#its so strange to find someone who so perfectly in every way fits you and plays so well with you that it is truly unbelievable

[hyunniesgirl]

Call it what you want

Pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Hyunjin were never on the best terms but when you're cheated on and your ex is trying to get you back, Hyunjin does everything he can to prevent it from happening.

Genre: enemies(ish) to lovers, smut, fluff

Words count: 4,038

A/N: all my gratitude and appreciation to my bestie @baby-yongbok who proofread this chapter for me 🩷 thank you so much for the help girly!!!

Warnings for this chapter: gaslight, drinking, mentions of violence, sexual tension, insecure thoughts(if there's anything missing let me know)

Chapter two: Drunk

Previous chapter: shameless

Next chapter: the most precious thing

+18 minors do not interact!!!

You couldn't sleep a wink thinking about the whole situation. ‘Is there something wrong with me?’ Is the only thing that comes to mind when you think about your love life.

You're just so angry and not just because you were cheated on. You can't believe you got so worked up after kissing Hyunjin and his reaction was nearly nonexistent? NOTHING?

Of course you didn't expect it to be the best kiss of his life, he was doing you a favor after all but you got pretty excited and he didn't even get flustered? That's kinda offensive.

After your break up, Eric tried talking to you at school so your friends came up with a system so he wouldn't bother you until you felt ready to face him. You found out after a week that someone filmed Ryujin and Changbin beating the shit out of your ex after you left the party and that made you feel pretty satisfied, it's nice knowing that your friends have your back. So that's the reason he doesn't try getting close to you when your friends are around. Now you are never alone, you always have one of your friends in one of your classes and because you're finishing your course you could choose some electives that overlap with theirs. And luckily most of your class courses are with Chaeryeong.

The problem and the reason why you're so mad is that Hyunjin is sticking around too much, more than he ever did. He is always around the exact friend that's having class with you and you're starting to think that he's doing it on purpose. You’ve had to deal with seeing his disgustingly handsome face every fucking day and it’s been nothing but torture considering the kiss and all of its aftermath. Almost a month has passed since you and Eric broke up. The day after you told him to fuck off, you unblocked his contact just to inform him things were over between you two if it wasn't already pretty obvious.

After communication class you were pretty exhausted, so you and Changbin went to the cafe in front of the school so that you could repay him with a drink of his choice for going out of his way to help protect you from your ex. That's when Hyunjin comes barging into the shop. Why does he always look like he's glowing? He's wearing perfectly fitted clothes as if they were custom made just for him, his hair falls in glamorous waves, it's longer than most men wear but it's just right for him. Long story short: he's hot. You have to admit it and it's really annoying, actually. Why does the guy you dislike have to be so stunning?

"Hey", he says, taking his sunglasses off, bumping fists with Changbin and nodding at you in an attempt to greet you.

"I'm going to order, I'll get yours", he says, seeing the pager light up and buzz on the table.

He asks for a large Iced Americano and the attendant gives him your order. He sees that there's some writing on the coffee sleeve of your drink.

"Hey, saw you and thought you're cute. If you want to hang out sometime, call me: xxx xxxx-xxxx" Hyunjin scoffs, his jaw clenching. He tears the paper apart and throws it in the trash before heading back over to you and Changbin.

"They forgot to put a cup sleeve on mine", you say pouting as you take the drink from Hyunjin's hands. He finds you so cute it's difficult not to smile.

"I can get an extra when I get my order", he suggests and you frown, a strange urge to accept his kindness but you're too proud for that.

"No need, it's not that hot." That’s a lie, it is really hot, but you don't want to accept his help.

"I'm going to meet Chaeryeong, so you can wait for the drink with him, Binnie." You say as you put your bag on your shoulder and wave goodbye. Hyunjin's eyes follow you as you leave, watching you until you are out of his sight.

Chaeryeong was not far, so you thought it wouldn't be a problem to go alone looking for her. When you hear Eric's voice calling for you, you pretend like you didn't and just walk faster looking around for your friend, until he grabs your arm forcing you to look at him.

"Babe, I was calling you, didn't you hear me?", he asks and for a moment you think you're crazy. Didn't he cheat on you? Didn't you break up? Why's he acting like nothing happened?

"What do you want?"

"I missed you", he says, getting closer, giving you puppy eyes and caressing the arm he is holding.

"Don’t pretend like everything is okay." You shake your arm out of his grip. "We broke up, I don’t want to talk to you anymore."

"What did I do that was so wrong?" He asks, His expression void of embarrassment

"What did you do? Are you fucking joking right now?"

"Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?" He asks, pouting. "It meant nothing to me, if you just let me explain-"

'Is he trying to look like the victim while I’m the jealous girlfriend? Doesn't he have a conscience?' You knew this would happen, you knew he would try to talk his way out of this. You take your phone out of your pocket and show him the picture you took of him at the party. His eyes grow wide.

"I’m not going to let you gaslight me into thinking I'm crazy." He tries to take the phone out of your hand but is stopped by a very angry Changbin.

"I see I should have beat you more", he spits, coming in between the two of you. "Get her out of here"

Hyunjin comes over to you, he puts a hand on the small of your back and leads away from the both of them. You're worried about your friend, he could get into trouble if they fight, so you can't help but to take a few glances in their direction until you are too far to see them.

You feel tears running down your face and you can’t seem to stop them. You’re so angry, so hurt. If Eric had only admitted what he did, you wouldn’t hate him so much, but he’s just pretending you’re overreacting and trying to get his way. Everyday you try to push aside the hurt you’re bearing, the feelings of insecurity and anxiety. You have to convince yourself that you did nothing wrong, that he’s the one at fault. You’re afraid of falling in love again, scared of having to go through all of this heartbreak and pain again. Love shouldn’t be like this, love should be light and carefree.

"I can’t believe he showed up when you were alone", Hyunjin says, pulling you out of your worried and anxious thoughts. You look around and notice how far you are from Changbin now.

"I expected it" You say, sighing as you wipe your tears.

"He’s such an asshole, trying to deceive you like that." You scoff, feeling mad. He's not that different.

"Do you think you’re better than him?" You ask and he looks at you, frowning.

"You lead girls on over and over" You continue. You’re trying to hurt him. You want him to feel the hurt that you felt. You know it’s not fair, but it has not been fair to you either. Why do you have to be the only one feeling miserable? He stares at you for what feels like an eternity, sighing before answering.

"I never give false hope to other people", you take a deep breath, you really thought he would lie to you, say he doesn't know what you’re talking about.

"I never accept the confessions of the girls who have feelings for me", he continues, "and the ones I occasionally go out with know I won't date them, it's not my fault that they think they can change me or whatever they choose to take that risk." He sounds hurt, exactly the way you wanted, so why do you feel even worse?

"I don’t see how I’m like him." He finishes, making you feel like your chest is sinking.

"I-"

"We finally found you!" You hear Changbin’s voice and you look towards the sound, he and Chaeryeong look tired, they’re breathing heavily and sweating.

"We searched for you everywhere, why didn’t you answer your messages?", Chaeryeong asks, hugging you.

"I didn’t realize how much time had passed." You say as your eyes stay locked on Hyunjin. He’s avoiding your gaze again just like he did at the party, looking to the floor and making your chest ache even more.

"I’m sorry for worrying you", he says, "I gotta go"

You see him walking away, not glowing so much anymore. You wanted to call his name and apologize, say you shouldn’t have snapped at him like that, but you’re too proud for that. Too proud to apologize to one of the people that came to your rescue when you needed it the most lately. You suck. You really do.

•••

Hyunjin didn’t come around for the next week, your friends even complained about how distant he was. It couldn't be because of your conversation, right? He wouldn't be like that because of something you said. He didn't like you, it doesn't even make sense for him to care about what you say. When the weekend rolls around and you barely see him you feel weird, if you didn't know any better you would think that you're missing him and that wouldn't make sense.

Chan was cooking for the night, your Saturday had been awfully boring, so when he proposed a dinner at his house you accepted right away. His cooking is so good you're salivating with just the smell of onions and garlic. Changbin and Minho are playing Just Dance while Seungmin and I.N. are playing pokémon. Chaeryeong is by your side, complaining about a class you're not into, while Jisung and Felix are helping Chan. The only ones missing are Yeji, who's coming with Ryujin and Hyunjin, that you were informed is not coming.

"Why can't Hyunjinnie come, again?" Changbin asks while waiting for their points to be calculated on the game.

"He said it's school stuff but I bet it's because of a girl", Jisung says and you feel that weird ache in your chest once again.

What does it matter to you if he's with some girl? You not only rejected his request to be friends, you also said some pretty bad things to him. You deserve it if he never looks at you again, you still can't believe you said that to him, just because you were feeling bad doesn't mean you get to treat people that way. You sigh to your own thoughts receiving a suspicious look from Chaeryeong.

"Nah", Minho answers, "he's been hooked on the same chick for quite some time now".

You look at Minho, frowning. You didn't know Hyunjin liked someone. So why was he kissing someone else at the party? Weirdly enough, you swear you saw Minho eyeing you.

****

The moment that Chaeryeong introduced you to them, Hyunjin knew he was done for. Everything about you was appealing to him: the way you smiled talking about the things you liked, how you fixed your hair after the wind messed it up, the way you bonded with all the guys and tried finding things in common with every one of them so that you all would get along.

He couldn't help but stare, your voice was so sweet and your eyes sparkled when you laughed. He tried to be subtle but everytime you joined their group he had the same reaction like a fucking teenager that can't talk to a pretty girl. So when you began acting distant only to him, he felt bad and offended, he didn't think he did anything to make you dislike him. After a while he became distant too so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable, eventually you both started doing things to annoy each other. He only started bothering you so that you wouldn't just ignore him, he wanted you to acknowledge him even if it was in a bad way.

Hyunjin never disliked you the way you thought he did, when you started going out with Eric he was absolutely heartbroken but he wanted you to be happy even if it wasn’t with him.

So he put his feelings aside and started going out with other girls, maybe if enough time passed he could like someone else. You didn't see it, but his eyes were always on you. Always looking at you to make sure you were happy. He was right behind you when you found Eric at that party, after you walked away he could see your faltering steps, that's when he saw you fainting and caught you just in time. He told the guys about what happened before carrying you out of the house and taking you to his car, trying to be gentler than he ever was even with his paintings while adjusting you in the front seat.

You frowned even when you were unconscious, he couldn't even imagine how hurt you would be when you woke up. So he waited and waited till your eyes opened and he was relieved to see you were alright. He thought it wouldn't be good to drop the act at that moment, you could think he was pitying you. After you left the car he was sure you would cry your eyes out all alone and he couldn't do anything because the two of you weren’t close. So he urged your friends to message you asking to come by but they already had done that and you had rejected their offers. Of course you did, you like to look tough, someone that doesn't need others, but anyone that knows you a little better sees you're a softie.

When you showed up at the studio while he was painting he couldn't believe you actually came looking for him. He was so surprised to see you that he clumsily dropped the paints he was holding. He was planning to get closer to you, close enough so you would like him and when he knew you were over your shithead ex boyfriend he would go for it. Even if you didn't want to go out with him at first he would keep trying to woo you… Of course, he didn't want to force you to like him, he would wait for you to discover your feelings.

Everything went down the drain when you asked him to kiss you. Every bit of his self control just disappeared and when your lips touched his he was sure that you were it for him, the way just touching your soft lips made him feel like he was on fire, your hands wandering through his hair felt like the death of him. He could feel himself getting hard when the door opened abruptly, you silently left the closet and he fixed his pants so as not to show what was happening there. Hyunjin was embarrassed, if just one of your kisses could make him feel that way he could only imagine what it would feel like to actually have you. He couldn't stay there much longer, it was impossible to look at you without approaching you to get something more. But you weren't even looking at him, if you could just glance at him it would be enough, if you just looked at him he would be satisfied. Your eyes were staring at the floor, you didn't look pleased at all.

Did you regret kissing him? Was it that bad you couldn't even look at him? No one ever complained about that, so he thought he was good. Did he ruin everything?

He got out of the room, Hyunjin just couldn't be there for another second looking at your face full of contempt. He went downstairs looking for one of his friends and found Chan taking shots of tequila with a group of his juniors.

"Hey, wanna join us?" He asks and Hyunjin nods, maybe with one or two drinks he would feel better.

Hyunjin shouldn't have mixed drinks, he couldn't walk straight and his head was spinning. To make things worse he could swear he saw you coming in his direction so he went the other way to avoid you, he was afraid to say something stupid. That's when he found Chaeryeong, he asked her to help him get some water because he was not sure if he would be able to walk to the table where the drinks were. The moment his friend looked away someone grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. He wasn't sure of what was happening or if he was just imagining. He put his hands on the person's shoulder and stepped away feeling dizzy. Minho was close by so he dragged Hyunjin out of the party and gave him some water while he got some fresh air.

"Y/N", Hyunjin was babbling and Minho rolled his eyes.

"What is it?" He looked at his friend seated on the grass with his head between his legs, "Are you still hanging onto your crush on Y/N? Didn't you say that you would give up when she started dating?"

Minho asked those questions but he already knew the truth, his friend had never really stopped liking Y/N.

"Kissed her", Hyunjin grumbles rolling his tongue.

"What? When?"

"During that- that game" Hyunjin trips over his own tongue as he tries to answer.

“Dare…truth.. that one.” He answers, looking over at Minho with glazed eyes.

"And how did it go?" He asks, curious.

"Good, it was so so good I could die"

"Well, if you die you won't be able to kiss her again", Minho jokes seeing drunk Hyunjin pout with tears in his eyes.

"I wan kiss her again though" Minho laughs.

"Of course you do" He sighs bending down and slipping Hyunjin's right arm around his shoulder and lifting him, "Let's go home now so you can think about how to kiss her again"

Hyunjin could barely open his eyes when he woke up the next morning, he was really thirsty and his head felt like it could explode at any minute. However, he had one thing on his mind: Win you at any cost.

So he called all of your friends and asked which classes they picked this semester casually asking if any of your other friends were attending that same class. That's how he found out your schedule and sure, that sounds pretty stalkerish of him, but that's the only way he could get close to you without raising suspicion.

When you told him that he was the same as your ex he wanted earth to swallow him whole, he was so mad at himself for making you feel that way and he was hurt that you thought of him in that way. He couldn't look at you anymore, he was too hurt for that. He avoided you for the next week, afraid to meet your gaze and be faced with indifference or even worse, disgust. He didn't even attend the dinner Chan was doing because he couldn't bear to be in the same room with you. That's until he got drunk enough to make his liver beg for mercy, he couldn't even think straight anymore, so he went on a walk for some fresh air and he walked and walked until he was under a really familiar vertical garden.

•••

You got back from dinner after midnight, you are already in your pajamas ready to go to bed when you hear a "clank" coming from somewhere. You can't figure out the source of it so you ignore it until it happens again, you realize that the sound is coming from the door at the balcony. You get close trying to see what is causing the noise, You look down and notice a couple of rocks on your balcony. ‘Who the hell is throwing rocks at my window in the middle of the night?’ You open your window ready to curse at the culprit, when you look down you see Hyunjin looking at you with puppy eyes.

"What are you doing?" You ask and he smiles.

"I wanted to see your face" He answers simply.

"What are you talking about? Why would you want to see my face in the middle of the night, Hwang?"

"I like it when you say my surname" He giggles, "And the answer is: because you're beautiful" You blush wanting to die, why are you blushing? This guy is drunk for sure, bothering you in the middle of the night. So if you know that, why are you blushing? And why do you want to smile?

"Now that you got to see my face you can go home" You say, trying to close the window.

"Noooooo", he screams and you are sure he woke up half of the neighborhood. "I WANNA SEE YOUR FACE UP CLOSE"

"Shut up" You look around to make sure there's no one turning on their lights to see what's happening and when you look at him again Hyunjin is climbing the fence where the flowers are tangled in your vertical garden.

"What are you doing?" You whisper yell at him but he ignores you, continuing to climb until he's on your balcony.

You cross your arms in front of your chest looking at him, he's taking deep breaths but looking really proud of himself.

"I could have opened the door for you if you wanted to come up" You say.

"Oh" He says and smiles shyly, "I'm sorry, I wanted to be romantic" You feel your face hot before you can ask what the hell he's talking about. He looks totally disheveled, messy hair, clothes that look like pajamas and glasses he only uses at home or when he's tired and doesn't want to wear his contacts.

"Care to explain why you’re here?" You smell the alcohol on him so you can already guess.

"I already told you, I missed your pretty face", he answers, pouting like a child that has to answer to their mother after doing something wrong.

"No, you said you wanted to see my face and then said I'm beautiful, you didn't say you missed me" You pick at his words trying to think of a way to send him home without your friends knowing about this situation because you know that if they find out you're done for. They're gonna pester you for the rest of your life asking why Hyunjin would come after you while drunk and to be honest that's a question that you would like to know the answer to too.

"Ah, you're so smart, that's why I like you" He says walking and looking around your room.

"Is that right?" You ask, amused, maybe having him here while drunk isn't so bad.

"Yesssss, and you're pretty and nice and really funny and good at everything you do", you smile without even realizing, what is this guy doing to you?

"Okay, now you have to go home, alright? I have to sleep"

"Let me sleep with you, I'm really good at it" You choke on the air you inhaled, coughing violently.

"What?"

"Humm, I'm good at being the big spoon and I don't take much space in the bed and you can even sleep on my chest and I'll hug you" He's saying that and has the audacity to blush.

You decide to call the guys that lives with Hyunjin, you're not scared of their questions anymore because you're too afraid you're actually going to accept his proposition. You try Minho, and Changbin but no one's answering. Shit. You look back at Hyunjin and see him lying down on your bed.

"For god's sake, Hyunjin" You try shaking him to wake him up with no success. You sigh, what are you going to do now?

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

All characters in my writing are from my own imagination and don't represent nor reflect in any way the people in real life.

Taglist:

@hhwangsmoon @inara-a

[animebw]

Short Reflection: Princess Jellyfish

Let's be honest: we're all a little weird. Nobody fits perfectly into the role society expects from them, and pursuing that ideal is often a losing game for a booby prize. As a certified genderfluid Aspergers' gremlin, I've been painfully aware all my life of how impossible "fitting in" can be when society's view of normal is far out of reach. But I've also been aware of how rewarding it can be to find your own version of normal out on the margins, finding a happiness all your own that doesn't need anyone else's approval to be real. And above all else, Princess Jellyfish is a celebration of exactly that kind of next-to-normalcy. It's a love letter to all of us who fell short of the scripts we were given but found something far more worthwhile along the way, all the freaks and weirdos and washouts who came into our own by leaven the beaten trail behind and charting our own quirky course through this wonderfully strange world we call home.

Our setting is Amamizuku, a boarding house for women who've slipped through the cracks of society. Chinese history nuts, train otaku, doll obsessives, women who've "failed" to live up to their expected role of finding a husband and becoming a doting wife. But that suits them all just fine: they've found their own kind of family among each other. A bizarre, constantly broke family prone to fits of geeky infodumping about their preferred hyperfixations, but a family nonetheless. All except for the youngest among them: Tsukimi, a girl still coping with the death of her mother and struggling with crippling self-doubt. Her mother always told her that all girls grow up to be princesses, but every time she sees her geeky, chubby, socially awkward uberdork self in the mirror, she sees the furthest thing from a princess she can imagine. And as happy as she is among her new friends, part of her still feels inadequate for not living up to the ideal of femininity she thinks she's supposed to fulfill.

That all changes when someone who does embody that ideal of femininity waltzes into her life. The only catch? It's actually a guy! Kuranosuke is a politician's son who's taken to cross-dressing as a way of distancing himself from his stifling family and social role, staking his own identity as a glorious drag queen in defiance of what someone like him is expected to be. And when he puts on the makeup and dresses and boob pads, he's a more womanly woman than most actual women around him. A chance encounter brings his life and Tsukimi's crashing together, and when it becomes clear that Amamizuku may be in jeapordy due to an urban development project his father is invested in, he decides to partner with her and all the boarding house girls to find some way to save it, preserving the community they've carved out for themselves in defiance of a world that wants to drag them back into "normal" society. Provided his little secret doesn't get out, of course.

It's a wonderfully quirky little show, bursting with the kind of lived-in detail that shoujo anime so often excel at. Amamizuku is a wonderfully realized community of oddball losers, and while some of the characters walk the line between amusing and annoying at times, you really come to adore all of them for their eccentricities. Tsukimi in particular is absolutely adorable, a perfect bundle of nerves and anxiety brought to life by Kana Hanazawa's stammering brilliance. She takes you through the whole gamut of emotions from quiet sadness to freaking out to hyperfixated intensity without ever missing a beat. And seeing her play off Kuranosuke as they help each other understand their own hang-ups a little better really put a smile on my face. Neither of them fit the image of what a man and woman are supposed to be, and in that mutual defiance (albeit far more purposeful on Kuranosuke's part), they're able to see the best in each other that they're not always able to see themselves.

But its in the moments where the woman of Amamizuku crash up against "normal" society that Princess Jellyfish really shines. This show is deeply interested in the connections between the marginal and the mainstream, what it means to be "normal" and what so-called normalcy takes for granted in trying to impose a universal standard. There's a great moment where Kuranosuke's giving the women glow-ups so they look trendy and fashionable in order to infiltrate a board meeting about the redevelopment, and she says, "I won't tell you to change your personal style or fit yourself into their boxes. But if you want to take on this shallow world, you have to fight on terms that shallow people understand." It's such a great summation of the pointlessness of our image-focused culture, how a little lip gloss and Coco Chanel can transform someone's perception from a layabout spinster to a glamorous socialite without changing the person at their core. And in playing with those expectations, Princess Jellyfish is able to draw out a much deeper, more honest beauty from its characters, a beauty that shines just as brightly in a pearl necklace or ratty tracksuit.

The one sour note throughout the show is a subplot involving Kuranosuke's older brother Shuu, a much more politically-minded and traditionally masculine man who gets involved with the woman in charge of pushing the landscape development. She drugs Shuu and takes pictures to make it look like they had sex when he was drunk, blackmailing him in order to get closer to his father and influence his support of her project. It's a deeply disturbing event, and it's really unclear whether or not Princess Jellyfish realizes how messed up it is. Like, this woman essentially makes Shuu think she assaulted him when he was blackout drunk, and it's clear he walks away from the encounter feeling violated (He even says out loud that he was taken advantage of!). But the show pretty much puts all that messiness aside for the sake of fast-tracking a romantic subplot between them that, I'm sorry, is just the most forced thing in the world even without the not-actually-rape hanging in the background. It feels grossly nonchalant about such a serious subject, and while it far from ruins the show, it makes every scene involving them a chore to sit through.

Perhaps that all comes to a much more satisfying conclusion later in the manga. Sadly, this eleven-episode adaptation comes nowhere near close to an ending for any of the threads it sets up, leaving a distinct sense of anticlimax when all is said and done. But hey, if Kimi ni Todoke can somehow wrangle a sequel over a decade later, perhaps there's still hope for a second season of Princess Jellyfish yet. Until then, though, we'll have to remain content with this unfinished but still incredibly enjoyable taste of life on the wrong (but actually right) side of the tracks. And I give it a score of:

7/10

And now to re-watch Kimi ni Todoke and continue reveling in the joys of 2010-era shoujo anime. See you next time!

[aurabird]

A Search For Belonging

Chapter 10: Shenanigans

In which Xornoth finds himself roped into more pranks and activities

Ao3 Link | Masterpost

---------------  

The next few days were mostly uneventful for Xornoth aside from the occasional antics going on in Boatem that he bore witness to.

There was now a dirt structure Scar had built spiraling into the sky and ending right above the Boatem Hole and a strange-but-nevertheless-mind-blowing flying machine in the sky between Mumbo’s base and Midnight Alley. Both new additions being the result of messing with Grian while the avian was in a meditative state.

On top of that, Xornoth had watched Grian remove several black banners placed by the Big Eye’s crew advertising their iron shop, an establishment apparently sponsored by Mumbo himself.

There really was never a dull moment in Boatem.

Today, however, would hopefully be more eventful for Xornoth personally as he made his way over to the Swaggon by Scar’s request. Apparently, his fellow Hermit had something for him, a hat to be specific.

“So I didn’t exactly know what you’d like but given what you have told us and the plans for your base I managed to make something that I really hope you enjoy.” Scar explained as they entered the hat shop.

“If it’s anything like the hats I’ve seen on the others I’m sure it’s amazing, Scar.”

It was true, the hats that every other member of Boatem now wore had been beautifully made and Xornoth was excited to see what Scar had made for him.

“Well, if there’s anything about it that you don’t like I’m perfectly fine with changing it. Are you ready to see?”

“I am.”

At the confirmation Scar grabbed something off a hook behind him and turned around with a dramatic flourish, presenting the hat in question.

Xornoth had expected it to be a crown of some sort as a throwback to the fact Empiria was a land of monarchs. Instead, it was modeled after a sheep wearing a silver circlet on its head, a dopey look in its beady eyes that made it absolutely adorable.

A smile crossed his face at the sight, “Scar…I love it.” 

“Oh thank goodness!” Scar sighed in relief as Xornoth took the hat from him to get a closer look, “I was so nervous that I would trigger a bad memory or something with the crown on its head and all! I hope it fits, it's a bit hard to design something for a person with antlers, you know?”

“Only one way to find out.” Xornoth said before turning to a mirror on the wall and putting the hat on, finding it fit perfectly between the growths on his head and making his smile grow even wider at just how perfect it seemed to match him.

After leaving the Hat Shop and making his way back to the central area of Boatem Xornoth noticed the giant sign that read ‘Octagon’ that was now a part of the long-legged monstrosity that was selling things on Boatem’s coast.

The voices of Grian and Impulse then reached his ears, the former sounding very annoyed compared to usual.

As the two Hermits in question came into view Xornoth was able to see why. The Octagon sign wasn’t the only advertisement in Boatem, every other establishment with the exception of Horse-Head Farms had left something in the village square.

“...advertise and bring people here. Oh look, it's Xornoth!”

“Hey you guys. What are you two up to?”

“First off, I love your hat.” Grian began with a smile, “And secondly, I’ve got a really good idea for marketing! We just have to decide who we’re going to do it to”

“Is this…aggressive marketing?” Impulse asked.

“It is very in-your-face marketing.”

“Oh I love it.”

“Oooh, so we just have to pick someone then right?” Xornoth questioned.

Grian nodded, “Well we’ve got Octagon, Rons, the Evil Emporium, and Cleo who all think its fine to advertise here so we can definitely advertise there.”

After several minutes of back-and-forth chatter and Impulse darting off to gather several shulkers of logs Xornoth and Grian found themselves over at the Octagon atop a platform the latter Grian had constructed above the shop.

“I don’t exactly know if this is going to work the way I think it’s going to work.” Grian admitted as he began to build.

“Yeah, how exactly do you have this in your head?” Xornoth questioned.

“Redstone.” Grian finished as he placed two observers and a dispenser down; the latter component beginning to activate as it got a signal. “There. Stage one is complete.”

Impulse arrived with the shulkers of requested logs and Grian was quick to explain how his plan would work as he began to craft several boats, shrinking them to a smaller size and then tossing them into a hopper that had been placed above the firing dispenser.

Xornoth laughed with Impulse as he watched the component spit the boats back out at full size, instantly dropping them down into the shop below and causing several stacks to begin forming.

“Now we just take this to the extreme!” Grian cackled with devious glee at the flawless execution of his plan.

The trio went on to ‘boat bomb’ Big Eyes Bay, this time letting the boats all occupy the same spot as opposed to letting them spread out. Once finished, they settled down on the nearby mountainside and waited for one of the residents to investigate the prank. It wasn’t long before Tango showed up and proceeded to cause all the boats to explode in every direction.

Roaring laughter resounded from the three members of Boatem at the display, “That was SO MUCH faster than I expected it to be!” Grian exclaimed.

After they had managed to compose themselves they flew down to greet Tango, the half-blazeborn now thoroughly flustered. “Buy at Boatem!” Grian laughed before proceeding to hop around on the many boats in the water, Xornoth and Impulse following suit.

“I will remember this!” Tango threatened with a grin, caught up in laughing himself as he joined in on the boat-hopping antics, everyone getting stuck between the wooden vessels occasionally.

After a farewell to Tango the trio took off, returning to their original plans for the day. Xornoth landed in the center of New Rivendell with a massive smile on his face and was more than energized to build the storage building he had planned so that he could finally move all his resources from his house and various other random locations strewn about the mountain, into one dedicated place.

-

Xornoth had spent most of the following morning preparing for the long, arduous process of moving and sorting his items into the now-finished storage building and decided to take a break to check the Boatem group chat to see if he’d missed any messages while he had been working. Scrolling up to the last message he read, two Mumbo had sent earlier caught his eye. 

<MumboJumbo> errr guys

<MumboJumbo> the boatem hole has bedrock in it

Xornoth looked at the image sent in the chat and was confused. He knew bedrock didn’t simply regenerate, be it through magic or otherwise and it prompted him to go check it out for himself after putting all his gear and supplies into his enderchest.

Even if bedrock had once again sealed up the hole into the void, Xornoth wasn’t going to take any chances. He wasn’t procrastinating, that would be nonsense.

Upon his arrival to the scene Xornoth dared to look down into the Boatem Hole and, just like Mumbo had said, the area that normally led to the void was once again covered in bedrock.

Curious, he decided to descend into the depths to investigate the strange phenomenon, setting his feet down on the layer of bedrock…

…and falling through immediately after.

Xornoth let out a panicked yelp as he tried to stabilize, but to no avail as his wings did not react fast enough. The inky blackness of the void filled his lungs, suffocating him; waves of pain flaring through his entire body as he was pulled further down into the abyss.

Xornoth fell out of the world

He jolted awake in his bed with a gasp, panting heavily as he took in fresh air. His communicator pinged multiple times in quick succession as he recovered from the traumatic respawn, no doubt Hermits worried about him. He quickly shot a message in the chat saying he was fine and that he didn’t lose anything except a bit of pride.

Once the post-mortem effects had worn off Xornoth got out of bed and figured that he already decided that he would not actually move everything into his storage building today so, he may as well just fly around and see what the other Hermits were up to.

Again, definitely not procrastinating at all, he just needed to interact more with his fellow Hermits outside of Boatem.

His flight took him to various locations to try and find Hermits to interact with and Xornoth found himself roped up in a game he’d never heard of before known as Leaf Spleef with Cub, Joe, and Cleo, getting to know them better in the process. It was nice, to be able to just goof around and have fun without any real responsibility or a kingdom to eventually run.

The sun had begun to set by the time he had begun to make his way back to Boatem, flying over Big-Eyes bay and seeing it still covered in boats.

As Xornoth passed over the Evil Emporium, the one shop he never really visited often since most of his supplies were easy to harvest himself, he took notice of the individual pacing in front of the stairs, red armor contrasted against a deepslate and blackstone building with a glass orb atop it.

Curious to talk to the one Hermit he knew so little about, Xornoth descended, landing a bit away from Exiel before approaching.

“Um…hi?” He began in greeting, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I was just passing through on my way back to Boatem and saw you pacing; thought I might as well take the chance to speak with you since you’re like, the only Hermit I have had no interactions with at all.”

Exiel turned to him, red eyes meeting Xornoth’s own and causing the elf to freeze up. He could almost picture veins of crimson marring the voidkind’s skin under the armor, pulsating with dark power that drove the corrupted individual to madness and…

“Oh, you're the elf they recently adopted.”

The blunt remark snapped Xornoth from his spiraling thoughts and back to reality, “Uh….yeah. That’s me, I’m Xornoth.”

“Well, Xornoth. Welcome to my humble abode I suppose. And no, I’m just frustrated at my stupid brother installing a machine at Octagon that completely ruins the entire point of the Hermits buying derpcoin from the Emporium!”

Xornoth let out a chuckle, “Brothers, am I right?”

The comment made Exiel give him a quizzical look, “You have a brother too?”

“I do. We aren’t as close anymore though, not like we were before destiny and fate tore us apart for the sake of prophecy.”

“‘Suma and I weren’t as close as we are now, you know. I resented my brother and what he had so I found myself aligned with a malicious individual who convinced me that the solution to my problem was to embrace it and destroy everything that Xisuma knew. I tried for many years but deep down I had started to grow fond of the band of misfits and runaways he surrounded himself with and began to realize that what I was doing was wrong. After everything I’d done though, I felt I had no chance at forgiveness so I banished myself to wallow in my own pity. When I came crawling back to Xisuma I was desperate for purpose, I never expected forgiveness from him, let alone the invitation to join the Hermits…but here I am, I suppose. If there was hope for me to redeem myself, then there’s probably hope for you and your brother as well.”

Xornoth gave a bittersweet smile, “It’s a nice thought, but Scott probably thinks I’m dead and after everything I did to him and those he called his friends, redemption and forgiveness are no longer an option for me.” he paused a moment before continuing, “But it’s fine, I have all the Hermits now. After decades of being a pawn of destiny, I am finally free to do whatever I want, to be my own person with my own choices.”

A sly grin crossed Exiel’s face at Xornoth’s words, “Well, how about you use that freedom to make your own choices and buy something with that Derpcoin my brother gave you a while back?”

A laugh escaped Xornoth at the comment, “I blew it all buying wood at Octagon for the boat bomb prank we did there and at Big-Eyes Bay.”

“You realize that you buying the wood from them is a win in their eyes, right?”

“Yes, but it was hilarious all the same. Grian is debating hitting up this place next you know? Perhaps, if you give me some derpcoin I can convince him to spare you guys?~”

“You’ve been hanging around with Scar too much. You’re picking up on his marketing habits.”

Xornoth smiled, “I’m only joking, we will probably hit Big-Eyes bay for the bedrock fiasco next.” he tossed two of the diamonds he’d won from Leaf Spleef earlier to Exiel, “How much derpcoin will that get me?”

A few derpcoin richer, Xornoth bid farewell to Exiel and continued to make his way back to Boatem, landing on the balcony of his house and going inside to freshen up as the moon began to cast its glow on the land below. 

Before he settled down for the night he checked to see what he’d missed in the main and Boatem chats.

<Grian> Who’s up for getting back at Big-Eyes Bay tomorrow?

<ImpulseSV> I’m in!

<MumboJumbo> Same

<GoodTimeWithScar> Can’t, was invited to test the horse course with Bdubs and Etho.

<Grian> No worries. Xornoth, are you up for more pranking?

Xornoth, feeling bad he’d missed most of the conversation typed out his response

<Xornoth> Sorry for the late reply, I was busy most of today. Definitely in; dying to the void this morning was the worst.

With his message sent, Xornoth silenced his communicator and called it for the night, looking forward to the pranking of Big Eyes bay…

…and still denying that it was an excuse to get out of moving everything into his storage building.

[karuvapatta]

So, uh. I hope you like angst...? *nervous laughter*

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

***

“What is it?” asks Sasha. She’s sneaking a look at Tim’s phone over his shoulder, and—maybe it’s something else. Maybe the Institute burned down in the meantime. Maybe Elias got arrested. There’s absolutely no way—

“Tim? What’s wrong?” Martin asks.

Tim tosses his phone at the table and slides it in Martin’s direction. Martin picks it up, confused and alarmed, eyes wide, wider still as he takes in whatever it is.

“What the hell?”

“Jon?”

Jon hears buzzing in his ears, like a million tiny worms burrowing into his brain. He shakes his head and then reaches out towards Martin, who’s gripping the phone so hard Jon is beginning to worry for its structural integrity.

“May I?” he asks quietly.

He doesn’t really want to know. Except he needs to. Even now he can feel the Eye’s influence, even when he knows he’ll regret finding out, he still can’t combat the urge to.

It’s a text chain between Tim and his former colleagues from Research. There’s a few pictures of them, inside jokes he doesn’t get, a meme or two… he scrolls down, to check whatever’s got everyone so scandalized.

He’s not particularly surprised to see what it is.

Pictures. Of him and Elias. Dancing together.

That wouldn’t be that incriminating all by itself – it’s just a dance, after all. A part of him is irked by the framing of it – the photos were clearly taken covertly, over someone’s shoulder or from a strange angle, the frame partially obscured, oftentimes blurry and unfocused. As if it was some overzealous P.I. turning in evidence for a cheated spouse, and not two colleagues at a formal, public event, surrounded by dozens of other people.

One or two of them could almost pass for decent photographs though. There is Jon and Elias on the dancefloor, closer together than Jon remembers them being. The photo was taken from behind Elias’s back, so Jon’s face is clearly visible. And, good lord – is this what he looks like? There’s bags underneath his eyes, ugly scars standing stark against his skin, greying hair, ill-fitting suit… at least Elias is someone actually worth taking pictures of. And Jon has his eyes closed, yes, but his face is turned towards Elias, and he is smiling. Was he smiling the whole time? And in the next picture, even more disconcertingly, Elias is looking down at Jon with an expression that can only be described as fond.

They are holding hands. It didn’t feel as incriminating in the moment, but there’s no denying that, with their fingers laced together, Elias’s pale and perfectly manicured, Jon’s slimmer, and darker, but holding on just as tightly.

Jon sets down the phone, trying to reign in his anger. How could Elias miss this? How could someone spy on him in his own place of power? Did he want it to happen? Didn’t he care?

Or perhaps he did not notice at all, because his focus was elsewhere.

“So?” Jon asks, curt and unpleasant. “What of it?”

“You look very cosy together,” Tim says. “When should we expect the happy news?”

There’s no disguising the bitterness in his tone. Jon looks around; Sasha’s lips are pressed thin and she’s avoiding eye contact, Martin seems to still be processing the new information.

“Don’t you think you’re being overly dramatic?” Jon asks. “It was just a dance.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sasha says. “We were out here, worried sick about your safety—”

“You were drinking at a pub—”

“—while you went dancing. With our enemy. Or is he no longer your enemy, Jon? Have you already picked whose side you’re on, or do you need more time to consider?”

He has never heard that tone from Sasha. The rational part of his brain knows that it’s the stress, the fear, the exhaustion; it’s getting the better of them all.

“Look,” he tries. “I know the last few weeks have been difficult—”

“Oh, I am so sick of you patronizing us, Jon,” Tim says loudly.

A number of other patrons turn around, staring, giggling. Jon feels the pressure of their gaze, feels it from every angle; he can feel blood heating his cheeks, sweat beading at the back of his neck.

“Tim—”

“You know what,” Tim says. “I can’t do this right now. I’m leaving. Have fun.”

“Tim! Wait!”

Tim grabs his phone, his jacket and is through the door before Jon manages to get out of his seat. Muffled laughter follows him as he scrambles to catch up, pushing on the door, knocking into people on his way out.

“Tim!”

Tim stops. There’s other people in the street, but they hurry away, anticipating a fight; Jon manages to catch up, even though his chest squeezes painfully on each shallow breath. Good lord, he’s in terrible shape; when did it get so bad?

“Jon,” Tim says, deathly quiet. “I asked you to stop following me around. Is it such a difficult concept to grasp?”

“I’m sorry!” Jon says. “I’m sorry, okay? What else do you want me to say? You’ve reached some wild assumptions based on a picture and now you’re acting like I’m conspiring with Elias!”

“Oh, that’s not the only time you got awfully friendly with him. But I guess it all sort of blurs together after a while.”

“He imprisoned me,” Jon says. “The same way he imprisoned you. I did not ­ask for any of this.”

Sasha and Martin are there, wary, keeping their distance.

“Same way, sure,” Tim snorts. “Except you get to nap and dance, while I get to watch—”

He stops, abruptly, choking back on his words. He is crying again, shaking with anger, the way he did back in Elias’s office.

“Watch what?” Jon takes a careful step forward. “Tim. What did he make you see?”

He can feel a strange buzzing sensation on his tongue, like he licked something electric…

“I watched my brother die,” Tim says, eyes widening with horror. “Over and over again, I watched Danny die—”

He clamps his hands over his mouth, as if the words were being dragged out of him against his will.

And they are. Jon knows this with sudden, chilling certainty. Tim doesn’t want to be telling him this. Tim hasn’t chosen to answer his question; Jon forced him to.

The realization hits Tim at roughly the same time. He lowers his hands, and stares at Jon.

“What are you doing to me?” he whispers.

“I don’t know!” Jon says, panicked. “Tim, I swear, I don’t know—”

The blow, when it comes, nearly knocks him off his feet.

He staggers backwards, clutching at his face. It hurts, the pain sudden and unexpected; he can still hear ringing in his ears from when Tim’s fist connected with his cheek, can feel the metallic taste of blood on his tongue.

“Jon? Jon, can I see?”

Martin is holding him, Martin is gently prying Jon’s hands from his face, Martin is examining him; Jon can barely register it. It feels like his cheek is on fire.

He yelps when Martin’s fingers brush against his skin, and finally shoves him away.

“Sorry,” Martin says. “I had to check – I don’t think anything’s broken, but we should get you to the ER just in case. Is Tim okay?”

He asks this of Sasha, who is looking over Tim’s bloodied knuckles. Tim is breathing heavily but at least he isn’t crying anymore.

“I think so,” Sasha says dubiously, and then mutters: “I should really sign up for some kind of first aid course…”

 Jon’s ears finally stop ringing. The problem is that once the shock starts waning, the pain becomes more noticeable. He grits his teeth and tries not to whimper.

Martin is still holding him. God, he feels so pathetically grateful to Martin, because he isn’t sure he’d be able to stand on his own right now.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Maybe if he says it enough times, someone will finally believe him. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t know.” He chokes back a sob, but they just wreak through his frame; he can’t really breathe, can’t hold back the tears, can’t stop hanging onto Martin for dear life.

He’s pathetic. He’s pathetic, and he has to stop, has to take a step back; take a deep breath, no matter how rattled; has to figure it out, instead of simmering in his own misery. Has to look them in the eyes, no matter how much he hates what he sees there.

“You’re mad at me,” he says. “You have every right to be. But please believe me when I say that I’m trying. I’m trying to find out how to get you all out.”

“And which part of that includes getting friendly with Elias?”

Jon shuts his eyes and counts to ten.

“He’s the only one who knows what’s going on.”

“You shouldn’t trust him.”

“I don’t!” Jon snaps. “Jesus, we just—” He tries to sort out his thoughts, tries to ignore the pain in his cheek, tries to ignore the way even Martin is looking at him now. “We danced. Okay? Yes, I enjoyed it. I’m exhausted, I can’t eat, I can barely sleep, there’s monsters and evil magic in the world, so excuse me for wanting to forget about it all for five minutes! Or can you only trust me if I’m miserable one hundred per cent of the time?”

“No one wants you to be miserable, Jon!” Sasha says. “We just don’t like how close you are with Elias. You say he knows what’s going on, but what of it? He isn’t telling you anything!”

“I can still learn something from him. I can learn more from Elias than I could from just about anyone else.”

“He’s lying to you,” Martin says, with such an open, vehement hatred that Jon takes an involuntary step back. “How can you not see it? He’s manipulating you. He’s using you...”

“I know.”

“Oh, of course you do! Because you know everything, do you not? You know better than anyone else, better than us—”

“I never said that,” Jon says.

“You never had to say it,” Martin says. “You said you’re trying to save us. What about you, Jon? Who’s going to save you? Or do you expect us to just stand idle and watch as Elias turns you into a—”

He doesn’t say the word but it hangs in the air nonetheless. Jon feels it on his skin, prickling, coursing through his blood vessels, settling deep into his bones. He can see them, he knows them; he can see the shape of their fear. They don’t trust him. They’re probably right not to. To them, Jon is already a monster.

“Jon,” Martin says, softly. “I didn’t mean that. Whatever’s happening to you—we’ll figure it out. We’ll find a way to stop it.”

“Oh, I think we all know it’s too late for that,” Jon says. “But your concern is appreciated.”

“No, Jon, don’t—”

“Jon,” Tim says, suddenly. “Look. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you. I—I was angry, but I still shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” Jon says. He’s so, so tired. He just wants to go home.

“Jon—” Sasha begins, but Jon won’t let her finish. Whatever she has to say, he cannot deal with right now.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “It’s just—” he sighs. “I’m sorry for ruining your night. I’ll see you all on Monday.”

He leaves. There’s little else he can do.

[the-lil-exorcist]

Lil Inspiration|| Her big three "Songs"

This is just a little take on the big three astrological signs (Sun, Moon, and Rising Signs) as if they were Songs. Below the Cut is why each song was picked. I am not an expert in astrology so please be gentle.

Sun Song: Skeleton Key - Dessa

"The sun is your identity. It is the essence that you shine out into the world. It represents the vital force that drives you to seek the highest expression of your true self. Your sun sign is how you answer the question “I am” and how you experience life and express your individuality(x) " For Lil, She often positions her true self as someone who is more of a witness of others, then someone who is particularly the designer of her own story. She sees herself as a wanderer through other peoples stories (often tragedies) as a mostly benevolent feature. In the simplest form, Lil sees herself as the preverbal stranger, helpful and kind but always slightly out of the group. It's the role she's comfortable with. Lyrics: Don't waste your worry on me, I always find what I need Come and go as I please, I've got my skeleton key Along the way The old men call me by mother's name She looked just the same, they say The children wave Or hide behind their mother's skirts afraid Strangers here still seem strange They hear the accent, know I'm from nowhere near But I speak the language and I know the customs here I come from over the horizon, pass through every dozen years Go home, tell of my arrival, the skeleton key's here

Moon Song: Reliable Narrator - Chase Petra

"The moon is the soul behind your identity. It is the subconscious side of yourself that you typically keep hidden and is the driving force behind your emotional reactions. Your moon sign helps you feel pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow, and gives insight into how you nurture and restore yourself. (x)" Lil is often experiencing a lot more emotional turmoil then she normally lets people see. Mostly, she's incredibly angry at the world and finds it unfair. In her deepest emotions, Lil's rage comes from a want to protect people - and knowing that the best she can often do is still going to upset them (i.e., getting rid of the ghost that's bothering people is still upsetting and traumatic no matter what). She's angry, in a sense, because she doesn't get to see the happy moments even if she does the work so people can move on and heal. Lyrics: he said if I was a reliable narrator my voice wouldn’t shake and I’d never stutter so I am addressing the crowd again and it feels like the truth but I sound uncertain cause second guessing my own minds a skill I’m well-versed in now we’re circling around the ring its one v. one and heres the thing you may be better in a fight but I’ve got more to lose tonight

Rising Song: Alkaline - Sleep Token

"Rising sign (also known as your Ascendant) is your social personality. It is how you dawn on people as it relates to the zodiac sign that was on the Eastern horizon when you were born. Your rising sign represents your physical body and outward style (x)" Lil, in many ways is mismatch and I think that comes through her social personality pretty heavily. She has a job that's pretty solemn and she takes seriously, but she's cracking jokes throughout it. She's serious and unserious in the same breath. She doesn't interfere in situations until she decides she should. She can be both pictured as softly caring and gentle, and completely disinterested to the same group of people. She doesn't quite fit anything or any group and often elects to be a stranger. Lyrics: She's not acid nor alkaline Caught between black and white Not quite either day or night She's perfectly misaligned I'm caught up in her design And how it connects to mine I see in a different light The objects of my desire

[dills-musings]

The Dragon of the Market

I walked into the city of Midlaa, the two suns shining down on the large city on the oasis. The people walking around were covered head to toe in cloth, trying to insulate themselves the best they could from the nigh unbearable heat of the desert.

Making my way through the nearly empty bazaar towards a small stand that had some fruit for sale. The owner was thin, dark skinned, and looked like he had seen better days. He looked at me, his curiosity obvious to me, "Who are you," he said, more of a statement than a question.

"Greetings, I am Lyan. I had heard of a strange creature, the 'Dragon of the Market.'"

He smiled, "I know of it. If you buy some fruit, I'll even tell you where you can find it."

He wasn't lying. I knew that. I nodded, my strange habit of collecting coins from every Realm I visited coming in handy. It was a habit I had for centuries. One of many things I collected.

I reached into the bag that held my coins and pulled out a handful. Several different kinds of coin clinked around in my hand, and the merchant said, "You an adventurer?"

Looking for a couple of small coins used in this country, I said, "Something like that."

The merchant wasn't aware people like me existed. People that could travel from Realm to Realm with just a thought. We called ourselves Sojourners.

"How far away you been?"

I put the silver coin on the stall, "I've been to places where winter is everlasting, where battles never cease, to places that you couldn't even imagine."

He reached to a small shelf under the stall and pulled out a small dragon holding a single bronze coin. The dragon was just a bit bigger than the coin, and the way it was holding onto that coin reminded me of a kid with a security blanket. It was a deep red, and with every breath, a tiny flame came out of its snout. I could see why the merchant cared for it.

He held it in both hands, and said, "Promise me that you will care for it."

"I don't understand."

"This is the Dragon of the Market. For as long as anyone can remember, it has been in this market, traveling from merchant to merchant. It loves to journey from place to place, but it also loves that coin. It's too small to go out in the wild, though, so we pass it from place to place. We take it home and care for it like we would a pet. It is content; but not happy. Not here."

A single tear goes down the merchant's cheek, creating a line of cleanliness in an otherwise dusty, soot-covered face.

The Dragon perked up, and looked at the merchant, and then at me. I can feel the magic inside it. That magic far surpasses the tiny body in front of me. It has more magic than even the oldest dragons that I have seen. Possibly, even more than me.

It hops from the merchant's hand, and glides down with the bronze coin in the tiny, clawed hands. I put my hand down on the stall, and I said, "I will take care of him. If he travels with me, I will show him places that are beyond your imagination."

"Him?"

I look at the tiny dragon, "Yeah, him."

The little one climbs up onto my hand, using his wings to make up for the unwillingness to put the coin down. I look at the merchant, "Why does he not let go of the coin?"

"We don't know. It's a mystery to any of us. I think it is a memento of someone or something that he loved."

I said, "I thank you for the tale and the Dragon. I swear to you, I will take care of him like I would my own child."

The merchant had the melancholy smile that we all have had, and said, "I know you will. He trusts you, after all."

I looked at the Dragon, and said, "What to name you, little one?"

He held up the coin, and I said, "What? Coin?"

He shook his head.

"Bronze?"

He nodded. Bronze it was.

"Okay, Bronze, looks like you're coming with me."

He fit perfectly into the small pocket in the cloak I was wearing; his little head poked out, and he looked out into the large desert as we walked out.

With a concentrated thought, the desert disappeared around me and Bronze. I got what I came for, and more. There was no need to remain.

----The End

[forest-of-stories]

Excerpt from Chapter 1 of ‘Eye to Eye’

[I decided to share a snippet from the fusion between TMA and the Hypnotists Trilogy that I started during NaNoWriMo.  The context for this scene is that Jon is about 16 and has just moved to London with his grandmother.]

After the first week of term, Jon thought he had learned to navigate the hallways of Kempthorne Academy without getting hopelessly lost. A wrong turn on the way out of his algebra classroom, however, led him into a hallway lined with supply cupboards and faculty offices, and he retraced his steps in time to follow the last wave of departing students outside. The bus that would have taken him home had, of course, just pulled away.

By the time the next one arrived, he had resigned himself to a late arrival home and the hope that his grandmother would believe and understand his reason. He’d never been able to lie convincingly, so he didn’t usually try. Over the past year and a half, the truth about what he got up to had been strange enough.

He tucked himself into a seat at the back of the bus and pulled out his book, and hadn’t even read five pages before three university students crowded into the seats in front of his, and began a very loud, very passionate argument about – from the sound of it – an epic poem by Keats.  Each of them saw fit to defend their point with recitations of the same three lines, which all of them delivered loudly, with increasing levels of bombast, and with slightly different emphasis on each syllable.

Jon, who had little use for poetry outside of required reading for school, knew that he should get used to this, if he planned to ride London public transit to and from school every day.  Still, he couldn’t help wishing for his phone and earbuds.  His grandmother had promised to return both of them to him by the end of the week, as long as he stayed out of trouble.

“It’s as if you don’t understand the concept of meter, Wentworth,” one of the students was saying.  “What did you say your GCSE scores were?”

“I understand meter perfectly, thank you,” his friend snapped.  “Only that can’t be the primary reason why he would end the stanza there…” And he started reciting the stanza in question, from the beginning, for at least the twelfth time.

Having had enough, Jon looked up from his book and caught Wentworth’s gaze.  “Excuse me.”  The rest of the group turned their heads toward him.  “Could you find somewhere else to have this fight?”

Instantly, Wentworth shoved past his friends, as well as several people standing between the seats, in his effort to reach the front of the bus.  Over the driver’s protests, he flung himself against the closed door.

The driver slammed on the brakes, lunged forward to restrain the young man, shouted for someone to call 999, and then swung over to the side of the street and cut the engine.  Horns bellowed angrily from the cars behind them.  A baby who had been sleeping in a sling on its father’s chest began to wail. Soon enough, sirens drowned out all those noises, and when the door did open, it was to admit two police officers. The other two students hurried forward to help their friend, but not before one of them tossed, “What did you do?” over his shoulder.

Jon, not for the first time, had no way of answering.

[yandere-sins]

Good evening or morning (wherever you are).... My request for today is Kaeya from genshin impact. What if he were to confess his love to a timid reader but *gasps* she reveals she has a boyfriend already. Smut is fine if you want.

Thank you so much 🦋

Thank you for requesting!! ♥ Part 2 of my trying to get back into smut OTL

Rated Lemon/Explicit!

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Even after everything that happened, you weren't able to forget the look on Kaeya's face as you broke the news.

True, you and your boyfriend had wanted to keep your relationship on the low, but not because you tried to deceive your friends, just so you two could have some peace while finding out more about each other and developing your feelings. But you never meant for anyone to look at you so... disappointed. Even if you were happy with your choice of partner, having to reject someone dear to you still hurt.

"Oh, [Name]," Kaeya sighed, shaking his head. Of course, he wouldn't be happy to hear the person he just asked out confess that they had a boyfriend. Perhaps especially because you two had always been relatively close, even more so lately where you were out almost every day after work. You felt a tinge of regret not telling him earlier. Save him the embarrassment you assumed he must feel. Then again, how could you have known that the charismatic Kaeya had feelings for you? He could have any woman in town, so why had it to be you? Of all people, you wouldn't have expected Kaeya to confess his love to you. Even if you two always got along fine, you thought yourself to look rather gray next to the shining knight that Kaeya was. Someone who wasn't fit to be anything more than friends with him.

"W-We can still continue being friends?" was the best and stupidest comfort you could come up with on the spot. You saw his grimace of disapproval, and it took him a second to collect himself, taking a deep breath before pushing himself away from the wall he had leaned on after learning the truth. Kaeya truly appeared devastated by the realization that you were taken already, and part of you could understand him. Certainly, you had just ruined his night and whatever companionship you two had, just because you couldn't have been more open from the beginning. It would have at least saved him some heartache, if any.

"Friends?" Kaeya mumbled, unfolding his crossed arms as he walked back to your side, leaning on the backrest of your chair. Feeling uncomfortably cornered, you stood up, looking around you. The outside of the tavern was lonely, and Kaeya had chosen this place for his confession surely to avoid any curious listeners. There were still voices coming from inside Angel's Share, but the streets of Mondstadt were quiet at this time of the night, with only his smooth voice reaching out to you. "With all due respect..."

Wrapping his fingers around your chin, you were forced to look up, staring right back into the mocking expression of your 'friend', the mood suddenly shifting. You had regretted having to reject Kaeya's feelings before, Kaeya always having been a good friend to you and hurting him felt wrong. But you would come to regret it much more that you went outside with him, away from the safety of the masses.

"I'd rather be anything else than your 'friend'."

»»————————

"Come on, Dove! Say it! I'm better than him, aren't I?"

"N-No--"

Your attempt to refuse this assumption was meekly interrupted by your loud gasps as Kaeya pushed forward. The curve on his cock was so perfectly aligned inside of you, constantly hitting the good spots whenever he plowed it inside. A cocky grin was on his face as he showed you off in the reflection of the mirror before you, spread over his legs and hanging in his grip on you. It was the biggest taunt he could think of, constantly reminding you how good you were feeling despite your initial refusal of him.

The image inside of the mirror wasn't one you had ever seen of yourself. That sweaty, drooling mess of a human, eyes unfocused and yet filled with pleasure, was nothing you could relate to. And yet, except for the occasional blue strands of hair falling over your skin and peeking out from behind your shoulder, your brain recognized the sight as you. Still, it was hard to accept this side of yourself, especially with his marks and hands. All. Over. It.

Kaeya only laughed as you tried to refute him, smirking a cocky grin from behind you. "Oh? Did Mr. Boyfriend not touch you yet? Even though you're such a little slut?"

His hand falling between your legs, Kaeya first brushed up your thighs, causing you to squirm from the sensation. His hands were trained and roughed up from handling swords, but the way he used them showed how skilled he was. Settling at your clit, he slowed down the rocking of his hips for a moment to get his fingers wet with your juices before picking up the pace again. There was no way you could deny how you were feeling after riding him for the better portion of time ever since he brought you to this city apartment of his, your body shivering and moving on its own with his hand teasing your clit, the additional pleasure riling you up.

"Look at your cunt gaping open for me~" he purred, opening your lower lips wide for the mirror to reflect your exposed entrance. Seeing how his shaft disappeared inside you clearly, you only felt hotter from embarrassment, turning your head which was quickly caught by his free hand, Kaeya turning it forward again - painfully so. His grip wasn't even close to how he had touched you before when you two had still been 'only' drinking buddies. You weren't sure how long he had feelings for you, but you wagered that these feelings must have changed much in the last hour, just like his touch. It once had been so gentle, kind. But now, it was rough and demanding, leaving no room for how you felt.

"Let go!" you said firmly, tearing yourself from his grip to avoid looking at this strange self in the reflection. You felt ashamed and embarrassed. Kaeya made a fool out of you, now that he had you in this peculiar situation. It's not like you wanted to cheat on your boyfriend and betray him in any kind. But your body reacted positively to it, making Kaeya chuckle as you tightened around him after seeing yourself, "You are enjoying it a lot, aren't you?"

It brought tears to your eyes, knowing it was Kaeya deeply lodged inside of you, but your sobs were just another incentive for him to continue. You couldn't even blame him for that - they did sound a lot like sounds of pleasure that overtook their place. Soon you were back to gasping and moaning, glad you at least weren't begging him for more with how shameful you behaved.

"You can still leave him," Kaeya suggested. Though a smile still played around his lips before he hid them behind your shoulder, kissing it tenderly, he sounded very serious. "Leave him and stay with me. No one needs to know what kind of slut you are, going behind his back."

"But I didn't!" you sobbed. "You forced me too-- You forced yourself on me!"

Without hearing the sigh falling off Kaeya's lips, you found yourself breathing in sharply as he made a sudden push, burying his cock even deeper inside of you, the base of it touching your body. The gasp was followed by a long moan, tears streaming down your face after he exploited your sensitivity so much. It was a regrettable, disgusting moan signaling how much you enjoyed him hitting these sweet spots of yours.

Your gaze fell back to the mirror, showing the pleasure-stricken expression on your face. Even though you knew you shouldn't feel this way, Kaeya simply seemed to know all the right things to do, and he used all of them. It was bitter, but he did make you feel... erotic. Made you feel like something you never saw yourself as. Something your boyfriend couldn't make you feel.

With him, it was sugary-sweet puppy love, but with Kaeya, there was so much more. Desire, carnal at that. Love, demands, obsession. No matter how either of you moved your body, it was exciting, making your heart race. Every glance at yourself in the mirror made your body tingle, and every one of his pushes sent waves of excitement up your spine. You wished to have experienced these things with the person you truly loved instead of the hawk watching you from behind.

"I know," he mumbled, his hands driving up from your pussy to your chest, giving your breasts an equal squeeze. Taking in a sharp breath, you held back, instead having Kaeya be the one to groan lowly into your shoulder as you tightened around him. "I'll take so much better care of you than that boy. I can make you your true self, don't you think? You're wasted on everyone but me."

"Just finish it," you breathed heavily, and Kaeya sighed.

"As you wish."

Picking you up by the legs, Kaeya hoisted you up into the air, taking a few steps forward to stand right in front of the mirror. It was a breathtaking sensation to feel his cock carving you out from the dynamic motions, your walls gladly welcoming every inch before confining his member inside. You really could do without a closer look at how his cock slid in and out of you, sloppy sounds and tingling sensations running through you, but it almost made you wonder if you'd be able to experience the same sensations that Kaeya put you through, ever again once this was over.

"Hope you're ready for what you wished for," he reminded you, and you instantly began to realize alarming innuendos in his choice of words and the teasing tone of his voice, struggling in his hold.

"N-Not inside!" you yelled at him, slinging one arm over his head to be the one to tightly grip his face this time. "You can't cum inside!"

"Oh, really?" he taunted you. You squeezing his cheeks together didn't change the fact that he could grin like a Cheshire cat out of fairytales. "Give me one good reason not to."

"I can't bear your baby! I just can't!"

Grinning even wider, Kaeya let you drop a few inches to kiss your nose. "You'll need to do better than that."

Biting your lip, you thought about what he could want to hear from you, eventually realizing the level you'd have to stoop to. A baby would ruin everything, especially if it was Kaeya's baby. Even if things wouldn't turn out the worst way possible, it would still be a lifelong reminder of this ordeal he put you through. Your pride was worth nothing in exchange for the future you always wanted to have.

"P-Please..." you mumbled, the quick pace with which he was ramming into you making it hard to speak. At the same time, it urged you to hurry, as it wouldn't be long now before he'd fulfill the deed inside of you.

"I can't hear you~"

"Please don't cum inside me!"

Halting abruptly, Kaeya looked at the mirror image of you two, thinking for a split second before he resumed the pounding--this time, determined to finish. It was almost like you were hit by thunder, every movement releasing more shocks through you. You were a panting mess, but Kaeya wasn't far from it either. His eye would close halfway as he sunk into pleasure with you, both of you falling deeper and deeper into this hole.

Until it was finally over, your body curving and stretching, Kaeya's grip tightening to hold you throughout your orgasm, fingers digging into your supple thighs. Closing your eyes, you felt like flying, carried by a cloud, away from all the bad things and surrounded by the comforts and excitement that only intimacy could cause. You were almost lost in the orgasm before a part of you recalled the danger that was Kaeya, but much to your relief, when you opened your eyes again, he pushed in deep for the last time before suddenly lifting your up and off his cock.

Spurts of white semen shot through the air, landing on your reflection's stomach almost exactly where it would have landed inside of you. Both of you huffing, exhausted and spent, you watched as it dripped off the slick surface, leaving its stains there rather than inside of you.

Kaeya finally dropped you down, your legs unsteady, but his hold never ceased and kept you up. "Thank you..." you muttered, finding it hard to believe that after all he did, you were still thanking him for not cumming inside. Finding yourself in his arms rather than the ground, you refused the kiss he wanted to plant on your lips, instead turning your cheek, but Kaeya didn't seem to mind.

"I think you owe me something," he whispered into your ear before you felt his teeth bit into your lobe, making you flinch. "I did pull out like you asked me to."

"I owe you nothing, you... you bastard! You fiend! You...!" Your feelings took the upper hand as you heard what he demanded from you now. It was hard not to raise your voice when he dared to tell you about what you owed him after taking you against your will.

Laughing out loud, Kaeya quickly composed himself again, pretending to be hurt. "Ouch. I didn't know you knew these kinds of words."

A sudden rough pull in your hair yanked your head back, your body arching under the force and pressing against his while Kaeya towered over you, never letting his gaze stray from you. "Call me what you want. I don't care what you think, I'm not your friend, remember? I am anything but your stupid, little friend."

This time he took your mouth as he pleased, ramming his lips into yours and slipping his tongue down your throat. When he finally spoke again, his words were nothing but threatening to you, an anxious knot building in your stomach.

"That's why you'll break up with that asshole, you understand?"

"Why would I! Just leave me alone! You had what you wanted!"

"You still don't understand it," Kaeya sighed, releasing your hair briefly before tangling it around his fingers again, pulling you back even further and making you fear your spine would snap. "You are what I want! You belong to me! I was nice this time, but I will change if I must. Break up with him and make it easy for both of you. And then you'll come back to warm my bed, understand?"

Gulping, you put on a brave face, trying to face his stare head-on. This was getting out of control; you couldn't let him win with all his endeavors! No matter how you thought about Kaeya before, this wasn't the man you had come to like and appreciate in the past. He was something, but you could only hope it was still a human.

"And what if I don't?" you asked, using all the courage left inside of you.

"Oh darling, believe me," he laughed, unexpectedly pulling away all of his hands, your body unable to keep itself up and plummeting to the floor. Instant waves of shock and pain hit you, but when he stepped between your legs, you couldn't help but look up to him. How could you have been so wrong about a person you spent so much time with? Who was this man claiming to love you?

"You will do as I say, or everyone will know what kind of slut you really are. Especially your fine boyfriend. Who do you think the people will believe - their charming cavalry captain or some random chick that was seen laughing and hanging around him a lot?"

You opened your mouth to protest, wanting to prove him wrong, wanting to tell him Mondstadt cared about you as much as they did about him. But... was this wrong to assume? Would they really believe your word against his? With a reputation like Kaeya had, would you stand a chance to win against him? You couldn't imagine living a different life than you had so far, so would you be able to deal with the branding of a cheater? Realizing these questions, you closed your mouth again, scrambling to get up and collect your clothes from the ground. You were ready to storm out of the room, just go home and forget about everything that happened but reaching for the doorknob, Kaeya approached you from behind, holding the door shut with his hand.

"Don't hate me too much, okay? I really, really love you, [Name]."

He sounded anxious as he whispered these words against your head, leaving a trail of kisses. How could you believe this? How could you believe any of what he was saying? Just now, he had forced you into a level of intimacy you hadn't been ready for, threatened you, and made demands. And now he came to you, showing these rare moments of vulnerability and insecurity that made you special before all of this went down. What could you still believe about Kaeya?

"This isn't love," you mumbled, twisting and turning the knob to leave, deciding you couldn't listen to his voice anymore.

"You'll come to understand that this is love," Kaeya chuckled. You could hear the bittersweet smile on his lips as he planted one more kiss on top of your shoulder before he pushed himself away, letting you escape into the night.

Only when the cold, fresh air engulfed your heated body could you finally collect your thoughts. Your body ached, and yet, it tingled with every step, remembering you of the pleasure you had experienced through him. Disgusted and appalled by yourself, you made your way back home, crying the whole time, wondering what went wrong.

It was all Kaeya's fault, right? He went mad and did these unspeakable things to you. He was jealous because you had a boyfriend already and rejected him. None of this was your fault... right? But at the same time, would he make these threats come true? Was there really no other way than to break up with your boyfriend? Could you do nothing but obey his demands if you wanted to keep living your life? Was the love he had for you really love?

These questions kept you up all night.

All while Kaeya sipped on his drink, satisfied with himself, studying the image of you he had in his mind and the cum stains on his mirror. Stains he only planned to add to but never get rid of.

Just like you'd never get rid of him.

[cursed-domain]

Experiments

Mahito x Reader, WC ~3.9k

Mahito’s been testing out his powers for a while now. He wants to do something different with his latest victim. Something a little more... human.

warnings: NSFW and Dark Content - NONCON if that is not your thing do not read any farther. You have been warned. Also fear, tears, kidnapping, possessiveness, oral sex, biting, slapping and uh. Mahito. I think he deserves a warning of his own.

You stayed out just a little too late last night. And you walked home alone. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that was a bad idea, but - the bar was right down the street from your apartment building, and your friends were - well, they were scattered, and they were hard to find, and you were sure that you could walk straight if you only tried. Your heels were only a couple inches high. 

Maybe you’d somehow fallen right down a drain in the sidewalk last night. Maybe it was too dark to notice, and you were more tipsy than you thought. But that theory doesn’t fit with your last memory aboveground. It doesn’t explain the presence you felt behind you, the feeling that something heavy and hateful had manifested right over your shoulder. 

Most importantly, there are no scratches or scrapes anywhere on your body. You can’t have fallen. You were brought here. Hidden away beneath the street into a tunnel you had no idea existed. And your host has been kind enough to keep you in perfect condition. You’re not even dirty from where you’ve clearly been crumpled on the floor - somehow, the stone corridor is perfectly clean.

As you sit up, all these thoughts run through your head in a matter of seconds. Your shell-shocked stream of consciousness doesn’t give way to panic until a hand from behind you lands on your shoulder. Its owner doesn’t even let you scream - he claps his other hand over your mouth before you have the chance to open it, and leans down so that you feel his hot breath in your ear. “Boo.” 

You strain against his hand when you hear his voice. It doesn’t sound - well, you’re not quite sure what you expected a kidnapper to sound like. Maybe a lower voice. Certainly a sinister one. But he just sounds excited and mischievous, like a child who’s gotten away with a prank. So lighthearted in what is, for you, such a dire situation - it sends a shiver up your spine to imagine his grin.

You don’t have to imagine for long. His hand slinks from your shoulder up your neck, taking root in your hair and yanking your head back so you’re forced to look up. It is dim in the tunnel, but you see his face clearly. You register, in a far-off place in your mind, that it is pretty, almost feminine. Your impression is that his face is far too fine compared to the coarseness of his mouth and his hands, even with the strange scars stitching their way across the unnaturally smooth skin.  

“Don’t look so terrified. Or do. I kinda like it.” Your eyes stretch even wider. “Yeah - I really like it, actually. Stay just like that.” When he speaks for longer, you notice the eerie quality of the cavern - the way it causes sounds to echo and reverberate down its walls. Farther down, you hear the drip-drip-drip of dirty water hitting the floor. But here - not even a drop. It’s as if the space has been cleared of its usual filth, just for you. “Okay,” he says, “I actually wanna hear you, too.” He doesn’t wait for a response before taking his hand from your mouth and letting go of your hair. 

Your heels - they must have fallen off. Or he took them off. In any case - you can run. You know it’s pointless as soon as you stand up. You know even the time you take to rise to your feet is enough for him to grab onto you again. But you have to try. So you do. You’re surprised to get any distance at all. You’re shocked to have made it ten paces - twenty - thirty. Even sprinting with the adrenaline-spiked speed of someone who fears for her life, this shouldn’t be possible. But you find yourself starting to hope. You’re fast, and maybe he was caught off guard. Maybe, just maybe, you can make it to the light you see shining at the mouth of the tunnel. It’s not that far away. And once you’re out there, on the street, he won’t be able to do anything. You’ll make it home and forget this ever happened. Even now, you’re wondering if it’s all a dream. If you’re going to wake up once you hit that light - closer now, so close - snug in your bed, wondering how you managed to make it home last night but relieved that you did. Yes. That has to be it. This isn’t real, and you’re going to escape it so, so soon -

A rush of cold air streaks past you, and your captor appears in front of you, grinning as he blocks your path. You try to step to the side, but he’s already there. Back the other way - he beats you again. You feel your will collapse in on itself as he steps forward and snakes his hand around your waist, laughing unabashedly as you struggle. “Not bad,” he says. “Of course, I gave you a pretty big head start. But still. You run pretty fast for someone who could barely walk the night before.”

You’re so close to him that you’re sure he must be able to hear your heart pounding. Despite your best efforts to hold yourself back, you find yourself looking up at his face again. His eyes are pretty, too. But they’re mismatched - one is a light gray and the other is deep blue - and unblinking. Seeing them up close only makes his presence more unnerving. He grins crookedly as you make eye contact with him, staring back without saying a word.

“What - why -” you break eye contact, choosing instead to stare at the ground where his bare feet are nearly on top of yours. “Please. Let me go.”

“Nuh-uh. No way.” He pushes you back at arms length and leans over you, his face coming so close to yours that your eyes unfocus trying to look at him. “Haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Done…”

“Mhm.” He takes your shoulders and turns you around, giving you a light shove to get you moving. You shudder - your dress has an open back, so his hand didn’t just touch your clothes, but your bare skin. And it’s so short, too. He’s probably staring as you walk, tracing your curves with those unnatural eyes. He looked down when he had you pressed up against him. He didn’t even try to hide it. 

“That’s far enough.” You stop, not even daring to turn around. He slithers around you instead, dragging his hand over the back of your dress again as he passes, keeping a hold on you and pulling you close again. “You’re gonna help me out with some things today, alright?”

When you hesitate, his long fingernails tighten against your skin. He’ll draw blood if he presses any harder. “What…what do you want?”

“I’ve been doin’ some experiments down here.” His nails drag down the curve of your back, only stopping at your hips. “Been learning what I’m capable of. I’ll show you the other test subjects if I have to but… I think I’ve already convinced you to cooperate, right?” He tugs on the hem of your dress, sliding his fingertips underneath the edge of the thin fabric. “You don’t seem ready to meet anyone right now, anyways. Not as if they’re really in a state to talk to you.”

You stare blankly, resisting the urge to squirm as his hand trails up the back of your thigh. Not for the first time, you wonder if you’re going to be leaving this place alive.

“Lots of room down here,” he says. “Plenty of dark corners. But I think I’m gonna keep you right here.” 

“Please..” you say.

“Hmm?” He smiles a second later, once he understands. “Please don’t kill you, right? Don’t mutate your pretty body and then throw you somewhere no one will ever find you?” Your mind amends mutate to mutilate. The intellectual victory does nothing to comfort you. “Don’t worry. ‘m not gonna do that. Not yet, anyways.” His nails are scraping very high on your thigh, now, and the other hand is weaving its way through your hair. His fingers seem to bend strangely around you, as if they have no set form at all, as if they’re molding to best fit your body as he claims it piece by piece. “You’re just gonna help me out a little, okay? “You’re gonna help me figure out what else I’m capable of.”

He grips the top of your head and forces it up and down, mimicking a nod, laughing impishly as you glare up at him. “So sweet of you. We’ll take this one step at a time, alright?”

You don’t understand until he leans over you, running a fingertip across your lips to part them slightly before meeting them with his own. You try to recoil, but the hand toying with your dress runs up your back and presses you forward, forcing you deeper into the kiss instead. It’s unexpectedly gentle, at first, but as your body is forced flush against his it becomes more messy, more hungry. He shoves his tongue against yours and grips your hair tight enough for it to hurt, only drawing back for long enough to bite your lip and watch a string of drool drip across the faint indent he’s left behind. You gasp for breath until he swallows up your mouth again, using his tongue to reach every place he can. 

You stay in place even when he relaxes his grip. He only stops to speak once he has, it seems to you, tried every kind of kiss he can think of - fast, slow, shallow, violent, hungry, sloppy. “You’re doing good,” he says, flashing the same smile as before. “Good start. Amazing, really…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear his thoughts, and the softer smile is replaced by a cold grin. “Take your dress off.” 

“Wh -”

“Take it off. Take off whatever you have underneath it, too. I don’t care about seeing it.”

“But -” 

“But - but -” He laughs again, practically giggles as he mocks your faint protests. “You don’t wanna die, either, do you?”

Mute, you shake your head.

“Actually…” He turns you around again, and you think you hear him sigh faintly as his hips snap against yours. “You’re taking too long. I’ll just do it myself.” He gives you no time to react before tugging on the zipper of your short dress, so violently that it hitches on the teeth and nearly breaks off. Only the second time does he do it right, pulling it all the way down in a smooth motion. The dress only covered from your lower back to a few inches down your thighs, anyways, and now even that protection is stripped away. The front of your body is exposed, too, as he tugs the thin garment along with your panties down to the stone ground beneath your feet.

Every muscle in your body tenses as his own bare skin collides with yours, his worn pants pulled down to rest alongside your dress. “Didn’t even wear anything beneath the dress up here,” he mutters. He reaches from behind you, groping your tits with no regard for the way you whine and squirm. “Making it so easy for me, aren’t you?”

“No,” you gasp. “Didn’t wear anything there. I should have -”

He claws his nails over the delicate peaks of your breasts, and you bite hard on your lip to keep from crying out. “Interesting. That’s a sweet spot, huh?” You shiver as he clamps down on you again. “You got any more I should know about?”

“No…” You lie, as if anything you say now will help you. He’s tracing every inch of your skin already, down your stomach and hips and up your thighs, squeezing and pinching when you least expect it, mapping you out like you’re the first person he’s been this close to in his life. 

“You sure?” He taps his fingertips along the creases that connect the tops of your thighs to your body, pressing close against you and breathing hot in your ear. Making sure you hear and feel his excitement. “We’re gonna test that out, too. So spread out your legs. They’re getting in the way.” 

You clench your fists tight and do as he says, shifting on either side to allow him easy access to every part of you. Still, you reflexively pull your hips back as his fingers climb their way towards your cunt, cringing when your sudden motions make his cock pulse against your skin. 

“What’re you doing that for?” He cups his hand between your legs, ending your desperate attempts to squirm away. “Not like you’re going anywhere, right?” He pulls his hand back, showing you the wet sheen that’s rubbed off on his fingers. “I don’t think you would even if you could. But if you want, I’ll let you run again. Give you ‘til the count of ten before I start chasing you. Maybe even twenty or thirty. Maybe I’ll let you see the street before I drag you back here.” He lets go of you, grabbing your arms and using them to turn you back the way you ran before. “We’ll do it now, actually. Run! I’ll be not-quite-right-behind you.”

You shake your head. 

“Come onn. It’ll be fun. Or - well, I’ll have fun.” Your feet stay rooted to the ground. He looks genuinely disappointed, for a moment, as if he actually expected you to take him up on his inane offer. “Fine.” He shoves down on your shoulders, and you follow the motion, crumpling down to your knees with no resistance. “You can entertain me this way instead, then.” Now that he’s in front of you again, you look for the first time. You’re equal parts curious and repelled by the stitch-like markings that continue down the rest of his body. If you were thinking clearly, you’d wonder if they were perhaps tattoos, and why anyone would choose to do something like that to themselves. But the crisscrossing lines guide you far too quickly down the length of his frame, forcing your curious eyes down below his hips before you have the sense to close them. 

He tilts his head, sizing up your expression before flicking his eyes down your body and then back up to meet yours. “You’ve definitely done this before. So do it right.” Your eyes are almost as wide as your mouth as he closes the last inches between you and him. “Make it feel how it’s supposed to.” You nod blanlky as you wonder how you’re supposed to fit him all the way in your mouth. Maybe you won’t have to. He’s so obviously inexperienced, so eager… maybe you can end this quickly. 

You drag the tip of your tongue up the underside of his cock, forcing yourself to look up at him as you give the same slow treatment to the sides and the tip before taking the shaft in your hand. He stares back, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your mouth as it works over his cock. He’s breathing harder already, less than halfway into your mouth, almost letting the breaths tip over the edge into moans as your tongue flicks up his length again. It takes a concerted effort not to close your eyes, to not let your resolve crumble. 

It has started to happen already. He was right in his crude assessment of you - you do know what you’re doing - but you’ve never been so terrified with a cock in your mouth, never felt like your life depended on your ability to please the man in front of you. Your strokes become sloppy as you let panic edge into the corners of your vision.

“Fuck,” he groans. Your one free hand clenches into a fist as he grabs you at the nape of your neck and thrusts forward, holding you still as he forces his cock back into your throat. “Fuck.” You feel him writhe in your mouth just as his fingers did in your hair, molding himself to the contours of your throat as he fucks your face over and over, only becoming more frantic as you start to struggle against his hand, more frenzied as you gag and drool around him, until finally - finally - you’re tugged forward one last time, your lips pulled taught as hot liquid spurts down your throat. He keeps you there as you continue struggling for breath, sliding his thumb over your bottom lip and smearing your drool across your face. 

When you’re finally allowed to pull back, you wrap your arms around yourself, shrinking inwards as you whisper, “Please. May I go now?”

“Huh?” He crouches down until his face is level with yours, crossing his arms over his knees as he sinks to the ground. You try to keep your eyes on his face - it’s practically glowing, his eyes wild and bright, their contrasting colors even more apparent. “We’re not done yet, sweetheart. Just taking a little break.” 

You freeze for a second before scrambling backwards. It’s absolutely stupid, but - he said he wanted you to run. So he won’t get mad at you for trying one last time. And maybe it’ll work this time. Maybe you’ll get out. Maybe he was lying and he’s actually ready to see you go. Maybe seeing you run naked and sobbing onto the street will be enough to satisfy him, and he won’t chase you any farther.

He gives you five paces before pouncing, pinning you to the ground with one hand wrapped tight around your throat, turning you over so he can see the fear written on your face. “Guess what?” He whispers it into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck, nearly hard enough to split your skin open. You feel something hard pressing into your stomach, swelling as you cry out in pain. “Break is over.” He drags his tongue over cheek and traces it down your jaw before kissing you right where the bite mark still glows red on your skin. Using both hands to pin your wrists down at your sides, he drags his way down your body, running his tongue over your breasts, your navel, around the triangle between your thighs. “I usually don’t care much about what’s fair, but - I really think I should return the favor.” His eyes flit down to your legs, squeezed tightly together. “Try to relax. This is supposed to be fun, right?” He works two fingers between thighs and prys them open. 

You hold back a whimper as he dives into the space between, dragging the flat of his tongue voraciously over your hot cunt. He’s sloppy, ignoring the way your eyes are glued to his face as he tests and probes your cunt, teasing the opening and forcing his tongue inside, giving no pause before swallowing the sheen left behind. You have to squeeze your eyes shut. You have to tell yourself not to give in to the heat sweeping through your core, not to accept even a tiny bit of pleasure from the man defiling you, but - it’s so, so difficult. So strange to feel someone so obviously selfish pleasing you, even if it’s by accident, even if it’s just for his own enjoyment - you can’t stop yourself from pushing your hips shamelessly against his mouth. Can’t stop yourself from moaning as his fingers find your clit. 

He pulls away, laughing at the whine that escapes from your mouth. “Tastes better than I thought,” he says. “But you  - you’re reacting just like I thought. It’s like your mind’s melting away.” He pinches your clit between two fingers, and your eyes nearly roll back into your head. “You’re being controlled by this now.”

You just manage to shake your head. “No - no. I’m still - I don’t -”

He pounces on top of you again, thrusting his fingers into your open mouth. “Shhh. You don’t have to talk. That’s not what you’re here for.” He grinds against you, his cock already pushing at the entrance to your cunt as he fucks your mouth with his fingers, nearly making you gag as he pushes relentlessly into your throat. “You’re here to help me out, right? And you’ve been doing so good. So good for me.” You don’t want your stomach to flutter at the praise. Not here, not from him. You try your best to ignore it, tell yourself to close your eyes as he all but fucks your thighs. 

When you try to screw them shut, though, he puts his pinky right on your eyelid and drags up, forcing it to flutter open again. “Ah-ah,” he says. “Keep your eyes open. I wanna see how this makes you feel.” He presses his hips hard against yours, guiding himself nearly all the way inside you in a single motion. “Fuck.” His eyes nearly close as he savors the feeling of you tightening around him, but he keeps them open just wide enough to see your lips open wide, forming an O around the fingers still scraping against your tongue. “I’m keeping you here forever. Understand?” The drool from his fingers smudges across your cheek as he grabs the sides of your face, squeezing as he shoves farther inside you, over and over again, only spurred on by the sloppy noises he hears every time the two of you connect. “Gonna be - gonna be my fucking toy forever. I’ll keep you on a fucking leash if I have to.” 

All you can do is whimper and blink back your tears. He brushes his tongue across your face, licking them away as they overflow. “You look so scared. So mad.” He’s slowing himself down, now. Making it last. “It’s cute. Stay just like that, okay?” He presses on the corners of your mouth, forcing it deeper into a scowl. “So fucking cute.”

Your eyes match the anger he’s forced onto your mouth. Somehow, this moment feels worse than everything that’s come before. He’s playing with your face now. Trying to make it his, just like your body. And something about that - it breaks your daze. And your arms aren’t pinned anymore. There’s nothing you can do to make him stop, but. You feel the overwhelming urge to do something.

You reach up and slap him. Right across his pretty face, turning it sharply aside just as his cock buries itself all the way inside your cunt, reaching farther than you thought anyone ever could. His eyes widen, and his grip on your face tightens to a vise. You think that just once, you’ve managed to shock him.

Your faint sense of victory fades when you feel his cock pulse unmistakably inside you. 

“Oh -” he sighs blissfully as he releases inside you, and you go limp as he collapses into your shoulder. A moment later, he turns his head and whispers in your ear. “Very interesting.” You can practically feel his grin radiating against your neck. “I’m definitely keeping you, now. So many things to try…” You squirm as he shifts on top of you, his face hovering right over your own. “And you’re gonna help me with every single one.”

[calllamander]

haikyuu boys and family

BOKUTO has felt like home ever since you first met him: like all those terrible romantic poems, 'i was lonely all my life until i met you.' but you envy him sometimes as well: not often, because you love him more than you're quite sure should be allowed. but it happens most when he calls his sisters, and they seem so close and its just your boyfriend laughing hysterically with his family at his kitchen table through an iphone and you have no reason at all to care about it but you do. and you're jealous. you don't call your family, and bokuto only asked why once. but bokuto is nothing if not determined: he wants it, wants it so bad. he wants to be your family. and he invites his sisters round for the first time and he's so nervous. and he's compensating with homemade ramen and extra big smiles but really as soon as they come in he's praying you'll get along. because he loves his sisters and he loves you and he just hopes. soon your kitchen table is covered in flower vases and playing cards and candles and the whole apartment is full of laughter and embarrassing childhood stories and the special kind of warmth you'd always felt was lacking before you met him. and when they've finally filtered out you whisper your thanks, pressed against his collarbone on the sofa. thank you, thank you for taking me home.

SAKUSA remembers his childhood home a little too well (but can he really call it that?). the still silence of a house not lived in, all the things that were left unsaid, because most of the time there wasn't anyone to say things to in the first place. and maybe kiyoomi was lonely, even if he never thought of it like that. motoya's house was where he went: every day after school, every christmas, every birthday, every time he was sad and every time he was happy: it was smaller, messier and far louder than the sakusa household. his aunt loved colour, and every surface was covered in soft rugs and framed art. everything had a story behind it, and he remembered the feeling that everything there just belonged. he remembered the feeling that he belonged. he didn't know who had decorated his house, but they must have been a fan of white and wipe clean surfaces. you weren't sure what you expected kiyoomi's apartment to look like the first time you went in it, the first time he let you in, but it wasn't like this. it wasn't so colourful, so....pretty. jewel tones and candles. but your stuff became integrated into the general decor fast: your pictures hung up in the hallway, accent walls painted in your favourite colours, kiyoomi looking beautiful and disheveled at the same time: hair all over the place and sage green smudged across his cheek. he delighted in all your plants: finding them little spots near the big windows and watering them every morning. and you delighted in his dry wit and unexpected warmth. the two of you fit: like puzzle pieces coming together, all "he is half my soul as the poets say". like every single strange, hidden part of you and him complimented each other perfectly: it was a good kind of family: sage green and burgundy.

SUNA can't remember ever being hugged by his parents. sir and ma'am, eyes down, don't antagonize them. everything about suna seemed to antagonize them though, and after a while he simply stopped caring. and after a while he found himself kicked out in the most respectable and fitting way his upstanding, respectable parents could manage without an upset. his dorm at inarizaki was the first space in his life that had ever been his; he hadn't been allowed to decorate his bedroom. so it quickly evolved into sanctuary. your dorm was his favourite though: and all through second year it was where he called home. for suna everything was special, and you hadn't been expecting that, though suna rintarou rarely conformed to what you were expecting. friends were round for dinner constantly, and in the laughter and warm companionship you saw that everyone had been wrong about suna. his genuine smiles were bright, and he lit up whenever he was with you. and you even thought that rintarou must be the kindest person you'd ever met. suna's confession is the scariest thing he's ever done, lacquered black nails digging into his palms, eyes down, voice quiet and carefully guarded like he'd taught it to be for all those years before i met you. but you fling yourself at him, and when he asks you how you know (because all the best people have trouble believing anyone could love them) you tell him that he feels like home. and then you're the first person to ever see suna cry.

OIKAWA feels like sometimes he doesn't know how to let himself have people, even though he wants them. he's scared, no, he's terrified of how he feels about you, he's terrified of having someone else. because his best friend is family, his rock, and he doesn't know how to handle how happy you make him. oikawa's mother understands him simultaneously worse than anyone whose ever talked to him and better than anyone whose not iwaizumi hajime. oikawa's father is very good at saying he'll show up to things. like birthdays. oikawa is never, ever late. when he's with you it's just like something in him relaxes, and he feels lighter. things are a bit more bearable, he feels a little more okay with himself, more gene kelly dancing in the rain. its like he's found someone exactly like him, but somehow better: everything is worth sharing, everything is worth saying. oikawa makes you feel like that too, because you really are the same person, he makes you feel loved. in a way that's deep, deeper than what you've felt before, everything makes you want to smile giddily, because you're constantly wondering how someone cares that much about you. it feels warm. oikawa thinks that thats what family is, that warmth. the way that all his life he's felt like he's running for something he can never quite catch, and then he met you. and he feels limitless.

[witch-hazels-musings]

because I need that good loving can I request Diluc and Zhongli reaction to seeing there SO dressed up for a formal event even though its not something they really like doing but because they dont want to make Diluc/Zhongli look bad in front of all these other people they put all their effort into looking like the human embodiment of attractiveness.

the way you look tonight 

(okay so truth time - I thought about you the whole time I was writing this and forgot you requested it -- I hope the love of these boys reminds you that you are lovely <3!) 

Warning -> SFW, fluff / comfort (cussing(1))(self-conscience reader)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Zhongli ⚘, Diluc

Zhongli

He finds your normal style of dress unique and interesting, it’s unlike most of the people who make up Liyue’s landscape and it’s independently you

When someone lives their life in the way they want to, that's what Zhongli admires the most about people, about humans 

He doesn’t mind what you wear, he would want anyone to meet you, to see you regardless because through his eyes he sees your attractiveness - it’s in the way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you react when something makes you excited or when he gives you a gift you don’t expect - how could he hide you away and not let others see the way you glow? 

You look at yourself for the tenth time in the large circular mirror. An hour had gone by and you still felt unusual, out of place, like a fraud in this attire. For the, you’ve lost count, time you fuss with the fabric that sits against your stomach, tugging on it, wondering if you should leave it open or closed. The most frustrating thing about this is that you had no idea how to wear this damn thing. 

Your head falls onto the vanity and you do your best to hold it all in. With a deep breath, you go back to messing with your hair and face. The ticking clock behind you reminds you that time is not your friend no matter how much you want it to stop. 

This is so hard for you, of course, you want to be there for Zhongli - he was there for everything you ever did, it was beyond time to repay him - but you just couldn’t find the confidence to be proud of what you’d done. So, shaping the image in your brain into a distorted representation of what you wished you looked like, you stood from your small chair and walked toward the door of the bedroom. 

Your shoes click on the hardwood floor which is something you hate, the thought of people hearing you coming only to see what appears from the source of the sound makes your skin crawl. Still, you pressed on, and that’s when your eyes fell onto the immaculate figure that stands near the entrance. His tall, elegant frame is so intense it knocks the wind from your lungs as if someone just punched you in the stomach. How can I stand next to that … you panic and turn to retreat back into the safety of the bedroom when your arms collide with a small table in the hallway.

Objects fall to the ground and, in a ridiculous display of your clumsy nature, you juggle one of the more breakable objects before catching it moments from shattering on the floor below. 

“Whew …” You exclaim, bringing it close to your body. “Sorry, little guy didn’t mean to do that.” You wince, patting its side before place it back onto its home and picking up the other objects from the ground. 

Long fingers enter your field of vision, startled you stand only to see Zhongli reaching down to assist you. 

“Ah, sorry.” You express, crossing your arms after putting the items in your hands half-hazard onto the surface. 

“No need to apologize, are you injured?” He asks, standing himself and reminding you how tall he is. 

“My pride, maybe.” You share, laughing through your embarrassment. 

“Too much of that and we might find ourselves in trouble anyway.” He looks down at you, his eyes scanning, interested and making you shift under their gaze. “You …” 

“I know... I look so strange, and,” you begin, fussing with the top again, “I can’t seem to get this right.” Turning around you show him what you were talking about and how it seems far too loose. 

He laughs softly and you feel his hands run underneath the edge of the fabric and coming to rest at the wrap at your waist. “Let me assist you.” 

“Thank you …” He’s so close to you, his hands move expertly as they work to correct your inadequacies, eyes compassionate, patient as they always are. 

“This outfit suits you.”

“Does it really? I look so … I mean this isn’t something I would normally wear. In fact,”  You think for a minute before continuing, “I can’t remember the last time I dressed up for something other than adventuring. It’s not practical to go running through ruins in this type of getup.” You explain, lifting your arms and watching how the fabric slips down to your elbows before sliding back to your wrists as they collide with your legs. 

“That could turn things into quite the challenge I’d imagine.” 

“Exactly.” 

“Nevertheless, you will turn quite a many heads upon our arrival.” 

“That’s what I'm afraid of …” You mumble, forgetting that he is close enough to hear you. 

“Y/N, need I remind you how spectacular you look.” 

You bite your lip but your insecurities make you speak anyway, “I just don’t see how I have the right to stand next to you, I don’t want you to be … ashamed of me.” The end of your sentence trails off as you look to the ground. Zhongli doesn’t respond until his hands stop fixing your gown. With comforting fingers he presses against the soft underbelly of your chin, lifting your head at the angle it should be. 

“While I am beyond sure you can hear me, I hope that you can trust me as well when I tell you that every day I am honored to stand at your side. There is nothing in this world which compares to your beauty, in fact, you are more radiant than the moon itself.” He leans in to place a kiss against your forehead. 

“You don’t wish I was … more attractive?” 

“I cannot wish for a thing that holds no bearing on reality.” 

“Mmm.” 

“If my words have not reached you, perhaps I can better express my truth through actions …” He pulled you flush against him, his hands now wrapped around your hips and eyes focused on your lips. 

“Aa! Wait … no, I believe you.” Embarrassed, you push away from him and make your way toward the door. “Let’s just go because if I get out of this thing I won’t be putting it back on.” You huff, smoothing out the wrinkles. 

“Shall we?” He reaches for your hand and easily you take it. 

“Let’s do this.” With a lighthearted Zhongli, you exit your home and head toward the lively sounds drifting over the water. 

Diluc

He already thinks you are so incredibly attractive no matter what you wear - he knows you’re one for practicality, from your actions to your clothes, you are ready to go and prepared for whatever will come your way - a trait he admires

There is something adorable about the way you fall out of bed in the morning and, in some cases, take less time than he does to get ready - it can come in handy where there much work to be done 

He never asks for you to be more than what you are - he honestly wouldn’t care what other people thought about you, all that matters is you believe him when he tells you how good you look or how you make his heart clench 

So when he sees you descend the stairs in an outfit, a formal, totally out-of-the-absolute-norm outfit, he’s stunned 

“Crap.” You say, flinging the jewelry you couldn’t decide on anyway back toward the dresser. You’d taken far too long to get ready, even though you started hours ago, it still wasn’t enough to make you feel confident and finished. Glancing at your reflection one last time, you gave up with a heavy sigh and made your way down the hallway. 

You could already see everyone else in their formal attire ready to go, even the attendants looked better than you did. When you caught sight of Diluc your steps slowed and for a solid minute to you debated about turning around and hiding under the comfortable covers of the bed you loathed getting out of this morning. 

“Ah, there you are! Are you ready?” Adaline shouted from below you and like a scene from a nightmare everyone turned to look up at you. You stumbled backward and felt your chest tighten, eyes scanning each face as you debated on your next action. When they fell onto Diluc’s stoic eyes, you felt a little bit of relief and knew all you had to do was make it down to him. 

Slowly, you started again and, with a deathlike grip on the railing, you made your way down the stairs. Diluc met you at the bottom, his hand extended to take yours. 

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t figure out what would pair well with … this thing.” You gestured at your outfit and looked behind him, thankful that people had already started to leave through the front door. “Do I … look okay?” 

With an awkward smile, you waited for his answer, hopeful that he wouldn’t have to struggle so hard to lie to you. I mean, when you were able to see him in his suit, the way it perfectly fits around his toned body, the fabric tucked in all the right places, the sleeves just long enough to give one a peek of skin underneath - there was no way you compared to him. 

He looked at you for so long your heart started to feel like a thousand knives were stabbing you in all directions. He hates this … he can’t believe that I’m such a disaster. The thoughts circulate in your brain and just as your about to rush back up the stairs and hide he lifts your fingers to his lips and kisses them with so much love. 

“I apologize … I’m just a bit startled is all.” Your stomach drops to your feet at his words. 

“Archons, is it that bad? Did I put something on wrong … or?” 

“Nothing like that,” He kisses your palm and the action makes your spine turn hot, “You look unbelievable, is what I wanted to say.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Yes.” He looks at you but you shy away from his eyes. “Y/N, do you trust me?” 

“What … of course I trust you.” You reply, flabbergasted. 

“Then trust me now.” He pulls you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around your neck, his hand resting at the back of your head. “I’ve never seen someone as brilliant as you.” 

Fueled by your emotions, you return his hug, squeezing your arms around his waist and doing your best not to let your face be ruined by the tears that want to fall from stinging eyes. “Thank you, I’ll trust you on this … today.” 

“I don’t have any issues reminding you again and again.” Shouting outside tells you that it’s now or never and, as much as you don’t want to, your arms release each other. “Are you ready?” He asks, offering you his arm, and with a deep inhale and sharp nod, you take it and walk through the doors. 

----

taglist: @star-gods @mercurysmaiden @dourpeep @clemmywrites @pepperoncinipizza @handswritteeen @the-mermaid-of-mondstadt @lucifucker @beelsdessert @coolcats09 @ninqat @musekala @sufzku @mooshymello @heavenlyang @plenilunegazes @odafashioned @glazelilyy

[witchlyboo]

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

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[kookiessugababy]

Another Reason To Hate You (Kim Namjoon) // 18+ nsfw!!

Warnings 🚨- aggressive sex// no protection//edging//teasing//slut shaming kink

-> scenario: you have never gotten along with Namjoon, despite your close relationship with his band. With the boys apartment under refurbishment, you find them staying at your own place- where things become steamy between you and your foe in the shower room.

Hope you enjoy <3

*****************************************************

The previous night was sleepless, the muggy and warm nights creeping upon your Seoul apartment. Despite the discomfort it caused, you had spent the restless night watching movies with the boys; who you could currently now hear blasting music in the next room. They were stammering along loudly to Min Yoongis rap lyrics, Hoseoks voice yelling above them in blatant confidence - the others mixing up all the words in a cacophony of mutters. The seven were crashing at your apartment for a unchartered days with theirs under refurbishment and under the decision of not seeing you for a while, they invited themselves to reside. Nothing in you had a problem with this- you thoroughly loved their lively company and after all they were your closest friends. However, it did mean spending more time with Namjoon than you could handle- the one member who you had a questionable relationship with. Something about him had always frustrated you, the pair of you never flourished in the way you had with the rest. It was different at first; both of you trying to make the effort to amend your obvious differences after Jin introduced you to the band- but now it was left to settle in disinterest. Avoidance was key for both parties; snappy unpleasantness arising every time you engaged…so to the point he was barely an acquaintance to you. With no full understanding why you loathed him with the power you did, you always found yourself paradoxically attracted to him. There was something about acknowledging a mutual abhorrence for someone that makes them more desirable- more hungry for their attention. Alongside this tearing self conflict, you had a constant profusion of work to complete for your boss, alacritous deadlines prolonging your daily shifts. Almost making the company unbearable, relentless hours meant the boys made you stay up most of the evening to reconcile with them- and with the summer months glowing, sleep was rare anyway.

Wrapping yourself in a cream towel, your damp hair fell to your shoulders as you scanned yourself in the face of the mirror. Water droplets cascaded lines on your cheeks, eyelashes catching those stray from your forehead. Your skin looked soft and touchable in the white glow of the light- accenting your expression. With the silence shattering, the door creaked under the sound of knocks from the other side- shuffling echoing from under the small gap of the hinges. “Jin? Is that you?” You assumed- the only member who had a tendency to bother you at such inconvenient time- but you were met with silence as the seconds passed. Before you could question the sound again, the door flung open; presenting a rather flustered tall figure with muscular arms and broad shoulders. His hair was pushed back and neat, a small t shirt revealing his collar bones and comfortable lounging shorts fitting his toned thighs perfectly. Despite a familiar sense of hatred wash over you, you found yourself startled at the sudden entrance of Namjoon- your slightly exposed body causing your nerves to fire.

He stared at you in the heat of the room, the steam rising between the two of you as it entangled with the strange tension. ”Namjoon… what are you doing” you asked nonchalantly. Remaining silent you huffed, slamming your hairbrush onto the bench. “Get out” you snapped- but his reply concluded unhelpful as he suddenly pushed you to the shower wall, pinning your arms roughly to the wet tiles as the towel fell from your grip. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m sick of your bratty attitude.” Under his stare, you stood naked and exposed to him- your nipples hardening as he searched your curves in such an unexpected manner. You felt the need for obedience under his power- all sense of anger towards him washed with this new sense of frustration that mirrored lust you were sure you had felt for him before. “I hate you, y/n. You make me so fucking mad” he growled, his mouth close to yours. He tugs your lips with his teeth, nipping your bottom lip to cause a slight pain. Wincing at the sensation, you felt his hands grow tighter around your wrist- pushing his hips towards you to prove his hardened state. “Then get out if you hate me that much mm?” You teased- his anger obvious in his eyes. Intertwined with this, however, you sensed a blanket of lust wash over him- his intentions almost becoming obvious to you. “How do you not expect me to ruin you when I know your pretty ass is naked in the room next door? Mmm?” humming he pecks the sides of your neck, leading you to arch your back under the tingling marks he leaves behind. Snaking his arms down yours, which remain raised against the wall, his large palms make their way down to your breasts, fondling with them in a way nobody had before. He made you feel innocent with his dirty smirks, the frustration he felt towards you obviously preparing to be channelled in a way that would leave you breathless. You moaned slightly as he pinched your nipples, twisting them slightly in his fingers as he continued to kiss along your collarbones- teasing his tongue along them as he glanced up at you. You felt your heat grow wet as you gritted your teeth, avoiding contentment of knowing he was pleasuring you- but your desperation only grew with your confinement.

Evidently picking up on your behaviour, his fingers now snakes to your clit- slapping it harshly as you bucked your hips in return. “What a little slut mmm? Getting wet for someone you can’t even bare a conversation with. You must be desperate”. Degrading you only soaked your core as his fingers ran circles around your clit- chasing the feeling of your pussy as he pushed sped up to a painful pace. Stifled groans spilled from you; still in an attempt to silence yourself. Seeing your struggling state gave him permission to dig his fingers deep inside of your hole with a sudden movement- your body jolting under his forceful fingering. Only two fingers made it into your tight hole, moving rapidly between your thighs as your breath hitched. His stare was familiar, the way he looked at you in near disgust was showing- making you feel exposed and submissive to his annoyance with you. “You deserve to have that little pussy of yours throbbing y/n. How dare you get me hard like this.” His breathe easy just as unsteady as your own as he paced his fingers in and out, your juices dripping down his digits with every pulse. You couldn’t mutter a reply as you found yourself riding his hand in desperation- feeling so small under his touch and power.

Closing your eyes you felt his fingers leave you- the warm steam hitting your hole as he edged you from your high. Whining quietly, just in earshot of him he uttered a small laugh of success as he undid his pants. “Turn around, y/n. I’ll teach you how to be good for me” he sounded strain as he spoke, his dick now spilling with precum- yup swollen and sensitive. Spinning around on your heels you faced the tiles- your chest pressing against them as he lined himself up with your pussy. Rubbing his warm cock on your heat, he separated your lips with his tip- running himself up and down where you needed him most. “Namjoon i- need you” you finally cried, pushing back your hips as he adjusted his grip to your waist- thrusting into you with one sudden movement. The pace was unimaginable- your breasts clapping against the wall as his balls hit you again and again- the harshness of each movement sending you into a moaning mess. You could barely think straight as you could only focus on the throbbing of his cock inside of your tight hole- hitting spots you didn’t know existed with his length. He filled you up so well as he pounded you, his head tilted back as your ass slapped against him. Your heat was soaked with the feelings of frustration being taken out upon your bent body- your stomach turning at the simple thought of the man behind you. As your walls clenched yet again, you let out a cry while your stomach flipped to its side. Unable to hold yourself for longer, tears streamed from your eyes as your mouth fell open at the repetition of his tip hitting your g spot.

“C-cum!” You cried- desperate for a release of some sort. Despite you feeling Namjoons dick twitch inside of you, his warmth already spilling- he parted the friction from your walls as he pulled himself out. The absence was unbearable as he came all over your back- holding his cock with one hand as your ass now dripped with his stain. Cursing to himself he inspected your arched back- your ass sticking out and coated in his mess and you whined and cried pathetically as he edged you yet again. Gently, his hands ran to your ass, cupping the cheeks as he leaned over you- kissing your cheek softly. “You poor thing. Stop pretending you hate me and I’ll let you cum next time.” His voice almost sounded sinister, chuckling in your ear as he placed a few more welcomed kisses on your cheeks. “God Namjoon you gave me another reason to hate you”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[doyouknowhowtowaltz]

Please, I must know about your Addams Family AU, my curiosity keeps me up nights

Bear in mind there's little in the way of story put together right now, so I am going to throw down the notes for this au, and a lot of really early sketches.

Meet the Addams! (A break for your convenience because this is long as hell)

- Enoch, Beast, Young Lorna, Whispers, and Adelaide Addams make up the Addams family (in addition to Pumpkin (cat) and Turtle (Dog)

- Beast is the only blood Addams in the lot, and is heir to the Addam's fortune, his living relatives are distant, most don't even share the family name anymore, and all immediate family have been dead and dust for at least a decade.

- Both Whispers and Adelaide are sisters that married into the family and have been since widowed

- Enoch is married into the family (Through Beast, who else)

- Lorna's specific relation to the family is never specified, everyone is Auntie and Uncle, as far as the town is concerned, she's everyone's niece. Its also highly debated if anyone in the family actually knows where Lorna came from.

- Enoch and the Beast are exactly in love as Gomez and Morticia,

- Enoch somehow has even less inhibitions about showing it than Gomez

- Enoch is friendly, the neighbors love him, thinking he's the most normal one of the bunch despite his... unconventional dressing. Strangers who are new to the family normally latch onto him when faced with the... oddity of the rest of the family.

- One problem with this, Enoch isn't a man. He's man-shaped... barely. Enoch's eldritch nature is continually hinted at as part of a long running joke in this AU about Enoch being the normal one despite making no secret of the fact he feels terribly limited by two arms.

- (This is the version of Enoch that made me enact the Rat test)

- There's a rumor running around the neighborhood about a black cat that calls itself Providence and will strike up a conversation with you if you greet it politely.

- Enoch, of course, denies any connection.

- Enoch, weird as he might be, and off-putting as he is on second meeting, does actually have a lot of friends in town, some as odd as him and some perfectly normal average humans who are undaunted in the face of his family.

- One such individual is Miss Clara Dean, who is a finance lawyer for the Addams, and while she might have been shaken when she first met them, she's well past gawking at their odd home and traditions now

- His human glamor is tied to his bolo, I will not elaborate

- Enoch runs for mayor every opportunity, he never wins, but its always by thinner margins than should really be possible

- Adelaide never took her husband's last name, making her the only Addams who's not an Addams.

- She's fussy about the night air, dreadfully superstitious, and quite spiderlike, right down to a colorful web she keeps. She would have married Beast if he had shown a flicker of interest in him.

- She can divine the weather and sometimes says strange things about blue birds and curses

- She doesn't get out much, the neighbors don't know much about her, but all the neighborhood kids agree, she's definitely a witch.

- Whispers is very kind, and if you get past the initial shine on Enoch, probably the most normal of the family

- Except that she eats animals live

- And is also a witch (Probably, definitely, the neighborhood kids all agree, she's gotta be they insist.) Between her and Enoch they are the most out and about members of the Addams family.

- Lorna is quiet, shy, very sweet

- And she eats people.

- She also has a drowned ghost routine she likes to practice on door to door sales people by climbing out of the well in the backyard to give them a scare.

- Lorna's teachers are concerned by her behavior and encyclopedia knowledge of anatomy and torture, but are more concerned about calling a parent-teacher conference, since the entire Addams Clan will show up.

- Lorna sleeps under her bed instead of on it, Whispers occasionally frets about her waking up and knocking herself against the baseboards of the bed, Beast waves her off telling her its perfectly natural, at her age he was sleeping in a coffin.

- She of course ends up with Wednesday's classic noose braids at some point, courtesy of her uncles usually

- There's a red-haired girl who's tough as nails and maybe a little rude about Lorna's family who has been steadily hanging out with her, eventually Beatrice's mom invites the Addams over for dinner, it goes well all things considered.

- And that brings us to Mr. Addams himself,

- Beast wasn't christened Beast, but he hardly remembers the name on his birth certificate anyway.

- Sporting a stunning hat-veil constantly, and a floor length dress (Always black, only black maybe some red, sometimes a little blue and yellow), its safe to say no one in the neighborhood knows what Beast looks like, even if he did ever leave the Addams manor.

- Which he doesn't.

- The nicer gossips muse that he's agoraphobic, and the ruder ones say he's batshit and they're frankly glad he stays inside.

- Beast isn't inherently rude... most of the time, but he is incredibly disconcerting, and gives complements like a serial killer. Which does not help the numerous rumors that surround him and his family.

- He sings too, roaming the woods on the Addams property at night, and he's responsible for a fair few ghost stories.

- And his garden, its a bitter grey thing, and its almost artfully... decrepit, decorated by ornamental trees with grey-orange leaves and bark that almost looks like screaming faces. And his rose bushes, they're his pride and joy. They are so high maintenance though, when they bloom, he spends hours cutting their heads off.

- Every now and then, someone comes to the house, a door to doors salesman, a child on a dare, someone chasing stories of the Addams Fortune.

- All's well and good unless they manage to break into the house. Sometimes they get tangled in Adelaide's traps, sometimes Whispers finds them and ushers them out the door with an ominous warning, sometimes Lorna scares them out of the house and works herself into a giggling fit. Sometimes Enoch finds them, and he's all politeness and veiled menace.

- Oh, but heaven help the fool who gets found by Beast.

- I think that about wraps it up!

Something something cats on leashes, they're grossly in love.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None for this chap Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Sure, your soulmate may be a vampire (of sorts), but there's nothing that love can't conquer, right?... Maybe it's time you learn a little more about the odd circumstances of your soulmate's existence- and the fear that lies beneath the surface. Notes: If the last chapter was "hurt" followed by comfort, this is "comfort" followed by hurt, also known as the part where the story's central conflict comes into play. Features an appearance from Daniela, who reminds us that Cassandra's not the only one with a sharp tongue around here. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands, 3: Rumbling Thunder

4: That Which Burns

“Of all the stars, the fairest,” Bela murmurs in your ear, keeping her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, before giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek. If you hadn’t already been blushing, you certainly would have now done so. You’re leaning into her touch, face flushed as can be, loving every moment of this. For a while now you’ve been curled up with her, while she reads excerpts from her favorite works. Although both of you would have preferred to do this outside, enjoying the view of the stars, you figured it would be best not to push your health too much. After all, you had lost a huge percentage of your blood. Well, temporarily, but it was still better to be safe than sorry.

“That’s probably my favorite line from Sappho,” you chimed, fondly remembering some of your schooling. “Though the one about being remembered always stands out to me. I’m not sure I remember it correctly, and I’m sure it’s been translated a few different ways over the years… but I think it’s ‘someone, I tell you, will remember us in another time’. Might have gotten that backwards, actually.” Giving an awkward little smile, you sheepishly rub the back of your head with one hand. “Either way it feels so romantic. To think of a love so strong that it echoes throughout time, fondly remembered for generations… it warms the heart.”

“Mhmm, most definitely, my dear. Many aren’t as lucky, however,” Bela laments, an odd expression crawling onto her face. There’s the slightest waver to her lower lip as she speaks. Concerned, you turn in place to get a better look, gently reaching out to caress her cheek. Is there something I’m missing? You think, wondering what you should say. “I’m alright, I promise. Merely distracted by a fleeting thought. Let’s read another, yes?” Before you can protest, she’s already turned to another page, starting to read as if she already knew which one was next (which would not, at all, surprise you).

Love shook my heart, Like the wind on the mountain, Troubling the oak-trees

“Oh, if only I could speak Aeolic Greek, so that I could serenade you with tender prose, all the days of your life… just as it was originally written. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Bela offers, once again smiling wide, as if nothing in the world was wrong, at least not when you were by her side. Though you are not keen to ignore her earlier stroke of misery, you are equally reluctant to put a damper on her current upswing. Now what were you to do? Little comes to mind, other than the simplicity of human warmth, and so you lean once more into her embrace, head held aloft on the strength of her shoulder.

“Here, as I am now, is more than lovely enough. Your voice is soothing in any language, sweet as sugar, relaxing as can be,” you reassure her in your softest tone. Heart fluttering, she finds herself easing back into the comfort of the moment, forgetting all about her earlier woes. “Shall we read another?” Nodding, Bela again turns the page and begins to read:

He’s equal with the gods, that man Who sits across from you, Face to face, close enough to sip Your voice’s sweetness

And what excites my mind, Your laughter, glittering. So, When I see you, for a moment, My voice goes,

My tongue freezes. Fire, Delicate fire, in the flesh. Blind, stunned, the sound Of thunder, in my ears.

Shivering with sweat, cold Tremors over the skin, I turn the colour of dead grass, And I’m an inch from dying.

“Does that make me equal to the gods, then?” You ask, as soon as the last line is given its moment to shine. A small hum comes from your soulmate, who seems equal parts intrigued and confused. “I look in your eyes and my lungs light on fire, my heart ricochets around my chest, and I hear the chorus of angels singing your holy praises. The fact that I can manage to speak at all is confounding. Maybe the muses have seen fit to lend me their artistry, so that I might make conversation worthy of your existence, my dear.” With that said, you find yourself being squeezed gently, Bela placing another kiss against the top of your head. Now, it seems she is the one without the ability to speak. “The divine witnessing the divine, yes?... Let me read the next one, and we’ll see if my voice could ever compare to your own.”

It’s innocent enough, your choice. A turn of the page, just another poem, selected for nothing more than respect for chronology. Yet something drains from the space around you as you begin to read, so subtly slow that you hardly notice.

Girls, you be ardent for the fragrant-blossomed Muses’ lovely gifts, for the clear melodious lyre: But now old age has seized my tender body, Now my hair is white, and no longer dark

How were you to realize that the great shadow of fear loomed over your soulmate, when she had refused to name it mere minutes ago? How were you to know to halt your reciting, when the aching of her heart rendered her throat dry, and she could not bring herself to call out to you? Words poured like poisoned wine from your lips… your soulmate having no choice but to drink up every last drop.

My heart’s heavy, my legs won’t support me, That once were fleet as fawns, in the dance I grieve often for my state; what can I do? Being human, there’s no way not to grow old

A shaky breath from age-old lungs, exhaled into tense air, forced out past a trembling jaw. Say something, Bela tells herself, any poem but this. For a split second you pause, and she wonders if her thoughts have found new light in your own mind. But you break the momentary silence without much care, simply having been unsure of your pending pronunciation of an old name, perfectly unaware of your partner’s panic.

Rosy-armed Dawn, they say, love-smitten Once carried Tithonus off to the world’s end: Handsome and young he was then, yet at last Grey age caught that spouse of an immortal wife

At last her ordeal was over. The final words hang heavy in the air, weighing down her shoulders, but they are done. Her fears had been dragged out from the pit in her stomach, now waving about like dirty laundry. There was only one way for her to avoid this happening another time: Tell you the truth. By now her silence had earned your attention, with you turning in her lap again, concerned gaze meeting her hollow one. Gently, she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I… am not one to balk at the nature of things, however painful the truth. Yet I hesitate now, with the very person I am bound to with crimson ties… How cowardly of me,” Bela all but snarls, anger clearly not directed at you. It’s clear in the way that she holds herself that she has more to say. There’s not much you can do other than wait, though you do tuck an arm around her waist, beginning to rub soft circles against her back. “Allow me to drop the pretenses. You are not immortal, but I am. We’ve only been together for a day and a half, and already I’m worrying about your lifespan. It’s safe to say that this particular poem was an unfriendly reminder of our situation.”

Oh. How exactly were you supposed to respond to that?... Your girlfriend- your soulmate- was immortal. Hmph, as if her essentially being a vampire hadn’t already been enough to freak you out. Now this? Well, maybe it wasn’t too much farther of a stretch from the last revelation, even if you were still recovering from that one. Even then, something told you that this was equally hard for Bela- both to say, and to simply feel. As if she needed more stress surrounding her partnership with you…

“Of all the ways for us to mimic legends… I don’t even know what to say, my dear. I… I suppose that I can only reassure you that we will make the most of every moment we have. However much time we are destined to get, we’ll make sure it is filled with bliss,” you reply, slowly, making it up as you go. An ache builds in the center of your chest as you talk, an internal yearning for greater confidence. Although words were your “weapon” of choice, you were not always a master in your use of them, too human to be infallible. “Maybe we should set aside the poetry for now, shift our focus to something, ah, less meaningful?”

“That would be for the best,” Bela agrees, already shifting like she was going to stand up, before you even had a chance to get off of her lap. Something strange had fallen over her expression, an invisible veil, putting an uncomfortable distance between the two of you. Inside your chest, a thundering heart threatens to go still. Had you done something wrong? Did you commit some unspoken sin? Together the two of you rise, in sync yet more separate than before, a thousand questions and anxieties rendering both of you silent...

—————————

Across the room from you, a pair of bright eyes watch your every movement, peering out from over an open book. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought that the “ruse” was intentionally poor. But for all the five hours you had known her, Daniela Dimitrescu had done nothing other than prove herself odd, clumsy, and quite possibly… overconfident. Admittedly, that still made her undeniably more pleasant than Cassandra. If you had to be stuck alongside someone other than your soulmate, well, ‘twas best that it was this strange redheaded gremlin. Even if she had expressed an unfortunate interest in eating you.

Gods, what is wrong with this family? You think, frowning a tad, unable to stop yourself from making eye contact with Daniela. Instantly she’s looking away, pretending to be engrossed within her book. The very same book that had remained open to the same page for half an hour now. I do hope Bela is having more fun right now, with whatever “business” called her away so unexpectedly. She hadn’t seemed happy to have to leave your side, earlier tension notwithstanding. Coming here to the library had been her suggestion, though you doubted she knew that Daniela was there, or at least hadn’t anticipated her sister’s unnerving behavior. Already the redhead was looking back at you, even less subtly than before.

Sighing, you decided that you could only put up with so much of this tomfoolery.

“Are you in need of something? Or is there something on my face?” You ask, setting your own book aside as you do. There’s a few moments of silence, as Daniela glances around the room, as if you might actually be speaking to someone else. When no scapegoats teleport to her rescue, she very awkwardly clears her throat, then moves to sit at your table. Though you are loath to admit it, your heart starts beating faster as she approaches. Not out of attraction, hell no, rather fear. Perhaps getting her attention hadn’t been the wisest choice after all…

“I just think it’s funny,” Daniela chimes, trailing off just long enough to run a finger down the length of your arm, “that Bela abandoned you so quickly. You’re so… fragile. Cassandra told me about the fun little introduction you had to our family- the blood loss, being chained up, the fear you felt when you got caught in our territory.” Suddenly she’s devolving into a fit of giggles, hand resting not-so-gently on your wrist. When you try to pull away, her nails dig in, and her gaze snaps back to your own. “But you don’t remember that part, do you? If you did… oh, we’d have to lock you up, like the little pet you are, to keep you from running away. I’m sure Bela wouldn’t mind seeing you in chains.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You snap, uncharacteristically furious. While it was true that you couldn’t recall exactly how you made it into the castle’s dungeons, you refuse to accept Daniela’s implications about your soulmate, or her assessment of your dedication. A brief second passes where you think she’s about to lunge towards you. Instead, she withdraws her hand, moving it to prop up her chin instead. Then, her lips slowly drag upwards into a wicked grin, wide eyes filled with dangerous amusement.

“So you’re more than a wannabe Shakespeare, after all? A bit more teeth, a touch more vulgarity, maybe a twinge of bloodlust, and you might actually fit in around here. Not enough to get our family’s ‘gift’- our secret to a long, happy life- but enough that Bela won’t grow bored of your sappy poems,” she teases with another string of laughter. Before you can question her about this ‘gift’, she’s all but jumping to her feet, stretching out her arms as she does. “I can’t wait to update Cassandra about you. We’ll be betting on how entertaining you’ll end up being. Try to keep from bailing on my dear sister too soon, alright?”

Just like that she’s disappearing into a swarm of flies, leaving you more confused (and angry) than ever. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on what you need to do next: Find Bela. Talk to her. Get some goddamn answers.

[antebunny]

Lan Wangji: Damsel-in-Distress

If Lan Wangji had known it was this easy to get Wei Ying to do what he wanted, he would’ve put himself in mortal peril a long time ago.

He has this realization when they’re retreating from the Wens. Despite Wei Ying’s new, dangerous powers successfully turning the tide of war in their favor, the Sunshot Campaign still loses battles and takes losses. But Nie Mingjue rarely loses battles, and Wei Ying has never lost a battle he participated in, which makes this battle a special case. 

Their intelligence underestimated the number of Wens in this region, so when Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin launch an attack shortly after sunrise, leading the Lan and Jiang cultivators into battle, their forces falter under the onslaught of Wens. 

The Wen supervisory office is bathed in blood when Wei Ying arrives. He collapsed after the last battle, and Jiang Wanyin elected to head into battle anyway, under the premise that it would allow Wei Ying more time to rest. Lan Wangji very much disapproves of Jiang Wanyin’s decision to let Wei Ying continue demonic cultivation, even if it is winning them the war, but he has to admit that he does care for Wei Ying in other ways. But Jiang Wanyin’s plan backfired, because instead of winning the battle and successfully giving Wei Ying the day to rest, the battle instead dragged on, until the day sunk into night and they were forced to admit they were losing.

Lan Wangji is knee-deep in dead bodies and blood, guarding the retreat of their forces, when he steps into the array. He misses it because of the sheer volumes of blood, running from an endless number of sword wounds. He stands facing the entrance of the supervisory office, back to the retreating Lans and Jiangs. Jiang Wanyin is ten paces behind him, Zidian one violet blur around him. 

The shrieking of Chenqing heralds Wei Ying’s arrival, and Lan Wangji is just as displeased as he is pleased. He spares himself one glance back, and sees Wei Ying standing on the roof of a nearby building, corpses already rallying to his song. Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin make brief eye contact.

“Go,” Lan Wangji tells him. “Wei Ying and I will cover the retreat.”

If Jiang Wanyin resents being told what to do, he sees the sense in Lan Wangji’s words and nods sharply. The Lans hesitate to abandon their Hanguang-jun, but a sharp gesture from Lan Wangji sends them after Jiang Wanyin and his contingent of cultivators. 

At the same time, Wei Ying advances, jumping off the roof and joining his ranks of corpses. Lan Wangji pushes down his usual revulsion upon seeing Wei Ying walking amongst the corpses. He retreats to the top of the steps while the corpses of Wen and Jiang alike line up at the bottom, Wei Ying at their head. The Wen cultivators hesitate to chase after the retreating cultivators, scared by the presence of Wei Ying. Instead, they cluster outside the main door but before the stairs, surrounding Lan Wangji in a loose semi-circle.

Lan Wangji’s fingertips are bloody on the strings of his guqin when he feels the array flare up around him. 

Immediately, Lan Wangji tenses, and inspects the array for weaknesses. Wei Ying runs up the stairs, but red light flares up when he tries to break the array, and Wei Ying is pushed back, hissing in pain. A moment later they both realize that the array is a repurposed protective array, meant to keep out demonic energy. This includes, of course, demonic cultivation, and by extension, Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji’s mind is already racing with possible solutions, and clearly Wei Ying’s is doing the same, if the grim smile that settles on his face is any indication. It takes the Wens a further five seconds to recognize the array, at which point they all level their swords and begin to run towards Lan Wangji. 

There’s only two meters between the Wens and the array, and about two seconds before the Wens reach the array. During those two seconds, time for Lan Wangji slows to a near standstill. 

The array trapping Lan Wangji is perhaps one and a half meters in diameter. Wei Ying can very easily direct his corpses around it and kill all the Wens at the top of the stairs. But the Wens, unlike the corpses, can enter the array. Wei Ying cannot enter the array, and Lan Wangji cannot leave. The only way Lan Wangji can leave is if someone enters the array and takes him out–these arrays are nominally made by cultivators to protect non-cultivators who find themselves in the middle of a night hunt or some such danger. 

This means Lan Wangji will be fighting however many Wens can fit inside the array, which by his estimate is up to twenty at a time. Although Lan Wangji is confident that he can defeat twenty Wen cultivators, he knows that he cannot fight the entire army, especially not after having fought for the entire day. 

In other words, Lan Wangji is about to die.

This all passes through his mind in less time than it takes the Wens to realize what the array even is, which means that he’s turning back to look at Wei Ying one last time when the Wens actually start running. Wei Ying, having come to the same conclusion perhaps faster than Lan Wangji, has set his corpse army into motion by the time Lan Wangji turns back to look at him. The corpses flood past Lan Wangji, roaring and snarling, but Lan Wangji already knows that they won’t slow the Wens down enough. 

So instead of turning around to defend himself, he finds himself staring at Wei Ying’s face, even though Wei Ying’s familiar silver eyes are instead demonic red, and his pretty face is twisted in a dangerous smile.

Wei Ying presses a hand to his chest and then draws it away. Shadows follow, swirling all around his body like Wei Ying’s very presence causes resentment to the world. They hiss and shift like writhing snakes, lashing against Wei Ying’s control until his face twists with effort. 

“Here,” Wei Ying says. “Catch.”

And then he hurls the resentful energy like the world’s deadliest toy. The massive cloud of demonic energy quickly seeps into the Wen soldiers, who freeze in place, suddenly battling an invisible energy. Soon, screams split the air, as grown men crumple under a fraction of the power Wei Ying wields. 

Used to wield. 

Wei Ying looks so much smaller without his deadly aura. His eyes shine a familiar silver as he takes the one step he needs to cross the array. A shiver runs through him as he does, and he staggers on the other side of the array. His fingers wrap around Lan Wangji’s wrist, and his grip is much weaker than Lan Wangji thought it would be. 

“Well, don’t take your time, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying chides with dark humor. “It’s not like we have all day.”

He pulls Lan Wangji out of the array, and collapses nearly the moment he’s out. Lan Wangji doesn’t waste a moment before scooping Wei Ying up in his arms. He steps onto Bichen, guqin on his back, and flies off as fast as his shaking limbs can carry him, leaving the Wens behind to deal with the corpses.

Lan Wangji arrives at camp with spots dancing in his vision, and Wei Ying in his shaking arms. Wei Ying, who is free from demonic cultivation. 

Drunk on this victory, Lan Wangji promptly faints.

-

Lan Wangji curses his body’s limitations when he next wakes up and discovers that during the time he was unconscious, Wei Ying woke up and promptly picked up demonic cultivation again. He witnessed firsthand how weak Wei Ying was in the moments after he removed all the demonic energy from his body, so he has no doubt that Wei Ying was scared. But if only he hadn’t fainted, if only he’d been there when Wei Ying woke up to support him through this temporary weakness and encourage him to pick up Suibian instead of Chenqing–

It’s no use, he tells himself. What’s done is done. What he focuses on instead is the moment he looked back at Wei Ying and saw his face set in grim determination. He knows that Wei Ying realized everything he did, which means he looked at Lan Wangji trapped in the array and made a choice: Lan Wangji or demonic cultivation. Of course, he did it knowing that he could pick it up again, but still, Lan Wangji’s heart does funny little rabbit thumps every time he remembers how Wei Ying’s overwhelming gaze focused on him as he casually drew the resentful energy out of his body and chose Lan Wangji. 

It seems that all of Lan Wangji’s lectures and arguments about the danger of demonic cultivation had a much simpler solution. Wei Ying threw it all away because Lan Wangji needed help. Now Lan Wangji finds himself in a strange situation, in which the way to help Wei Ying involves something Lan Wangji has never done, not once in his life: asking for help.

-

Naturally, he turns to his brother for advice.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says, his smile strained to the point of breaking. “No.”

Lan Wangji frowns. It sounds perfectly reasonable to him.

“You are not putting yourself in mortal peril on the off-chance that Young Master Wei will choose to abandon his method of cultivation,” Xichen says flatly.

“It is not an off-chance,” Lan Wangji argues. He’s almost never argued with his brother before, merely choosing to run away from conversations (such as “I see you’ve been staring at the Jiangs’ Head Disciple a lot, Wangji–Wangji, come back–”)

“Assume that he does, then,” Lan Xichen allows. “Did you not say he immediately picked it up again?”

“Giving up demonic cultivation caused him to collapse,” Lan Wangji says. “As I was injured at the time, I was not there to help him through its loss, and Jiang Wanyin–” He allows himself a small scowl, so furious is he at the carelessness of Wei Ying’s brother. “–did not say a word to stop him.”

To be fair, he doubts that Jiang Wanyin discouraging Wei Ying from using demonic cultivation would stop him. Lan Wangji must admit that he’s taken advantage of Wei Ying’s lack of respect for his new sect leader’s orders. Once he understood that Jiang Wanyin would make no move to prevent Wei Ying from using demonic cultivation, he turned his entreaties to Wei Ying instead, knowing that the only way to help Wei Ying would be getting through to Wei Ying himself. And because with the war keeping him exhausted and on the verge of losing his temper, he’s afraid that if he talks to Jiang Wanyin for too long, he’ll snap and beat him bloody, which is not the support that neither Lan Xichen nor Wei Ying need right now.

Lan Wangji eyes his brother expectantly, hoping that Lan Xichen will offer to guide and support Wei Ying on his behalf, after Wei Ying has narrowly recused Lan Wangji from mortal peril once more.

If he’s being completely honest with himself, it would be far easier to engineer a scenario in which Wei Ying must give up demonic cultivation for either of his siblings. But Lan Wangji’s morals won’t allow him to put others in danger in such an underhanded scheme, and Lan Wangji very much likes the thought of Wei Ying running to his rescue. The truth that Lan Wangji does not want to admit to himself is that the second reason is far more compelling to him than the first.

Lan Xichen’s face makes a strange motion that indicates that he would be sighing at Lan Wangji if he was just a slightest bit meaner. “Wangji,” he says patiently, “from what you have told me, Young Master Wei purged himself of resentful energy because you needed his help. Why do you not just ask for his help?”

That, Lan Wangji has to admit, sounds far simpler than orchestrating a scenario in which Wei Ying is the only one who can help him, specifically by setting aside demonic cultivation. 

It’s also far less compelling than Wei Ying dashing heroically to his rescue, but Lan Wangji was raised to be straightforward. 

He was not, however, raised to need help, so he frowns and asks; “How?”

Lan Xichen still refrains from sighing at him, because he knows why Lan Wangji finds the concept of asking for help so baffling. “Well,” he says, “here’s one thing you can do…”