanting voice.

You’ll never know that the phone at the restaurant worked fine, that he never even had to call Fatgum. You’ll never know that he stole from you, that he almost lost it and took you home with him. You won’t ever know that he’s not going home now that he’s left your home.

Urgently, he swoops around the corner of your house, heading straight for your bedroom window. His pants feel so tight it’s maddening, he’s frantic, he’s slipping.

As soon as he reaches the bedroom window, his favorite window, he slumps against the building with one arm as the other shoots down to his pants. He takes a quick glance around, noting that the lights in the surrounding buildings are all out given the hour.

He should be safe.

Then you walk into your room, the image of you is distorted slightly by the white sheers you have up, but only slightly, only enough to make you look like some fuzzy apparition.

She uses these curtains on purpose, she wants me to see.

You have no interest in showering tonight, now exhausted and confused. Did you say something wrong? Why did he take off like that? He did say he would see you tomorrow, though, which gives you a bubbly feeling.

You strip your clothes off, and it shreds Tamaki’s last ounce of self control.

You little fucking tease.

You undress until you’re left in your simple white underwear.

Tamaki’s hand is in his pants the second you crawl into bed. He grabs his aching length, thumbing at his head as he watches you shuffle around in the blankets. His mouth waters when he sees your collar bones, his breath hitches when he sees the way your stomach rolls when you sit. He starts to stroke himself slowly when you leave one leg out of your blankets.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he remembers the precious gift in his pocket.

He snatches the panties out as he watches you move, as he zeroes in on the meat of your thigh. He shoves the fabric of the crotch into his mouth and bites. He bites your panties like he wants to bite your delicious looking legs.

His hand jerks more rapidly as the faintest flavor spreads across his tongue. His cheeks are pink and his eyes start to tear up as he trembles from the euphoria of knowing you this intimately. His hips thrust into his fist as he claws at the panites, pulling the fabric tight as he watches you drift off to sleep.

His mind races through every possible way he would take you. How he would ruin and claim every inch of you. The idea of you shaking beneath him, moaning his name so sweetly, begging him to keep going, maybe begging him to stop, it makes him want to break down the window.

He tongues at your panties, wishing he could swallow your slick. He feels so unbelievably envious of the fact that the fabric in his mouth has been so close to your perfect little hole. The thing he wants to taste the most, feel the most, fuck the most.

His hand tightens around his dick as he tries to imagine how tight you would feel around him. He rips your panties out for just a brief second so he can spit down into his palm, wrapping it around his cock the second the spit reaches his skin.

“Shit- fuck- shit- fucking love you.” He chokes out as his eyes stay locked on your body.

Once the panties are back in his mouth, the free hand flattens against the window.

Then you shift, hips rolling gently as you adjust your position, exposing your cute little ass to him.

“Slut- bad little slut.” He huffs out as he claws at the window. He feels his balls start to seize up as he focuses on his swollen head, fucking it as fast as he can whle he imagines you with your head buried in the pillows as you stick your ass in the air for him.

He tears the panties out of his mouth and holds the crotch of them in front of his dick, drool slips over his bottom lip as he lets out a high, broken moan while he starts to spill into them.

His body quakes and shivers as he squirts rope after rope of hot cum into his stolen prize. Tears wet his cheeks while drool soaks his chin as he strokes himself through his climax.

He chants your name over and over again, watching the way his seed ruins your pretty little panties. In his orgasmic haze, he brings the panties back to his mouth full of his own release, he laps it up as he eyes roll to the back of his head, pretending he’s made you cream yourself, pretending he’s tasting you instead.

It’s filthy, it’s depraved, but he doesn’t care, he needs it, he’d die without it. He swallows the rest of his own cum down with a greedy whine as he watches your perfect form lay there so peacefully.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, how many more times he fucks his hand while he watches you sleep, only to leave himself covered in sweat and cum and shame. Somehow, he finds himself walking away, as much as it hurts, he knows he can't indulge himself all night.

Once he’s finally home, he collapses, body buzzing and addicted. He sleeps with your soiled panties clutched in his fist. He wakes up with one thought on his mind, he needs more.

[princessjungeun]

Hey Beautiful: Jennie x Reader

Request: Hii :) i have a request for jennie x femreader, where the reader is a famous idol and Jennie has a crush on her. They attend the same award show and at the end when they are backstage the reader asks Jennie for her number. Then they go on a date or something just cute stuff (fluff i guess😅)

A/N: I’ll write a continuation of this if you’d like for the date part :D

Awards show season was in full swing and you were to attend the MAMAs tonight. It was your first time attending without a date, usually your best friend tagged along but she was working the night shift at her job so she couldn’t make it. 

You were already in your dress and your glam team was getting your hair and makeup done before you were to leave. This had been going on for hours and you were simply exhausted and hungry, the only thing keeping you going was knowing that you’d be seeing some friends of yours later in the evening. 

It took two hours but eventually your hair and makeup were finished and you were cleared to leave. Your manager sat across from you in the car, a smile on his face as she teasingly asked, “so anyone you’re excited to meet in particular?” 

You knew exactly what he meant, there was one person that had showed an interest in meeting you for months, Kim Jennie. To be honest when she said she was your fan in an interview, you were a little surprised. Despite being one of the most popular female soloists at the time, you were still shocked when you heard artists you looked up to liked you. 

Jennie in particular had mentioned on many occasions that you were her ideal type and she’d date you if she had the chance. Blinks and your fans shipped the two of you heavily as well. Most of the time you hated when you were shipped with people you never met because it made for uncomfortable times when you actually did happen to meet them. It’d happened in the past when people shipped you with a popular member of a boy group, he was to produce a song with you. However with all of the shipping flying around, you didn’t want to risk you or him getting involved in a scandal that would just add fuel to the fire. But with Jennie you entertained it, saying you’d date her too and she was your ideal type as well. Fans had been praying for an interaction for the longest and you knew you two were probably going to cross paths tonight. 

Once you’d walked the red carpet and avoided falling on your face, you were escorted inside to find your seat. The idols on the plus couch across from you were TWICE, the girls greeted you warmly, especially Nayeon who happened to be a close friend of yours. 

She scooted closer to you, and started catching you up on everything that had happened in the past month because you two hadn’t talked in a bit. You were both performing tonight, she wasn’t nervous whereas you were for the first time. 

Before Nayeon got up she nudged you gently, using her head to point you towards a familiar idol. You squinted, having forgotten your contacts at home, you realized it was Jennie, sitting with her members and talking to them. Nayeon stated, “I’m gonna call her over.” 

You panicked, “No no, not yet. Don’t call her over- Nayeon I sweat to god-” YOur friend only laughed, waving the girl down and mouthing to her from afar. You froze, trying to look everywhere but at Jennie, this was not how you wanted to meet her for the first time. Giving up, you hid your face in Nayeon’s shoulder, your face beet red as you laughed, the rest of Twice laughing and teasing you playfully. 

Nayeon patted your head, “she’s gone.” 

You peeked from her shoulder to make sure she was serious and not playing a prank, and she was. Jennie was now talking to Irene, facing the other direction and not paying you any mind. 

Nayeon told you, “you’re gonna need to work on that. She also said you’re cute...you missed it while you were hiding.” 

You smacked her shoulder and said, “I wouldn’t have had to hide if you just left her alone in the first place Nay. That was so embarrassing please never put me through that traumatizing experience again.” She sighed and said “okay fine, but you should talk to her before the night ends. She really does like you.” 

Nayeon scooted back towards her members and you focused straight ahead for the stage. As performances went on and awards were given out, you felt your heart race knowing that your big performance was coming up. 

A staff came and got you from your seat to escort you backstage during a break. Your manager was already in your dressing room with your stylist, both of them getting everything you need for your performance. Your dancers were warming up as well in a corner. 

You changed and start to warm up your vocals as well as your body, it was a new song and a new choreography which you’d never performed in front of such a large audience. The dance break was what you were most worried about because you hadn’t had a lot to time to practice in your shoes so you were afraid of messing up and hurting yourself. 

Your manager noticed the look on your face, “Hey don’t be nervous. Everyone in that crowd is your fan. You could go out there and just breathe into the mic and everyone would still lose their shit. So go out there and do your thing, I’ll be watching from in here. You’ll do great, stop worrying babe.” He always knew the right thing to say, he was like your best friend and soulmate all at the same time. 

You hugged him, “Thank you, I’ll meet you back in here when I’m done.” 

The dancers pulled you into a huddle, putting your hands together you all yelled, “1-2-lets get it.” You all broke and made your way towards the stage where a staff last minute checked your IEMs and mic to make sure they were working. 

You took a deep breath before making your way to the stage, the lights dimmed before the song started. Looking at your dancer they gave you a subtle nod, and smile giving you the last bit of confidence that you needed. 

During your performance all of your nerves melted away. You hit every note and move perfectly, gaining a huge reaction for the audience. The deafening sound of fans and other idols cheering you on only made your confidence rise, and it showed throughout your performance. When you were done almost everyone was standing up, even the idols as they cheered for you. 

After you were off of the stage you pulled your IEMs and mic pack off, handing them to your manager so you could go and change once more. Your second outfit was different, more elegant yet subtle. You changed your shoes to a pair of sneakers, relived that you could finally get out of heels. 

As your stylist touched up your makeup and hair you remembered that Blackpink was preforming in a bit. You wondered if you’d see Jennie back here, Nayeon did mention that she would probably be here when you got off the stage. 

Your questions were answered on the way back out to the audience because you ran into Jennie. The woman was passing you, looking down at her phone as she was walking. 

She looked up from the device to bow as she walked by, “Oh! Y/N hey!” she beamed as she tucked her phone in her back pocket. Although she knew she had to be somewhere she didn’t care, she wasn’t going to miss her opportunity

You looked her over and tried to not let your eyes linger on her very toned abs for a second too long. She told you sweetly, “you did amazing earlier, you looked stunning.” 

Heat rushed to your cheeks the longer she looked into your eyes, you stuttered out, “t-thanks...you’re going to kill it out there, more than me definitely.” 

Just as she was about to respond Jisoo called down the hall for her, waving her over with a clearly impatient manager. 

Jennie quickly turned to you and asked, “hey, I know this is the first time we met but can I have your number? Maybe we could go out sometime?” Her hand rested comfortably on your arm, a subtle touch that still made your heart burst inside. 

You nodded, “yeah, sure. I’d really like that.” Quickly she whipped out her phone and you put in your number, saving your name with a red heart emoji. 

Jennie smiled, “I’ll text you later.” 

You told her with a shy smile, “okay, good luck out there.” 

Jennie kissed your cheek, “thanks beautiful, i’ll see you out there.” She walked past you and to her members and managers who were waiting for her. 

You touched your cheek and smiled before following a staff member that was to take you back to your seat. When you got back Nayeon took one look at you before bursting out laughing. You frowned, “what?” 

Your friend replied, “run into Jennie did you?” 

You asked, shocked at how she already knew, “wha- how did you know?” 

Nayeon swiped her thumb over your cheek a few times before pulling away, showing you the faint lipstick stained on her skin, “She isn’t exactly the most subtle.” 

You poked Nayeon’s neck with a smirk, “Well turns out you and Jeongyeon aren’t either, Nay.” Her face flushed red as she pulled the collar of her top up and brushed her hair around her neck, you let out a laugh earning a slap on the arm from her. The two of you went back and forth playfully until the lights dimmed indicating Blackpink coming on to perform. 

You watched intently as the girls performed Lovesick Girls, Jennie staring at you as she sang that last part, winking in your direction as she made the heart gesture with her hands. You couldn’t help but smile back at her, trying to hold back how flustered the simple gesture. 

At the end of the night you were finally home and able to check your phone and as promised, Jennie did reach out to you. The message read: 

Unknown Number: Hey beautiful, I’m sorry I couldn’t see you more tonight. But I can make it up to you by taking you to that new art exhibition downtown. Are you free next Saturday?

You typed back quickly, not caring if it made you look desperate or like you were watching your phone: Don’t apologize, nights like these are hectic and unpredictable. I am free and I’m more than happy to go, thank you <3

You quickly updated her contact to Jennie and broke into a happy dance when she told you what time she’d come pick you up. You’d been dying to check out the art exhibition since you found out it was coming to town but tickets sold out before you could get the chance. So not only were you going on a date with your crush, but also to check out what you’d been dying to see for weeks. 

You flopped onto your bed and sighed, relieved that the day was finally over and that you were able to end it on a positive note. 

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Worthy, pt 1 & 2

I stopped and stared up at the building in front of me. Imposing, huge, and a beacon for anyone concerned with clean energy. I had won the internship at Stark Industries research and development division by working my ass off all year, coming up with innovative and exciting ways to utilize the arc reactor technology. I’d been interviewed by Mr. Stark himself when it came time to award the position. I’d never been so excited to work in an unpaid position in my life. It was made all the better by being in New York City. And even more awesome because accommodation was provided in the tower. Even if the internship didn’t lead to permanent employment at Stark Industries after my sojourn there, it would be a resume jackpot. 

I stopped at the main security desk and picked up my passcard. Elizabeth Carmichael. It sounded much more glamourous than Ella did, but I’d never been called Elizabeth in my entire life. Always Ella, except from my Nan, who called me Bethy. I clipped the tag on my blouse and headed to the elevator. The email from the HR department had been clear: pick up your passcard, and report to the main office of R&D on the 55th floor. I pressed the button and waited for the elevator to close. A hand reached in to stop the door and Mr. Stark stepped in. He smiled, like he would to anyone he shared the elevator with, and then his eyes narrowed as he read my nametag.

“Ms. Carmichael! You’ve made it to the city then? Where are your bags? Are you not staying on site?” He spoke so fast I could barely follow him.

“My flight arrived late last night. I thought I would stay at a hotel overnight and then get organized to move into my room, sir.” I felt breathless just trying to keep up with his speech, and rushed through my own explanation.

“We’ll send someone to collect your things. We’re having a little social in the lounge tonight; you don’t want to miss it. Good networking opportunities. There are three of you that earned internships. Pepper was particularly excited about you. Not a lot of women in STEM, you know. So we’re having a meet and greet for the three of you. Mostly Stark staff, but there'll be some others in attendance. Angela will get you organized.” There was even information stored in the nuances of how he spoke. It was going to be overwhelming until I got used to it. If I got the chance to get used to it. This elevator interaction might be the last time I saw Mr. Stark for the rest of the summer. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out into the bright, clean research and development administrative office. I waited at the desk while the woman sitting there was on a call. Her nameplate said Angela, so I suspected she was who Mr. Stark said would organize me.

“Ella, right?” She swivelled her chair to face me. I nodded. “I’ve already contacted the concierge at your hotel to have your belongings sent over. I’ll show you to your rooms at the end of your orientation and tour. Then you can get settled.”

“I won’t be working?” I was surprised.

“Not today. Today is all about the Stark Industries machine and how you fit into it. So orientation to the labs, meet some of the people you’ll be working under, settling into your suite and figuring out your way around. There’s a meet and greet tonight.” She typed something into her computer and then rose. Without waiting for me, she headed off down a hallway. “This is the administrative floor for Research and Development. R&D takes twenty floors here, from 55 to 75. Starting at the 76th floor, the Avengers Tower begins, and you’ll only end up there if Mr. Stark wants to meet with you. Well, and for the mixer tonight. The 56th and 57th floors are all housing. Our guest scientists are housed on 56 and your suite is on 57. The project you’ve been assigned to is an offshoot of the household arc reactor project, and will allow you to work on one of your proposals. That division is on 60 through 65. Your direct supervisor is Markus Reid.” I scrambled to scribble notes and keep up with her and she led me through a maze of hallways and offices. We finally came to a halt and I was so busy scratching notes into my notebook that I bumped into her.

“Oh, god. Sorry,” I apologized. She smiled and shook her head.

“Relax, Ella. You were the top candidate. Your proposals rocked Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts' socks off. You belong here,” she reassured me. “And I’m going to email all this info to you, so you can put away your notebook.”

“Thanks. I’m feeling a bit small right now,” I admitted.

“The first few days are very overwhelming for every Stark Industries employee. It’s why we schedule nothing work-related on the first day.” She knocked on a door and hesitated just a second before opening it. “I have Elizabeth Carmichael here to sign some paperwork.” She led me into the office, and sat in a chair near the door after pointing to a chair at the desk. Another woman smiled and dropped a sheaf of paper in front of me.

“The bottom half of that is the paperwork for you that explains everything in the top half. But this is a basic non-disclosure agreement. The second one is the follow up to the initial waiver you signed when you applied for the internship, giving proprietary rights to Stark Industries, while maintaining your intellectual property, authorship and development rights. That basically means if what you’re working on goes into production, it will be a Stark Industries product, but you will be credited as the inventor. There’s some tax paperwork and a release for your university.” The woman handed me a pen. I looked up at her while I tried to process everything she’d explained.

“Tax paperwork?”

“For your pay.”

“Oh, I’m here for the internship. I’m not paid.” I thought that would be clear to an HR person.

“No, Mr. Stark pays his interns. It makes the transition when you are hired easier,” she explained.

“What?”

“Did you not read your acceptance package?” She gave me a look that suggested she thought I might be stupid.

“I did. It suggested that if Stark Industries was happy with my performance, I could be offered an extension at the end of the internship, provided my degree was complete.” At least, that’s what I’d understood from reading it.

“And you’ve already provided transcripts showing you’ve finished both your bachelor’s and master’s degrees. There were only three internships offered, Ms. Carmichael. We complete all your paperwork now with the assumption that you will be staying on at Stark Industries. If you’ve passed our rigorous application process, we feel you are a keeper. If you choose not to stay, it will be because you chose not to stay,” She explained. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I knew the internship was prestigious, but I didn’t realize exactly how incredible it was.

“Oh. Well. In that case,” I said and scratched my signature across the papers in front of me. She offered her hand. I stood and shook it.

“Welcome to Stark Industries, Ms. Carmichael.”

XXX

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Angela assured me that her email would include maps, and secret notes and tidbits that would help me remember everything, but I was so floored from the words of the HR person that I really couldn’t focus. Angela led me to the commissary for lunch and ordered for both of us. I didn’t even realize until she handed me a tray with food on it.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked. I gave my head a little shake to snap back to reality and smiled in apology.

“Sorry. I’m feeling even more overwhelmed than I was when I got out of the cab this morning,” I laughed. She took a seat at a table and nodded for me to sit across from her.

“You should give yourself some credit. You earned your place here. Pepper is really excited about having you. I suspect you’ll be the poster child for gender equality at Stark Industries for some time to come. As soon as you won that internship, your place here was secured. Probably for life,” she grinned. I shook my head.

“What if I’m a dud?”

“You aren’t though. Mr. Stark himself thoroughly vetted your application, and Pepper went through your references with a fine tooth comb. She even tracked down extra references. You deserve this more than anyone who’s ever applied before, Ella.”

“I feel like I might be sick,” I groaned. It was her turn to shake her head.

“It’s first day jitters. Once you’ve settled into a routine and have your nose into all that sciencey stuff you do, it’ll all blow over,” She laughed. I didn’t want to pick a fight so I just focussed on my lunch.

XXX

My suite was ridiculous. I’d understood we’d be provided with a room. In my mind, I had thought dormitory style, like at university. I was quickly learning Tony Stark did nothing by halves. I had a suite. First of all, the whole thing was fully furnished. The master bedroom had the biggest bed I’d ever seen in it, and an ensuite bathroom with a shower bigger than my last dorm room. There was a second bedroom, I’m not sure why. Plus an office, an open floor plan living room and kitchen and a main bathroom. There was a storage closet that I’m pretty sure could have kept a small family comfortable. And a deck with a view of the city. I opened the fridge and discovered it had been fully stocked already. I grabbed a bottle of water and stood at the counter, the overwhelming feeling of just too much washing across me again. There was a bound book on the counter, and when I flipped through it, I realized it was a Stark Tower lifestyle guide, with information about the pool, the gym, the on-site movie theatre, the commissary, and on and on. There was a tablet on the wall that allowed you to order in take-away or groceries. Housekeeping was once a week. I pinched myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream, fully expecting to awaken back in the dorm room at the university. But I didn’t.

I unpacked my bags and checked my email for the details on the get together. Casual evening wear. What was that, even? I grabbed my phone and texted Angela. Whether she liked it or not, she was my new bestie. 

“What does casual evening wear mean?”

“Nothing too fancy. Knee length dress is more appropriate than floor length.”

“I’ve been in university for the last nine years. I have nothing even remotely appropriate.”

“I’m on it. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

XXX

“I’m sorry, Angela, I just didn’t know who else to ask.” I felt like all I was doing was apologizing to her. She laughed.

“You’re my assignment for the next few weeks. And you are so much nicer than the last new hire I was paired with. I can see actually wanting to spend time with you,” she laughed.

“Really? You’re my personal person?” I arched an eyebrow. She laughed again.

“Something like that. Human Resources likes to pair someone from admin to new hires as an orientation guide. It’s a pretty awesome job, to be honest. I get to meet most of the new people on their way in the door. Make lots of new friends. Meet lots of cute science nerd guys.” She winked. I laughed.

“And yet you don’t mind being assigned me. I must be very special indeed,” I teased.

“You’re little lost puppy eyes sucked me right in,” she giggled. “Come on, let’s get you a dress.” It felt like she dragged me all over town, but the truth was, we didn’t go far, and we only visited a couple of stores. I tried on everything she brought to me, and let her tell me what looked best. I was most comfortable in jeans, a t-shirt and a lab coat, so I trusted her judgement. We were a whirlwind of activity after picking the dress. She steered me over to a shoe store, and then a make-up store. I didn’t even realize there was such a thing as a make-up store. I only kept mascara in my bathroom because my eyelashes were so light you couldn’t see them without a bit of mascara on them. 

When we finally got back to the building, I wanted nothing more than to take a nap. Angela shooed me into the shower and ordered us some dinner instead. She helped me with my hair and then sat me down to eat.

“Do you wear contacts ever?” She asked. I pushed my glasses up my nose and shook my head.

“No, they don’t make contacts for eyes like mine,” I admitted.

“Okay. I can work with that,” she looked at me thoughtfully and chewed on her pizza. Before I knew it, she was rearranging my hair, and applying make-up and amazingly, although I’d honestly never thought I’d enjoy the fuss that went along with dressing up, I did enjoy myself. It helped that Angela kept a running commentary of exclamations about how pretty I was, and how nice my eyes were. I never had thought there was anything particularly special about my brown hair and brown eyes. I changed my mind when Angela let me look in the mirror. My hair was loose and wavy, and cascaded over my shoulders. The red dress she’d found for me highlighted that my hair was more than one shade of brown, and brought out the natural glow in my cheeks. My eyes, despite being framed behind my glasses, looked big and sparkly.

“Wow.”

“You’ll have half the R&D guys begging for your number by the end of the night!” Angela laughed. I blushed.

“I don’t know about that,” I protested. She laughed again.

“Come on. I’ll be your wingman.” She linked arms with me and led me out the door and to the elevator. XXX

The crushing feeling of inadequacy hit me again as the elevator opened up to let us out into the cocktail party. I hesitated at the gap between the elevator and the large, noisy room. Angela gave me a gentle nudge, but I froze, taking in the panorama in front of me. Almost every scientist I’d ever quoted in any of my research was standing in that room, mingling with one another. When Tony Stark isn’t the biggest name in a room, it can make you pause. I’m pretty sure I recognized the most recent recipient of the Nobel Prize in physics standing by the bar. And Dr. Banner was lingering near the door to the patio and pool deck, looking exceptionally uncomfortable. At least he was near an exit where he could cool off and relax if he needed to. His research was what drove me into the sciences. In the end, I decided gamma radiation wasn’t really the area I was passionate about, and pursued research that put me in Stark’s path. But he was still kinda my hero. 

“If you don’t step off this elevator right now, I’m going to push you off, and then you’ll draw a lot more attention to yourself than if you act like a normal person.” Angela had my number already. I stepped into the party tentatively. Angela steered me straight to the bar. “Let’s get a drink into you, loosen you up a little. These people have all been where you are, Ella. What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, rocks.” My eyes were glued to the room, and I just kept recognizing more and more people. Surely they all didn’t work for Stark Industries. I would have noticed that at some point during my application process. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts saw me as Angela handed me my drink. Ms. Potts smiled in welcome and headed straight to me. I didn’t have time to panic.

“Ms. Carmichael! I’m so pleased to see you. You look a bit like a canary in a room of cats. Don’t. They’re all harmless. And some of them are very excited to discuss your proposals with you,” she took my hand and squeezed it familiarly. It was not at all like my boss was shaking my hand, but more like a friend greeting me.

“It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Potts.” I managed, and took a sip from my glass. 

“Please, Pepper is fine. We’ll reserve the formality for press releases,” she smiled. “Are you settling into your rooms?”

“I am. They’re much more than I was expecting. Everything about this internship is more than I was expecting,” I blurted. I was nervous enough that I took a perhaps-larger-than-it-should-have-been swallow from my glass and nearly choked.

“We’re so pleased you accepted, Ms. Carmichael,” Pepper gushed. “Really. I’m sure Angela has filled you in about the women in STEM initiative Stark Industries is backing.”

“If I’m going to call you Pepper, you’re going to have to call me Ella. Angela mentioned a little about it, but I didn’t realize there was an entire initiative.” The combination of vodka and talking shop with Pepper was starting to ease my nerves, and I could feel the tension starting to melt from my shoulders.

“We’re starting summer and weekend science and technology camps for girls. I’m hoping you’ll be able to find some time to work with me on promoting them. I think Angela has scheduled a meeting for us sometime in the next few days,” she explained. 

“That would be really cool.” I took another sip. There wasn’t much left in my glass. I was going to need to slow down. Mr. Stark was watching the crowd, but I could tell that his head was in our conversation.

“I hope you’ll come out of your shell a little, Ms. Carmichael. You were vibrant during the interview process. I hope that wasn’t a one-off. It’ll be hard to sell STEM as cool with a mousy science nerd girl as the PR star.” He was suddenly back in the conversation full force. I flushed.

“Tony! It’s first-day nerves. We can’t all be the shiniest constellation in the sky all the time,” Pepper scolded him. “Don’t pay attention to him, Ella. Parties bring out the worst of his quirks.” The way she said it, I could almost see the air-quotes hanging in the air around the word quirks. I smiled.

“I promise you, Mr. Stark. I can be just as shiny as you need me to be when surrounded by young women. It’s when I’m in the presence of the likes of Dr. Banner and Dr. McCoy that I tend to get star-struck. And I think, did I see Reed Richards?” I found my voice. Mr. Stark smiled.

“Since we’re all making friends, you may as well call me Tony,” he allowed. “I make sure my best and brightest get a chance to meet the best and brightest.”

“As much as I appreciate the opportunity, it’s just a little overwhelming.” I felt it was only fair to be honest with them, since they were my employers. Pepper squeezed my hand again.

“I have no doubt, after speaking to your references, that you will be everything that we are looking for, Ella,” she reassured me. I took another sip from my glass, and Tony suddenly noticed it in my hand.

“Please tell me that’s not water. We have a strict no water at parties rule here at Stark Industries.” Mr. Stark took my glass away and finished what was left. He coughed and handed it back. “Oh, I think you’re going to fit in here quite well, Mouse.” Angela took the glass from me and got a fresh one from the bar. I reminded myself to go slow. There was no point in getting drunk in front of such an auspicious crowd on my first day.

Angela led me around to a number of people I would be working with, including my direct supervisor, Markus Reid. He shook my hand with enthusiasm and launched into a long-winded explanation of my project and how it would fit in with his project. I found myself lingering with him for longer than was probably necessary. He was passionate about his work with the arc reactor technology and he reminded me of my thesis supervisor, ready to help and happy to share whatever advances he had discovered. It was the lynchpin in making me settle for the evening. If my supervisor was excited to have me, no one else really mattered. Angela’s face lit up and she excused me from the conversation. 

“Shut up. You are not going to believe this. I have someone to introduce to you!” She exclaimed. I followed her as she led me across the lounge and toward the windows overlooking the outside deck. I couldn’t figure out who she wanted me to meet, but the last person who’d been near where we were headed was Dr. Banner, and I was sure she’d seen him earlier. She slowed to a more dignified walk and led me to Dr. Banner. He was chatting with a petite brunette who looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. Dr. Banner looked up and acknowledged Angela as he finished what he was saying to the other woman.

“Angela, you always walk with such purpose.” His tone was warm, and he gripped her hand with both of his. It was obvious from Angela’s relaxed posture that they’d worked with each other a few times.

“Comes with the job. This is Elizabeth Carmichael, one of the new interns here at Stark,” she introduced me. “Ella, this is Bruce Banner.” She paused and turned toward the woman. “And if I’m not mistaken, this is Dr. Jane Foster?”  Dr. Banner shook my hand and nodded toward Dr. Foster.

“So pleased to meet you, Dr. Banner. It was your work that led me into the sciences.” I tried not to gush. I don’t think I was successful.

“Really? My understanding was that physics and engineering were your specialties,” he asked. My heart nearly stopped. He knew my areas of study. My science geek girl idol knew my specialties.

“I got really into green energy during my undergrad studies, and my focus switched,” I admitted.

“And my accident had nothing to do with that?” He raised an eyebrow. I laughed and realized that might not have been the best response. I bit back my smile and shook my head.

“Actually, no. Your accident happened when I was in first year, and I stuck with my studies as a minor. It was when it was time to begin my master’s that I felt I could do more good, with my level of knowledge, if I pursued green energy,” I explained. He looked thoughtful.

“And once again, Bruce, I point out that your accident has significantly less effect on the opinions of others than you think,” Dr. Foster jumped in, and offered her hand. I shook it. “Such a pleasure to meet you, Ella. Tony has been beside himself with excitement about your thesis. I think the other two interns might be getting the short end of the stick.”

“Except that there is no short end of the stick at Stark,” Banner argued. Dr. Foster laughed and nodded.

“It’s so true. I wish these internships had existed when I was struggling for funding.” she looked past my shoulder, distracted. I turned and followed her gaze until it lit on the most beautiful man I think I’d ever seen. He was tall, and blond, and broad, with a big smile and an equally large laugh. And from the way Dr. Foster was looking at him, I realized he must be Thor. “I didn’t realize he was going to be here.” The smile fell from her face.

“I’m sorry, Jane, I had no idea. Why would he be here? He’s not one of you sciencey types,” Angela apologized. Dr. Foster turned to me and shook my hand again.

“It was truly lovely to meet you, Ella. I look forward to watching your project. If you ever need anything, Angela can get you in touch with me. Even if it’s just a woman-to-woman bitchfest. We STEM ladies need to stick together.” She excused herself and made her way quickly to the elevator. Angela and I watched her as the elevator doors closed. I was disappointed, but turned back to Dr. Banner. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Thor stepping up to us.

“Banner, my friend! It has been too long since we’ve met. You look well!” Everything about Thor was big. He pulled Dr. Banner into one of those one-armed-man-hugs, his massive arms straining against the confines of his t-shirt. He towered over both of us. He released Dr. Banner and turned to Angela and I. If I looked anything like Angela did, I was gawking like a slack-jawed idiot. I nudged her gently and she closed her mouth.

“Ladies, it is well to make your acquaintance. I am Thor, of Asgard,” he introduced, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Angela.

“Ella Carmichael.” I couldn’t form any other words. There was just so much of him, and it was so close. I was completely star-struck in a way I’d never been about a fellow scientist. He took Angela’s hand.

“Angela Benett,” she breathed. I was so glad I wasn’t the only one on the verge of swooning. The man was truly a specimen. Banner cleared his throat, and I snapped my attention back over to the man who had arguably been the first crush of my science geeky heart.

“What brings you here, Thor?” he asked. Thor turned back to him and smiled his ridiculous, large, beautiful smile.

“I had need to speak to Tony. I’d not realized it was a celebration, or I would have come tomorrow. Twas not urgent,” he explained. “And I am afraid I have chased Jane from her colleagues.” There was regret in his tone. Things were obviously over with them, not merely bumpy or awkward. 

“He said twas,” I whispered to Angela. She stifled a giggle. I’m not sure why it was so amusing, other than that I had finished my second vodka. I’m not sure what her excuse was; I knew she hadn’t been drinking. “I hope we’ll get a chance to talk more about what you’re studying now, Dr. Banner.” I had to excuse myself before I made an idiot of myself in front of Dr. Banner and Thor. Angela followed me to the deck. I stretched out on a deck chair and looked up at the sky. Stark Tower was so high that it seemed to be above the smog of the city. There was still loads of light pollution, but I was reassured that the stars were the same in New York City as they were at home in Washington. We sat quietly for a few minutes.

“Thanks for being my sidekick, Angela,” I sighed. “I don’t know if I’d have made it through the afternoon, let alone this evening, without your assistance.”

“Well, like I said, it’s my job. But paycheque aside, you’re alright, Ella,” she chuckled.

“I’m glad you think so. I don’t know if I can afford Stark wages to keep you as a friend.” Across the deck something caught my eye, and I slipped off my shoes to walk over to it. Angela must have seen it too because she followed curiously. It was the biggest damn hammer I’ve ever seen in my life, just sitting on a low table beside the pool. It was fancy, tooled with knotwork. I ran my hand over it. I wasn’t sure what it was made of. It had the warm feel of vibranium, but it almost seemed to hum under my hand. I slid my hand up the leather wrapped handle. The grip was comfortable. I squeezed the handle, and felt the give of the leather wrap against my hand.

“I don’t know if you should be playing with that, Ella,” Angela warned.

“What do you suppose it is? It feels like it’s got more of a purpose than just a giant paperweight, or decoration,” I thought out loud, flexing my fingers along the handle. It felt like it needed to be held. I might not be describing that properly, but it was almost like it spoke to me. Which clearly suggested I’d had too much to drink.

“I haven’t seen it before, but I don’t get up into this part of the tower much. Is it heavy? Maybe it’s a prop or a prototype or some sort,” Angela shrugged. I adjusted my grip on the handle and prepared myself to lift it, assuming it would be ridiculously heavy. I was surprised when after a slight tug of resistance, I was able to heft the thing in the air. The air around us crackled with static, and suddenly a shock ran through my body, from the hand that was holding the hammer through to my feet.  Everything around me slowed down, almost like slow motion in the movies. I looked up at Angela and saw Thor and Dr. Banner running towards us over her shoulder. Thor was reaching out, his mouth forming some kind of words, but I couldn’t hear them. I felt the hammer tug out of my hand and it flew away from me. The electricity left my body and I collapsed on the pool deck.

“What the actual fuck?” I muttered before blackness overtook my thoughts.

[closer-stars]

Gut Feeling (7)

Member: San Genre: Fluff/Hopeful, bit of angst Word Count: 7.8k Content: bit of food mention, tables turning, nothing too heavy  Notes: Anyways. Nearing the end my dudes. I kept thinking of how to end this part but i think i like how this one went. Not really sure of how to talk about this part but yeh it’s nothing heavy. Links to be updated after 24 hours. Also anyone ready for Fireworks? :D Tag list: @barsformars @hwaberrykiwi @miniyeo @shinyddeonghwa @frankenstein852 @yeotlny @seoultraveller​

Part 6

You were grateful that Manager Hwang was back by the time the photo shoots were coming. It gives you the much needed air and space away from the boys. Don’t get it wrong, you love the boys dearly, but with everything that has happened, it was better to stay away for now. You already had sent in a letter to your higher ops requesting for a shift in your position: from being just a manager to the eight boys, you ask to work on externals. Your resume proved you to be able to do so they gave you the green light. The approval also means another schedule shift for you, less time with the boys, more time with the KQ staff and with people who are sending love calls to the company in regards to the boys. 

--------

“Hyung, you’re back!” Wooyoung squeaks, thus causing the other seven to look at the direction he’s looking at. They’re too exhausted to properly pester him on his return that they end up toppling over themselves on the floor, elated to have him back. 

Things were slowly going back to normal-- or at least, as normal as it can be. The same cycle starts, practice, eat, workout, guestings, sleep, repeat. Everyone’s relieved to have some sort of normalcy again, the schedule’s not as hectic as it was during their promotions. 

San feels the same, he’s just as happy to have a sense of normalcy back but a part of him nags. 

What about you? He’s noticed that he’s been seeing less of you now. Only when the managers need an extra pair of hands whenever they’re out for a schedule and when that happens, it’s usually when everyone’s too exhausted to pester you, even him. He remembers that you were going to be their manager until Hwang comes back. 

He doesn’t want you to slip through his fingers like this. 

------

The past few weeks have been you in your work table or out and about with the boys. Even if you were with the boys, you were often on your phone, fixing emails and deals with other brands and press to get their name out there. You despised some of the interview questions some of the press would send you: too generic, too leading, nothing about how they work as a team or who they really are but that’s work. Sometimes you just gotta bite the bullet. 

On this particular day, you’re stuck in the office alone, working overtime as you fix an agreement with a brand. They were a horror story in your eyes, why were they so demanding? Understandable if it were in regards to the talent fee, the boys were a rising monster in the industry and with the noise their name makes, it was a must that their talent fee was equal to the work quality they gave, if not more. You’re tired, tufts of your hair sticking out as you rewrite an email, sending the draft to your co-workers as you try to get the other party to finally agree. If only you had a bigger influence in the industry this would’ve been easier. 

The previous brands ATEEZ worked with were lovely to work with, understanding how the industry works and its demands on those behind the scenes, even going beyond the agreement by lending some of their clothing lines for their performances. But this one in particular, as much as you wanted to drop the discussion, this would be an amazing opportunity for the boys. So you grit your teeth and work again, bending your back to this god forsaken brand without sacrificing the name of the company or the boys. 

Your phone rings, bringing you out of your exhausted stupor. You rub your eyes, and press green. “Hello?” You do your best to make yourself sound awake, as if you weren’t just minutes away from pulling at your hair. 

Yelling. That’s all you can understand from the other line. Another representative you assume is asking for updates but all you can understand is a middle aged man displeased to not have his way this time so he resorts to calling you names and airing his frustrations. You place him on speaker, your head buried in your hands as you let him run his mouth and his head. A small part of you hopes his head explodes from how he’s speaking but you keep the frustrations to yourself. You’re younger than him, what kind of junior would you be to talk back to a senior regardless of how illogical they were being? You carry the name of the company on you, a step out of line could pull the company back. By the time the other line quiets down, you take your pen and notepad. “Yes, I apologize for the inconveniences caused. I understand that things aren’t going the way we’ve expected, may I please have your name and company name? I will forward this to my higher op and have them take care of this issue as it is beyond my powers to do anything.” He gives his name and details gruffly, it was a miracle that you got everything down. “Is there anythi--” Click. 

How wonderful. 

You let out a groan as you lean against your seat. Eyes closed as you try your best to keep yourself from crying. Everything’s overwhelming. You could only imagine if you did this shift before the you and San made up, you would’ve bursted into tears in the middle of the call. You didn’t want to complain, if you were tired, everyone was as well. The boys are just as tired, stretched thin by all the packages and deals they need to do in order to make up for the cancelled tours while trying to keep themselves cemented in a fast paced industry. You’re juggling two types of demands. Your thoughts were tangled, what one word could lead to thought A turns into thought B. The white noise was deafening for you but you let it be, as you feel the tell tale signs of a breakdown looming over you. 

--------

San on the other hand had just finished his personal training. His towel hangs over his shoulders as he leaves the studio. At this hour, he’s usually the only one left, save for the trainees who still constantly work a floor below him. So why are the lights in the office still on? As he approaches the room, he hears someone yelling. Incoherent but it doesn’t take him much to know that the words being released weren’t nice. He peaks through the clear glass and he sees you. 

He sees how heavy your shoulders look as you listen to the voice. You don’t see him but he sees how your eyes look, lifeless and unreadable. He stays there for a moment and he doesn’t know why but he doesn’t leave. The male can’t seem to move from where he is after seeing how worn you look so he waits for you by the couch down the hall. He doesn’t mind waiting. 

He just wants to make sure you’re okay. 

--------

Thirty minutes pass until you’ve calmed down. 1:30AM. “Shit.” You mumble as you pack all your things up to head home. As you do so, you give your co-workers the notice that you’ll come in a little late as you need rest. You have a lot of reflecting to do. You’ve hit a wall and you need some sort of direction. 

You look back at the office, making sure everything is accounted for and well kept before switching the lights off. Even your footsteps sound heavy against the floor as you bring yourself to the elevator. Legs? Who else was here at this hour? Your grip on your phone tightens as you walk slowly. There’s no other way out of this place, the fire exit was beyond the elevator and that meant you had to get past through the stranger. 

Slowly, you see who the stranger is. Your muscles freeze at the familiar features. They’re features that are making your heart run for weird and rational reasons. “What are you doing here at this hour?” You ask, voice too hoarse to sound pointed. 

He suddenly looks up, shaken by your voice. Why were you doing this to yourself? “I was waiting for you.” He returns softly, standing up as you walk closer to him. 

Your feet keep you from approaching him, opting to stay near the elevator for distance. Being near him at your weakest makes your head spin. It’s too much. “You shouldn’t have waited for me, San.” You state as you jab your knuckle on the down button. 

The way his name rolls off your tongue should’ve made him happy but right now, it’s bitter to his ears and to your tongue. “I wanted to so I did.” He’s always been the stubborn one. Seonghwa is right: Wooyoung’s the one who’s been listening well nowadays. 

Ding!

The elevator doors slide open and you step in, with San following you quickly. He doesn’t give you the chance to close the doors on him. The ride was stuffy. It was quiet but it was the type of silence that makes you want to bolt out of the room once the chance arrives. 

The door opens and your feet already move to get out of there.

“Do you.. Want to talk about it?” San asks carefully, the change in his tone makes you stop on the hallway that leads you to the cool air. 

“Tell you what?” He knows you’re not playing dumb, the entire ride down, you’ve been out of it. 

“What happened in the office.” He states, standing in front of you. 

A sigh slips through your lips and you finally look at him in the eye. “San, you need to get home and sleep. I can deal with my problems.” Not entirely a lie, but what use was it for you to blow off steam at him? 

“You can but isn’t it better to share them or at least, voice them out?” He returns quietly, his hands in his pockets. He tries his best to be patient, he really does. It’s a lot coming from him, someone who keeps his issues to himself but after everything he’s learned his lesson. He’s going to make it a point to lead by example. 

You stay quiet, eyes feeling hot, your sight is blurring and for some fucked up reason, the way the lights from the convenience store that shines on him makes him look good. It’s unfair that your thoughts drift there in your state. You hate yourself for thinking like that. 

His fingertips reach up to the corners of your eyes, wiping the tears that have fallen down your cheeks. San never liked seeing his loved ones in pain, especially if he can’t take the pain from them.“I’ll buy us ice cream and we can eat it in the car.” He offers. Judging by how you look, you don’t like the idea of being in the open in this state. “Wait for me in the car, okay? I can get you coffee milk too.” He adds softly. While he looks at you with the utmost care, his tone gentle, his words don’t leave room for you to argue. You don’t want anyone to see you like this, so you nod, putting your hoodie over your head. You use the tips of your sleeves to wipe away the tears before heading into the car. 

He follows behind you then splits towards the convenience store. He takes the chance to get the two of you some snacks, water and ice cream. His schedule tomorrow starts in the afternoon so he wasn’t too concerned about missing out on sleep. 

As he goes through the assorted products on display, he wonders which ones you would like best. He still hasn’t figured out your favorite flavors and comfort food and he feels bad for it. He does know you love your coffee but at a time like this, your go-to isn’t recommended. He does make a point to grab a bottle of water as you’ve had a rough day and crying is usually a pain for the eyes. Eventually, he picks a few flavors that he and the members like that he thinks you might like as well. He couldn’t leave you alone in the car for too long. Eventually, he’ll know what you like and don’t like anyways. 

You sit on the driver’s seat, warming the car up as you wait for San to return. Deep breaths, you tell yourself. Crying too much would give you a headache, and it’s not a good idea to let everything out now. San didn’t even have his license yet. 

Two knocks against the window startles you out of your thoughts, but it’s a surprise needed to stop yourself from crying. You lean over to open the door for him and he climbs in with a small bag of snacks, drinks and on both hands were the ice cream.

“I got you the one in a cup since, you’re driving…” he trails off, the plastic bag rustling on his seat before hopping in.”...and a bunch of other snacks...” San explains as he settles down and buckles up for the ride. San connects his phone to the car’s sound system. You’re grateful for some sort of distraction from your thoughts as you make sure the two of you come home in one piece. 

The entire ride home, San sings to all the songs with his entire heart. You know how loud he can get but in an enclosed space like a car, it’s amplified. Some parts, he goes off key, some parts he mimics the singer perfectly, both times have gotten you laughing at how unexpected it becomes. The voice imitations he does that usually puts a pained look on your face, now brings out a smile. Yet, even in his goofy antics, his range as a singer shines, it’s really only a matter of time before he shows all of it to the world. 

San on the other hand, did all of those on purpose. While you can’t talk about what’s been bothering you, the least he can do is make you laugh and ease your heart with his antics. At red lights, you eat your ice cream, which he would often hold for you when the light turns green. 

The two of you arrive at the complex safe and sound; your ice cream already melted in its cup, not that you minded. “San?”

He stops his actions and looks at you, raising his eyebrows in confusion. “Yeah?” 

“Thank you.” You say simply with a tired smile. “Today has just been too much that I caved earlier.” You were about to talk about it when you saw the time. 

He sees how you’re about to close yourself up for his sake that he immediately butts in. “I got time.” He jabs the button that leads to the rooftop. At this hour, he assumes no one would be there. It’s far too late for a regular person to be out at this hour but should there be someone besides them, he wouldn’t judge. 

The small screen flashes the numbers going up as you head to the rooftop. For a moment, you frown at how he doesn’t relent to your wishes of him getting his rest but it only takes a few moments for it to melt away. It’s been too long since you properly shared your worries with someone. Hell, Jiwoo has been too busy dealing with rumors surrounding her own artists. 

That’s how the next few hours go. You share your worries and stresses in work with him. Admittedly, it was still rather filtered, since he’s been in the company longer than you have. He catches on to this. 

“I know you tell me to treat you like a friend, so treat me like one too. It’ll be easier on you.” He reasons gently, finding himself munching on a jelly pack the two of you were sharing. It’s his sharp intuition that also intimidates the living lights out of you sometimes. 

Maybe it’s the fact you’ve shouldered so much since your first day that you bare a lot of things to him. Your worries, apologies, and wishes. You don’t have it in you anymore to be private about yourself, you tell him stories that answer his questions about you. In exchange, he tells you his stories, though some of which you knew from the mouths of the other boys and staff but to hear it come from his mouth was an experience in itself. A lot of layers were revealed to each other and it made your heart squeeze a bit; remembering your conversation with the two oldest members. Would you have given him a chance if things had gone a little differently? 

The thought is cut short when the two of you notice that the sky has come to light purple shade, the sun peeking out of the horizon. With that, you stand up and San looks up at you in confusion. 

“You need to get some rest, today’s your rest day from all activities.”

“What about you?” He questions as he stands up as well. 

“I’m still going to work, d’uh.” Your answer causes him to look at you in alarm. You still haven’t slept, what do you mean you’re working still? “Just later in the day, I told my team I’m coming in late after working overtime.” Your quick explanation softens his features but doesn’t change the fact he’s concerned for your well being. He nods and has you walk back in first, bringing you to your floor first before him. 

“At least get five hours of sleep.” He chides. The shift in your relationship was a surprising one but you’re too tired to really give it any proper attention. At his concern, you nod, promising your best to do so. 

“You too. I’ll…” A yawn cuts through your words. “... see you whenever. Good night.” You greet, waving to him as you head inside your apartment. 

San doesn’t leave until he hears your door lock. He’s reassured in knowing that the two of you are in better terms even if he won’t see you as often anymore. 

--------

Several days have passed since that exchange and you seem a lot lighter. San has mellowed down too and while the boys can tell something has happened they can’t really place what it is.

The boys see you from time to time, but they notice the slight hints of exhaustion on you. You enjoy what you’re doing, yes, but having to deal with other brands that weren’t cooperative were the bane of your existence. You didn’t like this brand partnership but you grit your teeth. You can only imagine how hard it was for your boss who had to deal with immature leaders from more than just the brand deal. 

Now, it was you who was bringing them to the photoshoot venue. You were the point person for this deal and schedule, and considering that it was going to be a whole day one. At least, it’s Hwang was going to be the one in charge of the ride home. 

Upon arriving, you greet the stylists and photographers, letting the boys introduce themselves before everyone’s ushered to the dressing rooms. You keep watch of their personal belongings as the stylists did their work on them. You can tell San’s keeping an eye out for Mihyun, and you eventually do the same. The team did tell you they’ll respond accordingly but never gave you an update as to what the response would be. Half an hour passes, everyone’s already made up for the first concept and Mihyun’s nowhere to be seen. 

Now, what you didn’t expect was how well the stylists would work on the boys. They’re of age already to look mature, their performances and how they carry themselves tell you that. Yet those have a youthful vibe, the current look they have gives them a different air around them. Maybe it’s the clothes and make up but they carried themselves a little differently. The colors were the usual dark colors they’re most comfortable in, with a pop of bright colors here and there. The hair styled up, with makeup that made the boys appear more like men. Truthfully, you knew how this photoshoot would go, but seeing it in its entirety play out in front of you took a lot of wind from you. 

San looks at himself at the full body mirror away from the setup. “Manager-nim!” He never really got rid of that habit despite you not really being their manager anymore. “What do you think?” He asks as he fiddles with the stray strands of hair that fall over his forehead, barely grazing his eyebrows. The male shifts and looks at you, giving you a better view of what he wore: a purple polo with a few open buttons, a dark blazer with slacks. It looks normal but this is San, he somehow knows how to make it stand out. 

It takes a few blinks and a quick gathering of your slightly scattered brain to make an acceptable answer. “Purple fits you.” You say simply and it’s enough to make San beam at you, the youthful boy still peaking through the intimidating look. 

“What do you think of Jongho’s shoot so far?” He asks, and you tear your gaze away from him to look at the youngest pose through the flashes. 

They’ve grown so much. This photoshoot is a huge whiplash to you who often saw them as just young boys (even if they were roughly around your age) still living their life. A small part of you feels proud to see them mature. “Time really flies doesn’t it?” You muse. You remembered how this magazine was one of the first magazines ATEEZ worked with in their early days. 

San catches the references and flushes in embarrassment. “Oh my god, you saw the photos?” 

At his shock, you laugh softly and nod. “Yeah, while you guys got ready, some of the staff and I had a chat and they told me about your first photoshoot with them.” His ears are burning a bright red at your words but a smile graces his features. “Nothing to worry about, they have nothing but praise for you and your group.” The photographer calls for San’s name, thus cutting your conversation short. “Go, Mr. Kyungil is already calling for you.” 

“At least, monitor my work!” San pleads. 

“Wooyoung?” You offer, but he pouts, adamant in having you instead. 

“God, fine. Don’t want Mr. Kyungil to wait too long.” You relent, pushing him gently forward. 

At least, Wooyoung is the next one in line as he comes out of the dressing room in a sleeveless black top and leather pants. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he flashes a cheeky grin and wink at you. “I look good, don’t I?” You shake your head, tickling him immediately to console him from your joke. 

“Your fans aren’t ready for this photoshoot of yours.” You muse as the two of you look at San and at the computer screen as each photo is immediately uploaded.  Where you lack in volume, Wooyoung makes up for it. The two of you were clearly impressed with how the photos were coming out, though with some of them being San joking around with the photographer. Being born with good looks really gets a long way, you think. You take a quick glance at your phone to see how many concepts and clothes they’ll go through.

You’re in for a long day. 

He finds himself sulking inside when you talk and mess with Wooyoung for a moment but he doesn’t have enough energy to outwardly show it when a camera is a few feet away from him and he’s got spotlights bearing down on him. As he hears you and Wooyoung react to each of his photos, he feels his confidence grow. Admittedly, he’s alright with you and him being just friends, he also can’t deny his feelings for you still. He sees how impressed you are and how flustered you get when he looks at you with this kind of makeup. With how you react, he wonders if what you really want is someone mature and not someone as inexperienced as him. He catches himself in this thought process and shakes it away with a roll of his shoulders, shifting his heavy gaze to the camera. Focus, you’re at work. He reminds himself. 

The way you clap, how your eyes widen, and nod approvingly at his shots makes him proud. It doesn’t matter to him if that’s how you react to the other members too. If you were genuinely impressed with his work then that was enough for him. 

It’s the same cycle for the rest of the day: solo shots, unit shots, group shots, change then repeat. Halfway through the third cycle, you get up from your seat. The exhaustion starts to set in, from the emails you do as you watch over them. From time to time, the stylists would chat with you, keeping you company. 

[ Manager Hwang to You ] What do you and the boys want? I’m on my way and passing by a coffee shop. 

You look up from your phone and ask the boys what they want. They had enough time for a meal along with taking a breather from the constant changing, lights and everything in between. You can only imagine how difficult it is to be in front of hot spotlights. It eventually becomes four orders of tea latte, two orders of americano, three orders of mixed fruit juice. Once you get everyone’s, you relay the message to Hwang. Instead of going back to your spot, you take the chance to walk around for a bit, stretching your sore muscles. You’ll probably take a nap once Hwang arrives. 

When you settle back in your seat, you stretch once more before a yawn slips through you. “Please tell me you have your own jacket this time.” 

The voice startles you and it’s San again. This time in a grey sleeveless turtleneck. His makeup was different this time, less red and more natural tones. He drops himself next to you, as you massage your own shoulders. “I do, don’t worry about me too much.” You chide gently, pulling out your denim jacket. 

He notes the style and giggles. “I didn’t know you and Hongjoong have the same taste.” He teases. As you shrug on the jacket, you look at the sleeves: acid washed with bright colors over the bleached spots. It did kind of look like something Hongjoong would wear. 

“He has good taste then.” 

“I didn’t say anything about him having bad taste.” 

The two of you share a look, waiting for the other to cave but neither of you do and instead, the two of you break into a fit of laughter. A much needed wake me up as you wait for Manager Hwang. 

You hear the photographer call his name again and you nudge him to move. “Your turn, purple boy.” You tease. With a wave of your hand, you shoo him off. By the time none of them are in the room, some of the makeup artists even sneak a few minutes of shut eye. 

[ You to Manager Hwang ] I feel bad for the stylists, they’re so tired ;; 

[ Manager Hwang to You ] Leave it to me. 

[ You to Manager Hwang ] ???

He doesn’t reply to your confusion. You lean against the wall, resting your eyes from all the harsh lights you’ve been exposed to. 

When you open your eyes again, you’re leaning against someone’s shoulder. You push yourself up to sit up properly and you’re greeted by Manager Hwang on his phone. There were bags of coffee and some snacks rest on the table and your computer’s plugged to an outlet. That’s when you realize that you inevitably fell asleep. “What time did you get here?” You ask as you try to wake up. 

“Half an hour ago, your head was just a few inches above the seat.” He teases. It takes a lot out of you not punch his arm: even the managers take the chance to tease you. You peek out of the dressing room and see that the boys are in their fourth set of clothes. Some of them were being interviewed based on the small cameras around them as they wait for their turn. Judging from the food in the other room, it’s probably around dinner time already. You make the guess that you’ll finish past midnight. At least, Hwang got everyone something to eat and drink to last through the night.

--------

Everyone goes through the photos of the last cycle. Some of the boys hollering and cheering at certain photos. San takes a few photos of some shots of him and his members: if it’s for blackmail or for their birthday, no one knows. The staff reacts just as warmly as his members to some of the shots the photographer took. Once everyone is satisfied, a chorus of praises and thanks are thrown back and forth from ATEEZ and the staff as each party helps the other pack up after the long day.

As the members rustle about the photos before changing out of their clothes, he can’t help but look back at how far he has gone. Gone were the days of the scrawny kid with the high pitched voice who was chasing after a dream. Now, a toned man who is living his dream gazes back at him at the mirror. How fast does time fly? He glances at you through the mirror, you’ve been stretching a lot to push off the exhaustion. You seem to be getting used to the hectic, long days outside the office at least. Everyone’s saying their parting words for the day. After getting out of the dressy clothes and into something more casual, he’s excited to go home. 

He and the rest wait for you by the door as you discuss when you’ll be able to receive a copy of all the photos plus the final choices for their magazine. Without Seonghwa paying attention, he sneaks a bite out of his cream puff, before hiding it quickly with a sip from his tea. It’s 2AM, he’s not reckless enough to take coffee at this time. Wooyoung becomes a spectator of the event and tries to hide his snickers, only to fail and for Seonghwa to catch on. Hongjoong doesn’t even bother to control the bickering, already leaning against Yunho’s back as he waits. 

“Sorry to keep you guys waiting.” You say as you rush over to them. Your coffee was already finished by the time their photoshoot was finished. Once you catch up to them, the group walks towards the car. You hand the keys to Manager Hwang after a moment of rummaging through your bag. 

“Manager-nim, how are you going to sleep? You just had coffee..” Mingi wonders, San could hear the pout in his voice. It was a good question. 

You cast a glance at them and while you flash them a smile that’s meant to reassure, San catches the lines of exhaustion. He wonders what else do you have to do after this. “Don’t worry too much, I can flush it out with water.” 

At your words, the male says nothing but takes another sip from his tea. He’ll probably just walk you back to your apartment again, just to make sure you’re not faking it again. 

The ride back home was a lot quiet. You immediately fell asleep in the passenger’s seat and so did the other members. He started feeling sleepy in the middle of the trip. The only ones awake were Manager Hwang (d’uh) and Yunho. The two fill each other in on what has happened over the past few months. San’s head was lolling about in his spot, up until he lands on Jongho’s shoulder. 

He wakes up to the harsh lighting shining against his eyes. He looks around and realizes that he’s in the parking lot, some of the members trying to wake themselves up as they wait for the elevator. You were there with them too, blinking constantly to gain your bearings. Manager Hwang stays by the door. “Sounds like you had some good sleep.” 

That could only mean one thing. 

“Did I snore..” San mumbles as he hops out of the car while straightening his clothes. He shuts the door behind him and Hwang nods. 

“Yeah, it’s nothing new. You had a long day.” He hands the male the car keys. “Manager Yoon, tomorrow.” He says. 

There’s still that small part of him that wants to put his best foot forward for you but he knows better than to do that. He can’t help it, he just wants to show that he could be the man for you. Another part of him thinks that it’s normal, the managers and the rest of the group has seen and heard him snoring in the past, it’s about time you saw him without the spotlight and makeup. He follows the rest of the group to the elevator. He spots you leaning against the wall, clearly exhausted from today’s schedule. “Are you okay?” San asks softly. Even though you nod, he doesn’t really buy it. He drifts carefully to Hongjoong. “I’ll bring them to their apartment first.” 

Hongjoong glances over at you and catches you practically sleeping on your feet. It would be wise to make sure you get to your apartment safely and not pass out on the hallways. The leader nods at San’s idea. At his approval, San hands the car keys to him. “Manager Hwang said it’s Manager Yoon tomorrow.” Hongjoong hums again, a small grin on his lips. That’s the only thing that tells him there’s going to be a game night tomorrow. 

The elevator doors slide open and everyone inches in. From the size of the lift, you’re stuck next to San. He could already feel exhausted you are: since Day one, you never really liked leaning against someone to catch on shut eye. The only times he remembers you leaning on someone as you slept was during the first K-Con and earlier today when Manager Hwang had arrived. Right now, you lean your forehead against his back. He says nothing about it though, you need to rest soon. 

When the elevator rings of arriving on the designated floor, you lift your head up, thinking that it would be the boys first. Instead, the boys pile out and let you and San leave first. “Manager-nim, you need the rest more than we do right now. You’ve had a long day.” Seonghwa explains in the best way possible, hoping the words stick in your sleep fuddled head. You feel someone’s arm wrap around you to keep you up on your feet. You mumble something and wish them a good night as you’re guided to your apartment. 

It takes seconds for you to realize that it’s San who’s walking with you. Were things going back to normal? It’s a question that rings faintly in your head as it’s overpowered by San’s hushed worries and praises. “You’ve worked so hard lately..” He mutters while walking carefully. He doesn’t really think you’d respond as you shuffle your feet forward. “I worry about you a lot. It’s rare to hear you talk about your worries…” San has more thoughts he wants to express but the walk from the elevator to your apartment is a short one. He stops infront of your door and lets you punch in the lock code before letting go of you. Out of habit, he brushes his tiers against your temple. He’s always been openly affectionate, especially when he knows someone has had a long day. “Get some rest.” He mumbles softly before stepping back. 

“Good night, San.” You breathe out, tipping your head in thanks to his words and returning them to him. He catches your timid smile before the door closes on him. It takes a moment for him to gather his thoughts before heading to the elevator, waiting for the lift to bring him to his floor. 

He thinks back to the peck, and it only dawns on him then what he had done. 

[ San to You ] Hey okay, so I just realized I pecked you before you headed inside your apartment. I promise it doesn’t have any weight on it, it’s just something I tend to do with my members as well after they had a long day. 

He doesn’t hesitate and presses send.

[ You to San ] It’s okay. It’s been a long day working. Good night!

While your words bring a bit of reassurance, he can’t help but wonder: how much more will he fuck up what you guys have left? 

--------

“They didn’t tell you?” Manager Yoon asks, incredulous. He stares at the boys who had now stopped what they were doing to stare back at him with wide eyes.

“No?? They never told us anything.” Wooyoung returns with a sulk. His eyebrows furrowed together, concern lining his features. The same could be said for the rest of the boys. San on the other hand freezes in his spot. 

Why did you leave? 

Why was he even asking that question, he already had a few guesses.

This makes Yoon think for a moment, observing their reactions, then sighs. “Yeah, they left a few weeks back.” He continues, saying that you had to leave due to health reasons-- that was something San had a feeling about. He couldn’t help but think it was his fault but he keeps the guilt to himself. “Let’s continue this during lunch. We can’t get behind schedule.” Yoon reminds them carefully as he senses the drop in mood. They had a meeting with a production company after lunch, but right now they have rehearsals for an upcoming comeback. 

No one else knew of San’s feelings for you save for his members. The eldest ends up looking over at the male from time to time after each run of the choreography. The younger’s frustration isn’t seen in his movement. It’s in his features. What During downtime, he’s a lot quieter. A storm goes on in his head and Seonghwa carefully makes his way to his side. “Let’s talk about this later okay?” The ash haired male says softly and San who’s still in shock, merely nods. 

San stays in the studio a little later than usual today. He reasons that he wants to practice his vocals. Seonghwa sighs, knowing the truth, but he lets him be. He knows San needs his space before he lets himself open up. So here he is now, in the booth, looking for a song to sing. 

A certain song catches his attention, rather fitting for his position. He listens closely, eyes closed as he focuses on the lyrics. It was the song to let out frustrations he can’t properly express so he gets to it. He reads the lyrics a few times. It’s not that he needed to do this perfectly, he just needed some sort of release. What was supposed to be only an hour turns into three. What was supposed to become a cathartic release became him in his zone. He has ended up writing the lyrics down with small notes on where he should lengthen his breathing, when to project, what to emphasize and so on. Once he was satisfied, he gives it a go. 

The instrumentals ease in. He sings softly at first, breathy and unlike his usual style but it was a challenge he needs; something that didn’t have him physically exerting himself the way dance does. His voice raises and strains slightly at the change of notes and range. As he sings, memories he’s shared with you flash through his mind. 

He spots you coming out of the small room, trying to wake up after a nap. His hoodie hanging over your arms. “Good sleep?” He asks, putting his phone away. You were about to hand his hoodie back to him when he shakes his head. “You need it more than I do today, use it as much as you need.”  

--------

“Hey, monitor me please?” He pleads, doing his utmost best to get you to give in to him. He wants you to see him do his best because you bring the best out of him. You relent and he hops about in joy. You were the only one monitoring his scenes, Wooyoung wasn’t even with you. After four runs, he asks you how he does. 

“As expected from ATEEZ’s charm and Namhae’s pride, you don’t disappoint, San.” 

--------

The fleeting kiss. 

--------

As the song reaches its climax, he remembers the last conversation he had with you. He remembers how you looked so worn in front of him and how he couldn’t bring himself to give you a hug. He feels frustrated at how he couldn’t protect you from life’s troubles. He realizes his faults in this and for once he doesn’t feel angry. He just feels disappointed in himself for being selfish. Maybe if he didn’t think with his emotions this wouldn’t have happened. 

He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, crying over someone who deserved better. He eventually sings from his heart; depths he didn’t think he could reach were reached from the emotions he’s experiencing. He doesn’t realize that his cheeks are wet but that doesn’t deter him from his singing.  

--------

He was looking outside the studio, expecting you to be there, instead he’s greeted by Manager Hwang. He covers the flash of disappointment with how exhausted he feels. When he asks if he’s done with practice, he nods. He wants nothing but rest at this point. 

--------

He catches himself pressing the button to your floor, even when it’s only him. Once he realizes his mistake, he shakes himself awake, pressing the button to his floor. 

--------

Another music video shoot and this was out of his comfort zone. ‘I’m scared.’ San thinks, and he realizes that you’re not there to reassure him. You’re working in another department this time, managing them wasn’t your job now. He’s back to being on his own. 

--------

When the song ends, his breathing is heavy. He never liked crying, even though he tells others that it’s okay to cry. He lets himself calm down, wiping his tears away. He couldn’t leave the booth looking like this. San takes all the time he needs to regain his composure. When he stepped out of the booth, he didn’t think Seonghwa would be a few feet away, busying himself with his phone. 

“Hey kiddo, I think we should talk.” He raises a plastic bag of some snacks and drinks. He wasn’t sure if he could see their dinner in the bag as well. “Let’s head up to the terrace yeah?” 

It’s going to be a long night. 

--------

Seonghwa listens as San recounts everything since you became their manager, since he started looking at you differently, since he confessed, since you started catching feelings, since things got worse up until you left. This has been the most unfiltered he has been in regards to his feelings about you. 

“They care about you.” Seonghwa says softly. “Now don’t quote me on this but I really think, if things went differently, the two of you would’ve worked.” San looks at him as he eats his dinner. 

He couldn’t go against that. 

“San, they like you enough to think about your situation first. They know how fans can be if they find out their idol is dating. They didn’t want you to go through that. They could’ve given the dating a shot but they did what they did. Maybe it wasn’t the best execution of the plan but it’s within good reason.” The elder explains. 

San looks away from him and shifts his gaze to his meal. He wants to apologize to you but he doesn’t know if that’s possible. “Do you think we’ll see them again?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. 

The older looks over at the younger, and it’s times like this that reminds him that San’s still growing. “It’s really just a matter of time. If they’re really for you, you’ll meet each other again.” Seonghwa ruffles the younger’s hair much to his dismay.

San whines and tries to move away from his reach. “You really need to stop watching dramas with Jongho..” 

The complaint makes Seonghwa laugh, shooting the younger a sympathetic smile. “Hey, those dramas do have some notable thoughts.” He defends, gently bumping his forehead against San’s. “You’ll survive this, San. Maybe not now, but eventually.”

San’s thankful for the faith but in his heart, he has his doubts. 

--------

It’s been roughly over a year since you left the company and things have been back to normal now. San’s back to his usual antics-- well as normal as he can be. If he could compare the pain, it was like a scar. You’ve healed from the pain but sometimes you see the imprint of what was. There were times where things that remind him of you didn’t affect him and there were times were things that vaguely reminded him of you subdued him. Healing was never linear and for Choi San, a man who gave his everything into anything, it will take a long time before he has faith in himself to do it all over again for someone else. 

The entire group’s on the way to the shooting location for their next comeback. A month and a half from now, they’re dropping the next album. The past few surpassed their expectations but even then, they know where they needed to get better. They’ve matured: both as their respective selves and as musicians. There were times where some members were out going on secret dates with their respective interests but San hasn’t taken any chance at romance since you. 

They arrive at the production house’s venue, already the sets are prepared with some of the staff lugging around some of the cameras and lights, their stylists busy themselves with last minute alterations to their outfits. Everything was pretty much set for the next few days. 

Manager Bae looks around for their point person. They knew where they should be but for the sake of propriety and respect, they look for the point person who’ll introduce them to the director. “Hey!” He calls out and everyone directs their eyes at the direction their manager looks at. 

His heart jumps in his chest and he needs to hold on to Seonghwa’s shoulder. “Hyung.”

“Yeah.”

You’re the point person. 

Part 8

[tosikoarts]

SFW Alphabet | Tsukishima Hajime

Here he comes, my favorite boy. You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Showing affection is something Tsukishima forgot how to do. It is almost foreign to him after what happened with Igogusa, after years of war and service under the leadership of Tsurumi. He knows exactly how easily happiness can be acquired and how easily it can be taken away, by unknown forces and by someone close to him.

An obvious sign of interest would be gratuitous help that Tsukishima offers to the person. When everything falls out of hand, he is right there to catch. Tsukishima does little errands in between taking care of Koito’s whims and bigger ones he saves for later to look at them closer. He genuinely enjoys helping them and seeing how grateful smile lights up their face.

Another one would be small gestures like walking them home after dark or bringing unpretentious little thingies that made Tsukishima think of them. If he goes to the market and notices their favorite candy, he will surely buy it. At times, it gets more serious. For example, if they wanted nice new shoes, Tsukishima will save money up from his sergeant's salary to afford the best pair in the shop.

Letters. So many letters. A soldier's life presents a gift in the form of partings, and in order to somehow compensate frequent  goodbyes and innumerable kilometers between them, Tsukishima puts his heart and soul into letters. They may not be that frequent, and he keeps crossing out words that seem too sweet, but it is the very intimate way to maintain the precious bond.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Local mom-friend that takes care of you when you are suffering the worst hangover and saves your ass from last night’s consequences. Tsukishima puts all the effort to shield his best friend from problems, and if they are inevitable, he has a clear plan of actions how to fix unfixable and repair unrepairable.

Responsibility is another of his distinctive features. When it comes to school or work, he is second to none: Tsukishima is up to help with difficult tasks or take on the role of mentor. He is amazingly good teacher, albeit strict at times, that has the ability to explain the most confusing concepts better than that Indian guy on YouTube.

Is it worth mentioning that he is a devoted friend? It doesn’t matter what happened between him and his friend in the past, Tsukishima always comes back to them. No distance, no time, no other people are able to make him turn around and leave a friend to the mercy of fate.

Probably the friend you think you know well but suddenly it turns out he has more dark secrets than the most deranged madlad from your fried group. Also, you can’t judge him. Only accept. You know if Tsukishima had to do somthing, he had his reasons you are not allowed to question.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Yeah, of course, but he hasn’t cuddled anyone in years (young whining Koito that craves reassurance and family warmth doesn’t count) so it may be awkward. It is very likely that he will simply move over, apologize, and wait for the next time when he is more comfortable with all of love dumped on him. Tsukishima doesn’t care about positions and will adapt to the partner’s desires whether they want to spoon him or be kept on his lap. Cuddles are combined with back rubs, massages, head pats, even hair brushing and braiding if they are not afraid of tangles.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Both wants to and is afraid of settling down by himself, left alone with his loved one. Over the years spent in the army, he lost the sense of life’s fullness, and now Tsukishima drifts freely without a specific direction. Military is where he belongs to, it gives him purpose and reason to exist, and as time passed, he forgot how to live outside the barracks. Gentle persuasion would be the best option to assure Tsukishima in his ability of living normal life. Maybe, owning a small house overlooking rocky shore and sparkling ocean isn’t a bad idea, he just isn’t ready to accept it. Both great in cooking and cleaning, prefers to do the latter.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He is visibly uncomfortable when confronted about working late and postponing previously such long-awaited dates. Tsukishima is lost for words since he can find none that could describe how sorry he is. Inner guilt forced him to defer this moment until the last minute: breaking-up right before another trip (the further the better) will make it impossible to crawl back to them when loneliness overtakes him again. Overthinks a lot. Nevertheless, Tsukishima finally speaks out in an even calm voice, as if he is reporting to his superiors, apologizes, and bows low. So low that chances of meeting their surprised gaze drop to zero. He quickly retreats without giving them the opportunity to say anything in return. Drinks more than usual during the trip, makes Koito nervous with unfriendly passive-aggressive aura he carries for weeks.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

This is the part where Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up starts playing because this is the man who fits all of the chorus lines perfectly. Tsukishima grows attached to the loved one fast and after this he is physically unable to think romantically of anyone else. Igogusa’s memory is another proof of his deep, borderline painful commitment. One year or year and a half is enough time for Tsukishima to start looking at municipal government office with certain interest. He takes marriage very seriously though, he dates for it, not for entertainment.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He is what a soldier is trained to be (so not so gentle in physical plane) but you don’t have to dig deep to see Tsukishima’s hidden soft core. In everyday life, he's an absolute sweetheart. All he really wants in a relationship is to love and be loved, that’s all. Tsukishima doesn't even have a lurking desire, intrusive thoughts of messing with the feelings unlike some individuals. Soft, soft, soft, and he doesn’t deny it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

It feels like a child’s hug: tight and unhesitant, with his hands wrapped around person’s waist and face buried in their neck. Light blush covers Tsukishima’s cheeks and he can’t stop smiling. If his partner is smaller than he is, Tsukishima will pick them up, and if they are taller he will try to hug them as if to almost hide in their arms. Picking him up will result in embarrassed exclamations but Tsukishima actually enjoys their attention.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

One year is the limit. Less time than 6 months feels a little bit rushed to him and more than one year seems like an unnecessary delay. Tsukishima is expectedly sincere in his confession; he doesn’t hold back and wriggle because of how confident he is in his feelings. It is not a long rehearsed monologue but a stream of consciousness, full of confessions how he likes their shining eyes, how their clumsiness makes his day a little brighter, how their whole character amazes him from day to day. The only thing that can possibly overwhelm Tsukishima is the overthinking of their possible negative reaction. One of his biggest fears is to appear too persistent with the confession and scare them away so he puts a lot of thought in choosing the right time and the right place.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Obviously expects his partner to reject any cheeky suitor since he understands that their natural beauty is hard to resist. If they choose to accept stranger’s attentions, Tsukishima feels insulted and betrayed. Trust is a key factor in the relationship so such irresponsible attitude towards the loyalty huts him deeply and rises suspicion of oncoming break-up. Also, being in limbo and asking himself whether they want to be with him or not takes a toll on Tsukishima’s psyche. He becomes more withdrawn and taciturn and spends more time busy at work with trying to distract himself from intrusive thoughts.

If his partner decides to go around and flirt, Tsukishima will be overtaken with anger. He is furious. The glass in his hand sonorously cracks under the pressure while he watches them ungodly teasing unsuspecting men. He doesn’t start a fight or scream at his loved one and keeps everything inside. It is enough for him to witness such behavior two times to leave them without long explanations and quarrels.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

A bit inept and greedy. Tsukishima tends to defer the kiss until his partner is ready to nicely ask him for one but after that he is completely in for a ride. The last time he kissed anyone is unknown-how-many-years-ago so it is natural for Tsukishima to be a little bit sloppy and eager. Lip kisses are golden classic and fits his character perfectly. It takes a good push to shift things in more intimate direction though. The most efficient way to do it is to play on Tsukishima's weaknesses: the back of his neck as well as earlobes and straight line down the spine. A few gentle touches and hardened composed soldier melts down like an ice on the sun.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

If you want to calm down a crying baby just give it to Tsukishima. It seems like kids feel sympathy when looking at his tired face and try to cause little trouble so as not to disappoint him even more. Smart children clearly amuse him, and Tsukishima strongly encourages their desire for knowledge, their curiosity and ambitions. Every now and then sudden thoughts about starting his own family pop up in his head but Tsukishima is kind of indecisive. Right now he is not ready to take on such responsibility, but in the future, dream of starting a big family could become a reality.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

It is impossible to catch Tsukishima in the morning during work week and it still isn’t that easy on the weekend. Insomnia keeps him up at nights so his day can start a long before his partner opens their eyes. On such nights, he goes for a lonely walk around the block and, on his return, prepares a light breakfast for two. There are also rare moments when Tsukishima falls asleep right before first sunbeam reaches earth. Those are the days when he sleeps in and refuses to get up from the bed, trapping his loved one in tight cuddle. Nuzzling into their neck, Tsukishima mutters that he needs five more minutes and he will definitely let go but five minutes turn into half of hour, then hour, and he never fulfills the promise.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

A great lover of a quiet pastime he is, Tsukishima likes to spend evenings playing intellectual games like shogi and reading whatever comes to hand. One of his favorite activities is resting his head on the partner’s knees and listening to them reading aloud haikus or other classic Japanese works. On warm summer nights, Tsukishima likes to go to the river or lake for skinny dipping since most onsens are separated by gender. Even if there is one that is not, he would still prefer more secluded place where there is no reason to worry about onlookers. If his partner wants to something more active and social, they will have to choose something not too overwhelming. Small friend gatherings are okay but huge parties drain the rest of the life from him.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Here is the thing: to pull personal information out of Tsukishima you have to know what to ask. You can’t say “Tell me how you got into army” and expect a little frank story, no. It would take a whole “It seems you and Lieutenant Tsurumi share some story” or something even more shifty to make him open up about this topic. It doesn’t mean that he is trying to hide something on purpose, but it definitely means he never had anyone to trust. Any claims that he is too secretive offend Tsukishima too.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Utter unshakable calmness in the middle of 7th Division craziness, either way because he has seen too much shit already or because he has no active neurons to react to it (insomnia, your know?). As a person who puts up with brain-juice leaking leader, spoiled naive brat in the dawn of youthful maximalism, mentally unstable fan boy, and mutilated lack-all on the verge of breakdown, he won’t even pay attention to small inconveniences. In quarrels, Tsukishima always appeals to rationality and perfectly avoids any escalation of the conflict. You have to ruin his life for him to snap, and when he does, someone’s neck will snap too.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Pays attention to them whenever around but forgets most of the stuff easily. Tsukishima only remembers one or two specific details that he can use practically in the future, like what their allergies are or what they want for the birthday. For the rest he has a small personal page in the notebook where he writes down little things that definitely will not stay in his memory for a long time. His writing comes in the code of abbreviations and numbers to make sure nobody pries into his personal life.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Used to be the one responsible in the group, he would probably remember moments where he was the one that had to be cared for. For once Tsukishima came down with a high fever and unbearable weakness, and it was a moment when his loved one jumped into merciless care-mode. He was put into bed with three pillows, teacup waiting for him on the nightstand, and even the most determined statements that he needed to finish some things have been met with indisputable refusal. They spun around him bringing medicine, food, and water whole day so Tsukishima couldn’t stop blaming himself for the helplessness. At the same time, his feelings of gratitude and love intensified with every thoughtful gesture so by the end of unfortunate leave Tsukishima almost regretted returning to his usual hectic life.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Previous experiences with both romantic relationship and role of sergeant-nanny taught Tsukishima one thing: danger is always there, even if it is not visible to the naked eye. A passerby can hide a loaded gun under his clothes, so there is not point to talk about hired killers, invisible diseases, natural disasters etc. Based on the above it is natural for Tsukishima be on the alert. He wants to know where his partner is going and with whom, warns them about his gut feeling if he has one, and, of course, intervenes at the sight of real danger without any second thought. Like this man would give up his life for a person who deserves it. Not at any point in time, Tsukishima expects his partner to protect him but if it happens, he will be extremely mad at them and himself too.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Tsukishima has a low social battery for the most of the time so he has to manage energy according to importance of the affairs. There is always a little bit more saved for his loved one, but you can’t really tell that he puts all of the effort into relationship. If work affairs did not suck the remnants of happiness from him, Tsukishima may stop and get a nice box of sweets or fruits. For special dates like their Birthday or anniversary, he saves money for a worthwhile present: for a female lover he would probably go for a beautiful silk tenga obi with celebratory motives or handmade jewelry box, and for male lover he would choose chopsticks with personalized engraving or exquisite lacquerware. Performs household chores well, although sometimes he has to be reminded about their existence.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Although Tsukishima is a stronghold of common sense, - he always keeps everything to himself, puts on a poker face, - once person gets on his nerves, they will see the worst side of him. Thanks to the famous reliability, Tsukishima learns where person’s weak spots are fast and he can easily hit them where it hurts with bold spiteful words.

Puts work over relationships. Setting to serve the homeland faithfully and unquestioningly rooted deep in his mind and now it is impossible to re-educate this shabby sergeant. Even in serious relationship, Tsukishima remembers about his duty as a soldier and as a son of Japan so he takes a lot of additional paperwork home.

As someone who used to be ordered around, Tsukishima still needs a guidance in the relationship. It takes a lot of thinking and weighing the pros and cons for him to make a decision but the partner’s opinion will be crucial nevertheless. In critical situations, he is perfectly oriented, but in a steady life? Not so much.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Cares enough to wash, dry, and iron his own uniform and brush up muddy toecaps of own boots. Tsukishima tries to blend in with surrounding, not to pop up, so he keeps his style in muted neutral colors (that applies to both clothes and shoes) and prefers strict uniform to anything else. In his view, moderation is the sister of style so the only thing that can make him pull off fancy apparel would be direct order from the First Lieutenant Tsurumi. Indifferent to how people perceive his physical appearance as well.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If his partner decides it is a time to part the ways, he acts maturely, thanks them for the great moments that they shared and everything they achieved together. Even though Tsukishima is hurting, he keeps bitter reproaches to himself, knowing that lashing out won’t do anything good. It is not his style anyway. Few weeks need to pass by before the hurricane of emotions settles down and their image ceases to be associated with a romantic relationship. Instead, Tsukishima faces them again with a proposal to start everything from scratch. Leave everything behind and become friends. Just friends. No hard feelings. Honestly, being close to them is everything he asks for. If they decline, Tsukishima won’t bother them again, but if they agree, he won’t ever leave their side.

Their death is a punch to the gut. It is like Igogusa’s disappearing all over again, but more painful, more deliberate, more distinct. To say that he is heartbroken is to say nothing at all: division soldiers notice how gloomy their sergeant has become, they feel uneasy under his sharp look. It feels like one wrong word and he will snap. Now Tsukishima’s nihilism turns into total indifference to existence: he puts himself in danger just to see how long he can last.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Another one who has a great singing voice. He never ever sings in barracks or anywhere near his comrades but Tsukishima’s voice is charming: he has a sweet soothing bass-baritone that sounds the best in lullabies or ballads. Even though his partner may never hear a proper serenade, they may catch him quietly singing to their child instead of reading old fairytales.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Tsukishima can tolerate A LOT and turns blind eye to person’s bad habits for the sake of avoiding unnecessary stress. Therefore, there isn’t much that irritates him and even less that can drive him on the walls.

Grubbiness is one of the habits that Tsukishima cannot ignore. Clothes scattered around the room, unwashed dishes, and heaps of unnecessary junk get on his nerves but he keeps composure and never complains.

Loud noises, including chewing, smacking, munching, are annoying too but Koito’s constant monkey screeching desensitized him to the degree when Tsukishima takes a deep breath, prays to gods not to go apeshit, and goes on with his day.

Oh, he also hates summer. Hot temperatures force Tsukishima to soak in the bath three times more often than in winter or any other season.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Those bags under his eyes are Gucci Yoshida. Well, okay, Yoshida was established a little bit later but this is not so important. Tsukishima suffers from insomnia for who knows how long, and no doctor can help him. On sleepless nights, he just sits by the window and reads in the faint candlelight, still cherishing the hope of falling asleep in the morning. After moving in with his loved one, nothing really changed beside Tsukishima changing his habitual reading spot from armchair by the window to a more secluded place in another room. He doesn’t want to wake them up by accident.

In general, Tsukishima sleeps around 3-5 hours per day with occasional awakenings during the night. His sleep is shallow and filled with disturbing dreams in which shapeless shadows haunt him, driving him south of Mukden, where many of the Japanese brethren found eternal peace.

[cottagefaeries]

💛 Cottagefaeries’s 25k Cottagecore Masks (PART 1)💛

hello friends! for a while now, i’ve been wanting to do a g!veaway to show my appreciation for all of you! I just hit 25k followers a few days ago, and my mom (@yournewmum) had the most wonderful idea to do a mask g!veaway due to the COVID-19 pandemic that is impacting the entire world. Therefore, we will be giving away a mask with cottagecore themed fabric to 50 people who enter this g!vaway!

Why Does This Say “Part 1”?

💛 This is a 5 part g!vaway, with 10 winners chosen every part! For a total of 50 winners!

💛 Each week I will post another version of this post, the only thing different will be what part number, and the deadline!

💛 There will be no repeat winners!

How Do I Enter?

💛 TO ENTER: either on this post or your own post (using the hashtag “#cottagefaeries 25k”), show me something you do! drawing, poetry, singing, baking, ceramics, photography, dancing, anything! teach me how to say something in another language, show me what you’ve made in a video game, tell me a bit of folklore, share a recipe, i mean anything! note: you will NOT be judged or chosen based on how “good” your skill is! what you have to share with the world is valuable no matter how it looks/sounds/etc.

💛 this g!veaway is open worldwide! Anyone from anywhere can enter! (apologies for this only being in english, it’s the only language i know fluently)

What Will I Get If I Win?

💛 winners will recieve a random mask with a cottagecore themed fabric (similar to the ones picture above), as well as a 3-D printed behind-the-neck connector to eliminate strain on the ears!

💛 the masks are made of two inner layers of 100% cotton with either a cotton or poly/cotton cover layer, 1/4 inch braided elastic loops, and 100% cotton thread

💛 although the mask selection will be random, i will message winners when they are chosen and you can specify if you’d prefer a more simple one, flashy one, a specific color, pattern, etc. (for example, you could say “i really want a blue gingham if that’s available” or “no animal fabrics please!”)

(the masks pictured at the top are NOT included in the g!veaway, but the same fabrics may be used in some of the masks that get sent to winners!)

Is There Anything Else I Need To Know?

💛 you do not need to follow me, or reblog/like this post to participate, although any & all of those are appreciated!

💛 This Part closes Friday April 24, 2020 at 11:59pm EST. Winners will be messaged on Saturday April 25. (please make sure your messages are open!)

💛 after the winners are notified, packages will be mailed within 5 days of recieving the winner’s address in a reply. Winners do not need to pay shipping fees, no matter where you live!

💛 disclaimer: please do your research about cloth masks! they are NOT substitutes for n95 or other more effective masks! regardless, it is important to wear a mask of some sort in public if possible! i cannot guarantee that these will prevent illness, but it is also important to save the more important masks for healthcare workers and those who are at higher risk. if you show symptoms of COVID-19, PLEASE stay home.

💛 please DO NOT tag this post or your entry as “g*veaway” because tumblr will shadowban it! i want the opportunity to get one of these lovely masks to be available to everyone!

-

thank you for taking the time to read this post, and i hope you consider participating! Try to stay safe and healthy, and take care of yourself while we all get through this together 💛

[astrawords]

a symbol to remind you that there’s more to see

Characters: Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian (& Co) Rating: T Warnings/Tags: No Major Warnings, Canon-Compliant(ish), Post-Canon(ish), Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mild/Moderate Angst, Angst With Happy Ending, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Twin Idiots, Reconciliation, Jin Ling has too many uncles, Jin Ling deserves a hug, Jin Ling will save us all, excessive verbosity by yours truly

Summary: For as long as Jin Ling can remember, he has been immune to the majority of supernatural hauntings that plague the cultivation world.

Or: what if Jin Ling had received his first-month birthday gift.

Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to MXTX and The Untamed. Set in CQL!verse. Before anyone asks, yes, I have read the novel.

Notes: HELLO! It has been a really long time since I ventured into full-on fic writing. This makes me nervous to post (I am @amedetoiles posting on my writing blog btw), but I was rambling to @winepresswrath​ about this and so of course I wrote it instead of doing productive adult things. Only this really got away from me. It was only supposed to be a short “what if” ficlet about Jin Ling, but Yunmengbros and their loud ass feelings got in the way, and it ended up being almost 10K D: Also, for @goblinish who was sad about jzasshole breaking wwx’s gift.

Basically, everything at Qiongqi Path still happened, but Wei Wuxian got the bracelet back before Jin Zixun crushed it (somehow), and it was delivered to Jiang Yanli shortly after the Wens surrendered (also somehow ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ PLOT? WHAT IS PLOT?). Not beta’d. We gonna die like wwx here.

[Read on AO3]

---

1.

For as long as Jin Ling can remember, he has been immune to the majority of supernatural hauntings that plague the cultivation world. Any spirit or ghoul he has ever encountered would promptly redirect itself towards another target as if he were surrounded by an invisible barrier.

The first time it happens, he’s eight-years-old and accompanying his jiujiu to watch the YunmengJiang disciples get rid of a water ghost. In the midst of a coordinated luring, the water ghost had shot up right in front of him. Frantic, his uncle had thrown his arm out to shield him, only for the water ghost to hover above Jin Ling’s head with apparent confusion before diving back underneath the murky waters.

To this day, he still hasn’t forgotten the look on his uncle’s face.

(He tries to bring it up to his jiujiu only once, but Jiang Cheng had stared at him with a terrifying mix of fury and anguish that Jin Ling quickly learns to never mention it again, the same way he stops bringing up his mother.)

After a while, Jin Ling stops questioning it. Even if it’s a little strange, he can’t complain when it makes night hunting significantly more advantageous for him.

Of course, this doesn’t stop Jin Chan and his lackeys from mocking him relentlessly about it like they do with everything else. Their taunting comments that even the lowest of beings don’t want anything to do with him cut deeper than he pretends otherwise, adding to all the other still-healing wounds riddled across his chest. He punches Jin Chan partly in retaliation, but mostly because the throbbing in his hands makes him forget about the ache. At least for a while.

Silently, Jin Ling likes to think that maybe his parents are protecting him from beyond the grave, that perhaps their spirits are shielding him somehow, even if it’s a little farfetched. His memories of them are a gentle blur of gold and violet hues. On lonelier nights, they provide him with warmth when everything else is cold.

He carries his father’s sword with him like an anchor to that brief moment in his life when his family had been whole. The YunmengJiang bells are tied to his waist, marking him uniquely as an heir to two major sects. On his right wrist is his most treasured possession of all (though he will deny it if anybody asks)–the beaded bracelet his mother had left for him.

It was handcrafted. He knows from the hours and hours he’s spent tracing the uneven edges to the miniature nine-petaled lotus that sits at the knot and the intricately carved designs on the other beads. He isn’t sure who made it for him. From the little that he’s heard of her, his mother hadn’t been skilled at craftsmanship, and he has never been able to find anything similar in the markets. It certainly doesn’t match the golden opulence of LanlingJin to think that his parents had had it custom-made from a Lanling artisan.

Jiang Cheng skirts around the question whenever Jin Ling brings it up to him, but ever since that day on the lake, he’s caught his uncle gazing at it with eyes reflecting a confusing storm of unreadable emotions. Jin Ling tries his best to keep the bracelet hidden underneath his sleeve as often as he can, but he never takes it off, cherishing it like a lifeline–a symbol of a time when he’d been adored by the mother and father he never got to meet.

He tells himself it’s enough. (Sometimes he even believes it.)

As Jin Ling grows older and starts participating in more night hunts, he begins to realize that his immunity isn’t absolute. The fiercer the spirit, the more powerful the demon, the less likely his natural defense seems to hold. He still fares far better than the other disciples in his class. Partly because it holds up long enough for him to gather his bearings, and partly because his uncle is never too far behind, looming tall and threatening like the purple thunderstorms that roll through the Yunmeng skies during the summer.

It’s more comforting than he’ll ever admit, even if Jin Ling has a habit of running off without telling him. He wants to prove to his uncle that he’s strong and skilled enough to not need saving (and maybe a little bit to prove everyone else wrong, too).

But sitting in a room now trapped with a lunatic in a mask, even he has to admit that breaking into a haunted shrine was perhaps not the brightest idea he’s ever had. Being saved by Mo Xuanyu (if this man even is Mo Xuanyu–he certainly doesn’t act like the disgraced disciple he remembers) also hadn’t been on the list of things he’s ever wanted to experience.

If Jin Ling dies here, then his uncle is going to bring him back to life for the sole purpose of breaking his legs for not listening. (He might even admit to deserving it this once.)

Shuffling backwards on the bed, Jin Ling sputters angrily to hide the anxiety shooting up his spine as he frantically looks for an escape route. “You–! What were you taking off my clothes for? Where’s my sword? Where’s my dog?”

“Hey,” not-Mo Xuanyu says indignantly with his hands on his hips. “I just spent a lot of effort getting you out of the wall. You don’t know how to say thank you?”

Finding Suihua at his side, Jin Ling grabs it and raises it threateningly. “If it wasn’t for that, you would already be dead!”

“Alright, alright,” the man says, stepping back with a nervous laugh and raising his hands. “Listen. One death is enough for me. Be good. Put the sword down, okay?”

Jin Ling glares at him suspiciously but still lowers Suihua slowly to his lap. His sleeve rides up in the process, and not-Mo Xuanyu’s eyes travel to the bracelet on his wrist. The man freezes with a sharp intake of breath. “Jin Ling,” he whispers. “That bracelet…”

Jin Ling quickly covers it with his hand. “My mother left me this,” he snaps. “Don’t touch it!”

But the man doesn’t move, staring at Jin Ling with wide shocked eyes that he can see even through the mask. “Your… mother…?” he repeats, sounding strangled and winded, like he’s been knocked over.

“What’s it to you? It’s none of your business!” Jin Ling tells him hotly. Not-Mo Xuanyu doesn’t seem to hear him, standing so still that Jin Ling thinks he may as well have been stone if not for the way his hands were gripping at the skirts of his robes. Seeing the opportunity, he quickly puts on his boots and bolts from the room, ignoring the delayed shouts coming from behind him as he speeds away in search of his jiujiu and Fairy.

Predictably, Jiang Cheng scolds him loudly enough to echo through the dark empty streets for running off on his own again once Jin Ling finally makes his way back to the holding spot where the YunmengJiang entourage were waiting. Unpredictably, however, his uncle’s tirade gets interrupted by a now far-too familiar yelping as not-Mo Xuanyu falls out from an alcove with a string of exceedingly embarrassing whimpers, cowering into the ground as Fairy comes trotting along after him.

On the one hand, it all goes about the same as all the other demonic cultivators Jin Ling has watched his uncle hunt down over the years in search of Wei Wuxian’s returning soul, and yet, oddly, on the other hand, it’s not the same at all.

For one, he’s never seen that look cross his uncle’s face before when not-Mo Xuanyu finally removes his mask. For another, he’s never seen a cultivator unlucky enough to catch his uncle’s ire look back with such defiance.

Maybe that’s what pushes Jin Ling to lie to his uncle about seeing the Ghost General outside the village. That, and the man had saved him after all. No one besides his two uncles have ever bothered to do anything for Jin Ling, let alone dig him out of a cursed trap he unwittingly fell into on his own. (No one’s ever apologized to him either, and he’s left stumbling between embarrassment at being caught off guard and his practiced arrogance, completely unsure how to navigate around the strange almost proud smile on the man’s face that reminds him so much of his jiujiu’s rare satisfied grin.)

“That bracelet,” not-Mo Xuanyu says slowly. Jin Ling steps back, his hand automatically coming up to cover his wrist as he stares back with a narrowed look. The man rolls his eyes. “Ai-ya, what’s that look for? I’m not going to steal it, brat. I was just… wondering if you knew who made it.”

Jin Ling frowned. “I already told you, my mother gave it to me,” he says testily, still suspicious. “What’s it to you?”

“Ah, nothing, nothing,” the man says with a light innocent tone. “I just wanted to know where one might be able to find a bracelet like that, is all.”

Jin Ling scoffs, crossing his arms. “It’s an original. You won’t be able to find it anywhere.” Even though he’s never been entirely sure of that fact, there is still an unmistakable pride that colors his words as he says them.

“Hm,” not-Mo Xuanyu nods thoughtfully, lips quirking. After a beat of silence, the man says softly, “She must have loved you very much, Jin Ling. To want to protect you even after she was gone.”

Jin Ling flushes a bright red, taken aback by the bold words. Aside from the stories he’s heard from the nursemaids at Koi Tower who cared for him and what little he could get out of his jiujiu, no one has ever willingly spoken to him about his parents. And certainly no one, not even his uncle, has ever so matter-of-factly stated that his mother had loved him to his face. To think that this not-Mo Xuanyu, of all people, would be the first is ridiculously absurd, to say the least, even as his heart does something funny in his chest.

Belatedly, his mind catches up to the second half of what the man had said, and his head shoots up. “Protect me?” Jin Ling asks quickly.

Not-Mo Xuanyu hums again, turning away from Jin Ling suddenly. His voice sounds strangely thick when he says, “Of course. Why else would she leave you with spirit-repelling beads?”

Jin Ling starts in surprise. “Spirit-repelling?” he whispers as he lifts his wrist in front of him. “How– how do you know?”

The same smile from before was on the man’s face again as he looks at Jin Ling with an expression that feels strikingly familiar. “I can feel the spiritual energy coming off of them,” he says. “You’ll see. As your cultivation gets stronger.”

Jin Ling’s mouth forms a small oh but the sound barely leaves him as he stares intently at his bracelet as if seeing it for the first time. A burst of warmth floods into his chest, spreading all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes. His mother, protecting him from beyond the grave, like he’s always hoped, has always dreamed. His head spins, feeling off balanced with his sixteen years long question suddenly answered by a man who shouldn’t have known anything at all, and yet…

A hand comes down on his shoulder, and he looks up, eyes wide. Not-Mo Xuanyu is smiling gently, his gaze soft. “She would be happy to see you doing so well.”

A lump forms in Jin Ling’s throat as his eyes burn, and he quickly shrugs off the man’s hand before he does something stupid like cry. “Who are you to say that to me?” he demands hotly, the tips of his ears going red from embarrassment. He quickly shoves away the revelation in favor of shouting at the elder for putting his brazenness.

In the days following, he spends an inordinate amount of time fiddling with the bracelet in a way he hasn’t felt the need to since he was thirteen, trying to concentrate on his qi to see if he could visualize the spiritual energy. After far too many hours, he is only able to catch the faintest trace of it, a crimson glow that fades quickly from his focus, but he feels so victorious as if he’s crafted the beads himself with his own bare hands. Perhaps that not-Mo Xuanyu is useful for something after all. He shakes his head, pushing all thoughts of that outrageous man from his mind.

But even as he tries, he can’t quite seem to forget how not-Mo Xuanyu had gazed at him with the same look in his eyes that his jiujiu has carried for all sixteen years of Jin Ling’s life.

2.

Life becomes an unexpected whirlwind of chaos.

Jin Ling decides as he’s sitting tied to a rock on a poisonous mountain, being forced to listen to Jin Chan’s irritating complaining that, like everything else in his life, it is entirely Wei Wuxian’s fault.

Wei Wuxian, who not only murdered his father and got his mother killed, had then showed up at Dafan Mountain pretending to be that crazy Mo Xuanyu, setting his entire life into a downward spiral of unending problems, including but not limited to: his uncle’s ire, getting silenced by Hanguang-jun, creepy dead cats, fierce corpses, almost-poisoning, a sociopath and his murderous rogue cultivator-turned-corpse, and now kidnapping.

(The traitorous part of Jin Ling’s mind, probably responsible for the sharp burn of guilt in his stomach ever since Wei Wuxian had left Koi Tower bleeding from his sword, reminds him that the man has also guided him, protected him, and saved his life again and again. He had squeezed Jin Ling’s shoulders, looked at him with a proud smile, and told him his mother had loved him.)

Jin Ling gets into an argument with Jin Chan just to stop the storm of thoughts threatening to consume him. He isn’t entirely surprised when they’re interrupted by the same man who had set his life aflame, only for him to come save them all yet again.

He watches Wei Wuxian stand in front of a mob of cultivators all clamoring for his death with the same cool defiance Jin Ling has come to recognize, listens to his not-uncle expertly and systematically reveal Sect Leader Su’s secret treachery, and feels a confusing mix of delight and pride. When Wei Wuxian then throws himself into the line of fire as bait, exactly like he had in Yi City when he had protected them all from Xue Yang, it isn’t anger that fills Jin Ling but instead concern, worry–a fear that his… that Wei Wuxian might not make it out alive. He does, and Jin Ling doesn’t know what to do with the relief that floods through him.

The next evening Jin Ling leaves Lotus Pier without permission. Though he hasn’t seen his uncle all day, word of his uncle’s strange behavior has spread like wildfire through the YunmengJiang disciples. He tells himself that he’s sneaking out because he doesn’t want to get caught in his uncle’s temper and not at all because he maybe wants to run into someone who had left without even saying goodbye to him.

With the way everything has been tracking lately, it really shouldn’t have surprised him that he winds up where he is.

But it does, and he’s left trapped in a temple with two of the most powerful cultivators in the world now defenseless, and the man who has saved him time and time again unable to intervene, all while his own uncle orchestrates the whole thing without remorse.

He’s never been very good at following orders, so Jin Ling tries to escape as they’re pushed into the temple (his xiao-shushu can’t possibly be serious about killing Fairy, right?). He’s grabbed almost immediately by Su She. He struggles, yelling, and forcibly yanks his arm out of the other man’s grip, but his bracelet comes off his wrist as he pulls himself away. He watches, eyes going wide with horror as the bracelet soars into the air and lands on the ground, the impact scattering the beads all across the open courtyard, disappearing into the drenching downpour of rain.

It’s like a blade straight through his heart, and he stares, shock still, at his mother’s broken bracelet.

His vision is blurring with tears before he even realizes. “You!” Jin Ling screams angrily. Suihua is unsheathed and in his hands, and he swings it viciously at Su She. He’s deflected easily, and then freezes, feeling the points of several swords now at his throat.

“Su-zongzhu!” Wei Wuxian shouts, darting forward, but is stopped by two Jin disciples who grab ahold of his arms. “Get away from him!”

Su She sneers. “Yiling laozu,” he drawls disdainfully. “You’re not in the position to be giving orders.”

Something extraordinarily murderous flashes through Wei Wuxian’s eyes. For a brief moment, they almost seem to glow red with rage. “Su She, I am warning you, do not go too far,” he growls icily. Jin Ling gulps, shivering despite himself, and knows suddenly why his jiujiu and Wei Wuxian are brothers.

“Minshan,” Jin Guangyao interrupts calmly from the steps. Jin Ling swallows tightly as the swords are lowered, looking up at the man who has helped raise him, now staring at him with none of the warmth or concern he has grown up knowing, and feels hollow.

They’re pushed into the temple, and Jin Ling lowers himself onto the stone floor, Suihua cradled in his lap like a protective blanket. There are grey eyes across from him watching, pinched with worry, but Jin Ling doesn’t notice as he shakes with fury and anguish.

His wrist has never felt so bare.

3.

Jin Ling sits on a pillar and stares morosely at the beads he’s gathered in his hands. Some of them are cracked, and the sight sends more pain lancing through his chest, sharper than any of the barbs anyone has ever thrown at him. The bitter angry tears finally spill down his cheeks.

There are more important things that he should be focusing on, like the millions of earth-shattering truths that have thrusted themselves upon his reality in the past few hours, but all he can see is the broken remains of his mother’s bracelet resting in his trembling hands.

“Jin Ling!”

He looks up and only barely catches sight of the black robes and red hair ribbon before he’s suddenly engulfed into a bone-crushing hug. Wei Wuxian (his uncle?) scolds him for being so reckless, an unbearable thread of frantic concern in his voice, and Jin Ling feels his face heat up. Even Jin Guangyao (resolutely, he doesn’t think past the name), the softer of his two uncles, had never been so casual and open with his care.

Wei Wuxian pulls back but doesn’t release him, holding him by the shoulders and frowning at him with an earnest worry that makes his face color even more. “A-Ling, promise me you won’t ever do something so stupid like that again.”

Jin Ling flounders, struggling to keep himself together in the face of this man’s unending onslaught of affection, but still can’t help but squawk indignantly. “You can’t scold me!” he throws back, a petulant frown forming on his lips. He pushes himself free, holding the beads close to his chest. “Go away. You’re going to break them even more!”

Wei Wuxian blinks down at Jin Ling’s hands, and then back to Jin Ling’s face, at his quivering lips, at the stubborn collection of tears in the corner of his eyes, and he softens.

“Silly boy,” Wei Wuxian admonishes quietly as he kneels down in front of Jin Ling. “What are you crying for?”

“I’m not crying!” Jin Ling retorts even as he wipes furiously at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Give them here,” Wei Wuxian says and takes all the beads into his hands. Jin Ling makes a sharp noise of distress, but Wei Wuxian shakes his head, “I’m not going to break them, A-Ling.” Reaching into his robes, he produces a new cord from his qiankun pouch, and Jin Ling’s eyes widen in surprise.

He watches Wei Wuxian thread each bead through the cord with nimble fingers, repairing the cracked ones with expertly drawn talismans that glow a very familiar crimson, and he knows.

“There,” Wei Wuxian says as he finishes tying the final knot and seals his work with another complicated sigil. With gentle hands, he slips the bracelet back onto Jin Ling’s right wrist and glances up at him with a soft smile. “See? Good as new.”

Jin Ling doesn’t move. There is a mad rushing sound in his ears. His heart is in his mouth. His vision is blurring.

Wei Wuxian reaches up, and he feels a thumb on his cheek, brushing away the stray tears that are falling. His uncle’s smile is immeasurably fond, tender, and also something achingly familiar that wrenches a sixteen-year old memory out of Jin Ling’s howling heart, making him think words like love and warmth and safe.

Across the courtyard, Jiang Cheng is watching them, his face reflecting that unreadable chaos Jin Ling has come to know so well (and has just realized why). Wei Wuxian looks over, too, but no words pass between the two brothers. Maybe there are no more words left to say. Maybe enough words are still lying on the ashy floors of the destroyed temple behind them. (Maybe they are all resting on Jin Ling’s wrist like they have for sixteen years.)

In the span of a few weeks, everything that Jin Ling has grown up knowing and believing has crumbled under his feet. He has come closer to death than he’s ever been before. His neck stings from betrayal. His head throbs from where he hit it falling onto the stone floor. His hands are still trembling.

He’s lost an uncle.

But somehow, kneeling in front of him, he’s gained another, one who’s been with him all along, who’s been protecting him for his entire life.

4.

Seven months into Jin Ling’s term as the new LanlingJin sect leader, more than the sycophantic elders trying to curry his favor where before they had only looked at him with disdain, more than all the smaller clans trying to take advantage of his age and inexperience, and more than the overwhelming task of having to clean up after Jin Guangyao’s political mess (or the frighteningly painful shadows of the man he still sees everywhere at Koi Tower), it’s his two maternal uncles who are driving him slowly toward insanity the most.

“We could lock them up together until they finally talk,” Ouyang Zizhen suggests, after Jin Ling finishes regaling his friends over dinner with a tale of how a perfectly well-planned unassuming meal with both his uncles at Koi Tower had turned into an epic debacle. Even this morning, the servants were still trying to scrub away the damage done to his private dining hall.

“Do you want to die?” Lan Jingyi says through a mouthful of rice, still the most un-Lan disciple he’s ever met wearing the cloud-patterned forehead ribbon. “Because Jiang-zongzhu will definitely kill us.” He then adds, after a beat, “After he kills Wei-qianbei.”

Jin Ling groans and lets his forehead fall onto the table with a thunk. “Not. Helping.”

Lan Sizhui pats him on his arm. “Jin Ling,” he says, “it’s not your responsibility to make sure Wei-qianbei and Jiang-zongzhu get along.”

He’s right. Jin Ling knows he’s right, and not because Sizhui is usually right. Neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng has ever asked him to embark on this solely self-decided journey to fix their estranged relationship. Both of them seem frustratingly content with the current status quo, only really maintaining some level of stilted cordiality wherever Jin Ling is concerned.

But he has gotten exceptionally tired of having to juggle around both of them. Neither of his uncles ever visit him at the same time, so he feels annoyingly pulled in two different directions and just ends up feeling guilty whenever he chooses one over the other. Never mind that after all these years, he finally understands a little of his uncle’s complicated feelings for his once sworn brother and the bracelet he had left for Jin Ling. Or the fact that, according to the YunmengJiang disciples, his jiujiu has gone from raging at people who dare speak Wei Wuxian’s name to snapping at anyone who thinks they can speak ill without impunity. And yet, the man still can’t have a civil conversation with Uncle Wei without it resulting in a shouting match.

Looking at them, Jin Ling feels a bone-deep longing to set right to what little family he has left. (He also wants equally as much to throttle both of their heads against the wall.)

“Ugh,” he groans, sitting back up and sliding his bowl of rice towards him. “Fine. But if they do try to kill each other tonight, you all better help me.”

The plan for their night hunt had started out so simple–a brief patrol through the eastern forests of Yunmeng to test out Jin Ling’s bracelet. Wei Wuxian has spent the better part of the past several weeks adding adjustments to it, struck by a burst of creative inspiration and spurred on by the necessity to keep Jin Ling safe as he settles into his role as the face of a sect that’s still awashed with scandal and many people looking at him to fail.

The concern thrums a warmth through Jin Ling’s chest that’s different than what he feels with his jiujiu. He has always been able to count on Jiang Cheng’s thunderous temper to shield him from anyone and anything that might harm him. Wei Wuxian, too, is unquestioningly overprotective and easily as exasperating as Jiang Cheng, but there’s also something sweeter, something softer, in the way he showers Jin Ling with constant teasing affection. He still isn’t used to it, but he can’t say he really minds that this is his family now.

He had briefly entertained the hope that he might be able to enjoy what would be an easy night hunt with his friends without his jiujiu interfering. But for some unknown reason, Jiang Cheng has been attaching himself to every night hunt Jin Ling has gone on where Wei Wuxian was supervising, regardless of how many times Jin Ling has tried to tell him he doesn’t need the extra supervision. This time is no different. (“Just because Wei Wuxian doesn’t have any sense of respect doesn’t mean you can just forget about rules and propriety, brat! Is this how a sect leader acts?!” “Jiujiu.”)

Both Jingyi and Zizhen stare at him with wary looks before going back to scarfing down their meals as if he hadn’t spoken. Sizhui smiles at him reassuringly though, so at least Jin Ling will have him as support tonight even if the other two abandon him like cowards.

Unsurprisingly, it all turns into an absolute disaster.

Jin Ling finds himself saddled with both his uncles right from the start after a suggestion to split the group off with one elder each is viciously slammed down by Jiang Cheng refusing to let Jin Ling go with Wei Wuxian.

“I am not letting you experiment on my nephew alone!” Jiang Cheng had snarled.

An extremely irritated look had flashed across Wei Wuxian’s face, and all the juniors had collectively held their breaths (the cold rage Wei Wuxian had unleashed onto Sect Leader Yao two months ago when the man had willfully omitted several important facts in his report to the Chief Cultivator regarding a haunting along the northern border of Meishan, namely that a collecting mass of resentful energy had risen to such severely threatening levels so as to cause a number of fatalities in the nearby villages, and got Sizhui gravely injured during an initial patrol, was still too fresh on their minds for them to believe that their beloved senior wasn’t just as prone to exploding as Jiang Cheng), but then Wei Wuxian had turned away and nodded with tense acquiescence. By then, Jin Ling already had a headache.

Predictably, Jingyi and Zizhen run away, taking Sizhui with them, who had looked back at him with an apologetic unsurety, leaving Jin Ling woefully resigned to patrolling their designated side alone with his two exasperating uncles.

Thirty minutes later, nobody has said a word, the only thing interrupting the tense silence is the sound of the leaves crunching underneath their feet as they walk. Wei Wuxian twirls his flute. Jiang Cheng glares at the trees. Jin Ling tries not to fling them both off the mountain.

Finally fed up, Jin Ling tries to speed ahead, but before he can even take a few steps, two voices call from behind him.

“Where do you think you’re going, brat?”

“Jin Ling, don’t run off.”

He turns around to see Jiang Cheng scowling at Wei Wuxian, who is suddenly finding the trees exceptionally interesting. “Are you both going to do this all night?” Jin Ling asks with a decidedly unimpressed glare as he crosses his arms. Jiang Cheng turns his scowl onto him, his mouth already opening to shout at him for his tone, but Wei Wuxian interrupts with a bright laugh.

“Hah?” Wei Wuxian says, advancing on him and brandishing his flute. Jin Ling’s lips twitch despite himself. “You’re getting quite mouthy these days, Jin-zongzhu. Just because you’re a sect leader now doesn’t mean I won’t plant you in the ground like a–” He cuts off abruptly, head whipping to his left as the hilarity fades immediately from his face. Jin Ling tenses, already half-unsheathing Suihua, but nothing happens, just the same rustle of trees above their heads as the evening breeze flows through Yunmeng.

“Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng asks tightly, almost like an accusation, his face contorting into a mix of irritation and something a lot like worry.

Wei Wuxian startles as if shaken and turns back towards them. His brows furrow. “It’s… nothing. I thought I…” His shakes his head, looking strangely disoriented. It sends an uneasy feeling shooting up Jin Ling’s spine. He’s never seen Wei Wuxian, so normally brimming with bright humor and nonchalance (other than when he’s raining fire down on Sect Leader Yao’s head), look this rattled.

If possible, the tense line to Jiang Cheng’s shoulders stiffens even more. “What’s wrong with you?” he demands sharply.

“Da-jiujiu?” Jin Ling says frowning.

The address seems to pull Wei Wuxian out of his daze, something close to a normal smile spreading across his face. “Ai-ya, why are you both looking like that?” he says as he throws an arm around Jin Ling’s shoulders. “It’s nothing. Come on, let’s keep going.”

They fall back into step again, but the furrow doesn’t quite leave Wei Wuxian’s face. Jiang Cheng is pretending not to notice, but Jin Ling sees his uncle sending narrowed glances out from the corner of his eyes. As usual, Wei Wuxian teases Jin Ling until the tension bleeds right out of him in favor of annoyance over his childish uncle. Rolling his eyes, he huffs and speeds ahead again, keeping his ears trained behind him in case they try to kill each other.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Wei Wuxian is murmuring, exasperated.

Jiang Cheng scoffs. “You’re the one who froze like a headless chicken back there,” he snaps back irritably, but Jin Ling hears the gruff undercurrent of concern.

Wei Wuxian seems to hear it, too, because he says, in a tone that sounds like he’s rolling his eyes, “Jiang Cheng, stop worrying. I just thought I felt something.”

“I’m not–”

So engrossed is he in the conversation that if it hadn’t been for the sudden and grotesquely familiar smell, Jin Ling would have missed the loud rustling to his left. As it was, he only very narrowly manages to jump back in time before a fierce corpse leaps through the trees and lands exactly where he had been standing.

“Jin Ling!” shout both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng.

Spinning away, Jin Ling unsheathes Suihua, his heart slamming into his chest as he faces the violent rotting corpse. Only the creature doesn’t move, head cocking in what appears to be confusion, its soulless eyes looking right through Jin Ling, almost as if it can’t see him at all. On his wrist, his bracelet warms.

“It worked,” Wei Wuxian says with a pleased sound as Jiang Cheng rushes forward and tugs Jin Ling behind them. The momentary victory is short-lived, however, as the low growls of an incoming onslaught of fierce corpses reaches all their ears. They flood into the clearing, joining their companion, numbering nearly as many as the wave that had attacked them at Burial Mounds over half a year ago, until they are all at once surrounded.

“You want to try telling me again how I shouldn’t worry?” Jiang Cheng growls through gritted teeth as both Zidian and Sandu flare to life in his hands.

Wei Wuxian somehow still has enough defiance in him to roll his eyes, Chenqing flipping easily in his hands as he raises it to his lips. He turns his head. “Jin Ling, stay back,” he orders.

Jin Ling bristles at the command, but the sharp look Jiang Cheng sends his way makes the retort die quickly in his throat. Scowling, he leaps into a nearby tree, crouching low on a branch and watching as his uncles move to stand back to back. Without Jin Ling’s bracelet as distraction, the fierce corpses seem to refocus on the two cultivators in front of them, snarling in anticipation of satisfying their bloodlust. He has no idea why the hell so many are hanging around what should be a relatively benign forest in Yunmeng. He hopes with an uneasy feeling that his friends are okay.

The first notes of a dizi fill the cold open air, sending an involuntary shiver up Jin Ling’s spine, as Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and pulls a high-pitched luring melody from his blackened bone flute with practiced perfection. A fierce corpse leaps from the crowd. Like a thunderclap, Zidian whips out and smashes it backwards into a tree, scattering loose leaves all around them as the battle begins.

Jin Ling watches with startled amazement.

He has seen Wei Wuxian battle with Hanguang-jun at his side, standing still, completely trusting, while the other man dances, wielding his blade with deadly precision. He has seen Jiang Cheng battle alone, a furious flurry of chaotic movements and the constant manic whip of lightning.

But this– this is different.

Wei Wuxian is a blur of ink, weaving seamlessly around Jiang Cheng’s swift attacks, as the fierce corpses disintegrate under the sharpness of Sandu’s blade, the electricity of Zidian’s purple lightning, and the black blur of spirits being called to battle by the master who commands them. Their movements are graceful and synchronized in a way Jin Ling has never witnessed, as if they are each an arm to one single soul. He’s suddenly and very keenly aware that this must be how they had each learnt to fight. Not alone, but together, standing back to back, as brothers–partners–the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng.

The fierce corpses are rapidly dispersed under their combined efforts, and the surroundings fall again into an eerie silence as both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng survey the area for several more tense minutes.

Jin Ling drops back down to the ground, rushing over to them. His eyes frantically roam over each of them for injuries and frowns unhappily at the gash on Jiang Cheng’s arm. “Jiujiu! You’re hurt!”

“I’m fine,” Jiang Cheng says gruffly, placing a reassuring hand on Jin Ling’s shoulder.

“We should find the other kids,” Wei Wuxian says with a worried set to his lips.

Jiang Cheng jerks his head in agreement as he sheathes Sandu. He lets Jin Ling fret over the gash even as he rests a hand on Jin Ling’s head, repeating, “I’m fine, A-Ling.”

Distracted, neither of them senses the movement on their right until it’s too late. With a sudden furious roar, a lone fierce corpse soars from the shadows straight at them. It’s too close, moving too quickly–Jiang Cheng turns, instinctively shielding Jin Ling before he can even register what’s happening, but someone bodily shoves them both aside, sending Jin Ling crashing into the floor. The impact knocks the breath right out of him, and his head spins from the vertigo that follows. Above him, the familiar static whip of Zidian sounds, making the hair on the back of his neck stand, quickly followed by a sickening crunch some distance away, and then–a sharp, strangled gasp.

Jin Ling looks up and freezes.

There is blood sliding down from Wei Wuxian’s mouth as he sways unsteadily on his feet, blinking slowly. His hand comes up to his abdomen where the outer layer of his robes are rapidly darkening around a gaping wound.

Jin Ling’s heart stutters to a stop.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says, completely nonsensically, looking down at the blood on his hand in confusion. “Oh,” he says again, staggering backwards, his legs giving out underneath him. Jiang Cheng barely manages to catch him, sending them both collapsing to the ground.

Scrambling up, Jin Ling half-walks, half-crawls to his uncles, almost falling on top of them in his haste as a sharp unbridled fear spikes through his chest. No, he thinks desperately. You can’t take him, too.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot!” Jiang Cheng is shouting repeatedly. He looks more scared than Jin Ling has ever seen him, his eyes wide, all the color drained from his face as shaking hands come up to apply pressure over the wound. “What were you fucking thinking?!”

“Heh,” Wei Wuxian laughs, absurdly, through a mouthful of blood. “I guess I should make you a bracelet, too, eh Jiang Cheng?”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng roars angrily. His hands, still shaking, start to glow with chaotic bursts of purple qi. “What is a bracelet going to do when you’re such a fucking idiot?!”

Wei Wuxian coughs, wincing. “Hey, it protected Jin Ling, didn’t it?” he says, turning his eyes towards Jin Ling’s quickly watering ones. “Don’t cry, A-Ling. Your da-jiujiu is fine.”

Jin Ling glares at him through furious tears. “You’re not! Don’t lie!”

“I’m not lying,” Wei Wuxian says, reaching over and giving Jin Ling’s trembling hand a gentle reassuring squeeze. Jin Ling clutches it, feeling a heavy despair welling up in him as Wei Wuxian continues to pale despite Jiang Cheng flooding the wound with spiritual energy. Short labored breaths are falling from blue lips, and panic seizes Jin Ling’s chest as his uncle’s eyes start to droop.

“Da-jiujiu!” Jin Ling cries, frantically tugging on his arm.

Jiang Cheng grabs Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and shakes him roughly. “Stay awake!”

Jin Ling doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Wei Wuxian blinks his eyes back open, and it flows out of him like choking relief.

“I’m not going to die, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says tiredly. Jiang Cheng flinches violently, and Wei Wuxian frowns. “A-Cheng…”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng snarls, his voice cracking. He’s trembling and glaring at his hands that are covered in Wei Wuxian’s blood. The purple glow of his spiritual energy illuminates his face, looking angrier and more lost than he had seven months ago, screaming at Wei Wuxian about his golden core. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he whispers. “What the fuck were you thinking? Going night hunting when all you ever do is attract trouble wherever you go.”

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian protests. “You’re the one who keeps coming along.”

“Of course I come, you idiot!” Jiang Cheng shouts at him, a sharp hysterical edge cutting through his every word. “When have I ever not come? When have I ever not fucking come?!”

The silence that follows is deafening. Jin Ling stares at them, wide-eyed, as Jiang Cheng heaves harsh broken breaths, and an unreadable expression passes over Wei Wuxian’s pale face. For a long, long moment, the brothers just stare at one another.

“Idiot,” Wei Wuxian finally murmurs. His tone is fond as his lips curve into a soft smile. Jiang Cheng’s face contorts with a miserable frown, and Jin Ling feels suddenly like he’s missed something terribly important.

Confusingly, Wei Wuxian reaches up with an unsteady hand and tugs a strand loose from the top of Jiang Cheng’s ever-present half-bun until it falls over his face, lips quirking at his brother’s wide startled gaze. “Haven’t you figured it out by now, you idiot?” he says, his voice slurring.

He brushes gentle fingers through Jiang Cheng’s hair, and Jiang Cheng’s face visibly crumples.

“You might be the world’s Sandu Shengshou,” Wei Wuxian’s breath rattles as he speaks, growing ragged, “but you’ll always be my didi.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes fall shut, and his hand slides from Jiang Cheng’s hair, landing heavily on the ground. It echoes through Jin Ling’s head, louder than anything he has ever heard. He shakes, cold shock flooding his chest as his once so lively da-jiujiu goes deathly, terrifyingly, still. His uncle lets out a strangled noise, and it feels like a scream.

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Wei Wuxian!”

Jin Ling has only ever seen his uncle cry once, at Guanyin Temple, because of Wei Wuxian.

The second time is still because of Wei Wuxian.

5.

“We’re all going to die,” Lan Jingyi says after four days, and Wei Wuxian still has not woken up.

Jin Ling is inclined to agree with him and would have said so if he doesn’t still feel a little bit like throwing up. They are sitting by the water in the inner pavilions of Lotus Pier, hovering close to Wei Wuxian’s rooms like they’ve been doing ever since that disastrous night hunt.

Sizhui, Jingyi, and Zizhen had arrived not long after Wei Wuxian had passed out. Somehow, they had managed to get him back to Lotus Pier in one piece. Mostly, Jin Ling thinks, because his jiujiu had been as close to hysterical as he had ever seen him, even during the mess with Jin Guangyao, and had singlehandedly carried Wei Wuxian back on Sandu. Sizhui had immediately sent word to Hanguang-jun, who had arrived before dawn broke, looking windswept and so overcome with worry that even Jin Ling could see it plainly displayed on the Chief Cultivator’s normally expressionless face.

Since then, Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji have sat by Wei Wuxian’s bedside in complete silence, both refusing to leave. If Jin Ling had thought the relationship between his uncle and Hanguang-jun had been strained before, then it was nothing compared to the tension radiating off both of them now, growing sharper and icier with each day that passes while Wei Wuxian remains unconscious.

Under better circumstances, Jin Ling would have crowed at the opportunity to finally see inside the Forbidden Room of Lotus Pier, his uncle having boarded up Wei Wuxian’s old room for the past sixteen years with strict orders forbidding anyone from entering or face his merciless wrath.

But right now, Jin Ling just feels ill.

“Wei-qianbei will be okay, Jin Ling,” Sizhui tells him, not for the first time, correctly interpreting his silence. Jin Ling nods, plucking miserably at the lotus pod in his hand.

Sizhui has been faring remarkably better than him despite how close he knows Sizhui is to his Xian-gege, spending a lot of time in the kitchens cooking up meals that he and Jin Ling both force Hanguang-jun and Jiang Cheng to eat. The cooking seems to give Sizhui something to do with his hands in the same way Jin Ling has been anxiously plucking lotus pods. At this rate, no lotuses are going to bloom in this portion of the lake come next autumn.

Zizhen throws an arm around Jin Ling’s slumped shoulders then and coaxes him into a game of Go. Halfway through their second game while Jin Ling is bickering with Jingyi over his stone placement, the brisk almost-run of YunmengJiang’s senior physician and her two attendants towards Wei Wuxian’s rooms have them all abandoning the game and sprinting off the pier after them.

Jin Ling bursts through the door, his friends quick on his heels, barely managing to skid to a stop before he crashes into one of the many disciples who are standing in the back. (It has occurred to him over the past few days just how truly well-loved Wei Wuxian still is amongst the survivors from the burning of Lotus Pier who remember their da-shixiong, especially now that catching Jiang Cheng’s displeasure is no longer exactly a consequence.)

“Lan Zhan…”

Wei Wuxian’s voice is clear even from the back of the room, and the sheer relief that floods through Jin Ling at hearing it almost sends him to his knees.

Jin Ling squeezes through the throng of people until he reaches the bed. Wei Wuxian has been shifted and is now lying on Hanguang-jun’s lap, looking pale, his eyes still closed, but awake. Hanguang-jun has his arms around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, murmuring quietly, “Wei Ying, I’m here.” Beside them, Jiang Cheng is hovering, shoulders and back tense, while the sect physician performs a series of checks.

“Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian says.

Jiang Cheng stiffens, and it visibly takes his uncle several moments to work the words out of his throat. “I’m–right here,” he grits out. “Idiot,” he adds.

There’s a flat line to Lan Wangji’s mouth, but a smile blooms across Wei Wuxian’s lips, and he lets out a short huff of laughter. “The kids?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“We’re fine,” Jin Ling says quickly, a little too loudly, and he flushes lightly in embarrassment when Hanguang-jun glances at him.

“Xian-gege, everyone’s safe. You don’t need to worry,” Sizhui adds, quieter than Jin Ling, but the relief in his voice is palpable. Jingyi’s and Zizhen’s loud clamoring additions behind them widen the smile on Wei Wuxian’s face, and he finally blinks his eyes slowly open to look at them. Jin Ling has never been so glad in his life to see the familiar teasing amusement in those grey eyes.

“Brats,” Wei Wuxian murmurs fondly.

The sect physician finishes and turns to bow to Jiang Cheng and Hanguang-jun. “Your Excellency, zongzhu, Wei-gongzi is recovering adequately, but he won’t be well enough to travel for some time. I recommend he rest for at least a week or more.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head, turning his attention back to Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng exchanges a few quiet words with her that Jin Ling doesn’t catch before she bows and leaves the room. A sweeping look from his uncle scatters the rest of the mingling disciples from the room, leaving only the three adults and the juniors. Wei Wuxian is in the process of pulling himself up into a seated position with Hanguang-jun’s help when Jiang Cheng comes back to stand beside Jin Ling.

“Xian-gege,” Sizhui says with a concerned frown when Wei Wuxian winces even with Hanguang-jun supporting him from behind. “You shouldn’t strain yourself.”

“I’m fine, A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian reassures despite sounding winded. He rests his hand on the crown of Sizhui’s head and smiles. “I’ll be up running with you all again in no time, you’ll see.”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw clenches tightly, and Jin Ling glances at him warily–he can practically hear his uncle’s teeth grinding. Being in a coma for four days apparently hasn’t taken away Wei Wuxian’s ability to know when Jiang Cheng is annoyed either because he turns to look at his brother. Jiang Cheng’s face is a stony canvas of too many emotions, wound up tighter now than even these last few days of waiting for Wei Wuxian to wake up. The tension is suddenly so thick it could be cut with a sword.

“Jiujiu,” Jin Ling tries weakly.

Several things happen then at once. Swift and sudden as the crack of lightning, Jiang Cheng is swinging his arm forward. Startled, Wei Wuxian moves backwards as Jin Ling gasps and reflexively grabs his uncle’s other arm to try and tug him away. Faster than any of them, Hanguang-jun’s hand shoots out and closes around Jiang Cheng’s fist, stopping the movement instantly.

The ensuing silence reverberates so loudly against the walls that Jin Ling’s ears ring. For a moment, no one dares to breathe.

“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji says coldly, his voice sending warning bells through everyone’s heads. Jiang Cheng looks at him, and the temperature in the room cools several thousand degrees as the two men glare at each other.

“Jiujiu,” Jin Ling protests, tugging at his uncle’s arm. (How is he back this already?) Nobody moves.

Finally, Wei Wuxian reaches up and grabs Jiang Cheng’s wrist. “Lan Zhan, let go,” he says. Hanguang-jun turns to look at him, and even though his expression doesn’t change, his incredulity is clear. Wei Wuxian smiles, and not for the first time, Jin Ling feels like they’ve had a thousand conversations without saying a single word. “Lan Zhan,” he says again.

Slowly, Lan Wangji releases Jiang Cheng’s hand but fixes the man with a frosty stare, looking poised and ready to strike. Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, just tugs lightly at his brother’s wrist.

“A-Cheng,” he whines, his face taking on an absurdly deliberate pout even in the face of Jiang Cheng’s temper. Jin Ling would have been impressed if his heart wasn’t trying to slam out of his ribcage. “How can you try to hit me so soon after I wake up?”

“You deserve it,” Jiang Cheng says viciously, but there’s very little heat to his words. He hasn’t even bothered to pull away. His uncle looks angry and lost again, like he had back in the forest with Wei Wuxian bleeding under his hands because he had stepped in front of a fierce corpse to save them both. His uncle had screamed, had cried, had carried Wei Wuxian home and held vigil by his bedside for days.

Maybe that’s why Wei Wuxian waits now, patiently refusing to let his brother go. “I know,” he says softly, his lips curving into a gentle, knowing smile.

All at once, Jiang Cheng deflates, crumbling like a puppet losing its strings. Jin Ling watches with wide eyes as his uncle folds himself onto the bed and wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian in a crushing hug, curling himself tightly into his brother’s shoulder. A tender, watery smile blooms over Wei Wuxian’s face as his arms come up around his brother.

“Idiot,” Wei Wuxian says, and it’s fond again. “Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t going to die?”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng mutters, voice muffled. He’s shaking, just a little. “You’re the idiot.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, soft and warm. “It’s okay, didi,” he murmurs. “I’m here now.”

Jin Ling is rapidly trying to blink away the stinging in his eyes, aware that he looks ridiculous with his mouth threatening to split open with the force of his smile. But his chest feels so warm that he thinks it might burst from the strength of his joy.

6.

Their next meal together is at Lotus Pier. (His drapings have been drenched with enough flung soup, thank you very much.) Wei Wuxian brings Sizhui along, and thankfully, not Hanguang-jun.

His uncles still bicker the entire time, but their traded barbs have become more teasing over the past few months than terse. There’s a relaxed line to Jiang Cheng’s shoulders now, who appears so much less wound up like he could snap at any moment, and his heart throbs with happiness to see his jiujiu so carefree.

Jin Ling asks his uncles cheekily if they’re ever going to shut up and eat and has to hide his smile when they both turn their threats onto him instead. He snickers with a giggling Sizhui as Wei Wuxian dramatically promises to plant them both on the ground like radishes. Beside him, Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

A loose strand of hair frames the right side of his uncle’s face. On his left wrist sits a bracelet.

Fin.

---

Bonus Scene:

It isn’t the first time he’s had his brother’s blood on his hands, and certainly not the first time he’s seen him bleed.

As children, his mother had worked them and the other disciples down to their bones, hours and hours of intense training that left their hands calloused and bleeding. Their friendly competitive sparring matches as they grew older always drew blood from the minor nicks they inflicted on one another (his brother never did injure him for real, until that last time). When the war fell upon their heads, the cuts and gashes turned commonplace, both of them taking turns dressing each other’s wounds after each battle so their sister wouldn’t have to see. Later, after he stabbed his brother on a mountain, he had cleaned the blood off his sword while trying not to vomit.

This shouldn’t have affected him.

But Jiang Cheng wakes up for the sixth night in a row to the darkness of his room, drenched in a cold sweat, an unbearable sensation of slick warm fluid on his hands and the bitter smell of copper in his nose. He swallows and looks down. His hands are clean, dry and still reddened from the number of times he’s scrubbed them raw since carrying his unconscious brother back to Lotus Pier. (Wei Wuxian dying in his arms is not how he had imagined his brother’s next visit to Lotus Pier would go, if Jiang Cheng could ever manage to shove aside his old bitterness to allow it to happen.)

A restless anxiety courses through his entire body, unable to shake off the feeling of stickiness on his hands even when he can see that they’re clean. He throws the covers off himself and puts on his slippers, escaping his room before the haunted shadows swallow him whole. Before Jiang Cheng even realizes which direction his feet are taking him, he’s standing in front of his brother’s room, and some of that old anger flares up into his chest.

He hates that he still loves him, as much as he’s always had. He hates that he still needs him, still yearns for his brother’s companionship, even after everything. He hates that his brother had thrown himself in front of Jiang Cheng for the millionth time, as if he hasn’t already accumulated enough debt between them that he can never hope to pay back, the last sacrifice still burning sharply in his lower abdomen.

He hates, most of all, that having his brother at Lotus Pier for the past week has loosened the tightly wound coil in his chest, blowing open the doors of his heart with bursts of sunlight that warms him all the way to his fingertips, in a way he hasn’t felt since the day he lost him.

It’s okay, didi. I’m here now.

He enters the room quietly, thankful that Hanguang-jun had been pulled away by duties and had to return to Gusu for the next few days while Wei Wuxian continues to convalesce at Lotus Pier. Without that man’s constant aggravating presence, Jiang Cheng feels less like he’s standing on the chopping block in his own damn home.

His brother is fast asleep, curled over on his side. The color has returned to his face, and the healthy flush eases some of the tightness in his chest. Jiang Cheng isn’t sure he will ever forget the way his brother had looked, laying blue and still on the forest ground, nor the cold terror that washed over him at the thought that he had lost his brother again after he had just gotten him back.

(He wonders what he would have done if he had really discovered his brother underneath that fiery mountain all those years ago–if he’d been faced with the indisputable reality that his brother was truly gone, would he have just disintegrated where he stood. Sometimes, he thinks the hope, the certainty of seeing Wei Wuxian again was the only reason why he survived.)

Jiang Cheng stands watching his brother sleep for a long time. He’s seen him now, he tries to tell himself. His brother is fine. He should turn around and go back to his room. He’s not a child anymore, seeking comfort from his siblings after a nightmare. He’s a sect leader. He’s been alone with the world on his shoulders for decades. He really, really shouldn’t need this.

But the thought of returning to his cold room, haunted by the phantom smells of blood and the echoes of his brother’s rattling breaths, keeps his feet stubbornly rooted in place.

He feels like a wound that’s never healed, smarting at every turn, every prod, every instance of his brother’s sunlit grin. He’s angry, exhausted, so weary that he can barely hold himself up from under the weight of all the years of mistakes and regret, but mostly, he misses his brother so much he could choke.

Go on then, A-Cheng.

His sister’s voice is sweet and encouraging, so familiar and clear that it drags a sharp stuttering ache across his heart. She’s always been able to unwind his stubbornness, his inability to just do what he wants without thinking of a thousand reasons why he shouldn’t, and it finally, finally pushes him forward now.

Wei Wuxian wakes as Jiang Cheng crawls underneath the covers. His brother doesn’t speak or ask any questions, shifting aside and letting Jiang Cheng curl himself against his brother like he hasn’t done since they were both twelve and afraid of thunderstorms. He trembles, only a little bit, when his brother’s arms come around and hold him close.

His brother’s heartbeat is a reassuring sound against his ear, a surety that he is wholly and invariably alive, returned to the world, to Jiang Cheng’s life against all possible odds–a second chance that Jiang Cheng probably doesn’t deserve but has been given anyway. It soothes away some of that old anger and settles the last of the anxiety fluttering through his veins. Slowly, he’s lulled into sleep by the steady sound of his brother’s quiet breathing.

Jiang Cheng dreams of lotus blooms and smiles.

 ---

Final Notes:

1. Title is lyrics from Imagine Dragons’ Whatever It Takes.

2. So there's probably like established xianxia/wuxia rules about what magical spirit/demon/ghoul-repelling beads actually do and how they are made, but I couldn't for the life of me find any credible sources, SO I just made it up. Yolo. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

3. I don’t know how well I executed what I wanted to do here, but I love (2) idiots, and I will die on this hill. Did I screw up everyone’s characterizations? Highly probable.

4. I really love Jiang Cheng’s one-sided bang in CQL. (CAN WE JUST BASK IN WZC’S BEAUTIFUL FACE?) It's an immense travesty that he stops wearing it when he decides he needs be an adult™. But Wei Wuxian secretly misses it, and I wanted to play with that symbolism of change a little.

5. Thanks to @winepresswrath for dealing with my incessant rambling and for the genius idea of the “Forbidden Room” of Lotus Pier. Lmao.

6. I know this was meant to be a Jin Ling perspective fic, but I couldn’t help writing the bonus scene and had to stop myself from turning it into a Jiang Cheng version of this, because I already have too many WIPs that I will never finish. (Dammit plot bunnies, leave me alone!)

7. Please feel free to come scream with me about cql/mdzs and yunmeng shuangjie on my personal tumblr. :D

8. Thank you so much for reading!! ♥︎♥︎♥︎ Stay healthy and well!!

[myhero-myfanfic]

Royalty AU - Disgraced Prince Dabi x Reader (2/2)

Part one is HERE!

This is smut and deliciousness, with a heaping cup of yandere. Hope you like! Once again tagging everybody who asked for Dabi!

@mymymy-secret-secret

@sazanka13

@the-resident-demon

@witchymermaid12

@supercalafagadocious116

@babzeey

@firebonbon

@winkkkky

Just like he told you to, you've left the window to your balcony ajar. You can't help but pace, nervously picking random items up just to set them down again without doing anything. You feel elated. You feel terrified. Thinking of the way he stills calls you beloved, but in a voice that is not what you know to be Touya's...

With a light knock on the door frame, he steps into your room. You can smell smoke and if you look closely his eyes almost dance like blue fire.

The first thing he does is remove his mask and you drop into the nearest chair out of shock. There are burns marring his once beautiful skin- great, wrinkly, purple burns that glitter with the occasional piece of metal. It's as if he's a patchwork doll sewn together by a child. Tou- Dabi offers you what should be a smile, but your blood runs cold at the sight of it.

“Everything comes with a price, beloved.” He finally breaks the silence, eyeing your shaking form. “I paid mine. You'll get used to it after a while.”

You opened your mouth to respond but nothing comes out after a few tries. He quirks an eyebrow before pulling the other armchair over to you so he can sit with you before the smoldering fire.

He casts the dim light a withering look before casually flicking his fingers and, to your terror, throwing blue flames out of his palm and onto the logs. You shoot up, nearly screaming but he's quick to cover your mouth with his hand that still feels searingly hot. He pushes you back down into the chair, hushing you and petting your hair back. Dabi had brought his knee up to pin you to the seat and only after your eyes have stopped darting to the fire and are focused on him does he release you. You take in a big breath. You almost regret it when you choke on the sharp and suffocating tang of sulfur.

He stays there on his knees before you, hands now firmly at your waist to keep you in place. With his height, he barely has to look up to meet your eyes.

“I had to do it,” Whispering now, he begs you to understand. “You know how my father is, you've seen the way he treats the queen, all of his children... I had to end it.”

“Touya...” His grip tightens and you can't suppress a shiver. “You've killed people, do you understand? You can't... There's no coming back from this, they'll have you executed.”

Eyes widening, he gapes at you. It's his turn to be shocked.

“You think I've come back to return to the kingdom? Beloved, no, I'm here for you. You're coming with me.”

“What?!” Alarmed, you begin to squirm in his grasp. You freeze when his lip curls up in irritation.

“I've come to take you with me.” He says it slowly this time, like you've hit your head. “There's other people like me. Like us, beloved. They want a better world, one that isn't ruled by people who feed on pain and misery.”

You almost laugh in his face.

“And you're not the cause of any pain? You've destroyed so many lives already, there's so much blood on your hands Touya-”

“Don't call me that.” Quicker than you can comprehend he stood up, a hand now curled tightly around your jaw to force you to look up at him.

“Touya is dead. Like I said, I'm Dabi.” This is said flatly, no emotion and certainly no room for argument. Not that you wanted to- his fingers felt like they were getting dangerously hot, leaving you tearing up and sniffling at the pain.

“I'm sorry Dabi.” You're ashamed but you apologize anyways. The way he's looking at you is full of rage and hostility, and you're incredibly aware of how fragile you are.

His eyes soften and he immediately dips low to press a kiss against your brow. His grip loosens and now he cups your jaw with a familiar intimacy.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so angry.” He hums against your cheek, rubbing his nose affectionately across your skin. “I just... That's not who I am anymore. But I know you'll love me now as much as you did then.”

A squeak escapes you when out of nowhere, he rolls his tongue across your jaw and up to your earlobe.

“You say my hands are dirty?” His voice rasps into your ear and you tremble. “Maybe I should show you just what these hands are capable of...”

Your gasp is swallowed up in his mouth as he dives in to taste you, clacking his teeth against yours in his haste. He reaches down and with a surprising amount of strength picks your body up in his arms to toss you onto your bed.

It knocks the breath out of you when you bounce on the mattress, but you have no time to catch it before he climbs on top of you. His mouth finds yours quickly as he knocks your knees apart to settle his thin hips between your legs. Dressed only in your thin nightgown you can feel every inch of him and you're moaning with him at the very sensation. You know you shouldn't but it's so easy to think of your Touya and fall into his amorous touches.

He's more calculating with this kiss, taking the time to rub his tongue along yours and pulling on your bottom lip to entice you. When you arch yourself into him after a particularly hard suck, he takes the opportunity to snake his hands up your dress. Dabi pulls away just to yank the fabric off of you, and you can't help but cover yourself in shame.

“I can't, it's indecent...”

“Don't hide pretty girl...” He coos at you, gently pulling your hands away- however he doesn't let go, but instead moves to take both wrists in one hand so he can pin you to the bed. Ignoring your weak protests, he leans down and gives one long flat lick on each of your nipples before blowing on them. You whimper at his hot breath, writhing against him. Dabi can't help but grind his hard cock against you, loving each little mewl that leaves your throat.

Giving you a look that's entirely too feral, he lets go our hands and begins to knead and squeeze and pinch your breasts, sucking hard on each nipple until they're puffy and over sensitive. He bites down on your left breast so hard that he breaks the skin and you nearly buck him off, the low husky groan that escapes you surprising you both.

“My dirty little princess seems to like it...” Immediately he goes back to it, biting and nipping at you until you have to muffle your cries with your hands.

Without warning, Dabi smoothly slides his fingers against your underwear and rubs against the wetness. Instinctively you try to move away, but he uses the hand on your chest to hold you down. He moves the thin fabric to the side, dipping the tip of a finger into you to feel how wet you are.

You choke out a gasp, still squirming, “No no, please stop Dabi, I don't- oh!”

With a wide, manic smile, he slides one long finger into you. You throw your head back, gasping at this new sensation. He swears under his breath at the feeling of your tight virgin walls fluttering around his finger. If this is how tight you are just around his finger-

“I'm going to fucking ruin you.” The words are practically a snarl, and he adds another finger to watch it disappear into your wet softness. You grimace and whine at him, the stretch painful.

“Please, I'm not ready...”

To your embarrassment, he pulls his fingers out just to lick up your sticky essence.

“You taste ready to me... Don't you think?” It doesn't even register what he's doing until he shoves both fingers down your throat. You can't help but gag on them and he groans into your neck, rutting into you.

Just like that his fingers are back inside of you and this time they're moving, going back and forth into you slowly at first while he builds up speed. Your tiny whimpers and yelps slowly turn into long sighs and moans, the heat in your lower half getting hotter and stronger with each stroke. Dabi leans forward to kiss you again, changing his position and hitting a spot deep inside you that has you calling out for more.

“Say my name princess... Say my real name.”

“D-Dabi...” You gasp out, rolling your hips as you chase the high your body is building to. “Please don't- oh god, Dabi, please...”

“Cum for me pretty girl, cum for me and I'll never let you go. You've always been mine.” With that he finds your pulse point and bites down hard, marking you for anyone to see.

The coil within you finally snaps and you're thrown into pure pleasure, tightening around his fingers with a loud call of his new name. He can't help but marvel at the way you shake when you orgasm for him, and he wants to make you do it again and again until all you need is his touch to live.

“All yours, all yours, oh my god...”

He smiles widely, your blood staining his teeth.

When the servants come to wake you up in the morning, all they find is an empty chamber and sheets that reek of sulfur.

[norcumii]

HAPPY (slightly late) BIRTHDAY, @aces-to-apples! I have some fic for you! :D

Minor apologies to everyone, because this latched on to my brain and would not let go, even though I meant to be more moderate and do Life Things today.

No regrets.

This is a post-war fic, where Everyone Lives (except Sidious because fuck him, and Krell because fuck him too) and things are rather different. Main pairing is Padme/Anakin/Rex, with background mention of Ahsoka/Steela and Jesse/Maul/Kix, because that’s Apples’ jam. HIGH CITRUS RATING. Sorry not sorry at all.

*********

It’s their third anniversary, and the fourth anniversary of the end to the Clone Wars. Like always, it’s a weird day, full of a mix of emotions and a few official appearances they couldn’t get out of. As a senator, Padmé still has to go to the morning session commemorating the Attack on Coruscant, while Rex and Anakin have to smile for cameras along with the other significant military figures laying mementos at the GAR commemorative wall. That’s at least a good chance to catch up with anyone they haven’t seen lately, what with Echo and Fives still being in the army, Ahsoka and Steela living it up as bounty hunters, Cody and Obi-Wan being themselves, and any number of other former officers and Jedi.

It’s after lunch that they have time to themselves. All three eat light in public, so they get to cuddle together in the living room for a set of their favorite light snacks. It’s a quiet time, while most of Coruscant winds up from ‘solemn remembrance’ to ‘celebration.’

There’s too many memories for them to celebrate. Oh, sure, the whole winning the war thing was good. The betrayal – Anakin’s friend, Padmé’s mentor, who tried very hard to kill Fives and oh yes, brain wash the entire army – it’s just too much.

Rex doesn’t even bother with a melancholy but vicious variations on ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ that he indulged in the prior years. They’re just glad Palpatine is gone, they’re still here, and that they get this time close with each other.

Being tangled up together means that they can feel the slow relaxation, as clinging turns to sprawling, and being who they are a restless energy grows. Rex – who still struggles with the concept of downtime – is the one to separate first, and Padmé asks, “Shooting range?” in an innocent tone as if the thought just happens to cross her mind. Rex’s grin is still too sharp, which means even more reason for Anakin to drive their speeder to Padmé’s favorite range. It’s a layer further down that probably any other senator would even dream of considering a visit to, near enough to CoCo Town to be busy, but distant enough that celebrations are off elsewhere.

Like last year, Padmé rented the place out, so it’s just them and the two bored – well armed – grandparent-y types keeping an eye on things more out of habit than anything. They keep out front at the store part, once again involved in a holochess game Anakin couldn’t swear has changed a single move since last year.

Rex leads the way inside, Padmé stopping for a quick chat with the owners. Anakin sidles around her, to find Rex is already checking the available weapons over and making vaguely disgruntled noises which means the weapons are superb for civilian care, even if that might not be up to the GAR’s standards.

Or maybe just Rex’s, but to Anakin it’s the same.

He settles onto the floor where he can see both Rex and Padmé shooting, as the two efficiently check over weapons and ammo, and then begin to methodically take down a number of plas targets. They start off simple, then as they relax further it leads to teasing competition and trick-shots that would make other patrons rather nervous, which is why Padmé reserved the place just for them.

Anakin loves watching them like this, the whole spectrum from cool, murderous professionals to giddy playfulness that’s still beautifully terrifying. Padmé tried to tease him once about having a ridiculous competence kink, but that fizzled when she invited Rex into the ‘discussion’ and he’d just stared at her for a genuinely confused moment before asking “doesn’t everyone?”

Anakin slips into meditation, because the day’s built up too many ghosts for someone with his sensitivity to the Force. He works to center himself, to let go of so much pain, and it takes time. Letting go of what in retrospect was years of Palpatine dripping poison into his ears, while maneuvering the Jedi Order into political corners and away from moderate – reasonable and sane! – doctrine. Letting go of the fear that Obi-Wan and Cody might not be able to right that particular ship, and fix the Order’s extremes even with the help and support of the Council and especially Mace.

He works to heal just a little bit more of the emotional wound from Ahsoka leaving the Order, a good move for her and her life but still biting deep at his own insecurities and fragile sense of self that still, four years on, hasn’t fully recovered.

It wasn’t a betrayal, not like Palpatine, but it still hurt him.

The old fears surge up a moment, and he allows himself to face them. Anakin doesn’t like considering the what ifs from Mandalore. What if Maul hadn’t been creating an elaborate means to get Anakin and Obi-Wan away from the Chancellor’s grasp and manipulations; what if Jesse hadn’t listened to and accepted Maul’s surrender, with vital intel about the Sith Lord and how to take him down.

He’s not surprised that Jesse, Kix, and Maul hadn’t returned for the celebration – this time of year is rough for all of them, but those three more than most, and Obi-Wan does much, much better not having to deal with his old nemesis ever, but especially now. They can manage to be on polite speaking terms in front of cameras – Maul’s paying off his debt to society after all – but it’s a fragile peace.

The feelings of care and affection sink into the light daze of meditation, and Anakin comes back to the present to find Rex on his right, Padmé to his left, all three cuddled up together again. He flushes a little and grins, disoriented by the way he’s surrounded by love but feeling lighter for having addressed and moved on just a little bit more from his issues. “Who won?” he asks, and Padmé’s grin is wicked while Rex’s is just a bit sweet – things so few besides him ever get to see.

“Both of us,” Rex declares, leaning in to kiss him slow and deep, seeing how Anakin needs to take his time coming back to the here and now. He doesn’t know how Rex always figures it out, but he appreciates it so much.

When they’re both breathless and pulling apart, Padmé sneaks in, peppering them both with teasing little kisses that are more than half nips but all invitation. Anakin chases those all the way to his feet, Rex steadying both him and Padmé.

“Come on,” she dares them, leading the way through the sidedoor to the sim room next door. Anakin’s honestly not sure what it’s called – it’s not like the place advertises it – but Rex took one look and was so pleased at a sim room that’s what they call it amongst themselves.

One of the owners helps them suit up, while the other picks out a maze design. There’s a lot of clunking and creaking noises as the variable panels around the auditorium-sized space realign, creating a mock battleground they’ll get to play in.

Since Rex cheats and memorizes layouts more on first instinct than intent, he’s politely turned so his back’s to the developing design, fussily readjusting every single strap to the bodysuit padding before checking over their weapons. They’re toys, with lasers that are light and nothing else – Anakin’s certain the power sources couldn’t produce anything more and he’s said – multiple times over – not that it stops Rex.

Padmé, who cheats shamelessly, keeps an eye on the way the panels are rearranging, and she’s the first one pelting off as soon as they have the green light. The artificial fog is just starting to filter in as Anakin breaks right and Rex breaks left, separating to their own starting points before the game’s signal buzzes to begin.

Anakin listens to the Force well enough to be a terrifying shot, and gravity is more optional for him than most people. Rex has trained essentially from birth to be terrifying in combat. Padmé is clever, small, and swift, not to mention ready to sneak in any advantage she can slice out of an opportunity.

Even playing nice, and with Anakin not cheating with the Force too much, the laser tag game is brutal and goes on for a delightfully long time. Rex probably won, though they don’t bother asking what the suits registered for scores on their way out.

They’re relaxed in truth as they stroll down to Dex’s – the walk’s a little long, but it’s nice to have Padmé under one arm and Rex under the other as they wander through the crowds.

Ok, so it is more than a little mortifying when someone stops them to try to negotiate with Anakin for Rex’s services, but Padmé’s Force presence sings with amusement as she pretends to be offended and insists on negotiating with the idiot over her own services. She’s charging way more than the idiot can afford, and the embarrassed Pantoran finally beats a confused retreat because they “just wanted a nice time with the pretty man, not the scary lady”.

They’re still giggling over it as they stumble into Dex’s, Anakin dragging Padmé over to a booth while Rex places their orders at the counter. When he comes back to the table Anakin swaps so Rex is on the inside, and he’s braced for when Dex erupts from the kitchen, probably from recognizing their order. Anakin just has to press in a little, bumping shoulders with Rex who tenses in spite of himself. There’s the usual blush of frustration with himself in the Force, not that Anakin blames Rex for a bad reaction. Dex can be a lot, and given past experience with Krell....

He stays close, keeping Rex grounded with a light bump with his knee or brush of the arm whenever he can feel a tremble of trauma rattle through.

Rex settles quick, because Dex is an incredibly sweet being and Padmé is just that good at smoothing over the atmosphere when she tries – and for Rex, she’s always happy to go the extra mile.

When they finally leave for home, they’re well fed, relaxed, and content.

Of course the instant they’re back in the apartment they’re all over each other. It’s their anniversary, and the entire afternoon and evening has been one long game of teasingly-close-and-intimate but never over the line into anything sexual.

He didn’t used to have this kind of patience, but Padmé and Rex have worked long and hard to help him find it.

Anakin snags supplies from the bedroom, because this is definitely the kind of evening to enjoy the view from the main sitting room – and the nice, plush couches – as other people celebrate in a more  public manner. He sets things up as Rex moves around Padmé, speaking low and teasing in that tone that sinks right into Anakin’s belly, getting him hard so damn fast. Rex is all kisses and caresses for her, deftly reaching under her clothes and pulling free a set of vibro-knives, a pretty little blaster from her back, and a hold-out pistol tucked into a boot. Rex moves behind her, kissing along the neck to whisper into her ear, getting a delighted laugh from Padmé as he starts carefully running his fingers through her hair. That pulls a deep groan from Anakin, because the way she looks, arched up towards Rex who’s curled over her, the play of calloused, strong fingers through her hair – they are unfairly gorgeous, and the wicked grin Rex sends him means he totally knows, and that’s part of why he’s doing this.

He pulls some lockpicks free of Padmé’s fancy hair style, ruining the last bits of styling to leave tousled curls around her shoulders, and Anakin thinks she looks better that way. Oh, she’s always beautiful, but that mix of artifice and mess always gut-punches him in the best way.

Rex turns back to rest his chin on Padmé’s head, earning an amused look from her before her eyes flutter closed and she moans, because he’s ghosting his hands down along her body – a bit too busy for a caress, but too gentle for a pat-down.

This is all a little game they play, just between themselves – Rex tries to find whatever toys and surprises Padmé’s hidden for a day, though he doesn’t tend to find everything. She’s had a lot of time to learn ridiculous ways to hide things, and she’s got three dedicated tailors willing to alter her fancy wardrobe in interesting ways.

Padmé has promised that if Rex does win, she’ll replace that expensive lingerie set they ruined last time, that gorgeous gold getup for Rex with the pretty gold chain dangles that drove Anakin wild. Not that he’d ever tell, but Anakin knows for a fact that she’s got the replacement already, tucked away in a discreet box in the depths of her terrifyingly large closet.

Rex ends with his hands on Padmé’s hips, nuzzling the skin behind her ear. Anakin can see how it makes her knees go weak, how Rex is supporting most her weight, and he’s tempted to just jack off here and now because they are gorgeous.

“That’s everything,” Rex declares, that deep rumble again that makes both Padmé and Anakin shiver.

“No,” she says, a bit breathy as she leans back so Rex has most of her weight in truth. “A little help, Ani?” She lifts a leg, and if he’s letting his hands wander and feel as he helps pull off her boot, no one minds.

The blaster holster is discreet, right next to the back seam, and Padmé pulls a thin bit of metal from inside that seam. It’s not wide enough to be an actual knife, but it has a wicked point and looks like in a pinch, it’d be great for stabbing into vital bits or throwing hard enough to confuse someone.

Rex looks genuinely put out, so he didn’t miss it on purpose. “I checked there!”

Padmé twists enough to kiss him an apology. “The holster’s specifically designed to conceal it. You’re meant to find the gun.”

Rex shoots an exasperated look to Anakin, who grins and shrugs back at him. He knows better than to wager against Padmé. Rex smirks and rolls his eyes, then gives him a look. Anakin can feel his intent in the Force, so he grins and nods back.

“Sneaky,” Rex grumbles, hoisting Padmé into his arms and a long kiss. She’s laughing when he pulls away, then shrieking giggles as Rex carefully tosses her in Anakin’s direction.

It’d be too far for even Rex to make, but Anakin uses the Force to catch her and draw Padmé into his arms. He gives her his own long kiss, enjoying the pleased noises she makes while twining her arms around him.

“Congratulations, Angel, you won,” he says, pulling away to gaze at her in helpless awe. He sinks down onto the couch, because even petite as she is, he doesn’t want to stand around holding her much longer. “How do you want to start this evening?”

Padmé reaches for the toys Anakin laid out, and trails her fingers over the strap-on harness with a teasing smirk. “I think I’d like you on your knees – the couch is just the right height, and you can see what you can do for Rex while I take care of you.”

He can’t stop a pleased noise escaping him, doesn’t even try as he clutches her closer. He enjoys the noise it pulls from her as his artificial hand clenches just a hair too tight – he’d calibrated it so precisely when first getting it, desperate to make sure he didn’t hurt her, only to find her very, very sheepishly asking at some point if he couldn’t be just a little rougher – not harsh, just enough to feel things.

Rex is better about knowing just where that line is, and he walks it beautifully, but Anakin can never quite figure out how to convince his brain that ‘worship’ can include roughness. It’s sometimes such a relief to just follow Rex’s lead, able to trust that someone knows exactly how far to push and how best to do it.

Doesn’t hurt that Rex enjoys that too.

“Maybe this one instead?” Rex asks, chuckling as if he can hear what Anakin’s thinking. He gently places a different dildo next to the strap-on, and Anakin shivers. That one’s got an interesting vibration system, so it doesn’t take long to beautifully scramble his brains but it only teases Padmé.

She makes a delighted, interested noise. “And then when I’m all riled up you’ll take care of me?”

“If I can stand again by then, I’ll fuck you on the table until you scream,” he rumbles, voice dark and promising. Ani can feel the way Padmé shivers, her breath catching as she arcs like she can already feel the Naboo-imported wood on her back.

“Yes, sir,” she breathes, and Ani can see Rex’s eyes dilate at that, dark and hungry as his tone had been.

Anakin doesn’t actually know when to stop pushing, but thankfully they know that. He reaches out, hand to Rex’s shoulder like it’s just another day on the battlefield and he’s giving a friendly shoulderpat. Except now he gets to slide his thumb under Rex’s shirt, trace lightly over some scars and the collarbone, watch Rex arc his neck as he sways in closer. “Tease her enough, take your time, and then we might have to return the favor.”

Rex lunges in for a fierce kiss, teeth clacking a bit before he rearranges to not squish Padmé quite as much between them. From her laughter, she doesn’t mind, and her squirming is turning interesting. Rex, the bastard, is smirking when he finally lets Anakin breathe. “It’s gonna take both of you.”

His brain might not be firing on full yet, but he doesn’t need thought to know what’s going on here. “Pssh, please,” he says, lofty and disdainful. “It’d only take Padmé, but I want to do more than watch.” Then his brain does catch up, and his expression falters. “Er, I mean. Not that I mind watching, just, uh....”

They just laugh, moving in to start helping Anakin out of his clothes. They don’t even need to say anything, which is kind. Anakin waits long enough for his prosthetic’s glove to come off – Rex has a fascination with the detailwork and feel of it that Anakin doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t question. Then he’s reaching back, and it’s a tangle of limbs and disappearing clothing, laughter and pleasure. He loves his spouses so much, his two beautiful badasses that can lead like gods and fight like nightmares – kind, and sometimes ridiculous, and all entirely his.

~end