#it really is one misfortune after another and that really sets the tone

[cypresstrees]

throne of jade is really when you learn that actually the temeraire series is about putting laurence into Situations

[k-dokja]

summary: clowning this man is a full-time job and i'm honestly not dedicated enough to do it.

settings: reader is married to malleus long before he enrolled into the college + arranged marriage but :) loving :)

author's note: it's been 86 years since i last wrote twst

After his first and second years with minimal success in Night Raven College, Malleus has come to harbour little cheer whenever a new semester approaches. For once, he has to be away from you for much of the year. Although the time is relatively short for a fae, any amount of absence sours his heart.

For another, it remains that while he exceeds in academics, he suffers the fate of few allies and even fewer friends. Lonely at the top has never been more apparent when one sets their eyes upon your husband. He whose only friends include his family and extended family.

You pity him. You really do.

But you also told him beforehand that this was not the wise way to go about it, he should've taken your advice into serious consideration instead of sulking up until his enrollment.

Then sulk some more when his plan backfired.

At least, the cheer returns to him once he gets home for the semester break. Staying in your company has livened up his mood, even if both of your respective times are often occupied by your duty. Malleus eases back easily into your routine even after months of absence, it was almost as if he never left.

Slowly, the two of you settle into the new rhythm of life, knowing everything would go back to the way it once was after his graduation. And life would have gone along quietly that way except for minor interference every now and then.

When Malleus decides to join you in the study after dinner, you grace him with a smile that dies when you see the slight frown between his brows. You keep your worry at bay until he sits down next to you, legs crossed and fingers intertwined. Something troubles him, you can see in the pensive press of his lips, even if he pretends at nonchalance.

"Is aught amiss, Malleus?"

Malleus meets your eyes. His chartreuse eyes gleam in the dim lighting of the study. Once upon a time on your wedding night, it freaked you out enough that you nearly rolled off the bed. Now, however, you behold them with affection and equal concern when his displeasure is this apparent to your eyes.

"I'm in the misfortune of a minor predicament," he begins. "As you have heard, Sebek has been accepted into Night Raven College. He should begin to attend with us the next school semester if all went well."

"I see," you nod, "does this have anything to do with your trouble?"

Malleus nods, fingers threaded, but there is a hint of a smile on his lips, "Yes, we've discussed the matter of his celebratory gift with him. In fact, Lilia had informed me moments ago that Sebek had announced his choice of gift."

"Indeed?"

He nods again, this time, gravelly. "A portrait."

"I see," you can see where this is going, knowing the boy's temperament and his fervent devotion to your husband, but you inquire anyway, "of?"

"Us."

Your ears must have deceived you. Because deducing from what Malleus has said, it implies the extent of Sebek's devotion has now included you in the folds. You do not know what to think of it. "Us?"

"Us," he repeats and you know for certain that you did not mishear, "He also mentioned in his consideration that if either of us feels uncomfortable with the idea, he won't mind a lone portrait of the other. I plan to accept his request either way because I intend to honour the promise of rewarding him and..."

Malleus looks at you sideways, his smile is discrete and playful, "The idea of another man possessing the portrait of you doesn't sit with me."

You resist a smile. It would be too easy to give him what he wants. And, there needs to be a responsible one between the two of you. If Malleus won't rise to the task, it falls to you to take up this solemn tone. "I suppose there won't be any trouble in indulging the boy's request, though I do wonder about his intention... does he mean to hang this in his dorm room?"

"Is that not expected of him?" Malleus asks. "It will not be inconsistent with his behaviour thus far, I would say. We have known the boy since his infancy... he has always been transparent in the matter of the heart."

You sigh, "Indeed. He has always been a peculiar one, even among the colourful characters of our court."

"Lilia would take offence," Malleus notes wryly, "he'd argue that he's every inch the proper man without a single ounce of truth in his words."

It is impossible to not show your amusement now, so you indulge Malleus and let him see you brighten, "All right, I concede. It has been too long since we last had our portrait painted, anyway. The last one was our anniversary five years ago."

"Ah, it has been nearly another decade already, we should sit down to have another painted once my next semester wraps up," he muses before pushing himself up. "Very well, I will call for our painter. Do tell your lady-in-waiting to inform Lilia about your schedule, we need to figure out a time."

There is a little skip in his step when he leaves the room, something anyone with lesser perception wouldn't have noticed. Malleus has been dour of sorts since he began his college life, for it has not gone the trajectory he expected. You have foreseen that, of course. But you take comfort in seeing that the little things can still give him joy, even when his social pursuit has been a failed endeavour.

Though, you have hope that next year might be more fortunate for him.

Or else it would be very depressing for it will be his last year on the college campus.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

"get me a damned matcha" | Chapter 9: February I

{{ Chapter 8: January I | Chapter 10: March I }} Chapter Directory

mutual pining??!?!?!

if you wanna get tagged for updates, fill out this form here!

✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au ✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence. ✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, mutual pining, idiots in love, alcohol, college-typical parties, floche being gross ✧ word count ➼ ~5k

"HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!"

Oluo came barging into the classroom like a freight train, yelling at the top of his lungs. The Honors Society general members hadn't even come in yet, so the only ones that were forced to experience the unrequited enthusiasm were Gunther, Petra, and you. 

"God, Oluo, you're going to perpetuate this headache I'm rapidly developing," you grumbled as you shut your eyes and rubbed at your forehead.

"You're usually just as enthusiastic about this, prez'!"

It was true. In the past, you were stressed, but also quite excited about Valentine's Day. It was a day that was generally guaranteed to be dedicated to your romantic partner and used to carry heavy significance in your life, but that was before your relationship with Zack imploded. It wasn't even that you missed him. It was just that experiencing being single on Valentine's Day for the first time in years made your mood bounce back and forth all over the place.

"Well, I guess I'm not feeling it today," you said with a sigh. "Come on, let's get set up before the freshmen start coming in."

You brought the box of Nicolo's pastries over to the innermost wall of the classroom and began setting them on the plastic trays you had bought from the nearby dollar store. 

You were more than happy moping by yourself in the corner, so you found yourself pursing your lips when you heard Petra walk over. She went up to you and helped set up some of the utensils in plastic cups.

"You're grumpy because of Zack, aren't you?"

Petra was perceptive only when you didn't want her to be. You paused and a frown appeared on your face as you looked over towards her.

"This is what you decide to talk about?"

"There's nothing wrong with being single," she said with a shrug.

You groaned as you turned away to continue setting up the pastries, being a bit rougher with them compared to how you were handling them a few minutes ago.

"You think I don't know that, Petra?" you snapped. "If this is all you're going to talk about, Oluo needs plenty of help getting the drinks set up."

"I'm just saying," she responded, her tone still gentle despite your hostility, "just because you're single doesn't mean you have to be miserable today."

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath to keep yourself from snapping further at your friend. She really did have your best interests in mind, although that didn't help your mood.

"I get it, Petra," you said through clenched teeth. "Please change the topic or go help Oluo. I'm really not in the mood to be talking about this."

You watched Petra walk away through the corner of your eye. Although your mood wasn't great to begin with, it was now officially ruined. Part of you felt bad for snapping at her when she was only trying to help you feel better. If this was a few months ago, it was likely that you'd just give her a half-hearted smile before moving on. You didn't know what was up with you.

You weren't too preoccupied with getting into a relationship of any sort at this point, but it was still annoying being forced to spend the day watching other couples be happy next to each other. A part of you was envious, with another part of you being simply annoyed by the blatant PDA surrounding you for the next few hours.

You knew you had to prepare yourself if you were going to have anything even remotely close to having a good time at the party you were planning on attending tonight. It was Valentine's Day themed, which was already off-putting, but you felt obligated to go. 

Staying in, watching a television show, and ruminating about how miserable you were sounded more appealing, but you didn't want to be the only one in your cohort that didn't go to the party. Whether or not they were all actually going was up in the air, but you still felt a social obligation to attend, whether you liked it or not.

~~~~~

“Got any fun plans tonight, Levi?”

Levi effectively ignored Nicolo’s question as he continued pumping out the orders he was receiving for his station. Levi was like a well-oiled machine working his station, getting orders out at speeds most people couldn’t comprehend.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he grumbled.

His speed and ability to multi-task and fulfill orders was much needed on a day like today: Valentine’s Day. He didn’t particularly care for the “holiday”, but the café served Valentine’s Day themed lattes for the overzealous undergrads that were trying to woo whoever had piqued their interests at the time before breaking it off in 2-3 weeks after the honeymoon phase passed. The café was obnoxiously red and pink. He couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Not only did his shift change, but he also had to suffer through seeing couples show off distasteful PDA. If he saw one more couple rubbing noses and kissing each other in the doorway, he was going to gouge his own eyes out.

“Yeah, but we’re only open until 5 today,” Nicole reminded him. “Whatcha got planned afterwards? Anything for Valentine’s?”

The passively annoyed expression he shot in Nicolo’s direction was enough to answer his question. Of course he didn’t have anything planned.

Not only did he not care for relationships right now, but the last one he did have wasn’t particularly memorable. The last time he was in one was some fling he had freshman year of undergrad that fell apart because he was too busy dealing with the financial aid bullshit that resulted from his uncle’s disinterest in him. His partner at the time didn’t understand and also didn’t put in the effort to understand. 

So no, he did not have any plans for Valentine’s Day, and he couldn’t see him having them anytime soon.

“You going out with that pastry girl that’s been hanging out here?” 

Levi chose to deflect Nicolo’s question with another question.

“Oh, Sasha?” he mused, slightly looking away as some color rose to his cheeks. “Not really, but I’m cooking a dinner for her at home tonight. I’ve never had someone enjoy my food as much before.”

“Hmm,” Levi mumbled in acknowledgement as he turned back towards his station.

Although he couldn’t imagine dedicating a whole evening just to cooking, he did somewhat understand Nicolo’s sentiment regarding how good it felt to have someone enjoy your cooking. Levi also got that same satisfaction whenever someone enjoyed the specific way he brewed his teas. 

He clenched his jaw as you popped up in his mind, as you were the most consistent customer that came in and really enjoyed his teas.

It wasn’t the same type of relationship as Nicolo and Sasha, however. Even if it was, he doubted you’d be interested in spending a whole night focusing on tea. He could already picture you babbling on about something regarding drama with your friends the entire night, which sounded like fresh hell to him.

"Are you just going to stay at home grumbling about all the papers you have to read?" Nicolo asked, pulling Levi out of his head.

Levi scoffed as he looked at him, neither confirming nor denying his assumption.

"You know, you really should get out there more! Might do you some good to see someone," Nicolo suggested before pausing, "although your abrasive personality definitely makes it more difficult."

Levi gave him a disapproving and unamused look.

You popped up into his head again. A relationship was out of the question. He already had you to deal with. Dating someone on top of that—especially after the bullshit that happened last month—and his school and work responsibilities sounded like an absolute nightmare.

"Not interested," he grumbled.

"At least get out more! Some stress relief might help with your focus on those papers you seem to be struggling to get through."

Levi didn't immediately shoot down this idea, but he also wasn't too sure on what he would be able to do. He wasn't particularly interested in parties and he didn't have too much of a social life. In fact, wandering through parties last month while searching for you was the most social activity he had gotten since Halloween. 

"Not a chance."

~~~~~

"This is the worst mistake of my life."

"Oh c'mon!" you said as you shoved Levi forward into the frat house. "It can't be that bad! A drink could also loosen you up."

Levi scoffed.

"I don't get drunk."

You rolled your eyes.

"Well, you were the one that insisted on coming with me."

"Yeah," he said as he glanced over his shoulder back at you with a scowl, "so you don't get fucking lost in the middle of the night again."

You rolled your eyes again, this time followed with a groan of exasperation. 

"You're so dramatic," you scolded as you gave him one final push before wandering off into the crowd. 

Levi watched your small form disappear within the sea of people and glanced at the door which was looking more appealing with every passing second. Part of him did regret coming to the crowded and rowdy party, but the thought of running around looking for you again sounded like an absolute pain in the ass.

You slightly glanced back at Levi who was shooting you a glare across the room. A part of you did feel guilty for what had happened last month—you drunk texted him, he dragged his ass around town in the cold looking for you, and then he took care of you after you caught a cold as a result of your reckless desire to search for food while freezing. You understood his ire, but his insistence on coming with you threw you off. He could've just said no if you texted him again.

Your eyes flashed up as you saw him making his way towards you. Upon looking up, not only did you see him, but you also saw quite a few familiar figures—mostly that of people who were not supposed to be there. 

One of the Honor's Society members blatantly stood near the drinks station, likely already at least two drinks in. Jean casually chatted with another freshman with black hair and freckles. You looked around to see if there were more Honors Society members that you had to turn a blind eye to. 

You recognized two others that weren't Honors Society members, but had shown up to some of your events. One of them was a blonde freshman that you were sure was the daughter of the mayor, although you never got close enough to confirm if that was true. She was interacting quite closely with an upperclassman with freckles that was wearing a brown ponytail and you had to avert your eyes to avoid staring. Your eyes landed right on Marlo and you had to quickly look away to pretend that you didn't see him drinking inappropriately. He was talking to another girl with short, wavy, dark blonde hair that was scowling at him as he looked awkwardly off into the distance, as if some message she was trying to send was being missed entirely.

They're definitely being more bold, aren't they?

It didn't surprise you. It was the spring semester. This was usually around the time that most freshmen that were initially hesitant on attending parties began to embrace it—whether that was a good or bad thing depended on context.

Levi gradually caught up with you and helped you push your way through the crowd, his hand gently ghosting over the small of your back. 

You felt chills running up your spine as you felt his touch. You had elected to wear one of your shirts that had an open back, so you felt his fingers directly on your skin. Your pulse hastened as you felt your face heat up.

There were a lot of people at the party. 

There were a lot of people, so it increased your anxiety about being here.

Yeah, that was it.

You shrugged off the chills that were rapidly taking over your body and made a beeline for the drink station. 

You didn't know what was going on with you. The last time you felt this anxious at a party was when Petra had triggered you about your parents and then at the Rumbling before that when you saw Zack, but it was different. While you couldn't say that you liked feeling this anxiety, it wasn't entirely unwelcome either. 

You flinched when you reached your hand out for the stack of cups near the drink station and felt your fingers brush up against Levi's. Heat rose to your cheeks, although you weren't sure if it was because you bumped hands with Levi or if it was out of embarrassment about the fact that you had even flinched in the first place. 

Luckily for you, it seemed that Levi was just as distressed, as the both of you immediately withdrew your hands.

"Sorry," Levi muttered as he cleared his throat, putting both his hands back into his jacket pockets. 

You shot him an awkward, brief smile of acknowledgement before turning back towards the drinks and pouring one for yourself before immediately running away into the crowd.

The source of your anxiety was Levi. You were at least emotionally self-aware enough to know that. You were anxious when he followed you closely to the drink station and then again once you had accidentally brushed up against him just now.

All that really meant was that you had to get away from him for now if you didn't want to be stressed during the entirety of this party. 

You were able to tell that you were slowly beginning to feel more nervous around him, although nervous wasn't really the best word for it. It wasn't really nervousness. Sure, the physiological signs were the same—your face would heat up, your pulse would hasten, and your breath would get caught in your throat. These were all signs that indicated anxiety, but at the same time, anxiety and nervousness didn't feel like the right words to describe what was going on. You couldn't quite pinpoint what it was and it was driving you nuts.

You easily disappeared into the crowd. Levi didn't follow. 

The whole point of him coming was to be there to drag your ass home if you got into trouble again, but he couldn't get himself to follow you. 

His hand felt like it was burning from where you had brushed up against him. He frowned at himself as he sipped on the drink he had poured for himself, immediately grimacing at the poorly made cocktail whipped up by inexperienced undergrads. He put it down and opted for a beer instead.

He didn't understand why he withdrew his hand so quickly, or why you had flinched. Did he startle you? Why did he feel so awkward afterwards?

Levi groaned to himself. He already regretted coming to the party itself. He should've just chilled at the 24-hour library and do literally anything else until it was time to pick you up. Everything could have been avoided had he just refused to come with. Unlike the Rumbling, in which he attended with Hange and Miche, he didn’t know anyone here. The only person he could be bothered to socialize with would be you, but he felt the increasing need to avoid you at all costs, despite his original reason for tagging along with you. He was stuck in the corner of the room, sipping on cheap beer while pretending that the crowd wasn’t actually as big as it was.

Your nerves quickly faded once you began drinking and chatting with some of your other classmates that had shown up, although you took care to avoid the freshmen that technically were not supposed to be there. The new semester had just started, so everyone was still in a fairly good mood regarding talking about school or even gossiping about faculty. Once assignments and grades began mattering, those topics would be nowhere to be found. 

Apparently some drama had been going on between Professor Zachary, the dean of the university, and the mayor and some of his secretaries over the legitimacy of the election. The drama had trickled down to the rest of the staff, leaving everyone—particularly the financial aid office—worried about future funding from the local government. 

While this drama generally wouldn’t have caught your interest in the slightest, your scholarship was a huge factor in you being able to attend this school, so you hoped that everything was over-exaggerated and that there wouldn’t be any actual issues. Otherwise, everything you had worked so hard for would have been for naught if you couldn’t pay your tuition.

Before you knew it, the house quickly filled up with people. You found yourself wandering back towards the drink station to haphazardly grab another drink. However, given the fact that you were more than a little intoxicated and that there were way too many people in way too small of a space, you found yourself stumbling over your own feet.

You tripped and immediately fell into someone's chest.

You panicked and immediately began to apologize out of embarrassment.

"Oh! I'm sorry-"

You felt both relief and further embarrassment when you saw who you had fallen into—Levi.

Blood rushed to your face as you leaned against him. You were so close that you could feel his pulse against yours. You could even smell the subtle scent of the cologne that he had put on in the morning, despite the stench of alcohol permeating the air otherwise. It was earthy and pleasant. It fit him well. 

You were looking directly into his gray eyes that held an unreadable expression. His hair fell perfectly over his eyes. He was wearing a simple button-up shirt with a black jacket over him and you didn’t notice until now how well it accentuated his figure—particularly his arms, shoulders, and chest—although that might have been the alcohol talking. At least, that's what you convinced yourself it was. Whether it was actually true or not didn't matter. Despite how awkward you felt, you didn't really want to move. You were oddly comfy. 

You felt those symptoms of your "anxiety" rising: your hastened pulse, your flushed cheeks, and your breath getting caught in your throat. Despite this, you didn't move.

The both of you stayed still for a while. You soon began to notice his hands that were on your waist after he had caught you. If your body was already reacting strongly to his hand on your back earlier, his touch on your waist was driving your heart rate through the roof. His touch was warm and firm. Chills traveled up and down your body as you made skin-to-skin contact with him. You felt your entire body warming up as you continued to look directly into his eyes. You didn’t want to take your gaze off him. Even the chaos of all the people around you seemed to have been lost on you as you stood agonizingly still up against him.

It was the alcohol. That'd explain it. Alcohol made you more sensitive and would explain your hastened pulse. 

After you rationalized that to yourself, you suddenly got up and cleared your throat, finally breaking your gaze from his stupidly pretty eyes. 

"...crowded party."

You vaguely heard Levi mumble.

"Y-Yeah," you said as you nodded at him. "Got crowded fast."

Levi didn't get a chance to respond and he was only able to watch as you immediately bolted away from him and into the crowd again to avoid looking at him. 

He clenched his jaw and sighed to himself. He was more than annoyed at himself for how awkward he was getting around you. Unlike you, he couldn't say that it was just due to the alcohol—and he wasn't even drinking that much in the first place. What was he thinking, holding you for as long as he was? He should’ve just shrugged you off him as soon as you got your bearings. Instead, he gazed into your eyes for much too long, unable to take the feeling of his hands on your waist out of his mind. The tips of his ears had grown pink as he held you and he only hoped that you were too drunk and that it was too dark for you to notice. He didn’t know what was going on, and he wasn’t particularly in the right mood or headspace to figure it out, especially not with you around.

At this point, you made it your personal goal to avoid Levi until it was time to leave. You found yourself sitting at the drink station, sipping on the not-so-pleasant Jungle Juice that you were too buzzed to notice tasted like shit. 

"Long time no see."

You heard a familiar voice and glanced over at the source. 

It was the same sophomore that you saw at the Rumbling—the 'lanky parasite' that Levi so rudely dubbed him as—Floche.

"...I guess not," you said as you stared at him, hesitant with your response. "You following me?"

He stepped closer.

"A girl as pretty as you, how could I not?"

Unlike at the Rumbling, when you were anxious and defensive from seeing Zack and therefore immediately rejected Floche's advances, you now did a shy smile, although it still felt awkward as fuck.

Although you rejecting him would have done little to stop him, he immediately began moving closer, and you could have sworn that his eyes traveled up and down your figure briefly. 

You were still uncomfortable—that hadn't changed—but a part of you appreciated the compliments. 

If you were less intoxicated and had a bit more time to sort out your anxiety regarding both your grumpy roommate and today in general, you'd be able to recognize your increased vulnerability that resulted from being single for the first time on Valentine's Day as well as your newfound dynamic with Levi. If you had recognized that, you probably would've told Floche to promptly fuck off again.

However, you didn't, and before long, you ended up exchanging numbers with him.

Levi stood still from across the room, watching that 'lanky parasite' flirt with you before getting your number. He felt himself get increasingly irritated the minute he saw Floche walking towards you with a suggestive look. He found it strange that he was so bothered by it, but figured that it was because his social battery had been drained for the night and that it didn't actually have anything to do with the exchange he was witnessing in front of him. 

His mood significantly soured once he saw the two of you exchange numbers. His grip on his beer bottle tightened as he chugged the rest of it in one go, tossing the bottle into the trash before walking towards you, under the guise of getting another drink.

Levi leaned on the wall next to you, clearly not having any actual intention of getting another drink.

"You come to these parties just to flirt with anyone that sets their eyes on you?"

The comment caught you off-guard. You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to his oddly rude comment.

"Wh-What?" you asked defensively, taking slight offense to his comment once you were able to process it.

"Nothing," he mumbled. "It's getting too rowdy. Let's go."

At this point, a scowl was permanently plastered onto his face and you could tell that he was more than ready to leave.

You stared at him as he turned away and grabbed his car keys out of his pants pocket. He took a few steps towards the door before glancing back at you.

"You coming?"

You clenched your jaw, trying to swallow the increasing sensation of an uncomfortable lump in your throat.

"...okay," you whispered, getting up and following him out of the house. 

Levi looked at your upset expression and didn't say a word as he turned away and walked towards his car. He was feeling much too irritated to deal with anything other than getting into the car and driving home to forget this night ever happened.

~~~~~

The car ride home was silent. Levi had barely drank at the party and had been long sober by the time you actually got to leaving. You had drunk significantly more, although you were starting to sober up as well. 

You stubbornly looked out the window with your arms crossed, still trying to process how you felt regarding Levi's unexpected comment. 

You were offended. That much, you knew. It wasn't the first time he had insulted you, but some part did legitimately believe that the two of you had moved past it. You had come to terms with some deal about getting along with each other and he's been around during some of your more vulnerable moments.

Yet here he was, blatantly insulting you again. You were already somewhat emotionally compromised because of your unease regarding being single on Valentine's Day and you had been anxious around him all night, so his comment on top of all of that seemed to hit you much harder than any of his previous insults ever had.

"I'm not just...flirting," you mumbled.

He glanced over at you, clearly able to tell that you were upset with the way that you were avoiding his gaze and your low volume of speech.

It took him a second to respond. 

"...I know," he said quietly.

You frowned and then turned to look at him before speaking more audibly.

"Then why'd you say it?"

Levi didn't answer.

Not wanting to waste your energy fighting with him over his weird behavior, you let out a frustrated huff before crossing your arms and glaring out the window again. 

No words were exchanged for the rest of the car ride, or even during the walk into the apartment and into your separate rooms. 

You were more than irritated. Petra pissed you off at the meeting, you had been high-strung all night, and the one person you thought you could count on was acting weird and throwing snappy comments at you that bothered you on a much deeper level than they should have.

Realizing that you were too wound up to go to bed, you found yourself leaning against the railing on the balcony connected to your apartment. The cold winter air helped calm you down.

You turned towards the door as you heard footsteps approaching. You saw Levi's figure approaching from behind you, holding a bottle of beer in each hand.

He offered you one by raising it towards you and you stared at him, still frowning, before eventually taking it. He was still acting weird and you were still pissed.

You sipped on it in silence, glaring at the horizon as he stood quietly next to you.

"Sorry," he said after a while. It was quiet and part of you wasn't sure if you had actually heard him correctly.

You blinked at him.

"What?"

"The comment," he muttered awkwardly as he leaned on the railing and looked at the ground below. "Was just pissed from being at the party, I guess."

Your frown gradually softened as you looked at him. It was weird that he was apologizing, but it was also weird that you cared so much. Even after you had seemingly formed a truce with him, it's not like he suddenly became a pleasant person to be around. His personality was still abrasive and he still lacked a filter whenever he was annoyed, and you never caught him apologizing for any of it. 

You bit on your bottom lip subtly in an attempt to calm your nerves regarding the awkwardness that had been surrounding the two of you all night.

"Well," you finally spoke, attempting to break the tension, "good news is that you didn't have to chase me around this time?"

You heard a quiet scoff.

"Guess not."

"Told you so," you shot him a smug look as you took another swig of the beer.

"That's because I went with you, dumbass."

A small grin appeared on your face at his response. At least it had returned to your usual banter. 

"To be honest, I didn't even really want to go out tonight. Think I was trying to prove something to Petra."

"Oh?" he mumbled as he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Yeah," you said with an annoyed tone. "She kept insisting that I was purposefully being mopey over being single on Valentine's Day even though I kept on telling her I wasn't."

You looked over towards Levi once you noticed that he wasn't responding. He was frowning at the ground again.

"Nicolo was being a pain in the ass at the café today," he finally said. "Something about needing to get out more."

You found yourself smiling at the shared ire between the two of you.

"To us miserable singles?" you suggested before raising your beer as if you were giving a toast.

He gave you a skeptical look for a few seconds before sighing.

"Fine," he said reluctantly before clinking the spout of his beer bottle with yours. "To being miserably single."

He took a swig of his beer.

"Apparently," he added on, with a hint of heavy reluctance in his voice.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye as you raised your beer bottle to your lips.

You already knew Valentine's Day was going to suck this year because of all the bullshit that had happened in the past couple months, but Levi's presence made it just a little less lonely. You weren’t entirely sure what it was, but even just his presence was enough to make you feel not completely alone, something that none of your friends were able to achieve. He wasn’t actively doing anything to make you feel that way, but you still felt it nonetheless.

You smiled to yourself as you enjoyed his presence next to you. It was easy to forget your problems around him, even if it was something as silly as being single on Valentine's Day.

#: @levisbrat25 @gothgril69 @sckerman @berrijam @notgoodforlife @meowjaa @averysmolbear @roseofdarknessblog @bejewelledd @hhighkey @ayame236 @sad-darksoul @velouria17 @kamyru @l1zk4 @layenacreates @lamees004 @whoami-72 @highgoon69 @chaotic-on-main @levishotgf @nube55 @chosos-mascara @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman

[theresattrpgforthat]

(To clarify, I don’t have any preferences on genre or tone here, just budget. Or lack thereof I guess.)

THEME: Free TTRPGs (2/2)

I’m so so glad that you posted two asks because holy shit do I have recommendations. This is the second part, once again organized into different pieces of advice!

4. Unofficial games based on a licensed IP. 

Yeah, people do crazy things for the stuff they love, including designing an entire roleplaying game and then releasing it for free! Here’s a few that I’ve found.

Unofficial Hollow Knight RPG, by HKRPG Team.

Vast kingdoms, ancient mysteries, and adversaries far beyond reckoning await you.

The Unofficial Hollow Knight RPG is an original tabletop role-playing system inspired by Team Cherry's hit indie title. In HKRPG, players take the form of daring bugs going on adventures in the strange and wondrous world of Hollow Knight and its insect-populated kingdoms. 

What a labour of love this game is. This TTRPG feels dungeon-crawly, which makes sense considering the game it’s designed after. Each bug has hit points, stamina points, and Soul, referring to their magical reserves. Inventory is also tracked, using a pool called Stash. There are three Bug templates available for you to choose: Small, Average and Large, with different benefits and drawbacks for each template. There’s over 100 pages of character traits and abilities, spells, charms and rituals, items and obstacles, which allow for complex character builds.

On the GM side, there’s links to info for settings and NPCs, as well as Lands Beyond, a supplement that allows you to create your own insect kingdoms and gives you four random roll tables to aid you in this creation. If you want to replicate your own little traumatized bug adventure, this game is absolutely for you!

Skyfarer, by Failbetter Games.

Queen Victoria has brought London into the heavens. The High Wilderness stretches out ahead of you; cruel, unwelcoming, and filled with opportunity. Here you make your living as a Skyfarer, working on board a locomotive jury-rigged to fly through these cold skies and raging winds. Your captain has taken you to the Reach, a frontier on the edge of civilization, in search of fame, fortune and adventure.

You will change out here, where the Empire’s light falters and casts deep shadows, where rebels stake their claim on fragments of sky-rock riddled with fungus, where pillagers dig into ruins built by the now-dead sun. 

Players form the crew of a spacefaring steam locomotive. Gunners, quartermasters, engineers, signallers – even mascots – are brought to the fore as the Captain is struck down by misfortune and the crew must band together to get out of (or into) many surprising kinds of trouble.

Using a simple dice-based system, Skyfarer allows players and game-masters to easily tell stories set in the Fallen London universe with plenty of climactic moments, tense stand-offs, and grim decisions. As characters risk life and limb, they’ll accrue Peril – the more Peril they have, the greater the chance of them meeting a grisly and permanent end.

This game uses both d6s and d10s, and leans more towards the narrative side: your character qualities are descriptive, and your abilities are abstract representations, titled Iron, Mirrors, Veils and Hearts. You’ll collaboratively come up with your starting situation, and include details like who your Captain is, what the current crisis is, and what kinds of Allies and Antagonists are involved. 

One thing that’s really unique about this game is that there’s a character that the GM must play - the Captain, someone who gives orders to others, but for the purpose of this game, can’t carry out their normal duties for some reason or another. Once you set up your characters and determine what your starting scenario looks like, you’re good to go!

5. Playtests.

Sometimes the playtest of a game is released free of charge, with all of its editing errors and without any art. These games won’t be perfect, but they contain rules, as much of the setting as the creator has managed to flesh out so far, and the spark of creativity that can pull you into a fantastic community. Get in early on a playtest and you might find yourself holding the early stages of something truly great - and you’ll get a sense of warmth knowing you got to be part of it.

Aeronauts: Flight After Fall, by Electric Purple Studios.

The world is covered in purple mist, the legacy of some cataclysm long past. Through the haze have risen several powerful city-states, built where the mist is thin enough that they are not constantly besieged by the fog’s lurking horrors. Now airships fly above the mist, and a new era of trade and conflict has begun to bustle in. The city-states, previously only in contact through small trading caravans, are now forced to face the reality of different cultures, different ways of life, and the possibility of war.

Aeronauts: Flight After Fall is a TTRPG of grand quests and small moments, of journeys from the tops of the clouds to the depths of the darkest tunnels. You and your friends tell the story of the crew of a small airship, trying to make their way in a world that is rapidly changing around you. Are you diplomatic envoys endeavoring to build connections, or are you a group of ragtag scoundrels simply trying to survive? It’s up to you.

Aeronauts uses a 3d6 system, and emphasizes narrative role-playing, similar to games like Apocalypse World and Blades in the Dark. When you roll, you add up your dice - a 15 is a critical success, 10-24 is a partial success, and a 9 or less is a failure. You will have access to a pool called Focus, which can add a bonus to your check, as well as tokens, which can be gained using certain actions and spent to alter certain types of rolls. Finally, there is a tool called Kismet, which allows characters to establish details within the narrative, either for their benefit or just to put their own personal stamp on part of the story. 

The rules as put out here are simple, but the ways you can use them and your characters go into much more detail, taking up 198 pages in total. There’s rules for different kinds of combat, examples of how to use certain parts of your character sheet, a delve into the lore, and pre-made characters who want to pick up the game sooner rather than later. There’s also a community Discord advertised in case you want to find other players, talk about the game, and get updates about changes as they happen. 

The Modern Eldritch, by Moondog Gaming Press.

The Modern Eldritch leads you into a world run by mega-corps headed by eldritch horrors who demand brand loyalty over blood sacrifice, wizards who believe themselves better than worldly governments, and non-profits who leverage vast intelligence networks to find donors. Players take on the roles of average citizens who have had their lives shattered by these systems, and now must journey through this world to fight for some sense of normalcy. 

The Modern Eldritch utilizes quick character creation, which revolves around crafting motivations and backstory; a wide skill set and freeform magic system which encourage roleplay and creativity to tackle obstacles; and a unique exhaustion system that invites players to gamble with their own sanity to increase their odds of success.

This PDF starts off with a quick introduction to the world and an outline of some basic concessions that the group should agree on before getting ready to play. Character abilities are ranked from a d4 to a d12, and character skills are ranked from 1 to 5. You’ll be rolling dice pools, and adding up the results to determine whether or not you succeed. You’ll also assign positive and negative elements to your character, to flesh them out and give them exploitable weaknesses - this is an eldritch horror game, after all. 

This game is also supported by a Discord server, and also provides a link to a Playtest Survey, where you can send in your feedback for future edits! My only complaint is that the PDF takes a little bit long to load - it takes patience!

6. SRDs - write your own game!

Maybe you have the perfect idea of a game in your head. Maybe you have a setting that you absolutely adore - you just need rules to tell you how to play a character in that setting. Maybe you really really like filling all of your free hours with matching character tropes to game stats and putting together character sheets and writing random tables…. maybe I’m just calling myself out here.

SRDs are tools to help you design your own game in your own setting using rules that have already been sorted out. They will contain advice about the kinds of games that were in the creator’s mind when designing the rules system, and steps through what a character will need. Creators often offer them up for free, out of the kindness of their hearts and the desire to see just how far people can take their rules and bend the genre.

Caltrop Core, by titanomachyRPG.

Ever wondered how to make your own TTRPG? Welcome to v1.0 of Caltrop Core, an introductory game design system using the humble and sharp d4! It's extremely simple and bare bones so anyone can make a game with it, regardless of your experience level! It can have as much or as little complexity as you like.

This game is extremely beginner friendly, and familiarizes you with the core dice-rolling mechanic before introducing you to character building blocks, ways to communicate genre and tone, and optional elements that help characters change the narrative. There’s also an entire collection of Caltrop Core games for you to check out (some of which are free to download!) that really show off what this system can do!

Titanomachy has also released Caltrop Core EX, which they refer to as a “director’s cut” of the regular SRD, and EMERGE8, an SRD that’s designed to help you create your game as you play it. It uses a d8 dice mechanic that takes inspiration from World of Darkness dice pools, as well as a few other tips and tricks that encourage collaboration between players and GM. 

VRBS SRD, by David Garrett.

VRBS is an ultralight system for creating highly improvisational role-playing games that reward creative, heroic action. It has a universal conflict resolution mechanic that requires a single six-sided die. In VRBS, characters are defined by what they do, not by abstract statistics. Characters can attempt anything that a creative hero would be able to reasonably accomplish and they either succeed or grow in the process.

The VRBS SRD is easy to understand and is excellent for games that need a tight session with an easy-to-predict end time. It uses only d6’s - the easiest-to-find dice - and sets up your characters to move through three scenes, plus one scene through each member of the group. Throughout the game, they will draw on a pool of Energy. If you finish the final Scene without depleting your Energy, you are sucessful! Run out of energy, you go home. Try again tomorrow.

Full disclosure, I have designed a game using this SRD before - Mischief by Moonlight, a game about small gods getting up to shenanigans inside a museum where their relics have been trapped. (Go ahead and download it for free!)

Finally…

Games I’ve recommended in the past!

Mothership, by Tuesday Knight Games.

IronSworn, by Shawn Tomkin.

Straight to VHS, by Lost Cat Games.

[whumpitisthen]

I like one very specific thing, which is Whumper locking the door after they enter the room Whumpee is kept in and wanted to expand upon i just a slight bit so:

Here's some fun ways to signal that pain is coming Whumpee's way (a ramble):

So in spot no.1 we got what inspired this post, which is the mental image of a Whumpee watching Whumper come in, then promptly lock the door behind them. It signals danger, it makes them feel even more stuck, so helpless. And the best part is that it signals that Whumper won't be leaving any time soon. When that door is locked, it means that it is time to hurt and I really can't explain any more why I have such an obsessive love for a locked door so utterly cutting Whumpee off from any hope of getting out of that room. Please consider the implications of something so simple and ponder on it for me

Another good signal is an alarm, or a specific time. Say Whumpee gets to endure horrific torture every day, but they are free to do whatever until that dreaded 7 pm comes when Whumper comes for them. They might have an alarm set up, which, if they ever manage to get away will haunt them for the rest of their life; or they might not, and they might not even know that it's already time before Whumper shows up out of nowhere and Whumpee gets this incredible expression of horror on their face and goes "Is it already time?" Chef's kiss, give me ten

We love our non-human characters and I specifically love non-human whumpers, so perhaps the signal for a whumpee who has the misfortune of being this terrifying Whumper's favourite is a quiver in the air when a supernatural all-powerful whumper enters Whumpee's home. A pressure on their body, a chill down their spine that comes right back up, a noise in their ears they can't get rid of, whispering in their mind. Hallucinations, inexplicable panic, a very specific smell, a distortion of their vision, the feeling of being watched, the feeling of another in the room though they are supposed to be alone, a feather/scale/puddle/literally whatever part of Whymper in the middle of their living room floor, the list goes on and on! I think we as a community should have more eldritch horror whumpers, it's got so much untapped potential and I for one could finally relate fully to the whumper as I am also a creature unbeknownst and inconceivable to mortals with a fondness for pretty little pathetic men crying on my floor :)

Oh here's a good one: Whumpee receives the signal from another person. "Whumper seems pretty frustrated." "Have you seen how angry Whumper got this afternoon? They looked about ready to kill." "Whumper wanted me to tell you they are waiting for you in their office." "Whumper keeps nagging me about you all the time. Why are they so obsessed with you today?" "I'm kind of worried about how long Whumper has been in their room for. I think you should check on them." Now doesn't all that sound just wonderful for out dear Whumpee, anxiously debating on whether they are going to survive today or not.

Of course, who's better to give the signal than Whumper themself? They could have a word they have taught Whumpee means nothing good. They could act a certain way, perhaps much too friendly or intimate, touching them, keeping them close. Maybe they don't even mean to send a signal, but Whumpee catches it anyway. That telltale glint in their eyes. The way they keep staring at them. Whenever they seem bored, frustrated, excited. When they call Whumpee's name in a specific tone that has an underlying want in it. Biting their lips a lot. Anything you can think of.

Rewards! When Whumpee recieves a reward, they know they are in for a bad time. I mean, they have to earn their luxuries, right? If they think they can just have that blanket or water without earning it it's really their fault for thinking that in the first place. Extra points if the reward isn't actually a good thing. Maybe Whumper got their Whumpee a new collar, or a new toy to try out on them, or they graciously helped them stay awake like Whumper told them to by electrocuting the hell out of them all night, and Whumpee dares to not even thank them?

And that is about as much as my brain can think of right now its late. If you wanna use any of these you are free to ofc though this isn't even a prompt list, more of just me rambling about tropes

Also the numbered list thing fucks with the readmore so i hereby apologize to anyone who will have to scroll past this seventy times on phone i legit cannot put one in there unless i wanna cut off the entire list and leave the first paragraph only. If it makes you feel any better I will also have to scroll past this

[scarlet-streak-fanfics]

Their Eyes Are On Me

Welcome to me attempting to write Bungou Stray Dogs fanfiction, specifically some Port Mafia Chuuzai hate-flirting. Hope you all enjoy!

When Chuuya had first heard of the Port Mafia, he’d imagined them a well-oiled, brutal machine with each member the picture of deadly precision–that was part of why he’d fought against them so hard. Of course, this had held true for several of the members he’d met so far. Kouyou, the young woman that he’d been introduced to almost immediately upon joining, was certainly terrifying and professional. However, the same could not be said of the young man who had, for lack of a better word, manipulated him into joining: Osamu Dazai, the youngest Executive in Port Mafia history, and perhaps the most arrogant and insufferable person Chuuya had had the misfortune of meeting.

He’d hoped that it was just a bad first impression, but no. Dazai was simply the most awful excuse for a human being that Chuuya had had the misfortune of coming across, and that included every single person he’d interacted with throughout his turbulent childhood–if one could call losing all memories of their prior life and becoming a vessel for an ancient deity and then living on the streets in the slums of Yokohama a childhood. Even now, as the redhead slouches on a stool next to his new “partner”, Dazai exudes a slimy air of disinterest to the entire room of Port Mafia members as he knocks back his fourth glass of whiskey of the night. As he leans back against the bar, continuing to ignore Chuuya, Chuuya decides that he’s never accepting an invitation to go out with Dazai again, team building be damned. However, he does have one question. “Hey, bastard, are you even old enough to drink? I thought we were the same age, and I’m only fifteen.”

The brunet snorts, almost choking on the amber liquid in his glass before he sets the glass down on the polished wood of the bar. “Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya, you poor, simple boy. You think anyone is going to tell me no here?”

The condescension in his voice is yet another painful slice to Chuuya’s already stinging pride, and he resists the urge to push the other man off his stool. “That doesn’t answer my question, asshole.”

Dazai takes another sip of his drink, savoring the taste before answering, “We are the same age, yeah. Not that it really matters here.”

“Right, the youngest Executive ever.” He can’t keep the bitterness and sarcasm out of his tone. “They all worship the ground you walk on, right? So much genius, power, and charisma in one little body. How can you even stand it?”

“Aw, Charismatic? Genius? I’m flattered, tiny, but jealousy’s not a good look on you.” Dazai purrs, leaning towards Chuuya, who decides to restrain himself no longer, instead shoving the brunet off his seat and onto the floor. “I’d never be jealous of a slimeball like you, you ridiculous walking waste of bandages!”

Dazai looks stunned for a moment, but then he laughs, throwing his head back as the unnaturally loud sound draws the attention of everyone in the room. Chuuya finds himself shrinking under their gazes, withdrawing into his new coat and hat like a turtle into its shell, but Dazai just laughs harder, filling the awkward silence until everyone returns to their conversations. He hoists himself back up into his seat, the grin on his face leaning almost unhinged. The drinking does seem to be finally catching up with him, as his words slur slightly when he says, “Aw, why’s the hatrack so bashful now? Where did all that confidence go, hm?”

“I’m not bashful!” Dazai hums, entirely unconvinced, and Chuuya pushes aside the anger that boils up in him to continue. “I’m simply not used to so many eyes on me, that’s all.”

The Executive raises an eyebrow, reaching for his glass again. “Who was looking at you?”

“Everyone?” Chuuya knew the other man was stupid, but this was frankly ridiculous. “After I pushed you off the chair, idiot. Did you hit your head on the way down?”

“None of them were looking at you, pipsqueak.” Chuuya opens his mouth to argue, but Dazai puts a finger against the redhead’s lips, drawing an indignant squeak from him. “They were looking at me–it’s not every day I get knocked on my ass and just laugh about it. Still, you should get used to it. If you can’t handle eyes on you while you’re just being my arm candy, how will you keep up with their expectations as my partner?”

“Arm candy?!” That draws another inappropriately loud laugh out of Dazai, and Chuuya can feel his cheeks heating up. “I’m no one’s arm candy, you stupid piece of shit.”

“Hush, it’s a compliment. Not many people are pretty enough to be worthy of that title. Besides, I’ve always had a thing for redheads.” He hates that his face only gets redder, but not as much as he hates the sheer delight on Dazai’s face as he notices the redness of Chuuya’s cheeks and leans closer into the redhead’s space. “Aw, is Chuuya flustered?”

“No, I’m just embarrassed to be seen with your drunk ass.”

“Oh, you definitely are! How adorable. You know, you’re even prettier when you’re angry with me, Chuuuuuuuuuuya~” The alcohol on his breath as he purrs the last words into Chuuya’s ear is enough to make Chuuya gag, pushing Dazai away from him. “In your dreams, you fucking womanizer.”

“You like me!”

“Do not!” Dazai completely ignores the rising anger in his new partner, instead draping one arm heavily around his shoulder, and Chuuya curses the universe that the one person he’d happily use Upon the Tainted Sorrow on with not a single regret is the same person capable of negating his Ability. Still, this doesn’t stop him from voicing his anger. “I hate you.”

“No, you like me.” Before Chuuya can continue the argument, Dazai plays his dreaded trump card in a sing-song voice. “Be a good dog and tell me you like me~”

“I’m going to kill you.” The brunet pouts dramatically. “Don’t tease me like that, hatrack! Besides, that doesn’t sound like what I told you to do. Are you really going to break your word so easily?”

Dazai’s death will be incredibly slow and painful, Chuuya decides–the exact opposite of what he knows the Executive wants. However, a promise is a promise. He takes a deep breath, rushing out the words as quickly as possible. “I-like-you.”

“Hm? What was that?” Chuuya fantasizes about knocking that shit-eating grin off of Dazai’s face, but he knows that level of active aggression would probably get him executed. “I said I like you, you disgusting Mackeral! That’s what you asked!”

“That’s not my name.”

“You didn’t say I had to call you by your name, bastard!” 

“Well, now you do~”

“Dazai-san.” Dazai clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “So formal, Chuuya. Do you hear me calling you Nakahara-san? We’re going to be partners, after all.”

“And I’d prefer Nakahara-san!” Dazai just keeps looking at him expectantly in dead silence until Chuuya finally gives in. “Osamu.”

Dazai’s face lights up, and he ruffles the redhead’s hair, knocking off his hat in the process, much to Chuuya’s annoyance, before leaning back on his elbows against the bar. “What a good doggy! You and I are going to get along just fine, pretty boy.”

Chuuya vehemently disagrees but decides against arguing, instead getting off his stool to retrieve his hat. After all, his blood pressure can only take so much of these interactions, and he refuses to allow this arrogant piece of shit to send him to an early grave.

[sabineelectricheart]

Lousy Thursday

Summary: Eugene has a terrible day. Aurora meets him at his dorm and things start looking up for him.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 1000

Notes: I like pairing up the nerd with a cool girl.

Eugene had fallen under the misfortune of a particularly tedious day. 

Everyone has those every once in a while, and considering how everyday seemed to drag the year before, he had to admit he was overdue for one. Yet, he had grown accustomed to the blissful comforts and feels particularly bitter about the minor setbacks imposed upon him over the day.

In fact, after oversleeping and not having the chance to shower in the morning, gaining a detention for misplacing a few items on his uniform, underperforming at an exam and receiving a rather displeased letter from home, the class president was already fed up. By lunch hour, he considered just throwing it all up in the air and going to bed, as nothing seemed to go his way, but elected instead to resign himself to the fact the rest of his day would likely follow a similar route.

To make matters even worse, it was Thursday. He had no classes with Aurora at all, and he managed to miss her at both breakfast and lunch. He had gone the whole day without any relief and was ready to shut himself up in his room and wait a new, fresh morning to come.

He bargained on the chance he would get to see his girlfriend at dinner and decided to forego searching for her around the large castle with a maze of corridors and endless expanse of rooms. Instead, he headed straight for the dorms, eager to hit the pillow with a sigh and be left undisturbed.

Avoiding the eyes of anyone who might have been sitting in the common room, Eugene dashed straight for his bedroom. Quickly swinging open his door, he let his eyes close as he leant against it, now safely inside his personal cocoon and away from anything or anyone that could make his day unbearably worse.

“Bad day?” A figure asked from beside his bed, looking at his slumped figure.

His eyes snapped open, startled by another voice in what he thought was his empty space. He stood upright, failing to realise it was Aurora at first and held a stern expression to his face. Only when he recognised the person that he has been looking for the entire day did his features soften and frown lines slightly fade.

He let his head fell back against the wooden door with a thud and he groaned from the contact.

The girl giggled. “Wow, it must have been.”

“You’ve no idea.” He huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

She gestured to the chest of drawers by the door. Some stray pieces of papers laid forgotten on top of it.

“I saw the letter from the wicked witch over there. That’s grounds enough for a bad day.” She sympathised, the distaste for her mother-in-law evident in her scathing tone.

The pair never really got along. Lady Hartmann is the sort of person with strict notions about life and the others, strongly informed by age-old prejudices and expectations of propriety. Aurora, on the other hand, is a sparrow flying in the wind, someone who enjoys adventure, light conversation and keeping a wide spectrum of acquaintances. They are so fundamentally different that it is difficult to imagine a day and a situation in which they will see eye-to-eye.

At the beginning, Eugene tried to mediate their impressions of each other in private conversation. He would insist in letters to his mother that his girlfriend is a responsible and intelligent student, with little in common with her petty criminal parents, while arguing with his girlfriend that his mother was a loving and nurturing woman, albeit a little set on her ways.

Now, however, he lets them get at each other. He supposes that he is tired of the same arguments over and over, hoping to persuade him into a path of action that he does not want to take. Though, honestly… He is starting to come around to Aurora’s way of thinking, even if he is not about to be as radical about it as she wishes him to.

He grumbled. “That, and a detention, and the whole day until now without you.”

“That must have been awful, I am quite a delight.” She teased, hopeful to earn a smile from him, or even a small smirk.

“You are.” He agreed.

His expression was perfectly neutral as he said it, not quite smiling, but not frowning either. It made his confirmation seem more genuine, and she almost felt bad for teasing him with it.

“My poor baby. Come on under the covers with me.” She whispered, lifting the duvet and shuffling backwards to make room for him.

That elicited a smile and a content sigh as he immediately gave into her demand and rested his head on her chest. He would usually pretend to put up some resistance, but that is for days that he has enough pride to pretend that he is not wrapped around her little finger, which was not today.

Threading her fingers through his hair, Aurora hummed absentmindedly something like a nursery song, the only sound that filled the room aside from their light breaths.

A few moments fell between them, and as the sound of breathing became more and more even, some movement and repositioning were felt slowly beneath the duvet. The boy wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, angling his head so he could see his girlfriend better.

“I really needed this.” He confessed. “Thank you.”

“I’m happy to oblige.” Aurora replied with a smirk.

Eugene returned it with a pure smile of his own and laid his head back down, humming along to the familiar song that she began singing very softly under her breath. He was soothed by the feeling of her fingers in his hair and against his scalp, and slowly, he let himself fall asleep in her arms.

Good thing Aurora is good at sneaking out of other people’s bed, or his day would begin anew with another detention.

*_*_*_*_*

Crème de la Crème Masterlist

[amorchai]

hi! will you be posting your Draco fanfics again soon? When Harry Lost Her was literally my favorite read, I’m sad I can’t come back to it :(

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ─ D.M

pairings: draco malfoy x reader

summary: after harry potter realises you are in love with draco, he has to watch the relationship blossom.

word count: 2893

warnings: gn!reader, a lot of angst, slight suggestive tones but it's a sfw writing it doesn't indicate anything sexual, confrontation, harry's perspective.

additional notes: this is a repost from my old account ( prev. 1,024 notes. ) the name needed a rebrand and the plot a little bit but i hope you still enjoy it like the last one!

it had been two months.

two months since harry broke up with you. however, to him, it felt you had ended it long before then. in the beginning, you were very happy together, you were the sweetest and funniest person harry had ever met, and still were. you had gone out for over a year, and were content until harry very slowly started to see you fall out of love with him.

not only could you not tell your own misfortune of your relationship at the start yourself, but harry also couldn't help but hold onto you like a lifeline, unwilling to let you go.

draco malfoy, a boy you would constantly bicker towards. a person harry could now see was something more with you than he could’ve anticipated. you were complete opposites from each other. you were a hufflepuff with a kind and soft manner and were dating harry potter – draco’s known nemesis – much different to the slytherin's dark and closed off demeanour along with his hatred for potter.

but harry then noticed how light-hearted it really was, draco didn't go too deep with the insults towards you, and harry would be stupid to not see the certain tension between the two, that being the unspoken feelings that he was sure you were denying you felt just as much as draco was.

harry watched as the relationship between you and draco became much more friendly and companionable, he would see you together more and more, much to harry’s dismay.

the slytherin boy practically flaunted to harry the fact he became too friendly with you, raising his eyebrows in a chaff manner when harry would come to see you in the library where you had told him you were studying. his eyes glued to draco's arm that lay on the back of your seat, a smirk played on the blonde's face upon seeing the shocked look in his enemy's expression.

or the times the victorious look on his face glowed after harry would call you over to the seat he saved for you at lunchtime, to which you would say ‘i need to tell draco something,’ and sit beside him instead. the remainder of lunch harry would have to listen to the very audible laughter emitting from both parties as you converse.

when harry had his nightmares or anxious thoughts he would leave his sweaty bed in the dark of the night and take a walk around the grounds of the school. some nights too anxious he would feel the need to bring his cloak to stay hidden and other days needing the fresh air and freedom, therefore ensuring he isn't caught by teachers or prefects. one specific prefect being draco malfoy, he couldn't risk the mockery and punishment.

so almost two months ago, when he turned the corner to the library to see you and draco walking out together in a deep conversation, harry has reached his breaking point. he watched as draco said goodbye, leaving your side as he walked back to the dungeons. you turned the other way to see your boyfriend standing there.

you smiled innocently at him, which set harry’s teeth on edge, "harry! what are doing here? did you have another bad dream?" you ask, walking over to him and his stern expression. he didn't answer. when you placed your hand on his forearm to balance while you leant on your tippy-toes to kiss his cheek, harry took a step backwards and out your grip.

you looked befuddled from the gryffindor's actions, resting back on the balls of your feet, arms fallen to your sides.

"i can't do this anymore," he finally spoke, his tone spat at you while his hands sat in his pyjama bottom's pockets, almost tearing a hole in them from the tight grip. the second the words left his mouth, harry turned to walk back to his dorm. however, you followed beside him, "what do you mean, harry? you can't say that and then walk away, please." he ignored your question as he continued himself, "why were you with him?", "you mean draco?", "he's insufferable,” harry snaps, "he's my friend."

"i think it's a little more than that." harry's words cause you to gasp quietly, "do you think i would cheat on you?" you asked, shocked, to which the boy shrugged. "i would never cheat on you," "so you love me then, do you?" his question hit you like a ton of bricks all at once, footsteps freezing against the wood.

harry turns his body to face you, awaiting the answer. you sigh, dropping your head and covering your eyes, your sad statement came out almost silent, "i'm sorry, harry." you weren’t able to look him in the eye, finally coming to the realisation that you, in fact, in love with someone else, the boy you merely left a minute ago. "and you love him?", "...i think so" that was enough for harry to hear as he left you in the hallway, returning to his dorm, broken.

now as harry sat at lunch, months after, ron and hermione were squabbling in front of him but their voices fade in the background while his eyes stare beyond his friend's shoulders and to the hufflepuff that sat at the slytherin table. draco had the biggest grin on his face as he leaned down to your ear, whispering words that only you could hear. your laughter evident to the entire hall as your hand sits on his chest to contain yourself. draco’s grey eyes gleaming at the pure happiness you emit.

however, your laughter seizes as you and your ex-boyfriend make eye contact. harry's glare as evident as the fear in yours. you slowly drops your smile along with your hand on draco's chest to fall in his lap. he follows your gaze at the changed behaviour, his small smile also leaving his lips as it turns into a scowl. you smile lightly at draco, saying something to him as he nods in understanding. then, harry watches you stand up before making your way over.

"hi harry," you starts, both his friends stop arguing abruptly as they now listen to you speak, your hands fidget in front of you, standing beside a scowling harry. "can i speak to you?" you ask and he grumbles while nodding, lifting the goblet filled with water to his mouth, grumbling into the metal, "i'm not moving."  you kindly smiles at ron and hermione before sitting down, hands land to the hem of your shirt to tug anxiously.

"harry, i just want to apologise, i know you're upset with me and i'm sorry. i know i've done wrong. you deserve better than how i treated you, and i believe it wasn't fair. i just hope one day you can forgive me and we can be civil again."

harry doesn't speak at first but stares at the table in front of him before finally opting to retort, "so you're with him now?", "i don't want to talk about him. i just want you to know i did love you, and you were a good boyfriend." although that was true, harry could tell you were holding back from being completely honest, probably having your own complaints about harry’s character within the relationship. "that helps, thanks," says harry, sarcastically.

as if on cue, the bell begins to chime, indicating the start of the next classes. you look defeated, a small sigh leaving your lips, turning to who you used to call your close friends. you smile at each other as if now simply acquaintances, ron and hermione greeting you sadly.

standing from the seat, harry watches as you shrug at draco who stands at the far end of the table now waiting on you, both bags over his shoulder, shaking his head in reply with his hand extended for you to take. fingers intertwine as you begin to engage in conversation. the frown draco sends back to the brunette boy once more indicating exactly what you were talking about.

the following week, harry awoke from a terrible dream, sweat covering his forehead and dampening his t-shirt. the sound of dean's heavy grumbling mixed with ron's loud snoring causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand in pure frustration.

harry changes into a new t-shirt before adding his slippers and jumper, walking himself out of the dorms and down the staircases. he makes it all the way to the first-floor corridors, looking out the massive, gaped openings overlooking the owlery, he stared outside out as the moon lights the corridor, a strong gust of wind hitting his jumper as his hands rest calmly on the cold stone colonnades.

his relaxed trance is broken by the sudden patter of heavy footsteps sprinting around the right side of the courtyard hall. goosebumps arise in his skin at the worry of being caught and as he begins to walk towards the left side, he saw who it was. draco and you, holding hands and peering around the corner, causing harry to hide himself behind the wall.

he can hear the sound of draco quietly whispering to be quiet while you can't help but giggle at the nightly antics. you would never break a rule when you went out with harry, constantly telling him you didn't want to get into trouble and it didn't seem fun. however, your laughter with draco indicated your views had long changed since you started dating the slytherin instead.

harry looks over the wall to see you both now standing towards each other and he can't help but step out to get a better view, and since he wasn't thinking straight from the rage in his veins, harry thought he could maybe even tell you off.

"i'm just saying, the kitchen is right next to the hufflepuff common room. if you told me, i would've gotten the food on the way to meet you this way, it would've been easier," you spoke, draco squeezing your hand in his.

"ah yes, easier it may have been but it's more fun this way. plus who am i to let my love carry all the food around while i wait in the library?" my love. harry thinks he may be sick. "you know i could carry it all myself?", "i don't know, darling, you're hands are pretty small," he teases after kissing the back of your hands before leaning his head down. you automatically lean on the toes of your feet, draco capturing your lips into a deep kiss. his fingers leave from grasping your hands to intertwine them together firmly, fingers fidget as your lips move desperately against each other.

harry feels close to his previous nightmarish, spine-chilling state as he watches who he once dated locking lips with the person he hated the most.

draco begins to walk you back against the wall, hands leaving your to settle atop your hips. just as your fingers tangle in his hair and a small grunt emits from the boy's mouth, you’re drawn from the daydream-like haze draco had pulled you into and laugh against his lips while sliding your hands to push him back lightly, "we're not making out here.”

all harry feels is horror. the slytherin boy leans down to give you a much gentler kiss before nodding at you, "i'll meet you in the library, i won't be long, my darling." even in the middle of the night and from a distance, harry can see the deep blush arise at the skin of his cheekbones as you lean up to plant a quick kiss on the pale boy's cheek before walking off in the direction you plan to meet.

harry watches as draco stares at your disappearing figure, a small and unfamiliar smile ghosting his lips as he turns towards the place he was heading to instead come face-to-face with the last person he wanted to see. draco freezes in his footsteps and inhales a sharp breath, his knuckles cracking from his tightened fists as he dismisses harry, walking past him and towards the entrance hall to get to the kitchens. the gryffindor following swiftly behind. "what? nothing to say, malfoy?" he taunts, the flurry of confidence stemming as the other boy clenches his jaw trying to hold his reaction, "no. i don't," is all draco replies.

"well, you must feel pretty good about yourself," harry continues, his face leaning towards the slytherin's side as they walk side-by-side, harry trying to wind draco up as much as he can, desperate for some sort of response but draco just continues walking.

"you must feel damn proud of yourself that you won." harry's comments were flying straight to where draco's anger boiled but the boy was refusing to react harshly to the chosen one for once, "look no one is around, you can just hit me if i'm annoying you and no one will see.”

draco stops in his steps to harshly turn around to the boy, "no, i'm not going to hit you!", "why not? are you a coward?", "no, because y/n will think i started it." he sighs before walking down the length of the great hall tables and towards the door in the back.

"so y/n has you on a leash now?", "i'm not engaging in your pathetic attempt for me to get into trouble." draco seethes, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded as harry continues, "y/n has you behaving like a gentleman now? not even going to argue the person you hate the most?", "leave y/n out of this," draco's voice was quiet but very stern at the mention of your name falling from harry's filthy lips for the second time already.

harry laughs sarcastically, stepping back down in attempt to leave the hall. "pitiful," is the last thing the gryffindor speaks before leaving the hall and back to his dorms, ignoring the urge to go to the library and argue with the person he still loves, for daring to leave him for draco.

it didn't take harry long to realise that the library had become a space the couple overtook. during the day when hermione would drag him and ron there to collect her new books and return old ones, almost every time he would see you both huddled in a corner. sometimes in silence studying comfortably together, however, mostly laughing and sneaking in some kisses as you forget the work in front of each other. during the night he would always see you roaming the corridors, hand in draco’s, mostly in direction to and from the library. harry’s safe and calming walks becoming much more stressful in thought of seeing you together.

horror. a word harry kept relating to this whole scenario. it completely rose in harry's veins when he breaks from his reverie one night, realising that he was in the corridor leading to the room filled with books.

before he could turn and leave the way he came, he heard the all-too-familiar bound of footsteps as the couple left the room, uncaring if anyone was standing outside. harry had his invisibility cloak on much more often since he always ran into you so each of you had no idea your former boyfriend could see.

the terror harry felt only increased at the sight of you, draco’s lips connecting to your neck as you begin to laugh tiredly with your clear kiss-stricken lips. "my salazar, i love you and your laugh." harry hears draco mumble, his mouth still working against your neck gently, and you reply with an enthusiastic and content, "i love you," which tears harry in two. you used to say that to him, and now draco malfoy was graced with your love instead. he had lost you completely now to draco, and harry now knew this.

your hands unjoin as you move yours to fiddle with his very loose tie, one of his reaching to gently rub over your cheek, draco smirking into your jaw as he feels you shiver at his path of kisses.

draco catches sight of your half-closed eyes and pulls back to peck your lips, palm now flat against your cheek to get a good look at you, “you tired, my love?” you lazily smile up at your boyfriend before nodding.

harry watches as draco kisses your forehead, hand slipping naturally back into yours as if you were made for one another. harry’s heart plummets and jealously fills his head, why was it never like this when you were with him?

“let's get you back to my dorm and you can just rest for a little bit, yeah? no more studying tonight,” draco suggests, turning you both in the direction to the slytherin common room. "yes," is all you can muster, "can we read?" you ask, gleaming up at draco as you begin to walk past cloaked harry and in the directions of the staircase.

“course we can.”

harry had lost you before he even broke up with you, but what shattered his heart was having to watch the person he let go, love another so deeply and further than you ever loved him. in that moment upon seeing you trudge off in plans together, harry made a mental note that he had to try and move on, and stay far away from the library at all costs.

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amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[yhwhsdaughter]

Eunuch! Bum x Queen! Reader + King! Sangwoo

word count: 4.1k

tw: sangwoo, noncon, abuse of power, misogyny, murder, cheating, degradation, choking, cursing, minors dni

Ongoing…

[Chapter 2] , [Chapter 3]

Upon sliding the doors open, you were welcomed to blood spraying on your face. Droplets kissed your cheeks and if it was a calmer atmosphere, it would give the illusion of a blush. Reality, however, was much horrifying. Shocked by this, you stopped to assess the scene. Everyone was afraid to move a muscle as the king swung his sword, killing the chief state councilor with a stroke. As his body fell, more blood puddled at your feet, staining your slippers. Once the initial horror faded, you sprang forward, hugging Sangwoo’s midriff. “Your Majesty! Please stop this!” It was a brave or perhaps foolish action, interfering with your ruler. Words falling on deaf ears, he pushed you from him. The closest guard caught your form. Despite his absolute authority, killing nobles without reason, especially high ranking officers, was frowned on.

This is madness.

Your king was beauteous and cruel. A month into his ascension to the throne and he was already crumbling the ideals in which this nation was founded. Stray hairs hung around his chiseled face, tiny beads of sweat mixed with blood giving him a sadistic gleam as he grinned. Looking your way for a moment, he lazily waved at guards, “Take the Queen to her room.” Without a choice, the two of them gently nudged you from the scene. “Your Highness, please follow us.” Though their faces remained unmoving, their tone revealed their true feelings on the matter. Palm pressed against your mouth, you threw one last glance at the massacre before you. Blinking any lingering emotions, you walked away.

—

Pants filled the room as Sangwoo thrusted into you relentlessly. He was angry; even though he’d appointed new council members, he wasn’t sure he could trust them. In his mind, everyone was after his crown. You were angry as well, but for an entirely different reason.

You laid bare before your king, the fine robes that adorned your body pushed aside revealed your soft breasts; legs spread showed the path to your royal cunt. It disgusted you, thinking how many women had been in this bed, in your same position. Though the silk sheets were pristine, it could never truly wash away the sin. He grunted, “Stop overthinking. Just focus on—” he was close “—taking my seed, it’s all that matters.” Uncaring about your pleasure, Sangwoo bent you into an uncomfortable position, one that allowed his member to penetrate your walls at a deeper angle.

You allowed it.

The two of you, mostly you, were under incredible pressure to conceive. Not just a child, but a male heir. The fact that you hadn’t produced a son for the king was worrying to your mother. She wrote, often. It’s all she could talk about in her letters nowadays; there was fear in her that you would suffer as she did. Four miscarriages, three stillbirths, and then you. Highly superstitious, your mother believed that her misfortune was the price for the murder of the heirs by concubines in a fit of jealousy.

“Put a baby in me Sangwoo.”

You nearly begged, if only to end this. Making love wasn’t an option, nor your life a fairytale. No. King Sangwoo only fucked, and in the most inconvenient places too. You’ll never forget the embarrassment endured when you had tea with several noblewomen; your gracious king thought it would be appropriate to do it in a room adjacent to theirs. He bent you over a desk, throwing everything else off it, before sheathing himself inside of you. Emerging twenty minutes later, you couldn’t even look the ladies in the eyes. No one said anything, lest they lose their heads, but they knew.

Spurred by your words, Sangwoo thrusted faster and harder. “Fuuuck.” He stayed attached to you, like a dog, making sure your womb swallowed every last bit of his essence before pulling out. “Get pregnant.” Is all he said to you as he dressed again and exited the chambers. Out of breath and without a care, you laid there on the bed.

—

A life of servitude awaited YoonBum the second he was born. His poverty stricken parents sold him to be a household slave. Doomed to this fate, Bum tried his best to follow through and avoid punishments. Unfortunately, his master was a sadist and everyday, he received a beating.

After running errands, Bum stood in line to receive the bags of rice his master had ordered. It was the last thing on his list before readying to go home and continue working. Being close by, he couldn’t help but overhear several gentlemen talking, “Where is that damned village?!”

The village in question, it seems, was Bum’s hometown. Because it was a tiny place full of peasants and criminals, cartographers didn’t bother putting it on a map. Only those that came from there knew the area. Sangwoo caught him staring. Quickly glancing away, Bum only saw the man motioning to his companions from the corner of his eye. In a matter of seconds, he was facing the man. He was dressed in purple robes and a gat, symbolizing his status. “Do you know where this village is?”

Daring not to look him in the eye, Bum was slow to nod. He’d been out long enough; his master was probably marching towards the market to drag him home. “Show me.” As guessed, a heavy man came barreling in their direction. He was red in the face. “Bum!” Master Yoon screamed obscenities. Coming to a stop, he sneered at the men.

“We need your servant.”

Though the statement seemed like a request, Sangwoo’s tone made it clear that it was an order. The balding man huffed, ready to curse him out and refuse when Sangwoo showed his name tag. It was made of a cool stone, Oh Sangwoo engraved with the royal crest. The fact that was once red turned pale in realization. Meek before his ruler, Mister Yoon had no choice but to relent. “We’ll be taking him then.”

Bum felt his humanity slip away as he was given to another man so easily. With his head bowed down, he followed this strange new path forged by the man in purple robes.

—

The Heavens decided to smile on YoonBum when he saved the king’s life.

It was an accident, really. The guards felt no threat to the approaching figure in the form of a frail, old lady who was an assassin in disguise. YoonBum saw the knife before they did, jumping in front of Sangwoo.

Adrenaline in his system, Bum didn’t realize he was stabbed till he felt warmth seeping through his rags. Looking down, red spread around the area. It hurt. Badly. Bum’s legs felt like noodles; the little energy he had left his body as he collapsed onto the dirt. Even breathing was painful. His intervention set things in motion. One of the bodyguards chased down the assassin, two stood by Sangwoo and another leant down to help him. He must’ve asked something important but Bum couldn’t hear him clearly. It’s like he was submerged underwater. The last thing he saw before his vision turned black, was Sangwoo staring at him with interest.

He woke up in the nicest room he’s ever been.

The king didn’t visit him personally but he was sent a letter. Red overtook his face as he was forced to admit he didn’t know how to read. The servant relayed the contents, stating that when he was recovered, he would serve the king closely. From someone of his birth, it was the best he could get. YoonBum suddenly felt immensely grateful; he would no longer sleep in a shed with the pigs but a real mat! The pain on his side reminded him of the price he’d paid for this position, but he was used to being hurt. At least now it served to help him.

As the moment of glee passed, Bum realized he didn’t quite know the etiquette of serving the king. Joy left his body as he wondered how he would figure it out.

Like him, Sangwoo was plagued by this constant state of unhappiness. After the attempt on his life, he would think his subjects would be glad to see him breathing but instead he got murmurs of concern. What if he’d died? Who would’ve taken the throne since there was no heir? It would’ve thrown the palace into chaos.

Their silent pleas did not go unheard. “Maybe I should have them killed. Them and their entire families—” he paused when he saw you in the gardens, smiling at one of your ladies. His heart twisted. Sangwoo couldn’t explain it, but he always got the urge to inflict pain on you. He could say it stemmed from a place of resentment. How hard was it to get pregnant? If you gave him a son, he wouldn’t be pestered by these old fucks. Not to mention, your face contorting in distress was intoxicating—not even the concubines could compete with that.

Beneath his robes, his cock twitched with excitement. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this. Approaching your unsuspecting figure, he threw a dazzling smile to your courtesans. Sangwoo knew how to use his assets advantageously. Despite the suffering he caused, people were rendered speechless by his charm and good-looks.

He was like a snake, slithering towards his prey, waiting to attack. You did not hear him coming till you saw your ladies-in-waiting bowing. Greeting him appropriately, you expressed your relief. “Your Highness, I am glad to see you unharmed.”

It’d been a while since you last saw him; when he arrived, the rumour about the assassin spread like wildfire. “My Queen, you are truly a vision. These flowers have nothing on your beauty. You are proof that absence makes the heart grow fonder.” His honeyed words felt like prodding the bees’ nest. If you weren’t careful, you would be stung.

The only times he was this affectionate was when he wanted something. He played the same lovestruck role with your father to convince him of marrying you. Sending your ladies off, Sangwoo dropped his smile. His expression was replaced with desperation. Pulling on your wrist, the two of you traversed to your quarters since they were closer. “Ah!” Thrown harshly onto the bed, you hardly had time to compose yourself before he was mounting you. “Let’s put your cursed womb to good use.” A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you without warning. Your hands formed to fists, grabbing onto the sheets for dear life. It hurts, it hurts!

“Your Majesty! Please— aaah! Be more gentle..!”

Without seeing his face, you could already picture his cruel smirk. “You were born a disappointment. The least you could do is serve your purpose as my wife and bear me an heir.” His words angered you. Managing to twist away, you tried to escape his iron grip. This only resulted in you being pushed onto your back. Sangwoo pried your legs open and realigned himself.

Slap!

Sangwoo’s eyes widened with disbelief. The stinging in his cheek somehow made his pulse beat faster. Hands wrapping around your throat, he squeezed. “You should treat your king with more reverence. It would be a shame if the nation lost its queen. Especially one who can be easily replaced.” Having been the youngest war general, Sangwoo had strength to spare. Your hands seemed small as they banged on his form, silently begging to release you.

Having your life in his hands gave him the edge he needed to cum. With a low moan, Sangwoo emptied himself inside you. In turn, you couldn’t even focus on anything else other than breathing, choking as you gasped for air that you’d previously been deprived of. Knowing that he was capable of committing the worst, death seemed better than staying by his side.

“Perhaps I am not the problem, Your Majesty.”

Your voice was raspy but it rang clear across his majesty’s mind. Your words struck deep, like a knife embedded in his brain. It created a wound that would eventually fester. “Shut up.”

As if to disprove your point, he visited every concubine, not leaving until none of them were left untouched. He needed a son, one way or another, and if you wouldn’t give it to him, he would seek it elsewhere.

—

YoonBum was mostly healed; if anything, it appeared he’d been forgotten after a week of rest. The medic was currently tending to his wound, “It's healing nicely. A few more days and you should be out of here.”

The two of them turned at the sound of the door sliding open, immediately bowing at Her Highness’ entrance.

“Your Majesty, how can I be of use?” It was a bit surprising to see you there; your medical checkup wasn’t till another month. He wondered if you were feeling ill. Fabric wrapped around your neck; the weather was tepid, even inside the palace. That’s when he noticed the purple marks that peeked from under the material. Aware of his pointed stare, you moved the scarf upwards to conceal it. “I need you to acquire these medicinal herbs for me.” Taking the list, he read it carefully. How odd. Before he could ask what they were for, you added, “Your discretion would be appreciated.”

“Of course.”

Bum sat there silently, head facing the floor when you acknowledged him. “Are you the man that saved my husband?” Snapping upwards, he sputtered before letting out a quick “Yes!” Finally having a chance to gaze at your face, Bum felt himself turning red. Dressed in the finest silks from head to toe, standing with an air of regalness, was you. Unlike the king, there was warmth in you. Being in the presence of such a being felt unreal.

At first glance, the young man seemed no different than the other servants. However, his pink cheeks reminded you of innocence that one so rarely saw in the palace, which was filled with betrayal and resentment. His disposition was kind of endearing. You hoped he would remain like this, untainted by the world. “Then I must thank you.”

At your words, Bum’s figure lowered, forehead touching the wood. “Y-your Highness is too kind!” This position caused him a stab of discomfort, applying pressure to his wound yet he refused to straighten up. Noticing, you motioned at him, “Don’t force yourself.”

With that brief interaction, you were gone.

Entering your chambers, you signaled for the maid. Unwrapping the silk bandages, you stared at the mirror. Your husband’s marks served as a reminder of who held the power in this union. The young woman kneeled before you, taking a round brush and rolling it in powder. Although her ministrations were gentle, you couldn’t help but hiss when it applied pressure to your tender skin. “Forgive this servant, Your Majesty!”

“Don’t mind it. Continue.”

—

The king was anxious.

It was one thing for you to not get pregnant, but he’d been keeping busy and there was still no news of concubines with child. Reminded and bothered by your words, he summoned the royal physician. Sangwoo believed he wasn’t the problem, he just needed confirmation. What did you know? He wanted an expert to say that he was fulfilling his duties as king and it was everybody else that lacked.

“I’m sorry to say this, Your Highness.. but you’re infertile.”

With great effort, Sangwoo stopped himself from strangulating the doctor. It was impossible. A frown etched itself in Sangwoo’s face, his handsome features twisting into something scary. “You’re wrong.” It didn’t make sense; as a healthy male in his prime, Sangwoo shouldn’t have a problem fathering as many children as he could. There were several causes that may have caused his infertility, especially since he was a war general but the fact remained that he could not produce children.

Only an heir of royal blood could be king.

He forced the poor man to do every test available to ensure this. The result was the same. Again. And again. “You must not be doing your job right.” As the guards dragged the pleading man, a piece of paper fell from the medics’ robes during the struggle. Picking it up, Sangwoo recognized your handwriting.

“What’s this?”

There was temporary relief in the man’s face as Sangwoo stopped in front of him. “That.. the Queen requested a few me-medicinal herbs.” It didn’t sit right with Sangwoo. Why on earth would you need this shit? The physician seemed hesitant to answer his question. A rough push finally ushered him to say, “Alone these herbs are fine, but mixed..”

As requested, the herbs were delivered to you by the doctor’s assistant. The timing was perfect too. “Why didn’t your master deliver these himself?” Nervous, the boy stuttered a few excuses before asking for permission to leave. That should’ve raised flags in your head but you wanted the plan to work. You needed it to work.

The king had finally taken time out of his busy schedule to visit you, and not just to copulate. He was kind enough to accept your invitation to have a picnic at the pavilion. It was surrounded by a grand lake and vividly green trees; a true landscape.

Sangwoo arrived with a familiar man at his side. You realized you never asked for his name, though that was easily fixed when Sangwoo made a vague motion towards him. “That’s Bum.” He was dressed in green and Sangwoo in red. In comparison to their bright colors, you wore a soft pastel pink, denoting your sophisticated features.

Sitting down, you signaled the servant to begin pouring the soup. Sangwoo raised a brow, curious, “You’re not going to eat?” Listening to your response, a smile appeared on his face. “I wanted to make a special meal for Your Highness, from the bottom of my heart.” It was unnerving, the way he looked at you. Still, you never lost composure, waiting patiently for him. That is, until he asked Bum to lean down and try it. Obedient, the male did so without question. Eyes widening, you managed to stop Bum from tasting. Your hand held onto his wrist tightly—the spoon hovering centimeters from his lips. A few droplets spilled onto the wooden table. Sangwoo tilted his head to the side, innocent expression in tow. “Something wrong?”

Everything is wrong!

Sangwoo knew. You didn’t know how, but of this, you were sure. Fear is what he wanted and you weren’t going to give it to him. “This meat in this broth was especially prepared for His Royal Highness. It shouldn’t go to waste on someone else.” The tip of Bum’s ears burned from embarrassment. He was under the impression you were a benevolent queen; instead, he was reminded of his lowly status. Of course he couldn’t eat the expensive meat, a peasant like him wouldn’t know how to appreciate the flavor. The hurt on his face was evident but he turned to the king, awaiting further instructions. Sangwoo wasn’t fazed, “Don’t be silly.”

Taking the spoon, Sangwoo offered it to you.

You stared at it, unmoving. Sangwoo poked your lips, “Who else but the Queen would be worthy to try such delicacy?” He was baiting you, daring you to deny or confess. Neither was an option. Grabbing the spoon from him, you slowly opened your mouth and dropped the contents inside. Sangwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly but he said nothing. “Swallow.” Damn him to hell. Before you could do such a thing, a guard interrupted. Apparently there were news concerning Yang Seungbae, a traitor to the crown; he was spotted near a town on the outskirts of the forest.

Sangwoo hated him. More than anyone. That bastard was working hard to rally forces that would conspire against him. While things were peaceful at court, Sangwoo had felt a shift ever since the assassination attempt. His eye twitched in annoyance, though you weren’t entirely positive if it was because of Seungbae or the fact that he’d been interrupted. Sitting completely still, you watched as Sangwoo whispered to Bum before leaving. As soon as he was gone, you grabbed a handkerchief and spit out the soup. This action worries a few servants but you waved them off. “It’s cold.” They couldn’t understand as you ordered them to throw it, seeing as it was perfectly edible. Such a waste, disposing of such good meat.

Bum followed you like a lost puppy. The first night Sangwoo bedded him, YoonBum experienced true love. It wasn’t gentle; the king’s touch harbored no hatred but passion. Bum had never felt like that. It made him feel special; the ruler of the country placed his lips and strong hands on his skinny body. He had a queen, concubines, and still, he went to him. Elated couldn’t begin to describe how Bum felt. His feelings for his king were all-consuming. Since then, he’d made a promise to follow every order Sangwoo asked of him. Bum didn’t have anything against you, truly, but his loyalty laid with his king.

On their way back, they encountered Imperial Concubine Min Jieun. The crowd following her greeted you respectfully, and while she did so too, there was a triumphant smirk on her face. Nodding in acknowledgment, you continued walking, enjoying nature. The sun warmed your skin, making you forget about any worries, if only for a moment. Once the group was out of earshot, you glanced at your companion. “What was that about?” It was no secret how spoiled Min Jieun was; she was a woman of noble birth, groomed to perfection. That’s the facade she chose to wear instead of the power hungry bitch she was. Envy burned in every particle of her body. She wanted you out of the picture—she wanted to be queen and mother of Sangwoo’s children. Still, your position commanded respect. Your lady leaned in, whispering, “There’s rumors that she’s with child.”

“Oh.”

Bum watched your composed reaction with intrigue. He could understand if you held a grudge towards her. He did. You would always be first to the king, so he had to accept that. Bum knew it was the way things ran. However, he couldn’t say the same for the other concubines. They had the chance to bear Sangwoo’s child. Bum only wished he could do so too. Alas, this resentment made him feel guilty because the concubines were amicable women—well, except Min Jieun. He didn’t realize that they were shackled to this restrictive lifestyle; that they had no choice but to make the best of the situation.

“Is there something you want to say?”

Almost jumping at the sudden sound of your voice, Bum gazed around to see who you were talking to. Finding your clear eyes on him, he realized you’d seen through him. “Uh.. n-no, Your Majesty..”

“Say it.”

“How.. how does Your Majesty handle it?”

Though the question itself was vague, you got the gist. “Queens are expected to rise above such earthly emotions.” You had a solemn expression and the grip around your fan tightened, “Jealousy is futile.”

Nodding, Bum felt like he’d swallowed vinegar. This revelation left him in deep thought. Perhaps that was the difference between royals and peasants; possessiveness was quick to overtake him while you had to live with the knowledge that your husband would seek the company of others.

Hm, maybe he was right not to envy you.

—

“The Queen has fallen ill.”

It was so sudden; you were so healthy one day and the next, chills racked your body, fever uncontrollable. The court tried to be positive on the matter but it wasn’t looking good. Sangwoo was advised to refrain from visiting you—if he got sick too, it would affect the entire nation. “I will see my wife as I see fit.”

“Open the door and step aside.”

He was like an angel of death, entering with eerie calmness. Even through the soft curtains he could see your weakened form. You looked thinner, unable to eat. The physicians tried to get you to consume anything but it was just regurgitated in minutes.

The bed dipped under his weight as he sat next to you.

“Did you eat something bad?” He caressed your face, pushing hairs away that stuck due to the sweat. Fingers tightening on the blankets, you managed to open your mouth. “Congratulations.” Lips pale and cracked, you smiled sardonically. Sangwoo wasn’t expecting that reaction. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve heard news that Concubine Jieun is pregnant.”

A dark look crossed his face. “Is that so?” He stood, “Perhaps I should pay her a visit.” Though his tone was mocking, there was something bothering Sangwoo. Fortunately for the king, you were too woozy to think straight. Leaning down, Sangwoo placed a hand behind your neck, lifting you just a bit, enough to kiss your lips.

“Don’t die.”

[wri0thesley]

I'd love to request more Naoya smut with him and a now pregnant!reader from that breeding fic because him busting a nut thinking about how good they'll look knocked up really made me feel some type of way!!! maybe reader-chan will even finally get a smooch from this HORRIBLE man. If you are not into doing continuations on requests no worries tho and thank you for your incredible writing as always, Nat!

reader can have a little smooch. as a treat. don’t let naoya hear you say he’s not a good husband <3

Expecting - Naoya x Fem!Reader (3.3k)

Both of you got what you wanted. Naoya got more than he bargained for. sequel to covet.

warnings: not sfw, minors dni! afab reader, fem pronouns. pregnancy sex, light lactation, misogyny, power imbalance, breeding kink, mentions of alcohol, naoya perhaps having some Feelings???.

[comments/reblogs are much appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Naoya catches you every so often for the next month and you easily roll onto your back for him, helpless under the brush of his fingers and the snap of his hips. He smirks at you when he passes you in the corridor, but you have nothing to show for all of the times you’ve warmed his bed – yet.

When you do, though – when a month and a half passes, and you are beginning to feel sick in a morning, and your monthly bleed has still not made itself known – you go to Naoya with deference in your eye. Once a servant, always a servant – and you are not stupid. You know that what you carry inside you is a bargaining chip.

Naoya wants someone who will submit, and you want an end to the life of drudgery and roughened hands and back-breaking work, of being ignored or reviled or mocked for having the misfortune to not be born with Zenin as a surname. Naoya takes you to a private, discreet physician with an iron grip on your arm and his light eyes sharp.

It’s amazing, how quickly a man like Naoya Zenin can set things in motion – when it’s not simply confirmed that you’re carrying his child, but that you’re carrying his son. His heir.

It’s so easy for him.

Suddenly you are no longer a maid, but Naoya’s betrothed – and though the other members of the household look at you in disgust, knowing that you spread your legs for the title, none of them dare risk Naoya’s ire by being outright rude to you. He and his family spin it like silk; not that Naoya took advantage of a servant, but that you have been part of some grand, beautiful Cinderella story – that Naoya is in love with you.

(It’s probably for the better that the Zenins prefer servants who can see cursed spirits, at the very least – if you had not had any kind of talent for jujutsu, who knows what would have happened to you? Naoya would not have risked his son being born utterly ordinary).

And then you are Naoya’s wife. It wouldn’t do, of course, for the future head of the family to have his heir and son born out of wedlock, even if society have progressed enough that you falling pregnant with said son was before the betrothal. The latter is a disgrace; the former is a laugh over a cup of sake in the dark, a toast to Naoya’s virility, a wink-wink-nudge-nudge at how lucky Naoya is to have found someone who gives themselves up so utterly and completely and easily, including their virtue--

You know that Naoya is not in love with you. You are fairly certain that the only thing Naoya loves is his name, and the power imbued therein. Still. You share a bed with him, and you’re given silken kimonos and pretty hair ornaments and anything that you ask for, and you are . . .

Respected is not quite the right word. Not for a woman who is Naoya’s. Certainly, he does not respect you.

But you are not reviled, not ignored, not beholden to the demands of your betters. Now, you are one of the betters, and if your fellow servants are frustrated that they have to bow to you in deference, they do not dare show it knowing that if you asked Naoya, he would have them punished for the transgression.

You had perhaps thought that once you were bearing his child, Naoya would lose interest in you. You know as well as anyone that nobody would bat an eyelid at Naoya seeking his pleasure somewhere else; it’s almost expected of him to have a mistress, a concubine, to go and sow his wild oats just in case the one he has placed inside of you does not yield the crop expected--

But he doesn’t.

Naoya hates you out of his sight. He is always touching you; hands sliding over your hips, cupping where your bump has become soft and round and pronounced, snapping servants to attention if he thinks you look tired or wan or pale. You accompany him almost everywhere. He looks up from speaking to his father to seek you out, as if to reassure himself that you are still there – and some tension in his shoulders seems to drain away.

He is still Naoya, of course.

You are still swiftly reprimanded by him if you speak out of turn, he still gets servants to do anything for you so he doesn’t have to do it himself, you still walk three steps behind him with your head bowed unless he bids you to do something else – but as time goes on, and your hips widen and your stomach grows and you feel the baby kick, something in him softens.

And something else hardens.

His desire on your flesh, on your form, does not wane. You grow used to the feeling of tangled silken bedsheets below you, of Naoya’s handsome face above you, of the groan and the whine as he spills himself inside of you for the third time that night. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

That initial thrill, of being wanted by someone like Naoya, doesn’t fade at all, even though you too are now bowed to in the corridors and the people below you have to jump at your command. And Naoya is not cruel for no reason. Despite the arrogance in his tone, the condescension that drips off of his slow, drawling words, the particular way he has of raising one eyebrow and letting his gaze crawl over you – you have come to enjoy being his.

You did not want equality, after all. You knew your place.

You just wanted better – and Naoya has provided you that in spades.

He’s got his arms spread out over the pillows, his shoulders strong, his eyes hungry as he watches you strip off the kimono you have been wearing today. Your wardrobe now is the height of luxury; all beautiful embroidery, delicate colours, fabrics that cost more than your former monthly salary. Kimono are not made to cling to your body; though people can tell that you are pregnant, it does not over-emphasise your hips or the newly swollen, heavy breast, or the curve of your stomach. Those are things that Naoya never tires of seeing, as the fabric pools around your ankles and the hadajuban is discarded and so are your underwear, and you stand before him utterly bare and unmistakably carrying his child.

“Stay there,” he says, “let me look at you.”

You are a good, well-trained, obedient thing. You stand there as Naoya’s gaze roves over you, straying over and over again to where your hips have filled out even more, where your stomach is curved – where your breasts have begun to droop a little from how heavy and swollen with milk they are. He sighs as he looks you over, and it is the sigh of a man who is indeed very pleased with his work.

“You can move,” he says. He moves the covers off of him, and you are not surprised to see that he is bare; that his cock is already stirring, heavy and thick between his thighs. “Come.” He crooks a finger at you, and you are grateful to be able to move, to take the weight off your ankles as you’re permitted to sit on the bed beside him. His arms wrap around you – they are strong, and certain, and he holds you like you are his property.

Which you suppose you are. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder and he makes a soft huff of amusement, but doesn’t say anything about how brazen you are. You are permitted some special favours, now that you are Naoya’s, and now that you are fulfilling your purpose so beautifully.

Naoya’s lips brush your ear, his tongue lapping at the curve of your neck, the joint between throat and shoulder. You sigh prettily, the warmth of his mouth on you making you shiver. One of his hands curls around your breast, enjoying the heavy weight of you in his hand. Thumb and forefinger gently pinch your nipple.

He was rough with you the first time, but now he treats you like porcelain – and the idea that you are precious to Naoya Zenin sets your stomach aflame, makes your breath stick in your throat. He tugs at it softly, coaxing you to sigh, a drop of liquid leaking from the sensitive nub as you squirm backwards into his lap. His tone is lightly warning as he says;

“Come on, be good. It’s a good sign, sweetheart.”

He calls you sweetheart in front of other people and the ones who have bought this rags-to-riches Cinderella story exchange looks that say ‘isn’t she lucky?’. You hear the light edge in it, the smirk, the loftiness – but it always seems to break into something that’s almost fond, when he’s inside you and touching you and his teeth bite into your neck.

“Just that your body is doing what it’s supposed to do,” your other nipple is subjected to the same treatment, and you feel Naoya’s breath hitch, his cock stir behind you and dig into the small of your back. “I think the moment he’s in his nursery I’m going to fuck another son into you, dearest.”

“Mm?” You say, a little breathless as his hand goes lower. He sweeps his palm over the curve of your stomach, pausing where the skin is tight and swollen. His cock twitches once more at the reminder of how utterly his you are, and how wonderfully you are doing your purpose. How lucky he is, to have found someone submissive and well-trained and obedient and sweet, who looks so luscious full of him.

You drive him to distraction even when you don’t realise he’s looking at you.

“Thighs apart,” he grunts, into your ear, and you comply with the docile nature of someone raised to serve. He loves that about you. Loves, too, when he dips his fingers between your legs and your slick coats his digits, a soft whine catching in the back of your throat as he circles your clit and little shocks spark all through you, making you almost clamp your thighs back around his hand.

You do not, though. You are well-behaved. And you and Naoya have played this game enough times that you know that this is leading to relief for both of you.

One of his long fingers slides inside of you and you widen your thighs more, your soft whimper breaking and pitching – it’s such a servile, sweet little noise that Naoya cannot help but crook his finger, let it rub against the textured spot on your inner walls that has you clenching and gasping.

Since your pregnancy, you have become so sensitive. Naoya is the kind of man who hates working to pleasure a woman – who considers your orgasm a choice, and his a foregone conclusion. But with you swollen and full with his seed, he is slow and indulgent – and it is so easy, now that a brush of his palm makes you shiver and a tug of his teeth on your earlobe makes you gasp.

The finger is pulled out of you, and Naoya raises it to your lips, hooking his finger inside so you open your mouth and let him press your own slick onto your tongue.

Your tongue gently suckling at his finger reminds him of the insistent pounding of need inside of him; the stiff cock, leaking pre-come. He’d gotten so distracted touching you and enjoying you he’d almost forgotten about his own pleasure, and he sighs as he props himself up on pillows and reaches for you.

“Get comfortable,” he tells you.

His preference is to have you beneath him; that, he thinks, is his wife’s proper place. But it has begun to be difficult, with your stomach so distended – and he is nothing, he thinks to himself with more than a touch of smugness, if not an indulgent provider. A good husband.

(That’s what he thinks, anyway. You are not hurt. You get pretty things, and him in your bed, and the estate’s servants at your beck and call, an expensive wedding ring on your finger and the honour of his name affixed to yours, and his seed taking root inside of you. What else could you ask of him?)

So you are permitted to spread your knees, to climb on top of him – to gently sink your tight, wet, heat about his cock and seat yourself comfortably on the muscle of his thighs and the flat planes of his stomach.

“If you had my view,” he says, teasingly. “Mm, you were really made as breeding stock, weren’t you?” The words make heat rush to your face as he cups your hips in his hand again, squeezing the new covering of plush flesh that you’ve acquired since your pregnancy. “My wife.”

The words send a quiet thrill through you. You sigh as he bottoms out, as your body meets his entirely; your hands splaying on his shoulders. He is not flat against the bed – that position is too weak, not fitting for a man of his stature. But he is propped up with pillows behind him, so that he can admire how you look as your teeth bite into your plump bottom lip and you lift yourself just a little off his straining cock, before letting yourself fall back down.

He lets you set the pace. If you are to be permitted to ride him, he thinks, you may as well be the one doing all of the work. Part of him, too, is afraid of touching you too much – of hurting you, when you have something so precious inside of you. He would not admit that to himself – that’s not a thought process befitting of someone of his stature. But . . . it nibbles at the corners of his consciousness.

He cares about you. He does not want to hurt you. He does not want you to be uncomfortable – not when you are doing such a good job, when you are so lovely for him, when he is so grateful to have found you--

It’s no more than I deserve, he reminds himself.

And to brush back thoughts that are not proper for his elevation station in life, he lets himself watch the bounce of your breasts. Lets his fingers dig into the even softer, rounder thighs. Enjoys the sight of your mound bouncing on his cock, the feel of your slick walls clinging to his cock.

You are so beautiful, swollen with his child.

It is the first time he has ever looked at a woman and saw power in them. There is, he thinks, a power in what you have – in the glow about your skin, the brightness of your eyes, the curves and roundness and soft, supple flesh. The thought almost frightens him – but then, you push up again and your eyes meet his own for just a moment and he remembers that you are swollen with his child and have the power of him inside of you, and it becomes comforting.

Without him, you’d be nothing.

So he watches you with hungry eyes as you move your hips on his cock; as his length sinks inside of you, as you angle yourself just so – so that every stroke of your hips makes his cock rub against the place inside you that earlier had you seeing stars. Your breath is getting faster and faster, your fingers on his shoulders flexing as the tight string of your release is wound inexorably closer and closer.

Naoya allows himself a groan; a light thrust of his hips, in time with your own. The chase of your warm, tight walls as you try and pull away. He lets his gaze wander to how his cock is coated in your slick, all wet and shining in the light of the bedroom – and he is once more reassured. This is his. You are his. This wetness, this need – this is all for him. The way your body has changed is because of him.

His own release is creeping up on him.

Today, though, he decides he will be merciful – he reaches forward , curving his fingers just so, so that he can toy with your clit as you continue to fuck him. He rolls the bud with the pad of his fingers (soft; he wields just one weapon, and most people do not get to see it. Most of his harder work is done with his technique, and you have seen him apply expensive hand cream to keep himself handsome), knowing your body as well as he knows his own.

He prides himself on that, and you have spent enough nights in his bed that it is second nature to him. Women are predictable, he thinks, smirk on his face as your channel clenches around his hard cock and you come, whimpering out his name--

(In bed, he prefers Naoya-sama, and you are a good wife. Your tone is servile, soft, obedient – and in return, Naoya is almost sweet to you.)

He thrusts his hips roughly up into you, chasing his own release as your body spasms and trembles about him. You are still so tight; so hot and taut where the aftershocks are making you tremble. It’s the sight of your body, quivering under your release, that does it in the end.

Your hips and stomach and breasts and thighs, all rounded with the miracle of bearing life. All softened and plump; meek and pliant, a perfect little wife. His perfect little wife.

As he feels the tension inside of him snap, one of his hands winds about the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Naoya’s grunt of pleasure is lost in the kiss, his mouth against yours hard and hungry. He is not willing to give up his dominance even here – but . . .

He has not kissed you so intimately before.

He has always avoided your mouth, preferring his lips on your chest or neck – turning your face away if it had seemed you might go for his mouth (later on, he had not bothered – he knows you well enough now to know that you would not dare.)

He tastes like wine. Like fancy, expensive sweets; the kind that you could have never afforded before you were his, but he has had at his disposal for his whole life. Like a cross between freedom and a prison--

He groans as he fills you up; his cock twitching, shooting out thick ropes of his come to land thick and heavy in your insides. Your whimper at the sensation is lost in his mouth, but Naoya fails to miss it – the fingers around the nape of your neck stroke through your hair, almost comforting, as he pulls back from you.

His lips are shiny, full and pretty. The grin that he gives you is crooked – and though you know it should not, though you know you should hate him for being arrogant and cruel and considering you lesser than him, the grin sends a rush of affection all through you.

If you were sentimental, you would say that the affection is mirrored in his own pale eyes.

(Naoya is glad you are not; you cannot see, beneath the triumph that you are claimed and carrying his heir and the hunger for your body and the pleasure that you are exactly the kind of wife that he wanted, that perhaps he does care about you.)

“My little wife,” he says, and he brushes his thumb over your cheek, hot with the rush of blood. “You’re so good for me.”

And you’ll carry on being so.

You’re so lovely when you’re expecting.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT WEALTH

When we started it, there wasn't any; the few sites you could order from were hand-made objects become store-bought ones—a wire service article whose first sentence is your own ad copy. Every startup that isn't profitable meaning nearly all of them, but none of their software could compete with ours. Most of the disputes I've seen between founders could have been having this idea at the same time, of course, but as far as I can tell it must be hard by how few startups do it. People think that what a business does is make money. In any purely economic relationship you're free to do what you want, not money. With trend stories, PR firms usually line up one or more experts to talk about selling the company to them, we had no experience in business. A programmer can sit down in front of a computer and create wealth. A lot of them try to make relativity strange. In industrialized countries, people belong to one institution or another at least by reputation, the level of measurement is more precise than you get from smallness alone.

I don't think there's an answer. Switching to a new set of buildings, and do things that you do not, ordinarily, be a group. The company that did was RCA, and Farnsworth's reward for his efforts was a decade of patent litigation. Who cares if you could read the minds of the consumers, you'd find these factors were all blurred together. It's rare to get things right the first time in our history, the bullies stopped stealing the nerds' lunch money. I had the misfortune to participate in what amounted to a controlled experiment to prove that. The discoverer is entitled to reply, why didn't you? I know, without knowing they know, that they can create wealth. When we switch to the point of view of a programmer using any of the languages higher up the power continuum. What were the results of this experiment? It takes an effort of will to push through this and get something released to users.

But these had had literally orders of magnitude less scrutiny. By the end of last year. In fact, nice is not the only way to decide which to call it is by comparison with other startups. What you're doing is business creation. It's a good metaphor because it reminds you that when the audience can communicate with one another. The whole tone is bogus. If you want a potato or a pencil or a place to work. Good does not mean being a pushover. But this is a list of the biggest ideas at Google is going to come up with more. And for the same reason: their performance can be measured. When you hear your call is important to us, please stay on the line, do you think, all you have to know who you should be nice to everyone. Developing new technology is a pain in the ass.

Giotto saw traditional Byzantine madonnas painted according to a formula that had satisfied everyone for centuries, and to lose one's sense of humor is to shrug off misfortunes, and to a lesser extent Britain under the labor governments of the 1960s and early 1970s. They didn't care what language Viaweb was written in, or didn't care, I wanted to keep it. He probably considers them about equivalent in power to, say, Python? For one thing, the official fiction is that you don't realize that. And it can't have been heredity, because it was more valuable, but because it is a good bet, he's still at a disadvantage. Gas stations? In this case we get three: the NPD Group, the creative director of GQ.

I had that something was amiss was that I couldn't talk to them. Their reporters do go out and learn Lisp. It must have seemed to our competitors that we had some kind of consumer gadget. If you do everything the way the average big company does it, you should leave business models for later, just as you'd leave some trivial but messy feature for version 2. But Durer's engravings and Saarinen's womb chair and the Pantheon and the original Porsche 911 all seem to me slightly funny. This bites you twice: in addition to the direct cost in time, there's the cost in fragmentation—breaking people's day up into bits too small to measure. Like having more than one founder, one VC, and he'll chase down the implications of what one said to them. Why call an auction site eBay?

When you made mistakes, what caused you to make them. I am much the richer for the operating system FreeBSD, which I'm running on the computer I'm using now, and so is Yahoo, which runs it on all their servers. I never reach them through the Times front page is a list of 5 commands Don't ignore your dreams; don't work too much; say what you think; cultivate friendships; be happy. And God help you if you choose them. There is no shortcut to it. It seems unlikely this is a simple answer to the wrong question. If you have a much greater chance of succeeding. But once you've admitted that one high level language can be more powerful than a community of talented people working on related problems. Another thing blogs and open source have in common is the Web. Salesmen are an exception. The recipe for great work is: very exacting taste, plus the ability to gratify it. Our startup made software for making online stores.

They want statements with punch, like top ten. When those far removed from the creation of wealth—undergraduates, reporters, politicians—hear that the richest 5% of the people have half the total wealth, they tend to write it first for whatever computer they personally use. Presumably it killed just about 100% of the startups we've funded have had a founder leave. They believe this because it really feels that way to them. Ditto for many other kinds of companies that don't make anything physical. For most people the best plan probably is to go to work for them. Facebook rightly ignored, look for ideas from the other direction. But you don't need to join a company to do that completely. But more people could do it than do it now. We did it because we want their software to be good. I had that something was amiss was that I couldn't talk to them.

And we weren't the only ones they did great things for the companies they fund, why didn't they start them? Microsoft would still have signed the deal. You look at them and you think, all you need is good hackers: if you depend on an oligopoly, you sink into bad habits that are hard to overcome when you suddenly get competition. When my IBM Thinkpad's hard disk died soon after, it became my only laptop. Few know this, I mean the structure of the calculation. The sterility of offices is supposed to suggest efficiency. If there are three founders and one who was away half the time talking to executives at cell phone companies, trying to arrange deals.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Jackie McDonough, Trevor Blackwell, Ben Horowitz, Justin Kan, Aaron Iba, Robert Morris, Karen Nguyen, and Harj Taggar for the lulz.

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Baji Being A Menace To Society (And Your Relationship) 2.0

Sequel to: Baji A.K.A. The Worst (Best) Matchmaker

Summary: Baji’s at it again, acting out-of-pocket and creating chaos for absolutely no reason, other than to see you suffer. In his own Baji-esque way, of course.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Warning(s): Boku no Pico is mentioned, but there is absolutely nothing graphic; mentions of masturbation

Note(s): I am so sorry if it isn’t funny. Sadly, I am but an amateur writer, not a comedian. Still, I hope you all enjoy! ^^

"(Y/n), want some ice cream? My treat."

Usually, you'd be the first to jump at an offer for a sweet treat, especially when you don't have to pay. However, as of now, the word 'ice cream,' when said by Baji, instantly triggers your fight-or flight-response. Paired with the fact that he’s broke as hell, your suspicions only increase for the sudden indulgence.

Since you know you're no match for the long-haired menace, your body automatically prepares to flee, legs twitching to lurch into a sprint. Unfortunately for you, just before you can get the fuck out of there, your hand is being grabbed by Mikey, who leisurely begins to tug you along to claim your dessert.

“You like ice cream, right?” he turns to ask, eyes unbelievably soft when looking at you.

And because you’re weak for him, all you can do is nod stiffly, trading in your sanity for the pleased grin that spreads across his face, his confident strides thereafter likely a result of him successfully remembering another miscellaneous fact about you, as has been the case since you officially started dating him. From the most trivial of things, like which brand of pens and pencils you prefer, to the slightly more important stuff, like ice cream being one of your favorite desserts; he’s made the effort of remembering them all.

He really doesn’t need to do any of that, ‘cause you’ll love him either way, but the conscious decision to do so is what makes you love him even more.

Zoning back into reality, you shake your head to reorient yourself. It isn’t the time to be going over the reasons why you’re such a lovesick puppy.

No, there are other things to worry about, mainly Baji.

You squeeze Mikey’s hand as you’re led to the nearest ice cream parlor to try and calm yourself. It works for the most part, especially when you get a reassuring squeeze back.

‘Right,’ you tell yourself, ‘it’s going to be okay.’

After all, Baji wouldn’t do anything too drastic, right?

~~~

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

Despite nothing having transpired yet, every alarm in your head is going off, pounding at the door of reason to get you to wake up and realize that it’s Baji you’re talking about, the same person that sets cars on fire when hungry and punches the first unfortunate soul he passes by on the street when sleepy.

You really should’ve listened to your survival instincts and ran. Alas, it’s much too late to escape, leaving you to wallow in your anxiety, while you wait for misfortune to strike.

And strike it does.

“Please, don’t sit next to me. You make me nauseous.”

“That’s cruel. I bought you ice cream, and you treat me like this?”

Yeah, he may have bought it, but you refuse to eat it because of how intensely Baji is staring at you. Fucking weirdo.

"Oh, do you want some of mine instead, (Y/n)?" Baji accentuates his question with a sensual lick to his ice cream from the edge of the cone to the finessed peak, making you extremely uncomfortable as he stares you down with the full motion.

As slowly as he licks his frozen treat do you slowly raise your middle finger, eliciting chuckles from the other occupants of the table.

You think you won that mini battle, though?

Ha! Nope.

Baji mirrors the vulgar action, not once breaking eye contact as he dips the tip of his finger directly into his ice cream, pulls it out, and proceeds to lick that, too.

Disgusted, you promptly avert your attention elsewhere, praying that Baji won’t continue being, well, himself.

Your prayers fall on deaf ears.

"It's cold!" As soon as the exclamation leaves your mouth, your blood runs glacial, knowing that you've unintentionally played into Baji's trap. The appearance of a sly, almost feral, smirk when you whip your head around to glare confirms what you already know.

The curtain has risen, and you’re standing center stage in a performance you can’t break free from.

"Aw, can't let it go to waste,” Baji continues, reaching over to scoop the ice cream you’re 100% certain he purposely spilled on the front of your shirt, with his fingers.

Then, to your horror and everyone else’s shock, he asks, without an ounce of virtue to his name, "Want me to lick it off with my mouth?"

Chifuyu is seated on the other side of the table, hiding his face in his hands. “Baji-san...”

"It'll stain if it dries like that." Dear God, how you wish to un-see Baji batting his eyelashes at you.

“I don’t care!” At this point, you’ve resorted to clumsily scooting your chair as far away from him as possible, which isn’t actually as far as you’d like considering your surroundings. Hell, so long as you put some distance between yourself and the crazy bastard that wants to see you suffer, you don’t mind having to force yourself halfway onto Mikey’s lap. (The firm hand that keeps you steady by the waist proves that your presence isn’t unwanted either.)

"Geez, (Y/n), you're such a scatterbrain."

Seeing Baji sell the line with a slow tugging of his hair behind the ear has you torn between laughing and dying a little more. Truthfully, his acting is frighteningly impressive, and you would’ve applauded his performance, if not for the fact that the role he’s playing still haunts your dreams.

By this time, most of who accompanied you to the ice cream parlor have figured out what kind of drugs Baji is on this time, which also means that those fuckers have seen, or are at least aware of, the cursed trilogy of questionable porn that’s being reenacted before their eyes, with you as an unwilling co-star. Those that are puzzled as to why people are shoving their fists in their mouths to refrain from laughing are obviously God’s favorites.

“The fuck is going on? I wanna laugh at Baji’s dumbassery, too.”

“Pah-chin... I think it’s best you don’t know.”

Interestingly enough, the one you’re most concerned about hasn’t said anything yet, splitting his attention between observing the scene unfolding and eating his portion of a deluxe sundae.

Then, out of nowhere-

“I understand.”

You and Baji freeze where you are, each of you grasping the other’s collar, you to shove him away, and him to draw you closer.

“(Y/n),” Mikey says, your name rolling silkily off his tongue in a tone much too fond for his next words, “if you like roleplay, just tell me.”

...

“Huh?”

“I’m fine with pissing, remember? So, roleplay shouldn’t be a problem.”

Heat rises to your face at an alarming pace, and it continues to climb as Mikey takes your free hand in his, which serves not to comfort but to unintentionally remind you of the humiliating experience from a few months back. And just when you convinced him that you didn’t want anything to do with getting freaky with the body’s excreta, too.

“You’ve got it wrong! I don’t- arfghfgh?!”

Your prayer to help cool down your flushed cheeks must have been heard, but you’re pretty damn sure you didn’t ask for Baji to shove his ice cream in your mouth!

“Oh, yeah. (Y/n)’s a fuckin’ geek when it comes to roleplay,” the unhinged bastard speaks in your stead, indifferent to the nails clawing at his hand clamped over your mouth. “You should try it with him. We were doing a scene from his favorite anime.”

Mikey tilts his head, interest positively piqued. “Which one is that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, leader?”

Mikey raises an eyebrow.

Baji opens his mouth.

You lunge.

It’s a series of events that happens in the blink of an eye and ends with loud crashing as you tackle Baji to the ground.

“Listen up, Baji Keisuke. We took an oath that day, and if you dare utter a word of what went down, I’ll consider that a breach of the code of secrecy and take you down, making sure you drown in a pit of your own shame and despair.”

Surprised to have been pinned down so quickly, it takes a while for Baji’s brain to catch up, but when it does, he’s frustratingly unfazed at the threat.

“Oho~ How scary. Too bad for you, I have no shame.”

“Not even if I tell Mama Baji where your porn stash is?”

That has the great Baji tensing up.

“You wouldn’t dare use an underhanded tactic like that.”

Your lips turn into a wicked grin. “Are you sure? I have as much dirt on you as you have on me, and like you, I won’t hesitate to use it to my advantage.”

If your grin is wicked, Baji’s is downright evil, showing off his sharp, gritted canines and all.

“You got balls, (Y/n),” he snarls, “but mine are bigger.”

The boy beneath you opens his mouth, and faster than you can stop him, he just...does it.

“(Y/n) (L/n) watched Boku no Pico and liked it!”

Silence.

Silence is all that’s heard for a good, long minute following the booming roar of the revelation.

You dare not look up to gauge everyone’s reactions, instead keeping your icy glare fixated on Baji, who looks smug as shit for having caused the glorious eruption of heat to spread like wildfire across your entire body, from the tips of your ears down to where your skin disappears under the collar of your jacket.

This...

This is war.

Taking in a deep breath, you answer his uncalled for declaration with your own thunderous shout of, “Baji watched Boku no Pico and jacked off to it! Twice!”

Baji laughs. “Oh, pray tell, saintly (Y/n), how many times did you jack off to it?”

“None of your fucking business, asshole.”

“Pretty fucking sure it is, since we were in the same room.”

Someone chokes, while you choke Baji.

“We. Swore. To. Secrecy. You. Asshole,” you practically growl, with each of your words accompanied by a ruthless back-and-forth shaking of the other boy’s person.

“Let up on the choking, dude. I’m not into that. You, however-”

Unable to take the ceaseless slander to your name anymore, you reel your fist back, but, upon seeing Baji’s cheek turned to you, jaw jutted out, as if inviting you to take your best shot, you hesitate. You know you wouldn’t be able to pack enough of a punch to actually leave an impact on him, which is terribly upsetting.

On the bright side, there’s still one tactic you can use that’ll be just as effective, a technique courtesy of your health teacher, who happily taught it to the class to use in case of an emergency.

Technically, it’s meant to be used to assess a person’s level of consciousness, but you suppose it can be used to get back at inconsiderate idiots, too.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuc-! Ow!”

You keep a straight face as you continue to rub your knuckles against his sternum, fully intent on delivering the worst possible pain to the current bane of your existence. It brings a sort of sadistic satisfaction to hear the ever prideful Baji’s screams of pain, and while it doesn’t completely undo the damage done, it does help soothe your wounded self-esteem.

“You want me stop? Beg for it.”

“Pissing, roleplay, choking, and begging? Goddam- OW!”

Your reign of terror comes to its untimely end when you’re lifted up into the air by the armpits, and through the haze of your power trip, you realize that Baji’s saving grace is Draken, who proceeds to carry you out of the parlor with ease.

“People are staring,” he coolly explains when you protest to having unfinished business.

Pouting, you cross your arms over your chest. “It’s his fault.”

Once outside, Draken doesn’t immediately put you back on your feet, until Mikey strolls out of the parlor. Only when the gang leader has his arms outstretched to you are you promptly deposited on the ground and taken into his embrace.

“Are you done letting off some steam?” is the first thing he asks you. Even though you can’t see his expression, the way he holds you and the way he cradles the back of your head, handling you with the utmost care, is indication enough that there will be no reprimand for, essentially, assaulting your division commander. (You would argue that it was an act of self defense against verbal harassment, but whatever.)

There’s just an overwhelming amount of love. So, so, so much love for each other.

“Yeah, I am,” you eventually answer, followed by a content sigh.

“Good.”

Naturally, that’s the perfect time for the tinkling of the bells above the parlor door to pilfer your attention. Baji’s appearance causes your face to morph into a scowl.

You cling tighter to Mikey, peeking over his shoulder to flip the ravenet off and mouth, ‘Go to Hell.’

As always, Baji answers your attempt to appear opposing with an obnoxious smirk.

‘See you there.’

~~~

“Boku no Pico, huh?”

“Draken, don’t laugh! Baji forced me to watch it!”

“All 3 episodes?”

“Twice.”

“...”

“...”

“Favorite scene...?”

“As if I’d have one.”

"Actually-"

“Ahh! Shut up! Why are you here, stupid Baji?! You live in the other direction!”

~~~

“Hey, (Y/n). Want to try doing the same thing with me?”

You look up, perplexed. Mikey literally just walked into the room, and that was the first thing he said to you.

“Do wha-?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you turn your head, only for you to come centimeters from bumping noses with him. And because he can, he lovingly knocks your foreheads together, too.

“It’s okay. I promise it’ll definitely be fun.”

You should feel ashamed for recognizing the same sequence of lines from Boku no Pico so quickly, though any coherent words are overtaken by an incomprehensible, high-pitched screech, a feat achieved solely by a teenage boy going through puberty.

A combination of shock and amusement crosses over Mikey’s features then. He’s never heard you make that sound before.

It’s cute. Strains the ears quite a bit, but cute.

While Draken lurks beside him, questioning Mikey’s standards of what constitutes as ‘cute,’ you’re sprinting across the room, red-faced, to Baji, who’s already grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Stop tainting my boyfriend, you piece of shit! Give him back his innocence!”

(Unbeknownst to you, whilst immersed in your fit of hysterics, your use of the word ‘boyfriend’ has a certain blond beaming.

“Did you hear that, Ken-chin? He called me his boyfriend.”

“Wow, congrats.”

Mikey either doesn’t give a shit or is simply too smitten to acknowledge Draken’s apathetic response.)

Baji blinks, unable to believe what you’re trying to insinuate. “Innocent? That little gremlin motherfucker?”

Both of you look in Mikey’s direction. When he sees you staring, he breaks out in a smile and throws a wave.

Your heart involuntarily skips a beat at the sight, and, okay, you’re convinced. Mikey deserves better than knowing of that cursed series’ existence.

Clearly, you’re down bad for Toman’s leader, and as such, Baji figures he can use that to quench his boredom for the day.

“Ooh, if only you knew what he gets off to.”

The tone in his voice instantly rouses suspicion. You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t care what kind of porn he gets off to.”

“Porn? Nah, ya silly goose-”

“Don’t call me that.”

Baji ignores your comment as he moves to sling one arm around your shoulders, the other raising up to mimic an obscene tugging motion that no teenage boy is a stranger to.

“He jerks it to yo-”

BAM!

One second, Baji is lazily hanging off of your person, the next, he’s sprawled out on the floor, face down, and groaning in pain. You expect nothing less after witnessing him receive a rather impressive flying kick to the chest from Mikey.

Before you can assess the full damage, your view gets obscured by a pair of keys.

“Wanna take my bike out for a spin?”

Yes, you know Mikey is trying to divert your attention from whatever Baji was going to say, and, yes, you probably should check on the figure that has yet to get up.

But do you really care?

You take one glance at Baji’s concerningly unmoving body and quickly come to a conclusion.

You do not.

That being said, you quite literally drag Mikey and, by extension, Draken out of there, chanting an excited, “Let’s go!” on your way, abandoning Baji to wither on the ground.

Baji?

Baji feels betrayed.

~~~

"Chifuyu?”

“Hm?”

“Y’know, I was joking.” Baji flips onto his back with a grunt. “Man, who knew Mikey was all grown up?”

The vice captain of the first division hums, seemingly uninterested in his commander’s musings.

It goes quiet for a few minutes, the sole instigator of noise being Chifuyu flipping the pages of his manga.

Unpredictable is Baji, and the same goes for his train of thought.

“I should punch Mikey for kicking me.”

“No, you’d get beat up.”

“...”

“I should punch (Y/n) for Mikey kicking me.”

Truly, unpredictable and senseless.

“You’d still get beat up.”

Baji opens his mouth to argue.

“By Mikey.”

He promptly closes it.

“Fuck it. I’ll keep spicing up their relationship as payback.”

Sighing, Chifuyu closes his book to crouch down next to him. “Baji-san, with all due respect, you’re an asshole.”

Baji Keisuke has experienced betrayal twice today.

And he deserved it both times.

[4dtk]

NCT127 falling in love with a s/o with a time-consuming job like a lawyer or a doctor

NCT 127 with an s/o who has a time-consuming job

this is so cute, thanks for requesting! i made this in a format in the ways that the boys might show their care when you’re so busy with your job :) long as hell LOL enjoy!!

brief spoilers for shang-chi if you haven’t watched! i just watched it this week lol it was really good

→ TAEIL would direct conversations to a more neutral stance. it’s not that he wants to talk about himself, but sometimes if you don’t want to talk about your case or patients, he easily slips into conversation about theories or his favourite tv show or your rundown of what groceries to take for the next time you head to the supermarket. just really normal small things that take your mind off the stress, especially at night when you’re laying in bed and just before you’re drifting off to sleep, the two of you would engage in a topic that you both know fairly well about and then you’re usually the first to succumb to sleep. taeil purposely picks out topic he knows will excite you (and bc he knows you’re passionate about it, he reads up on it which allows a well-balanced convo). if you’re rambling on about a topic, then he’ll occasionally play the guitar while laying down, just simple melodies that bring a lot of peace to the room.

“wait- how d’you like this melody?” taeil softly says, changing it instantly when you commented on the previous, discordant one. your nod encourages him to carry on with the plucking of his fingers while you yourself continue with your rambles. “so i’m saying right, it seems totally unfair for him, and you’d think that, right? but all he ever does is whine and moan about his misfortunes, plus his character is so terribly written i kinda feel sorry for-“

the halted melody prompts a sharp turn of your turn to the guitar, which you almost collide with, “what?” taeil only shrugs. “nothin’. just like how passionate you get about the show, it’s cute.” your boyfriend smiles after, ignoring how his words affect you and how your cheeks heat up at it.

→ JOHNNY is one to take you out after your work. it’s not to a super intense, high-energy place like a club or anything, but small little dates that won’t take up much time. eating dinner at a restaurant, walk in the park, small cafe trip, strolling through supermarket to make fun of brand names. if you’re too tired that day, he always finds a way to make your time at home fun. from setting up a small karaoke session, to maybe making a pillow fort, to trying out new cuddling positions, he has everything on his mind. always showing you things to cheer you up if you happen, from memes to funny videos. is low-key down for you to review crime/doctor shows too, just to see how accurate they nail it. your time at home is consuming endless pieces of media until your tummies hurt or you’re sniffling at a movie together.

“hold on- lemme show you this video,” johnny’s hand is outstretched to you once he finds the video and your spoon full of food is left near your mouth. you proceed to watch the low quality video which your boyfriend claims to be the funniest video on earth.

W-HOR? WAH? the girl’s finger in the video traces over the word “who” as she struggles to pronounce it, with presumably her sister in the background prompting her. the repeated pronunciation of the word makes you snort, while the wheezing and the loud NO in the background causes you to fully erupt into laughter. johnny simply smiles at another successful attempt to make you smile.

→ YUTA always has a hand on you when you return home. he brings you into a hug, he guides you by your back, you have to eat with one hand bc he can’t keep his hand off of you. he hopes his little touches will ease your tiredness even by a bit and if you don’t want it, he’ll stop, but it’s yuta’s way of showing he cares without words. busy days with yuta usually involve just sitting in silence as you catch up on a show or a series, or even listening to a song in silence and enjoying each other’s company. he will talk if you want to, but if not that’s fine too, preferring more to stroke your hair in silence and think about how much he loves you. becomes very sappy when you’re in the quiet of your room and generally is very fond of the small pockets of time you get to spend before you two fall asleep. likes that you’re so resolute in your job but can be soft around him behind closed doors.

“you comfortable?” yuta calls out, barely above a whisper as he wraps an arm tighter around you. there’s comfortable ministrations that his does with his fingers, massaging the skin under your pajamas while you snuggle deeper into his chest. humming, you tighten your hold around his top.

“i am, yeah,” you can’t care much for the tv show on the screen now, with empty takeout boxes and tissues littering the coffee table. you feel the gentle kiss of yuta on your head before you’re drifting off to dreamland to a scratchy, 60s jazz song playing through the speakers.

→ TAEYONG would always welcome you back with a table set and food ready, always. he knows that food is the way to someone’s heart and you eating his food always makes him happy and offers to clean-up. lets you shower first if you come back together, puts you before himself very often that sometimes you have to tell him to tone it down because you don’t want him ending up more tired than he already is. following up on this, taeyong would show his love by cooking your lunches for you. when he has the time he makes the effort to put it in a nice bento or box for you to eat. he also does the general chores around the house (assuming the two of you live together) so the bed will be a little less messy when you come back, the floor’s cleaner, the countertops aren’t so cluttered with stuff. even if there’s nothing to clean up, he always these small little things before you come back, and even if you don’t notice it, he sees the way you’re able to navigate the space or when you’re more at ease and it makes him smile.

“do you want to shower first?” taeyong calls out softly, admiring the clean house he’s managed to do up before he went to meet you, “i’ll just hang around until you’re done.”

“you need to prioritise yourself too, yong,” you pout, rubbing a hand up and down his forehead as you toe off your shoes, “how ‘bout we shower together? you did clean the house up pretty nicely.” that earns a grin and a kiss from taeyong, who goes straight the prepare the bath. you chuckle, “he’s already forgotten what i’ve told him.”

→ DOYOUNG supports you silently and listens to your day when you return home and talk about your patient or a case you’re working on. he gives you his own input when he sees fit but other than that he wants you to explain the details. being a doctor and lawyer is crazy and hectic and just wants you to know that you’re appreciated in the workforce. the way he might show his love when caring for a busy s/o like you is when he brings you stuff that you might’ve forgotten like an umbrella or your lunch since you were rushing out of the house earlier. he doesn’t mind going the extra mile to you literally bc it’s a win-win! you get your food, he gets to see you, etc. if not he’ll send someone over to pass it to the receptionist, or he’ll make up for it by meeting you outside the office to apologise and then ask you what you wanna do so he can make it up to you.

“did you manage to get the bento i bought you?” doyoung asks worriedly through the phone, holding up a hand to the staff member who was beckoning him to his photoshoot. “you bought so much!” you exclaim, with a shoulder to your ear, phone perched in between, “thank you doyoung.”

“’m sorry i couldn’t come over to give you your lunch today, angel. i’ll see you after you’re done with work, okay?” you smile at that, shooting a quick reply before you delved into your food.

→ JAEHYUN would honestly serve you once you come back from a busy day tbh. where taeyong does the chores around the house, jaehyun helps by doing the chores on YOU and only you. giving you massages, bringing you dinner on a tray, other unsaid things… and maybe even carrying you from room to room lol he’s relentless and just goes you need to rest, lemme help. big gentleman even when you reject him, doing smaller things like constantly checking up on you, pulling the blanket higher onto your body, cuddling you closer to his body when it’s cold. on top of that jaehyun also one that would meet you at your workplace and take you out like johnny, but those dates are extremely chill. he lets you choose, and when you’re not sure, he takes you on a night picnic at the field or a rooftop, just dinner, but outside bc the view is really nice and he likes the way you look even after a long day of working.

“where should we park our mats?” your head moves from left to right, looking for a suitable spot while you tug on jaehyun’s hand. he hums at it, searching for a spot just like you are. the wind’s blowing gently when you settle near a tree, mat occasionally flying up which you counter with your heavy laptop bag.

“any idea where we can get desserts later?” you call out as a half-joke, not expecting jaehyun to pull up his phone to instantly search for a baskin robbins. “there’s one close-by, wait here for a minute and i’ll go get one for you-“ you laugh before pulling him back down, “don’t worry! we’ll go together, plus i don’t want to be left alone.” jaehyun softly smiles, nodding along as he takes out the food he packed.

→ JUNGWOO has similar intentions like johnny, except he would just wanna stay home. where johnny’s goal is to make you laugh, jungwoo just likes doing things together at home. playing board games, folding the clothes together, making dinner together. it’s not that he doesn’t want to do it, but when he’s given free time he sometimes just likes to laze at home and rest from schedules. he sometimes takes himself out of bed to help before you come back but he’s lazy lolol. loves it when you’re both equally tired and living off 5h of sleep. it’s not romanticising the lack of sleep but your schedules just don’t allow you to sleep equal amounts of hours of sleep. through that, you’re at least able to connect over sleepy talk and droopy smiles while you make the bed or assemble a lego piece or playing video games. if jungwoo’s energetic enough he doesn’t mind doing the crazier activities but he generally prefers those activities done in semi-silence while you exchange jokes and funny videos.

“noooo- no! you only need to move three times, you’re cheating-“ jungwoo pouts and moves back your playing avatar back three spaces on the board game. you purse your lips, not expecting him to see it since he was particularly invested in the movie playing on the screen. knowing it was a shitty film, you tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted. with eyes glued to the screen a few seconds earlier, you took your chance to move down one more space in order to get the benefit on the game board.

“you��ll get to buy a house soon, honey,” jungwoo grins cheekily, laughing even more when he’s able to move four steps, landing on the square that you wanted. now it was your turn to pout as he flips the card for property purchases, happily placing it next to his five other houses. “you’re so annoying!” you say as you fall back on the bean bag, but jungwoo doesn’t believe it when he sees a smile poking out from behind the hands shielding your face..

→ MARK sends you a looooot of texts. your convos with him are just him spamming questions or sending you memes. on every platform LMAO he has tweets sent, ig dm’s are blowing up from the weirdass nct memes that some of the fans make, he uses the official nct tiktok account to send you viral trending videos and he’s like we should try this!!!! and it’s a couple doing acrobatics or some shit. he’s crazy. anyway, he just likes to share things with you, from songs, to playlists, to youtube videos or interesting topics like crime psychology or movie theories etc. he knows that you’re hardly going to see it in your job but he sees the way you react across the room when he sends you stuff so he’s sure that you’ll like it after you get off work. sometimes likes to rickroll you, he knows it’s an old trend/troll thing but the thrill of seeing your frustrated replies always make him laugh out loud. when you’re back home, the both of you review whatever you send each other and then laugh together at them.

“hey, babe, check out this video,” mark says in a text, pasting a twitter link to a video. the video starts out interesting enough, mentioning something about a fun fact with stunning visuals has you wanting to learn more. when the guy in the video starts on his first word, the video immediately changes to rick astley with never gonna give you up. you mutter a small fuck under your breath, gaining a bit of attention from your colleagues during lunch break.

under the table, you flip him off in a picture, which he responds with a big smile of his that’s obviously teasing you for falling for it. you’re going to get it when i get back home!!!!! on a new high, you text the message and set your phone down, already excited for the evening where’d you be able to spend your time with him.

→ HAECHAN is a mix of everything kinda. he’d bring you out after work sometimes and other times likes to stay at home, mainly takes you out to eat after work, but that’s the extent of his after-work-escapades, he doesn’t want to tire you out too much. i think one prominent things he likes to do to is vlog to you, send you videos of what he’s doing on set or at home and just treats your convo like a bank for endless videos. y’know how there’s this video feature in telegram? he sends sooo many of those that you have the time of your life watching those on the ride back home. if you have time, you HAVE to facetime him during your lunch break and tell him how you’re doing and how’s your work coming along. do i have to kick someone’s ass for making you feel uncomfortable? is that patient being creepy again? and you have to explain that haechan, no, that patient is an elderly you cannot beat his ass. he’s like i don’t care, creepy dudes are not excused!!! and you can’t help but smile at that. always wants to be talking to you, close to you. if one day, you’re able to bring him to your job, this man follows you around like a lost puppy and just admires what you do, it’s endearing.

“ah, wait- you know how the sister, xia ling was sent to shut down the ten rings army? well… i just reviewed some of the articles and-“ the video cuts into the next one, haechan’s face zoomed in as he looks straight into the camera, “y’know, she might become a villain one day, i don’t know. maybe i should review some of the comics too?”

“anyway! come look at our set for the music video! it’s sexy, outfits are fire, sets are so good, the choreo this time isn’t too hard, either.” haechan asks the other members to wave as he passes them by, no doubt going his own make-up and hair after the others were already done, “okay, gotta go- love you bye!” you smile at that, texting a quick reply before you open up a video of your own, whispering through the speaker with a promise that you’d see him tonight.

[vvienne]

XICHENG FIC RECS

hold my hands by Snooze (Chiruka)

Transplanting a core into a new person isn’t without repercussions. One year after the events at Guanyin Temple, Jiang Cheng found himself once again faced with the possibility of losing everything he had. Reconciling with his brother, learning to let Jin Ling go, and dealing with his blooming emotions toward the First Jade of Gusu — will Jiang Cheng accomplish what he wants before time runs out?

it all passes someday by screamlet

A week before the anniversary of Wei Wuxian’s death, there was a commotion outside Lan Wangji’s house.

*

Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji over the years.

The Unlikely Expression of Love by manamune

When everything has settled, when everyone else has moved on with their lives and their friends, Jiang Cheng has a realization which shouldn’t actually be a surprise:

He’s lonely.

Indigo, lavender, and violet (I don't wanna be red) by ohwhatevrewhatevr

It, in the pale colors of the late morning, is the closest to perfect Jiang Cheng will ever reach. He strokes Lan XiChen's hair and presses a light kiss to where his ribbon and hair meet. The sky is a pale blue, and the pastels of flowers and clouds are spread out through the window, a brilliant world waiting for them, them in the gentian house, safe from stronger breezes - there is the clutter of birds fluttering and chirping outside. It is a warm, perfect, spring morning.

Jiang Cheng and Lan XiChen have been together for an year. In which, no one ever really gets over things, Jiang Cheng has the misfortune of interacting with his brother, the juniors help out with the proposal, and there's a marriage.

Altitude by starknjarvis 

When Jin Ling lures Jiang Cheng to the Cloud Recesses under false pretenses, he finds himself out of place among this new family Wei Wuxian has formed.

Lan Xichen, at least, seems pleased to have his company.

Perhaps there is still a chance for Jiang Cheng to make amends and move forward.

[Modao Zushi Online] GLITCH REPORT: My Brother Got Chased Down And %$@*$&@ By Gusu Dungeon Boss??? by oh_fudgecakes

Modao Zushi Online is a virtual reality MMORPG. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are top ranking players in its new server, currently tied with their arch-nemesis from their previous server, Wen Chao. In an attempt to defeat him, they take on the Gusu Dungeon Boss, Zewu-jun, to win the reward of a legendary weapon. Ever the cheat, Wei Wuxian tries to take advantage of a glitch to defeat the seemingly undefeatable boss. It backfires. Jiang Cheng gets fucked by a boss monster.

He can't get enough.

Meanwhile, Lan Xichen, the unwitting staff member in charge of controlling Zewu-jun, absolutely did not sign up to be pulled into a secret virtual reality fling with a player. Mod Ji, who has to deal with Wei Wuxian's incessant glitch reporting of his brother's sex life, is long-suffering.

Mulberry by xxdz

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth and pushes harder. He feels like torn silk, the embroidery needle sinking in again and again and again; patiently, desperately, endlessly trying to make something beautiful out of something broken.

Jiang Cheng builds his sect, learns embroidery, and raises his nephew.

we can raise a little family by lanyon

“Well, brother,” says Wei Wuxian, leaning against the outside of Jiang Cheng’s chambers. “I had heard that you and Xichen went on a night hunt and came back with a baby, which is not the order I’d choose to do things in…”

In which Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen acquire a baby of unknown origin, and are the very last to know what it means.

Beyond the Impossible by Silverine

Summoned by Lan Qiren, Jiang Wanyin goes to the Cloud Recesses to drop his nephew Jin Ling, expecting to discuss relevant matters with his old master. Instead, he's asked to take with him no other than Sect Leader Lan himself, all the way back to Lotus Pier. If the reason why he accepted such an outrageous task is indeed a mystery, he's about to be surprised by how this entire trip, their encounters, and his warm company, suddenly feel fated.

Incrementally by xxdz

Jiang Cheng is trapped in a day on repeat where he begins by waking in Zewu Jun’s bed at dawn and ends by dying painfully at dusk.

It’s getting very irritating, and he has the sneaking suspicion that his chances to solve his own murder are rapidly running out. Soon, his death will be much more permanent.

All in all, worst birthday ever.

Audience of One by WinterDreams

“Then let an established star go first,” Lan Xichen interrupts again before Lan Wangji can give a stubborn reply. Both men twist toward Lan Xichen, and he smiles at Wei Wuxian’s tilted head. “If I publicly date a man for awhile first, your engagement shouldn’t receive as much backlash.”

Or, that AU where everyone is famous in some way or another, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have been dating in private for years, and Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng pretend to date publicly for their brothers' sake.

A Bit of Ruthlessness by jirluvien

When Jiang Cheng hears that Lan Xichen went into seclusion following Jin Guangyao’s death, it’s almost as if he can see the grabby hands of a restless ghost, reaching out for something to keep him company. For something warm and living and devastated. And as history has proved time and time again, the Lans are perfect victims when it comes to giving in to ghosts.Yeah, no. Not on Jiang Cheng’s fucking watch.A story about grief, determination, unexpected friendships, abandoned watchtowers, and letters. So many letters.

All Tied Up In You by Clearpearls

Yet again, the night had come to this:

Jiang Cheng on the floor, kneeling, Zidian wrapped around his wrists.

Alone.

Thank You, and I'm Sorry by Hamliet

Jin GuangYao might be dead, but his story is not. Taking advantage of the chaos he instigated, someone makes an attempt on the life of the young new leader of the Jin Sect. When Jiang Cheng takes Jin Ling to the Cloud Recesses to have him study while he attempts to work with Wei WuXian and his husband Lan WangJi to eliminate the threat, he encounters a mourning Lan XiChen, lovestruck teenagers, and a persistent corpse--and both pairs of brothers find themselves struggling to move on.

saturn's rings (don't be a heartbreaker) by iskendaris

Set after the seige of burial mounds, Yunmeng rebuilds as they hold the first Discussion Conference at Lotus Pier. Sometimes the night is a gift, a refuge for loneliness. "So stern, Sect Leader Jiang," Lan Xichen murmured, "So glacial... What will it take to melt that icy exterior? What can I say?"

"Nothing. There's nothing you can say or offer."

reciprocity by jukeboxhound

There’s a pause before Lan Xichen says, in a tone that’s a little more neutral, “I would like to paint on you.”

“…What?”

“Of course, if you say ‘yes’ but then change your mind at any point, for any reason, you need only say so and I will stop immediately,” he adds.

Well, silver lining: Jiang Cheng is feeling much more awake than he was a moment ago.

Talent Hunt Crew Finds Angry Guy Shouting On College Campus, Recruits Him For Vocal Projection Abilities by oh_fudgecakes

Jiang Cheng, resident Angry Guy and heir to a conglomerate empire, has never been the apple of his father’s eye. Quashed under the shadow of his brilliant brother, the music prodigy Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng sees his chance to turn things around when he is recruited by the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt. One problem: he can’t sing to save his goddamn life.

As he struggles to develop his nascent singing abilities, Jiang Cheng finds himself sucked into the whirlwind drama of reality TV, helped along by his adoring siblings, his irritable vocal coach Wen Qing, and strangely enough, the unfairly attractive host of the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt, Lan Xichen. Somewhere in the glare of the stage lights and an unexpected first love, Jiang Cheng stumbles upon the thing he was searching for all along: the courage to dream — and to attempt the impossible.

Marginal Costs by ohwhatevrewhatevr

“You think you know what you want, Er-Ge,” A-Yao says. “But you should consider what you’re willing to give first,” he says wryly, taking Lan XiChen’s chess piece with slim, skilled fingers.

Lan XiChen looks up at A-Yao’s concentrated expression and the hint of contentment on his face that he is special enough to be allowed to see.

“It’s not just one decision, but the lead up to many more. One decision decides what else you’re going to have to pay, and each time you have to ask yourself, ignoring the sunk costs, if this time it’s worth it as well.”

When his sworn brother looks up at him with those clear, amber eyes, waiting, Lan XiChen feels the pull and gives in: he asks.

“Are you happy being in love?”

(First half is two sad sworn brothers talking, internally mourning how unfortunate their other sworn brother’s death was :/ and second half is when a mopey boy in blue meets an angsty boy in purple whilst chasing a demonic cultivator, and a lil bit of sexy dual cultivation happens.)

Somewhat Tender by theherocomplex

There is no defense against kindness; it has always undone him.

I didn't expect you to be lonely (too) by bettydice (BettyKnight)

Jiang Cheng's life is a mess, he's a mess, and he doesn't miss his brother at all. So when his sister gifts him ten sessions with a massage therapist, who turns out to be someone he was crushing on for a hot minute as a teenager and is still as hot as ever... yeah, that might as well happen. It won't have to mean anything.

This feels intimate to Jiang Cheng in a way that's probably very inappropriate and maybe even pathetic. Nobody touches him like this, right where he’s hurt the most. There's no one who handles him so gently, so carefully.

It's the gentleness that's his undoing, he thinks. He would be able to deal better with it if it was painful.

Life for Rent by yodasyoyo

“Yeah well. You’re not taking me seriously. This guy is my soulmate!”

“Soulmate.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Just because you don’t believe in them—”

“I believe in them!” Jiang Cheng says. “I’ve never denied they exist.”

“Just last week you said that it was an evolutionary quirk that had been used by greetings card companies, movie makers, and corporations to exploit lonely and vulnerable people.”

“And I stand by it! That doesn’t mean that soulmates aren’t real. Just incredibly unlikely and probably pointless.

-

Or:

Xicheng vs Soulmates. Fight!

Halfway Around the World by theherocomplex

Normally, Jiang Cheng would be seething, jaw clenched tight, if someone sounded like that while they were talking, but — Lan Xichen has the trick of always making you feel like you're in on the joke, whatever the joke is. That you're laughing together.

Whelmed by yodasyoyo

For months now Jiang Cheng’s been idly fantasizing about how it would be if something were to come between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. Mostly those daydreams have been simple enough — they break up (probably because Lan Zhan is boring or Wei Ying is annoying), Wei Ying is sad for a couple of days (Jiang Cheng’s willing to allow some space for feelings, he isn't a total monster), but then Wei Ying realizes he’s better off, he gets over it, and Jiang Cheng gets his brother back.

Unfortunately the fantasy version of events has only proven partially true, so far. They've broken up. Wei Ying has been sad.

Now weeks have passed, though — and Wei Ying is still sad, every. Single. Day.

It’s like Jiang Cheng's stuck in a looping GIF, and it’s driving him insane.

Or:

Jiang Cheng plots, Lan Huan pines, and, unfortunately for Lan Qiren, Wangxian are inevitable.

[adorerdraco]

I’m Here ✧ Draco x Reader

Request: Hi, so I’m not sure if you’re taking these kinds of fics for Draco, but I’ve been feeling really down lately, and I was wondering if you could write a one shot or a scenario where the reader has been having a really bad day/week and Draco comforts them? And maybe Draco lays the reader on his chest and he hums a small tune to make the reader feel better? You can ignore this if it’s an issue, but I’d really appreciate it. I love all of your fics btw! They make me really happy <3

Warnings: none bc mostly fluff, some tears, super soft!draco

Words: 1.9K

A/N: i saw this and had to do it effective immediately bc i am feeling the exact same wayyy so this was really nice to think about ;( thank you so much for requesting this and for reading my stuff and i’m so glad i can help in a way <3 i’m sending you nothing but peace, love, and light !!! but i really hope this is gooood <3 do not own gif

Life was punishing you, you thought. It had to be. Because there was no way how in the span of a week everything in your day-to-day life had gone from okay to borderline catastrophic. It was as if every situation you were in was taking its form in the worst case possible scenario and all you could do was watch hopelessly as things continuously got worse sprinkled with small misfortunes in between.

It started on a regular Monday morning, sitting down for breakfast in the Great Hall with blissful ignorance. Halfway through eating your toast, your owl had come in through the open large glass windows and dropped a letter onto your plate from home that left you some very unfortunate news and had set forth a ripple effect that began making everything else go downhill as your days progressed. By the end of the school week, you had managed to blow up a potion, lose house points because of said potion when it splashed onto some people and had some physically altering effects, tripped over your footing and fell in the middle of a crowded corridor, failed a surprise quiz, forgot to turn in an essay, got into an argument with a friend, accidentally slept in and missed a morning class, and took a trip to the hospital wing for a migraine that didn’t want to leave you alone. You could’ve sworn you had somehow been thrown into purgatory, or limbo, or something outer-worldly. 

“Are you alright?” Draco had asked you right after breakfast that Monday morning as he was walking you to your first class. “What was in the letter your owl gave you? You look worried.”

“It was nothing,” you dismissed quickly, trying to put on a half-hearted smile while you spoke to make it more convincing. “I’m fine, just tired.”

It was the beginning of the week, and he did keep you up late the night before when you were sneaking around together, so he just shook his head up and down and took your excuse even though he felt like there was more to it than you were letting on. But as the days went on, he was becoming more observant of the way you were acting and even looking. He didn’t like that every morning he saw the shadows under your eyes get deeper and darker, and he didn’t like how you would close your eyes in pain when you would groan about your headache. He also didn’t like the way he hadn’t seen you truly smile or laugh all week even when he tried countless times to amuse you or cheer you up. But what he didn’t like most of all was that he felt like there was nothing he could do. 

On Wednesday afternoon, he tried asking you again. You were sitting in the Quad with him on a bench and he was telling you a story from earlier in the day about how he had ‘accidentally’ tripped this Gryffindor boy and got Snape to take away house points from him that he thought for sure would you make laugh or perhaps give him a disapproving redirection, but when he glanced up to see your reaction, he noticed you weren’t even listening, to begin with. You had been staring down at your shoes and the way they lined up against the cracks in the pavement, kicking around some gravel as your mind was running a million thoughts per second.

“Love?” He said to you softly. You looked up at him swiftly with a quiet questioning hum, e/c eyes widened slightly from being ripped away from your thoughts suddenly. “You know if something’s bothering you, you can talk to me.”

“I know,” you nodded warmly. “I’m okay, Dray. I’m honestly just tired.”

And you were telling the truth, in a sense. You really were tired; physically, mentally, emotionally.

He frowned, dissatisfied with your answer. “Right, well if anything at all comes up, I’m here.”

From then on, Draco took it upon himself to try and increase his affections and compliments. He would hug you a little tighter, kiss you a little longer, whisper sweet little nothings into your ear before he left you for class. You felt a little bad lying to him, withholding the truth from him, and you saw the concern in his light gray’s when you’d meet him in the mornings and for the rest of the day, but it only made you feel a tad bit worse. You were starting to feel guilty for the way he was worrying, feeling like you were dragging him down into the dumps with you and raining on his usual carefree parades.

On Friday morning, you didn’t meet him for breakfast and you were out of the Great Hall faster than he could catch you. He felt like a stalker when he walked by your class, peeking his head in to see if you were there and well. He spotted you sitting at your desk, hunched over your unopened books with a grimace on your face and your head in your hands. He wanted to go in and whisk you away to somewhere far and quiet, but the Professor had caught him by the door and sent him on his way before he could even think of doing anything of the sort.

You felt the day had gone by extremely slow, relative to how the week was moving and also impossibly dismal. You were counting down the minutes until the end of the school day, ready to run to your dorm right after your last class and bury yourself deep into your duvet and pillows for the rest of the weekend.

Head still pounding, you trudged over to your final class, stopping outside the doors when you saw a small group of your housemates standing around with unnerved expressions as they passed each other papers and spoke in hushed tensed tones.

“I studied all night but my friend took the test earlier and she told me during lunch that it had stuff on it that wasn’t even in the reading!” You heard one exclaim in distress.

“We have a test?” You accidentally said aloud and a pair of eyes turned to look at you confusingly.

“Yeah? Professor’s been telling us all week.”

A scoff of disbelief escaped your lips, an overwhelming sense of defeat washing over you as you turned briskly on your heel and in the opposite direction of your classroom. Tears started pricking at your eyes, you felt the stinging of them wanting to be released but you refused to let them all out in the open and especially in front of people who were still taking their time to head to their classes. 

You were making a beeline towards your common room, blinking rapidly to try and clear your vision that was quickly pooling with unshed tears while trying to steady your breathing in another failed attempt to calm yourself. You were nearly there, you could tell by the paintings and doors that you passed by and the black stain splattered on the floor you saw every day on your way to the dorms from someone’s dropped ink bottle that Filch hasn’t been able to get rid of. 

Almost there, you kept repeatedly reminding yourself.

All hope of solace was gone when you didn’t notice the body you had unknowingly crashed into. All you felt were strong hands around your biceps, holding you in place from toppling backward and the very familiar scent of expensive cologne and mint.

“Y/N? Why aren’t you in class?” You looked up at the platinum blond sadly, his worried eyes searching yours with such care that it pushed you over the edge.

You didn’t answer him and instead wrapped your arms tightly around Draco’s middle, burying your face deep into his robes and letting out quiet and frail weeps that broke his heart. He held you tightly, pressing kisses to the top of your head and muttering soft “I’m here’s” into your hair. You stayed in his embrace for a few minutes, letting your tears freely fall into his vest with a sense of relief that only he was able to give you at this point in time.

“I’m sorry I cried on you,” you choked out when you pulled away from him, desperately wiping away at your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“You don’t ever have to apologize for that,” he said quickly. He brought his hand up to your face, his thumb swiping delicately over a stray tear that was sitting on your jaw while you closed your eyes in comfort. “Do you want to go back to my room? I can set you up really nicely and we can talk if you’d like?”

“Yes please, I’d like that a lot.”

Draco interlocked your fingers with his, bringing the pair up to his lips with a warm kiss on the back of your hand before walking the two of you over to the entrance of the Slytherin common room. It was empty when you walked in, not a soul in sight since everyone was still in class and it made it much easier for him to sneak you into his singular Prefect room you were now extremely grateful he had. He watched contently when you shed off your robes and kicked off your shoes and immediately slipped into one of his dark green jumpers that fit you big. 

You were perched on the edge of his bed, his scent from his sweater engulfing you and doing a much better job of calming you down than you wanted to admit. He followed in your footsteps and changed into something comfier and when he finally sat beside you with his hand falling over yours as an encouragement to talk - you did. You vented to him all about the letter from home, the migraine, your classes, the argument between you and your friend, and everything else that came to mind.

“And I feel bad for ignoring you and not telling you all this before but I didn’t want to burden you,” you finished with sniffles, gazing up at him with a gloomy expression. 

“Y/N, I love you, and nothing you say to me is a burden,” he frowned slightly, “when I tell you I’m here, I mean it, for anything. You’re so important to me and it kills me to see you upset.”

In a careful movement, he had scooted towards you and affectionately cupped your face before placing a loving kiss on your forehead and murmured to you, “don’t ever hesitate to come to me.”

You let him pull you under his covers, draping his large duvet over your entangled bodies with your head resting right above his chest, the steady beatings of his heart instantly sending you into a much-needed peace. His chin was rested right atop your head and you felt his fingers run up and down your arm soothingly while he thought.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?” He asked quietly.

“Can you help me fall asleep?” you muttered, closing your eyes gently when his hand smoothed over the back of your hair. You felt him nod against your head and after a small moment silence, you heard him begin to hum the faint tune of your favorite song.

You lied there in bliss, enjoying the way his chest was vibrating against your ear and the way his fingers were playing with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around his fingers and then moving upwards to massage your scalp. And for a minute, everything was finally okay again as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, a full heart and with your love calmly lulling you away with a soft and now distant humming.

[baiwu-jinji]

Hello! Has anyone ever asked you who your favorite MXTX characters are?

Hi! I’d say it’s Xie Lian and Luo Binghe. It’s kinda difficult to say why exactly I like them so much, and I’ll just try to explain what I find interesting about these two ><

I was first drawn to Xie Lian’s character because probably no other fictional character has ever reminded me so strongly of the fact that comedy and tragedy are two sides of the same coin. The way mxtx writes about Xie Lian’s certain experiences seamlessly combines a comic tone with the underlying tragedy of the events. One example is chapter 28 where Xie Lian passed out on the battlefield from being trampled, and his unconscious body was thrown into the river. But we didn’t get a lament about Xie Lian’s misfortune or anything close to being elegiac; we got “Xie Lian was washed down the river like a cluster of garbage back to the nation of Yong An.” Xie Lian isn’t your usual tragic hero that falls in battle nobly and with dignity; instead he gets washed away like garbage and is flattened into a human pancake when he falls from high places or gets trampled on. Another example is in the same chapter where Banyue said that Xie Lian got flattened, and Xie Lian was like “well I wasn’t entirely flat”…The way Xie Lian phrased it is honestly pretty funny in the Chinese original, and it has the same vibe as those Tom and Jerry cartoons where Tom is flattened and bounces back again. These instances often make Xie Lian appear comical, but we all know that behind the comedy is a history of the most excruciating pain.

Besides the tragicomedy element and the fact that certain aspects of Xie Lian’s experience really resonate with me, I love Xie Lian also because he’s just a very well-written character. And when I say Xie Lian is well-written, I’m especially referring to the period of Xie Lian’s downfall where he lost everything and messed everything up and was on the brink of despair and insanity. It’s probably easier to write about a character in a stable state of mind and with a stable set of values and beliefs, and much much harder to write about a character who’s undergoing fundamental change and whose world is being turned upside down. Xie Lian after his fall from grace belongs to the latter kind, yet the way mxtx delineated Xie Lian’s struggles is so nuanced, detailed and believable.

Ok let’s talk about Luo Binghe…I feel like there’s a running theme through mxtx’s novels which is that, even if you’re the smartest and strongest, life can still screw you over and break you in so many ways, and you’ll never be invulnerable as long as you’re human. And who better embodies this theme than Luo Binghe?...There’s a contrast between the strength and power that Luo Binghe is gifted with and his profound vulnerability, and Binghe’s vulnerability just makes me feel an undue amount of sympathy for him.

What I find interesting about Luo Binghe is his many dualities. Binghe has a deep earnestness yet he lies without batting an eye (one of the many symptoms of his engrained emotional insecurity); there’s an aspect of Binghe’s personality that’s gentle and tender, but he’s also prone to extremities (Shen Qingqiu said that he took a liking to Gongyi Xiao because he has the same gentle demeanour as Binghe; Binghe’s extremities I don’t need to explain…) There’s also a duality he inherited from his parents. This is probably not in the English translation, but mxtx said in the notes to an extra chapter that Binghe inherited the girly sensitivity and sentimentality from his dad, and the wild and domineering part of his personality as well as a sort of dark charisma from his mom (“少女心来自爹，邪魅狂狷来自娘”). All these dualities are naturally integrated into Binghe’s complex character.

What’s also interesting about Binghe is that his personality is, in a sense, unformed or still forming. In the extra chapter where Shang Qinghua interviewed Binghe and Shen Qingqiu, Shang Qinghua asked what they think their own personalities are, and Binghe replied “I don’t know.” In the past, Binghe’s personality was largely formed in response to trauma and abuse, and there wasn’t much room for self-exploration and self-awareness. But now Binghe needs to figure out who he really is and what kind of person he wants to be, and I appreciate this room for growth.