#punctuation is neat. look. it's cool!

[schismusic]

Redecorating

I've done some pretty stupid shit in my life but this, this whole thing (imagine I'm gesturing around indistinctly with a ghastly look on my face), totally takes the cake. Is it funny if I do the tapping-the-mic-to-check-if-it-works gag in a written post?

It started when I was about to turn fifteen and trying to bed a girl - she honestly dodged a bullet when she said no, I cannot lie to you all. Anyway I guess I absolutely had to find an outlet for being an annoying teenager and being an asshole irl simply didn't cut it sometimes, you know how it is, most of us are here for that exact same reason.

A number of things have happened since I last posted on this hellsite. The short version is as follows:

I had an identity crisis, or two, or five;

I got a driver's license, somehow;

a worldwide pandemic hit, but I guess this is another one of those things that make us equal on this postapocalyptic landscape of a microblogging platform;

just as inexplicably as my driver's license, I also got a beautiful and lovely girlfriend of almost three years now;

who knows, I might even get a degree before 2024 is over.

This is all fine and dandy, of course, but sometimes a dude just needs to scream into the void, wherein "the void" in this case is about two hundred (!!!!) strangers on the internet, which probably includes you, dear reader. Thanks for sticking with me over these troublesome years of absolutely nothing happening on this blog.

What's new then?

Number one: "what the fuck kinda name is schismusic?"

Hi, my name is schismusic. I thought of this ungodly name when I was, as mentioned, a very pretentious fourteen-year-old, and it absolutely shows. However,

one could argue it's part of the charm in a way;

it grants a bit of relative anonimity compared to my other, more beloved Internet alias (which will inevitably come crashing against my inevitable post concerning my band and the record we made a while ago - more on this later);

somehow, it stuck. You people will eat up just about fucking anything, really!

(Another thing that happened: I learned a tiny bit of HTML, because Letterboxd is yet another hellsite I'm not-quite-proudly a part of. Gotta catch 'em all. I love being annoying with HTML formatting as a matter of fact, it's quite liberating to pretend to know that you can code in front of a billion strangers on the Internet.)

Number two: "so is this asshole gonna post fake hipster music on my timeline yet again?"

Not really, or at least not just that. First order of business is that reblogging is fun, but it overstays its welcome when you do it irresponsibly. It also quite literally goes contrary to this blog's original self-appointed mission and this cannot go unchecked. Pretension is law! Bad taste is every single one of this blog's ten commandments! I hate you all more than I hate myself!

Jokes aside, my point is exactly that I want to be a bit less annoying on the Internet for once. Consequently, I have decided to extend the range of posts on this blog beyond the relatively usual songs and reach into short- and medium-form writing (fiction, nonfiction, maybe even reviews: anything goes), pictures I take (the true OGs might remember I used to post my own drawings from time to time: that's not entirely out of the question for the future, it's just that it's been a while since I've last drawn anything worthwhile) and obviously shameless self-promotion (remember me mentioning my band a couple paragraphs above? Well, here is our record on Bandcamp, Spotify and YouTube; and no, my dear OGs, this is not the same band I used to talk about back in the day! This is a whole new project for you to check out), both in Italian and English, and maybe even some Spanish if I actually take my Spanish to a functional level.

As a corollary of this final point, I will not be deleting my old content, so that the new people on here can get to enjoy a whole cornucopia of cringe circa-2014 content.

Finally, since this is primarily a music blog, the obligatory soundtrack to the writing of this post:

Shoutout to literally every single one of you people for somehow not getting tired of waiting through these years of inactivity, or maybe you just forgot that I existed. If it's the second one, I hope this post was a fun throwback, and that this time you remember to unfollow me for good like you probably wanted to do back when I was active and annoying on here.

It's good to be back.

Love,

schismusic

[loverdude]

Every time I look back thru old messages with people from when I was like in mid-late high school maybe even very early college I'm so shocked at how like. Monotone I typed 😭

[rcmclachlan]

tidbit tuesday

I was tagged by the illustrious @firehose118, who blessed us with a snippet of her latest wip and whew! It got hot in here real quick. Funnily enough, there's a scene in my current wip in which they also get horny in the yard, but I don't think I'm keeping it.

Instead, have a silly little excerpt that comes right before the scene I posted yesterday.

+

"This feels a little like when a mastiff thinks it's a shih tzu," Tommy muttered.

He shifted his hips a little, thighs tensing deliciously under Buck's ass as he got himself situated. Something popped quietly, although it was anyone's guess whether it was Tommy's spine or one of the logs being consumed in the fire pit. Beneath both of them, the Adirondack chair creaked out a warning that Buck was all too happy to ignore, because he was warm and comfortable exactly where he was: parked backwards in Tommy's lap so he could look up at the sky without straining his neck.

"This is the first time I've ever been with someone I'm not afraid I'm gonna accidentally crush to death," Buck said. To prove the point, he pressed the entirety of his bulk down and barked a laugh when all Tommy did was wheeze theatrically. If he'd ever tried that with one of his other exes, it probably would've ended with a trip to First Pres. "Let me enjoy it."

"This is the first time anyone's ever used me as lawn furniture, so it's a big night for both of us," Tommy teased, then punctuated it with a nip to Buck's ear that turned every muscle in Buck's body into kinetic sand. His hand, big as a catcher's mitt, stretched across Buck's belly with the kind of casual propriety that would've made anyone think they'd been together for years, not a few months.

Buck had been 6'1" since the seventh grade and had long-since grown used to navigating the world with a body that felt about as nimble as a Cadillac. Being held against Tommy like that—like he was being tethered, not trapped—he was treated to the extraordinary feeling of being small, and safe.

Exhaling shakily, Buck tilted his head back so he could rest his cheek on top of Tommy's head and admire the river of stars that flowed above Tommy's neat, postage stamp-sized yard. Under the sky, in Tommy's arms, he was microscopic. It was incredible.

"I can't believe how little light pollution you have here," Buck murmured.

Tommy turned his head and pressed a kiss to the bolt of Buck's jaw. "It was an unexpected perk. Never crossed my mind when I bought the house, but the first night I came out here to unwind with a beer and looked up? I almost shit. You a space case?"

"Always have been," Buck tilted his chin into the touch of that hot mouth, shivering a little at the scrape of Tommy's five o'clock shadow. That still felt novel. Beard burn was awful, and amazing. "I also think space is really cool."

+

No pressure tags: @dadvans, @screamlet, @setmeatopthepyre, @geddyqueer, @beanarie, @leashybebes, @epiphainie, @liminalmemories21, @alchemistc, @station18908

[superficialdomina]

Down Under - Part 3

Word count: 2.2k

Part 2 Warnings: 18+; minors DNI. Loki thirst. Language. Poor decision making.

Part 2

Series masterlist

Image credit

Part 3

You swam back to the shore, where you struggled to pull your clothing on over still-wet skin. You glowered enviously at Loki as he magicked himself dry-and-dressed in an instant – and not only because he’d done it before you could sneak a good look at him.

“You missed a spot,” you said tartly, before a warm gust of seiðr enveloped you - leaving you and your underwear bone dry.

“I wouldn’t presume to dress you,” he smirked.

“Erm - thanks,” you muttered, hastily pulling your shirt over your head. You cleared your throat. “Which way?”

The entry to Loki’s cave was high – well above your line of sight – and climbing the sheer, slippery rocks behind the falls seemed impossible. Instead, you opted to clamber up the boulders at the edge of the pool and briefly traverse the rock face itself. Loki led this time, his long limbs comfortably reaching each new hand- and foothold, lean muscle effortlessly moving him up and across the rock. You scrambled behind him, until eventually he clasped your arm and hauled you over the ledge that marked the cave entrance.

“Thanks,” you said again, as you fell back against the solid rock to catch your breath. Loki watched you through narrowed eyes; the look on his face made you drag yourself to your feet before you were really ready. Now that you were inside, it was clear that the cave formed a tunnel that ran perpendicular to the face of the cliff, deeper into the mountain. “Um - did we pack head-torches?”

“No need,” Loki said, sending several glowing orbs to dance ahead of you. God, he’s obnoxious, you thought. But that's a neat trick. He stepped after his floating lights, but you paused, running your fingers thoughtfully over the smooth wall of the cave.

“Loki,” you said slowly, “I think this tunnel is man-made.”

“Yes,” he agreed without stopping.

You caught up to him. “Are you thinking...?”

“Almost certainly.”

“Well, fuck.” Who else would have built this but Hydra? A hidden tunnel to... To what, exactly? “We should probably radio back.”

“And what would you report, Agent?” Loki asked. “That we have found a hole in the rock?”

You gritted your teeth to avoid rolling your eyes. “Alright, we see where it goes, then we check in.”

Negotiating the roughly excavated passageway was challenging. The tunnel height varied dramatically - tall enough for Loki to walk upright in places, while in others you were both forced to your hands and knees to squeeze through. Each time, you pushed down the fear of the crushing rock above you. The darkness persisted, occasionally punctuated by shafts of light that stabbed through cracks in the rock above; boulders and loose debris were scattered throughout, and seeping water made the surface slippery. Even with Loki’s lights, it begged a misstep. You didn’t fancy having to be carried out of here because of a twisted ankle, or worse.

At least it’s cooler in here, you thought. And his ass really does look good in those moleskins…

You rounded a small corner to find Loki waiting for you before another pinch point. Unintentionally, the two of you had developed a little system for traversing them: leaving a hovering light with you, Loki would shimmy through each narrow opening, then call back to you that the way was clear. This time, he stood before a low, narrow crack between collapsed boulders. He wordlessly raised an eyebrow at you; you gave a quick nod to signal that you were OK, and he dropped to a crawl.

A minute passed as you squatted at the gap through which he had vanished, your back pressed against the cool rock. You tried not to think about the small task ahead – squeezing your body through the tiny space, breath shallow, waiting to be stuck or crushed or both. I can trust him, you reminded yourself. He won’t leave me trapped here.

Loki’s disembodied voice finally trickled back to you. “Agent,” he said, “you are clear. And there is something that may justify the radio call you are so eager to make.”

Pushing aside your angst about the cramped space, you slid into the gap, pushing your day pack ahead of you. What had he found? If it meant that this dank, underground journey was coming to an end, you could care less if it was an entire Hydra cabal.

Your pack was unexpectedly pulled aside, and Loki’s large hand grasped yours to help you out and to your feet. As you steadied yourself on the small rocky platform, you looked over his shoulder to see what he had discovered – and gave a small gasp.

The tunnel opened into an enormous cavern. Sunlight flooded in from a huge sinkhole high above you, revealing, nestled between the rock pools and giant stalagmites, a long, low building. You let out a low whistle. Hydra.

You dropped to where Loki had tossed your pack aside, quickly pulling out the two-way radio.

“Banner, do you copy?” Silence blared back at you. “Bruce? It’s me. Are you there?”

Obviously, you realised, almost smacking yourself, it can’t get through the rock. Even Stark’s high-tech satellite radio wasn’t going to transmit through however much mountain was stacked overhead.

For a moment, you looked hopefully up to the natural skylight in the rock, high above you.

“Unless you have grown wings, darling,” Loki said lightly, “we are leaving the way we came in.”

You turned to him, guilty. “We can’t radio out from here – the signal won’t get through the rock.” Loki peaked an eyebrow at you. “I know, I know,” you added, irritated. “It just – it didn’t occur to me until now.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, perusing the scene.

“So… Do we go all the way back out and radio the others?”

“It appears to be deserted,” Loki said calmly, “and it would seem foolish not to investigate.”

“Yeah...”

“Well, then.” He rolled his shoulders back and made to step from the rock.

“Wait!” You hadn’t meant to exclaim so loudly, and you winced at the echo of your call around the cavern. “Um – I mean, we should wear PPE. Just in case.” Loki gave you a deadpan look, but he produced an N95 mask from thin air and placed it over his face.

The path to the structure at the bottom of the cavern was narrow and chaotic – just a connection of spaces between large rocks and stalagmites, really. Slowly and quietly, you picked your way along it, listening for the yell that would alert you that you’d been spotted. Instead, the path led you to a plain door.  

It was ajar.

“That’s rather ominous,” Loki muttered, his voice muffled by the mask. No kidding, you thought; this is utterly creepy. You strained your ears for sounds of life, but there was nothing. Loki carefully pushed the door open, and you both stepped inside.

It formed one long room. Metal workbenches criss-crossed the space, strewn with remnants of experimental research. Flasks of pink culture fluid sat on a stationary orbital plate; centrifuges, incubators, shakers - all silent and still. A large, thermo-insulated freezer stood oozing water, its extensive build-up of ice fully defrosted.

The place smelled foul.

You walked between the benches, noting the signs of abandoned experiments. You were about to look down the eyepiece of a microscope with a glass slide left on the stage, when Loki called out from across the room.

“Agent,” he said sharply, motioning you over.

“Do you even know my name?” you asked as you approached. He gave you a withering look, but otherwise ignored your question.

“What do you make of this?” He was gesturing to a small animal cage containing two dead, white rats. The label on the cage read, “Exp A438 E17. M/F.”

“Creepy.” You noted that the animals’ food and water provisions were full. “Whoever was here - I don’t think they meant to leave when they did.”

Loki gave a small hum of agreement, then unlatched the cage. “What are you doing?!” You hadn’t meant to sound so alarmed.

“Collecting a sample,” Loki replied calmly. A large zip-lock bag appeared in his hand; he picked up the two rats, sealed them inside the bag, and vanished the entire package into his magic pocket. You suppressed a shudder.

“We’re… ready to go, right?”

“Exceedingly. This place is disgusting.”

You gave a sigh of relief, turning back towards the door…

…And your day pack brushed against three glass flasks sitting on the bench.

They fell to the floor in slow motion. Loki’s hand shot out and caught one of them, but the other two smashed into the epoxy-coated concrete, splattering their contents all over you both. Reflexively, you turned your head into the protection of your arm – and dislodged your face mask.

“Shit”, you muttered, quickly adjusting it back into place. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Time to leave, Agent,” Loki said through clenched teeth.

You scrambled to flee the abandoned lab, tearing your gloves and mask off once you were safely back in the tunnel. You generously swabbed your hands with sanitiser, but you knew the damage was already done.

“Loki,” you said, “if that if that flask was infectious… If Bruce’s antifungals don’t work…”

“Many “ifs”, Agent,” Loki said calmly. “Let us return to the mouth of the cave so that you can alert the others.”

He was right – there was really only one choice. Trying not to think about the gunk you might have just inhaled, you pulled the offending pack back on and gestured to Loki to go ahead through the narrow passage.

Once you had cleared the squeeze, it was simply a reverse-journey back to the tunnel entrance. You navigated each choke and belly-crawl as you had on the way in – Loki first, then you. It was still slow and dank and claustrophobic, but at least this time you knew what awaited you at each turn.

Loki had removed his outer shirt, and his bare, pale shoulders glistened in the glow of his bobbing little lights. Behind him, your eyes grazed the lines and shadows of his muscular arms. His skin-tight tank top barely contained the breadth of his back, which curved beautifully into that slutty little waist. You caught yourself staring thirstily at his achingly long legs. They would be delicious wrapped around me… You shook your head. What the fuck? you chastised yourself crossly. Where did that come from?

Mercifully, the high-pitched chirruping of a colony of microbats interrupted your inappropriate thoughts. Loki ducked instinctively as they whizzed overhead.

“It must be dusk”, you said quietly. “Do you think we’re far from the end?” Loki didn’t answer, but turned side-on to reveal the bright window of the cave mouth, a small circle some distance ahead. You let out a sigh of relief.

The world outside was fresh and warm. You clambered back across and down the rock, dropping the last foot to the ground and collapsing on the grass, letting the waterfall spray gently kiss your skin. The bush was alive with the evening sounds of birds and cicadas; the long summer twilight was just beginning.

After giving yourself a minute, you pulled the satellite radio from your pack once more and pressed the push-to-talk button. This time you got a flat beeping noise to tell you that the call was connecting, but there was no one picking up on the other end.

“No answer from Banner…” you muttered to yourself. You hesitated – it was well after midnight in New York – then clicked the frequency over a few points and pushed the call button again. “Captain, can you hear me?”

The voice of a sleepy Steve Rogers came back. “Yes,” he cleared his throat, “yes, I hear you. Are you alright? What’s happening?”

You quickly gave him the summary: your and Loki’s hike up the mountain, the discovery of the tunnel, everything that had happened at the cavern. Well, almost everything.

“Loki grabbed a couple of dead rat specimens, and then we got out of there.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at you, but remained silent.

Steve’s voice crackled back again. “Great work, both of you. De-con team will load up and fly out. Should be there in – FRIDAY, what’s the flight time to… to wherever they are?”

You barely made out the AI’s response. “Four hours at Mach 4.5, Captain.”

“Cap,” you interrupted, glancing around the rocky clearing, “you’ll never land a Quinjet in here, and we won’t get back down to the village by nightfall. You’ll have to meet the others at base camp. We’re a few hours’ hike from there.”

“Copy that, Agent. I have Banner’s coordinates; set off your locator beacon so we can find you in the morning.” He paused. “You sure you’re OK up there overnight?”

You looked sideways at Loki, silently asking his acquiescence. He nodded shortly.

“Yeah, we’re fine. If you get a hold of Bruce, can you pass on that we won’t make it back tonight?”

“Will do. Stay safe, both of you; see you in a few hours. Over and out.”

As the radio went quiet, Loki stretched and stood from the grass next to you. “In that case,” he said lightly, “I imagine we should make camp.”

Part 4

Tags in comments! xx

[daddyfordaeddy]

Pairing: Businessman! San x wife! Reader

Word Count: 1887

Warnings: cursing, none otherwise (smut warnings under cut)

Genre: smut, fluff, rated M for mature, established relationship au, office au

Summary: After delivering lunch to your husband's office, the two of you get a little sidetracked.

Smut warnings: fingering, oral (male & female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap before tap guys🔫), wall/window sex, dirty talk, some degradation (whore, slut, being desparate), felch...ing (i think that's the right term?), cum play, semi-public sex (or its public...they're in san's private office during work hours), some petnames (silly girl because i discovered i have a new kink)

I'm only doing a couple of the February Filth Fest, and this is day/track 21! aphrodisiacs/overstimulation, and i chose the latter! i hope you don't mind how questionable this is lol i wrote it practically in a day

And if you want to know what other days I'm doing? You'll just have to wait and see ;)

-

“San, I brought you lunch,” you call as you open the door to your husband’s office. “Are you busy?”

Your husband, sharp as ever in a tailored Brioni suit, turns to greet you with his million-watt smile as he opens his arms to wrap you in a hug. You eagerly close the door behind you and set down the bag of food as you embrace him, giggling as he lifts you up to spin you around and press his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m never too busy for you, love,” San hums. “Will you join me for lunch?”

You nod, leaning over to open up the bag. “I brought pork belly soup and rice with some kimchi. I did buy you coffee but I drank it on the way up.” San snorts, slapping your butt gently in retaliation and you giggle. You turn to swat his hands away when you drop a fork. “Ah, shit.”

You bend down, reaching out for the fork, when hands grab your hips and pull you towards him until your ass bumps against San’s hips. “Oh–” you squeak, twisting around in San’s grip to stare wide-eyed at his now-darkened gaze. The two of you have plenty of sex at home, but you’ve never seen such a quick response to you doing a simple motion such as bending down. “San?”

“I hope you’re not too hungry, (Y/N),” San sighs, his hands wandering up your hips to wrap around your waist and tug you impossibly closer, fingers dipping into the waistband of your skirt. “I don’t think I can let you look this good without ravishing you.”

“I– but your desk is so clean,” you fret, glancing at the neat papers all lined up. “I don’t want to mess that up.”

San hums, looking you up and down. And in one swift motion, he grasps your thighs and hoists you up, setting you against his crotch. You gasp and grab at his back, grabbing onto the suit jacket and hooking your legs against him. “San!”

San grins wolfishly at you, adjusting his grip as he carries you over to the window wall overlooking the city. “Come on baby, let me love you like you deserve. It's a one-way glass, but honestly, everyone deserves to see how beautiful you are for me.” As he speaks, he presses your back against the cool glass and you whine a little as the shirt you’re wearing has an open back.

San fumbles with his pants before finally pulling out his already hard cock and pressing it against your panties, letting it rub against the soft fabric. “San” you moan, already gushing slick and soaking your underwear “you’re going to get tired.” You’re protesting half-heartedly, excited to see where this is going. San rarely is this risky with you, and you’re almost ashamed to admit it’s turning you on.

“Silly girl,” he groans, leaning forward until his nose is just barely brushing against yours. “For you, I couldn’t get enough of this. Just as long as I am near you, that’s all I need.” He punctuates his sentence with a long kiss to your lips and you groan into the kiss.

Without you even noticing, his hand pushes aside your ruined panties and he presses into your tight heat with a loud groan. “So tight for me,” he groans into your mouth, biting and tugging at your lower lip as his hips slowly thrust deeper and deeper into you. He’s burning hot inside of you, and you whine at the feeling, pressing your lips to his in a feverish kiss.

“Shit,” you whine as he finally bottoms out, your ass flush against his hips as he grinds into you. “You’re so fucking big, San.” Your nails are digging into his back, the pain making San groan and his cock twitch inside of you.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, biting, nipping, and licking at your skin as his hips work himself into you. When his teeth sink fully into the junction of your shoulder you can hardly hold back a scream of pleasure. “San, please,” you’re already begging and it’s only been a few minutes. But the way he’s stretching you out so deliciously makes you lose your mind. You clench around him, shifting in his hold just to try and work him into you the way you like it.

“Fuck, look at you, (Y/N). Already desperate for my cock,” San growls into your ear, pressing you even more into the glass window. “Do you off to it? The idea that people could look up and see just how much of a whore you are for me?”

With every word, he thrusts up into you and you’re a little embarrassed at how quickly you come, arching your back and letting your head rest against the cool glass as ecstasy washes over you in waves.

“Already so done?” San smirks, carrying you back to his desk and sitting at the chair, you still in his lap and his hard cock still spearing deep inside you, making you whine. “Such a mess for me, God, you’re so perfect for me.”

Your lips press against his feverishly as you moan into his mouth, letting your tongue flick out against his lips. “So full,” you mutter against his mouth. “Fuck– you’re splitting me open so well, Sannie.” You wriggle your hips down, squeezing around him and he comes with a broken moan. The cum inside of you is searing hot but you can’t get enough of it, grinding down onto him to try and milk the last bit out of him.

To your surprise, his erection has not gone down a bit, and San’s lips pull into a crooked smile as his eyes narrow. “I hope you know you’re not done quite yet. Only one orgasm? That’s just sad.” His hips kick up a bit as he speaks, and you moan from the overwhelming feeling. It’s almost painful, but that’s what you’re obsessed with.

But before either of you can continue, a knock sounds at the door and San quickly lifts you off his dick and you slide to the floor under the desk. “Come in,” San calls out, voice a little rough, and he clears his throat. His pants are still unzipped and his hard cock is just waiting for you.

Your eyes flick up to him and he’s not focusing on you, so you reach out and brush against the glistening head of his dick. His hand almost immediately comes down to drip at your hair and you can’t hold back a smirk before dipping your head down to kiss his dick. YOu can hear San choking on his words and his hands tighten but something overcomes you and you only sink deeper onto his dick.

The heavy weight resting on your tongue makes it hard for you to contain your noises and you press your tongue to the underside of his cock. San’s trying his best to stay collected as he talks business and meetings, but you can feel his dick twitch every time you swallow around him and something about it drives you crazy.

Without warning, San pushes your head down on his dick even further and your hands grip his thighs as your eyes roll back in your head. It’s only now you realise his cum inside you is slowly dripping out alongside his arousal. Your mind is swirling with so many thoughts that when his cock hits the back of your throat and his grip tightens even more, your eyes widen before ropes of cum shoot down your throat and you come in your panties with a quiet moan.

“What was that?”

Your eyes snap open at the question and San’s voice is tight as he tries to evade suspicion. “Ah– I think the aircon is messed up. I’ll have to- ah, talk to maintenance about that. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my lunch.”

The employee apologises and leaves. As soon as the door clicks, San pushes back, letting his cock fall out of his mouth and he raises a single eyebrow at you. “Just couldn’t get enough, huh?” he sneers, although his eyes are raking over your body. “Come here.”

You stand with wobbly legs before making your way over to him. “I–” You don’t even get a chance to say anything when he grabs your waist and spins you around, before pushing you down onto his desk. “San!” you scold as he flips your skirt up to reveal your ass.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, his hand coming to cup your clothed cunt. “Soaking right through your underwear like the slut you are. Sucking my dick in front of my secretary? What, did you want him to join us?”

“No,” you whine, “I just wanted you.”

San chuckles, low in his throat, before pulling your underwear down in one motion. Your sopping cunt stares him right in the eye, and if you look down, you can see strings of your slick and his cum connecting the fabric to your pussy. And before you can blink, San’s mouth attaches itself to your pussy. “Ah–” you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut. You’re so sensitive from your previous two orgasms, you don’t know if you can take another one. But San’s not stopping, licking greedily into you like he’s never eaten a meal before in his life.

“You taste so good,” he groans, vibrations making you moan as your legs shake from the overstimulation. The only reason you haven’t fallen to the ground yet is San’s hands holding you up. His tongue presses into your folds and one of his hands lifts from your ass. You’re about to complain when a harsh pain shoots through you and you whimper as he spanks you again for good measure.

“San!” You gasp again, looking back to see San meeting your eyes with a wicked grin as he bites at your thigh. “Fuck–”

“Come for me, silly girl,” San rumbles again and you close your eyes as you let your body weight drop, San’s grip still on your waist as he mouths at your pussy just as desperately as he was teasing you about. You’re pretty sure your underwear is ruined now, but that hardly seems important with San pushing his come and your release back into you with his tongue.

“Shit, ah, too much, Sannie,” you whine, feeling finally coming back to your legs although they still feel a bit like jelly. “Come on, you still gotta eat lunch, you big idiot.”

With a sigh, San stands, helping you up as well. His mouth and chin are shining and you laugh to yourself as you pull him to you so you can kiss him. The taste of both you and him as you sighing. “I’ll see you at home,” San hums, his voice dazed as if he just went to another dimension and back.

“Mmh, yup. It’ll be a pot roast tonight. Don’t stay out too late and,” you cast a glance at his untouched lunch, “you’ll probably have to reheat that.”

San chuckles, wiping his chin with his hand and licking off the last bits of come. “Yeah, yeah. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

-

@cultofdionysusnet

[inbloomwriting]

Everything to me - Chapter 2

Chapter two - Blueberry & Kidney Bean

Chapter 1

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.6k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. I tagged everyone who asked me to do it when I posted part 1. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

The store smells like dust and cardboard and old carpet. It's not necessarily a bad smell, it just doesn't live up to her memories.

She remembers the perpetual scent of menthol cigarettes and some kind of cheap men's perfume wafting through the air. The store used to smell like her dad and now it doesn't. And that just makes it all even more real.

Boxes upon boxes litter the room, filled with records. Some older, some newer. Guitars adorn one wall while the others are covered in posters from tours that happened long ago, some even before she was born.

There is something comforting about being here. It’s like stepping back into the past. Long nights watching Dad and his friends play their guitars after store-closing. Discovering new bands whenever a new shipment of records came in. And yes - she is the first to admit that in her younger years, she mostly chose the records by how cool the cover looked. 

It’s also memories of Dad getting caught up in the after-hours jam sessions and forgetting about her dance recital and that one time he threw a guitar at the window out of anger that a shipment of records got lost. It took him months to get the window replaced. She could probably still trace exactly where the crack used to be. 

Being here is very reminiscent in all the good and bad ways. But it’s a warped version of the past. One that’s laced with all the knowledge she has now. Like a movie that you’ve seen a million times.

“I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be doing that!” 

Jamie’s voice cuts through the nostalgia-induced fog like a sunbeam through the clouds. And it also gives her a little heart attack as the only sound filling the room up until now had been her moving around and the soft tunes of an Eric Clapton record playing in the background.

“Jesus fuck! You scared me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to startle pregnant women either and give them heart attacks.” 

He looks at her with those big expressive eyes of his and a comically overdone pout on his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But seriously give me that.” 

He’s so quick to take the box of records from her hands (Y/N) hardly has time to process what’s going on. 

Quite honestly, his worry is a bit misplaced here but she appreciates the sentiment even if he might be a little overly cautious at that moment. It feels nice to be cared for. 

“You know I’m pregnant, not sick, right? I can carry stuff.” 

“Yeah but why would you if you got me carrying it for you?” 

He has a point, she has to give him that. 

“Fair enough. Those go over there in the corner please.” 

Jamie follows her order without hesitation and, after setting the box down in its designated place, his eyes dart across the room and light up with childlike wonder and curiosity.

“This used to be your dad’s place, yeah? It looks really neat with all them posters and shit. Like stepping into an old person’s mind but like a cool old person that buys you alcohol when you’re 15 and lets you watch horror movies when your mum said no.” 

Of all the adjectives in the world, (Y/N) wouldn’t ever think of using the word “cool” to describe her dad. He was creative and fun and eccentric and stubborn — but cool? 

Then again he was her dad and no one ever likes to think of their own parents as cool. Oh god, will their kid think she’s uncool?! 

“Uh yeah, the shop and the apartment right above us. He owned it, now I do. I’m trying to get it all fixed up and ready to be sold.”

“What? Why?” 

There is something to be said about Jamie’s face and his absolute inability to mask his emotions. Everything he thinks and feels is mirrored twice as vividly on his face. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips. 

“I mean — it’s a record store. People don’t really buy records anymore. Be honest, when was the last time you bought one instead of just streaming the music?” 

“Like two weeks ago.” 

“Fuck off, no you didn’t!” 

“Uh — yeah, I did. Olivia Rodrigo if you must know.” 

A soft giggle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. How fitting for Jamie to buy an album full of teenage angst. 

“Well, you’re one of very few people though. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to sell. I’d keep it open. Instead of selling instruments, it’d turn that part of the shop into a little stage with a coffee counter or a bar. Host open mic nights and shine a spotlight on undiscovered artists. But the world isn’t perfect and there is no way I can afford to turn that vision into reality so really there’s no use in letting myself get too caught up in it.” 

There is pity in his eyes and she hates it. She doesn’t want pity, not his or anyone else’s. Has seen enough of it, especially lately. If she had received just one more “Sorry for your loss” card in the mail from relatives she hadn’t seen in decades, she probably would’ve stabbed a fork in her own eye. Pity does no good to no one. 

“Anyway, Jamie. Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, it’s kind of necessary if we want to get this whole beings-friends-thing right, but uh — what are you doing here?” 

“Jesus, can’t a guy just come around to say hi to his baby? “ 

She thinks the way he says the word “Baby” in his thick accent is surprisingly and undeniably adorable. As if it ends in an “eh” instead of a “y”.

“By the way, they’re as big as a blueberry now.” 

And the way he’s keeping track of the baby's growth gets her right in the heart. For some reason, this seems to come so naturally to him when it all still feels weird and foreign and surreal to her. As if it were happening to someone else and she’s just a mere spectator. The idea that something as small as a blueberry will one day turn into a proper baby, a child, a teenager … a whole ass adult - is so wild to her. Almost incomprehensible. A person with their own feelings and dreams and personality. (Y/N) wonders if at any point in this pregnancy, she'll wake up and it'll all just make sense or if that only comes once she's holding the baby in her arms.

“That's cute. Doesn't answer my question though. What brings you here?”

A shadow of something flickers across Jamie’s face. Something unreadable and unfamiliar. Something that makes (Y/N) feel a sense of dread bubbling up in her stomach.

“I uh — I can’t do this.”

And there it is. That unfamiliar shadow is now a metaphorical atom bomb, a mushroom cloud of all that could have been and won’t be.

“Oh okay. I mean no, not okay. This sucks actually. You said you wanted to be part of the baby’s life and now you’re bailing? That’s a shit move, Jamie. You’re a right prick for pulling that crap.” 

“What? Oh no!” his eyes widen as the realization sets in. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well then what did you mean? Cause you’re truly giving me a heart attack right now. Second one for today. You really need to start working on your conversation starters.” 

She had given him the chance to opt out of being a dad, to not be a part of the baby’s life. It seemed like the right thing to do and, foolishly, (Y/N) had believed that she’d be okay with him doing just that. In this very moment though, she feels everything but okay. The idea of Jamie changing his mind is terrifying. 

Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you need something — or someone until you’re faced with the possibility of losing them.

“I mean, I can’t do this alone. I need to tell someone. All I keep thinking about is the baby and I feel like I am going to explode any second now. I know we can’t tell everyone yet ‘cause of — well you know, things going wrong and stuff. But I need to tell someone. You got to tell Rebecca and your mum, I think it’s only fair I get to tell two people as well, yeah?”

A sense of relief floods her. Starts in her toes and fills her all the way to the top of her head. He wants this — wants the baby. It’s not just her in this. It’s nice to know you have someone in your corner. It’s also scary. Because he deserves to know just whose team he’s on. And being vulnerable fucking sucks. 

“Jamie, that’s fine. Absolutely you can tell your mum.” 

“And Simon? You got two people so — “

“I didn’t though.” 

“Uh yes, you did. I know you told Rebecca.” 

“That’s right.”

“And your mum too”.

The silence that follows his words is deafening. Being vulnerable means also admitting guilt. It means owning up to all of your mistakes. Though we are not the sum of our mistakes, they are what help shape the person we become. And (Y/N) really doesn’t think they make her a very good one.

“And your mum too?” 

More silence.

“You didn’t tell your mum? Why not? “

To his credit, Jamie looks truly surprised and confused. There is no judgment there, just absolute bewilderment and that signature softness that rounds out his features and settles in his eyes whenever Jamie talks to her about something serious. Granted they’ve not had that many conversations but she hopes that softness stays. She hopes that maybe their baby can have those soft, gentle eyes too.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m scared. My mum and I have a — complicated relationship. I disappoint her, she judges me. You know, the usual.” 

“You think she’ll be disappointed because we're having a baby? Is it because of me?”

(Y/N) shrugs, breaking eye contact and fixing her gaze on the old grey carpet with the ugly 90s pattern. What if those soft eyes can look straight through her, see all the ugly parts and the insecurities? That’s too scary for now. Too much too soon.

“No, it has nothing to do with you. Think she’ll just be disappointed I didn’t get pregnant according to the timeline she dreamed up for my life when I was like 2 years old. Had it all planned out for me and I never stuck to it.” 

Jamie is quiet for a moment but (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look back up at him. She can’t deal with any more pity.

“Well if you want to practice telling a mum, we can start with mine.”

“Huh?” 

“You can come to Manchester with me if you want. To tell my mum. We’ll have one mum down then, makes it easier to do it a second time. It’s science.” 

Jamie has the fascinating quality of making you believe in his words just by being so undeniably charming and because he believes in them himself. He makes it look easy when it is everything but.

“And if things don’t go well with your mum at least you’ll know you have at least one mum you can rely on, even if it’s not your own. She raised me pretty much by herself so she knows a thing or two about babies and parenting and stuff.” 

The mocking raise of (Y/N)’s right eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jamie who opens his lips to a silent gasp and clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gesture. 

“What? You saying I didn’t turn out perfectly?”

“No,” she laughs, a lightness festering in her chest. Like the first rays of sunshine after a cold winter that never seemed to end. Like a glass of wine after a long day at work. Like your favorite song on the radio at the exact moment you need it most. “I think you turned out exactly the way you were supposed to.” 

“Thanks,” Jamie says with that cheeky smile playing on his lips that makes him look a little younger than he actually is. Then he dares to wink at her and it’s a little annoying but also insanely charming. “Not sure you meant it as a compliment but I am taking it. Now when are you free for a trip up to Manchester?” 

(Y/N)’s been on a lot of road trips around the country when she was younger. She’s even spent a whole summer traveling Europe, partially by train but most of the time was spent stuffed in a Fiat Punto with 3 of her friends and all their luggage. It was stuffy, it was chaotic and it was immensely fun. None of those road trips ever involved a shiny black Aston Martin Rapide though. 

Or a famous footballer dressed in the ugliest lime green sweater (Y/N) has ever seen. 

“That’s all the luggage you got?” Jamie questions as he moves the black shades off of his eyes and sets them on the top of his head, holding back some of his hair. It shouldn’t work so well but it does. 

“I mean, we’re only staying for a night right? Why? Should I have brought more? How much did you pack?” 

He glances at her, then towards the car, and back at her. A sheepish look crosses his face before being replaced by his childlike cheekiness. “That’s confidential. Don’t worry about it, yeah?” 

“I got my ginger lollies, that’s all that matters really.” 

“You feeling alright?” 

“Mh, I’m good. Just pregnant.” 

His eyes drop down to her stomach for just a second before he nods his head in what (Y/N) can only describe as a mix of pride and satisfaction. “Yeah, you are.” 

That’s new. Well not new-new but it hasn’t happened since the day of the funeral. That tingly feeling in her stomach that has fuck all to do with the baby and everything with how the baby got there. Yes, Jamie is hot and (Y/N) is the first to admit as much but there has been so much stress and chaos and she hardly had time to think about anything but surviving and making sure not to completely lose herself in bad visions of what-ifs that her brain has had no time to process any feelings of arousal or lust. That look he just gave her though, that one made her remember it for just a second.

“You sure you’re alright?” 

Jamie’s voice shakes her from her daydream and brings her back to the real world, her eyes focusing back on the obscene car parked in front of her tiny apartment building looking so insanely out of place.

“Uh yes, I’m fine. I just — sometimes I forget that you’re famous.” 

Jamie regards her for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and grabbing the bag from her hands. “I don’t. It’s fun. Now come on, let’s goooooo.” 

His voice is dipped in excitement and there’s a bounce in his step. If this is how the prospect of seeing his mother makes him feel and behave, she must be one lovely woman. Whenever (Y/N) thinks of her own mother her chest fills with tiny metaphorical icicles. Sharp and rough and painful. It’s all regret and judgment and disapproval. It’s “You gained weight”, “you look tired”, and “You should really look into getting a new job”. Daggers disguised as roses. Stabs right to the heart in the name of being honest. “I just care about you, because I love you, because I am your mother!” 

If there is one thing (Y/N) knows for sure, it’s that she will never ever find the need to resort to criticism and thinly veiled malice in order to show her child that she cares. They will know. Every single day. Because she’ll make sure to show them. Every single day in all the big and tiny ways a person can show their love. 

“Kidney Bean?”

“Kidney Bean. And apparently, the baby is sprouting webbed fingers and toes right now. Oh, and it’s starting to move!” 

“Can you feel that?” 

“No, not yet.” 

“It’s mental. Last week she was the size of a blueberry and now she’s a kidney bean. Kid’s growing up too fast.” 

It’s true. There is so much happening all at once and it’s almost impossible to really process it all. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of a human inside her. Not really a baby yet but a baby to her. And it's moving and developing and changing every second of every day. Fucking insane.

“Wait … you said she. You think it’s a girl?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight casting a glow through the windshield but (Y/N) is almost certain she can just about make out a blush dusting Jamie’s cheeks. 

“Dunno.”

“Jamie Tartt, do you want to be a girl dad?” 

He glances at (Y/N) through the corner of his eyes for just a moment but it’s enough for her to see the sincerity in him. This is something he’s thought about before. Learning new things about Jamie is fascinating.

“Ah,  it’s stupid, really. It’s — It’s dumb or whatever.” 

“No, come on, don't go shy on me now. Tell me.” 

He takes a deep breath. A moment passes then another. There is no rush. Sometimes silly thoughts are the result of harsh truths. 

“Told you my dad was a prick. Like the biggest piece of shit walking this earth, yeah? And I knew that all my life. Thing is I still tried to impress him. I just — I wanted him to like me so badly. Just felt wrong that me own dad didn’t care about me and that made me angry. And I kept that anger inside me for so long. Sometimes when I think about the baby and the future I am scared that if I have a son that anger will jump over to him. Like maybe all Tartt men are cursed or some shit like that. But if I had a little girl maybe that would make it easier for me to be a good dad. I don’t mind either way, obviously, but the idea of having a son scares me.” 

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been with her so far and by the way he clenches his jaw and grabs onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, (Y/N) can tell this isn’t easy on him. It means a lot that he shares this part of him with her anyway. It feels like they are actually becoming friends. So opening up to him in return is only half as horrifying. 

“When I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, I wrote a short story for school and I won an award. They did this big ceremony thing where the 3 finalists got to read their stories out loud for an audience and then receive their prizes. My mum didn’t show up, not sure if it was because she stayed longer at the office and didn’t care enough to leave on time or if she just didn’t feel like getting out of the house. Point is, she wasn’t there. When I came home that night I was sad, obviously, and I was also pissed. Because why the fuck couldn’t she take one night off to come see me succeed at something even if it wasn’t something she deemed worthy of praise. 

So I yelled at her and I’m sure I said some hurtful things. But I was so devastated and angry and I needed an outlet for once. She called me ungrateful but I was used to that, she always called me ungrateful. Then she looked at me with that look of absolute resignation and malice and she said that she hopes I have a daughter like me one day and that she makes me realize how hard it is to love me. 

When I think of the baby, sometimes I see a little girl too. One that I will love so much she never has to doubt it for a single second. And I will also prove my mother wrong. Because it will be so easy to love my little girl and it would’ve been so easy to love me, her little girl.” 

It’s the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. Truly, (Y/N) had not expected for them to come out in an Aston Martin, on the way to meet her baby’s father’s mother but life doesn’t seem to care for plans very much these days.

Softly, as if to not startle her, Jamie places his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

“I think your mum is a right bitch.” 

“Thanks. I think your dad is a huge asshole.” 

“We’re gonna be better than them, right?” 

It’s not really a question. It’s more of a promise.

“We will. I know it.”

His hand doesn’t leave hers for a good long while. 

The nerves don’t hit her until they pull up to the quaint little house with the white front. There’s a rose bush to the side and some kids playing football just across the way. The nerves don’t hit her until Jamie puts the car in park but when they do, they hit her like a freight train.

“Woah, you alright?” 

“Huh?” 

“You look all pale and like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Do you have to puke?”

A chuckle falls from her lips at the absurdity of it all. In all honesty, she’s not met a lot of parents yet but the few she did meet were parents of actual partners. People she had been dating for a while. It was a natural progression of steps. This is all wrong and sideways and topsy-turvy. You’re supposed to meet the mum first and then get pregnant. 

Again with the life and the plans. 

“I’m fucking nervous.” 

“Hah,” Jamie laughs. The audacity of this guy. “You’re nervous to meet my mum? Why? She’s an angel.”

“Do you not know how intimidating that is? Like, if she was shit I wouldn’t care but she sounds wonderful and I want her to like me. No, I need her to like me. Desperately. And I can only imagine what she thinks of me already. Some floozy who gets knocked up and really just wants your money.” 

Before she even fully realizes what’s happening, (Y/N) feels Jamie’s hands on her cheeks, framing her face in warmth.

“Calm down, please. I promise it’ll be alright. My mum will love you, I know it. Probably more than she loves me. Actually no that’s a lie, but she will love you and she will love our baby. Promise.”

“She’s not gonna judge me for — you know. Getting pregnant even though we’re not dating or anything.” 

“My mum was married to my dad, worst person on planet Earth. Don’t think she’s in any position to judge you. It’ll be alright, trust me.” 

She hardly knows this man and yet she can’t help but do just that. Trust him.

The first thing (Y/N) notices about Georgie is her smile. A smile that is so familiar because it looks exactly like Jamie’s smile. Warm and radiant and true. A part of (Y/N) hopes that their baby inherits that same smile. Partially because it’s a really good smile and partially because maybe that could help Jamie realize that he is more than the sum of his father’s problems and mistakes. He is all his mother’s boy.

“Oh, I missed you, my baby.” 

Georgie wraps her arms around Jamie’s middle, getting swallowed by his frame for a moment. There’s no denying that part of (Y/N)’s heart breaks a little seeing how loving of a relationship these two have and wondering where she and her own mother went wrong.

And as it so happens with so many kids that have never been loved quite the way they deserved, (Y/N) can’t help but search for the problem in herself. 

“Yeah sorry for not visiting earlier. You know how it is with training and stuff.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I know my boy is busy being a star.” 

The words hold a slight mocking, never mean but in the way that only people who are close can tease each other. You know every word comes laced with deep affection, with pride, with love.

“And it’s so nice to meet you too. I’m Georgie.” 

It takes a second for (Y/N) to realize that Jamie’s mum is now talking to her directly.

“I uh — oh thank you. Nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).” 

Georgie smells like mint chewing gum and floral perfume as she pulls (Y/N) into a hug. She’s soft and gentle and it’s been the first hug from a mother (Y/N) has received in quite some time.

“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you’re a hugger.”

“Oh that’s alright, don’t worry about it.” 

She’s not a hugger, never really was, but there is something about Georgie granting her some affection that isn’t all that bad. Maybe their kid can have at least one grandmother who cares and who isn’t completely disgusted by the idea of showing any kind of positive emotions.

“Jamie never brings girlfriends around so I’m a bit out of my element here if I’m being honest.” 

“Mum we’re not — she’s not.” Jamie takes a big breath before starting again “(Y/N) and I are friends, yeah? Told you about it on the phone.” 

“Right, right. Well, you don’t bring around a lot of friends either so same difference, really. Now come inside will you, I’m sure we got a lot to catch up on.”

Oh if only she knew how true that sentiment really is.

There are pictures of Jamie staring back at (Y/N) from every corner of the house and Georgie leads them through the hallway and towards the kitchen. Every wall and every shelf holds a memory of him at one point in his life. Gap toothed with a football in hand smiling, surrounded by a field of tulips arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder, his teenage self smoldering at the camera with an even more questionable haircut than the one he is sporting right now. Oh to be loved in a way that every past version of you is being remembered.

As they reach the kitchen a sweet scent fills the room when a man clad in an apron turns around and faces them with a huge smile playing on his face. He has a dorky kind of charm to him that immediately puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the frilly apron, maybe it’s the big oven gloves, maybe it’s the smile. Either way, (Y/N) thinks that if they take the news well, her kid might have truly lucked out on one side of the grandparents department. 

“Jamie, welcome home.” 

“Hi Simon, thanks, mate. Glad to be back. This is (Y/N).” 

“The friend, right.” Simon says and shoots Georgie a look that neither of them misses. Subtlety doesn’t seem to be one of his best qualities. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you too. It smells amazing in here.” 

“I found this new recipe for honey blondies. Not sure if they'll be any good but I guess we'll find out. If you guys want to go have a seat, I'll come bring them over.”

“Actually,” Jamie speaks up while nervously fiddling with his hands. “I was hoping we could have a talk before we do anything else. There’s something I need to tell you both.” 

Imagining the hypothetical scenario of telling your mum you’re having a baby and actually doing it really are two completely different things it seems. Gone is all of Jamie’s confidence and replaced with a whole lot of anxiety. 

“You're worrying me, Jamie. What has you acting so serious? Did you get someone pregnant or something?”

Georgie's words are followed by a thick awkward silence. It's heavy and suffocating and it makes (Y/N) feel uneasy in both her heart and her head.

It doesn't take long for Jamie’s parents to realize what his silence means. Everything communicated by not saying a single word.

“Oh, fuck.”

And there's nothing to add to Georgie's reaction. It's the exact same one (Y/N) had when she first saw those faint blue lines.

Of all the possible outcomes and ways this day could’ve gone, (Y/N) had not expected to find herself staring at not only a curly-haired Roy Kent but also come face to face with two very persuasive arguments belonging to no other than Keeley fucking Jones. 

“This is surreal.” 

The posters stare back at her all crinkled paper and bleached ink, as if to mock her silently. 

“Ah, well I told them to redecorate when I moved out, think they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” 

A light dusting of pink settles on the apples of Jamie’s cheeks as well as the tips of his ears. This man can’t hide his emotions for the life of him. It’s quite adorable really. 

“Do they know?” 

“Does who know?” 

“Roy and Keeley. Do they know you have their pictures up in your room?”

“Well no and It’s not my room anymore, is it? ‘S not like I have ‘em hanging at home. Put these up ages ago.” 

A giggle slips through (Y/N)’s lips at his desperate attempt to talk himself out of this situation. 

“It’s okay, Jamie. I won’t tell.” 

“There’s nothing to tell, alright?” he responds in mock offense before sitting down on his childhood bed next to (Y/N). “Just liked boobs and football and those two were the best those fields had to offer, yeah? Can’t really blame me.” 

“Not much has changed has it?”

He shrugs his shoulders in response “Nah. Still like boobs and football but no way I’d put up a poster of granddad’s ugly mug nowadays.”

From the few times they talked about his job, including his teammates and coaches, (Y/N) was able to gather that Jamie’s relationship with Roy is something special. Odd, but special. Maybe that’s what happens when you end up working with your childhood idol. Either way, no matter how much shit he likes to talk about him, it’s clear that Jamie respects and admires Roy a great deal still.

“And uh — and Keeley?” 

“What about her?” 

“Is she — are you — how are things?” 

She still remembers that crestfallen look on his face on the day of the funeral. That infinite sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together at that moment but later that night it all clicked. Keeley was the woman he was in love with, the woman who did not love him back. And while (Y/N) knows that she and Jamie are only bound together by happenstance and fate — if one chooses to believe in that, and that there is nothing romantic about their situation, it does sting a little to know that the man you’re having a baby with is in love with someone else.

“We’re good. We’re friends, think that’s all we’ll ever be. Her and Roy, they’re happy and I don’t want to ruin it for either of them. Keeley and I just were not right together.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

He nods his head, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah, I’m alright with it. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the funeral then you and I wouldn’t have — you know, and then we wouldn’t be having a baby. Little Kidney Bean.” 

“That’s true. Your mum seemed excited.” 

“Hah, sorry about her. She can be intense.” 

Intense might be the understatement of the century. It took her approximately 2.3 seconds to get over the initial shock of the announcement and really process it before Georgie let out a scream of pure excitement and joy and wrapped both Jamie and (Y/N) up in her arms. She didn’t fully let go for a good 20 minutes. It was intense. It was also phenomenal.

“Don’t apologize. I am so glad she took it so well, Simon too. At least now I’ll have the certainty that my baby will have one set of loving grandparents at least.” 

“Hey,” Jamie says and nudges her shoulder with his “We’ll sort out telling your mum next, okay. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And if not we can always call up my mum for some more hugs and a pep talk. Whatever happens, you won’t have to do it alone. I promise.” 

For what is probably the first time in her life (Y/N) lets herself believe that there truly is someone else having her back, undisputedly and all the way. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a little scary. It’s also wonderful.

“Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it, I really do. Think so far we’re doing alright, huh?” 

“I’d say so. Two sexy parents and a little Kidney Bean.” 

Their laughter echoes through Jamie’s childhood bedroom for quite a while longer until at some point it stills and gives room to soft breathing and quiet snores. The bed isn’t meant for two grown adults and really Jamie truly meant to sleep on the couch but somewhere between talks of baby clothes and childhood memories, eyes grew heavy and tired, and soon enough both of them are fast asleep.

Just them and their little Kidney Bean 

— and a curly-haired Roy Kent 

— and Keeley’s boobs.

taglist (@ me if you want to be taken off or added): @captainfrisbee - @scaramou - @mischiefmanaged71 - @rexorangecouny - @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog - @tweasley20 - @dreamtrydoforkinggood - @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo - @heletsmelovehim - @snubug - @katdahlali - @oldglitterstory - @lalla-04p - @aiyaiy

[shojizbae]

Hobie's Innocent Girlfriend

Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

♛♜

Can you just imagine Hobie with a super innocent type of girlfriend? not that creepy type of couple where a guy dates someone younger than him and she's all infantilized. His girlfriend is actually older than him but she was raised in a conservative protestant house (the national religion of Britain) and hasn't shaken her upbringing despite being in university. They met in a guitar class, (her being classically trained and wanting to expand her skills) Hobie was there because he could sneak in and figure out a riff that he hadn't yet nailed.

She was instantly fascinated by him because he looked so different than what she was used to seeing. Heavy chains that rattled with every step and scratched pin on a sleeveless jacket caught her eye. He spotted her because she looked like something off of a private school pamphlet. neat long coiffed hair, thin gold wristwatch and pleated skirt. everything about her screamed elitist old money.

He was shocked though when she walked over at the end of the class. She told him his name and pointed to a pin on his denim vest.

"What is a sex pistol?" she folds her hand behind her back.

"It's a band. They yell at rich pricks for acting like they are better than the rest of everyone."

"Cool!" he tries to carry on the conversation but she continues to get pissed off by her. Everything she is is everything he stands against. ad going against his grain is pretty rocking. She is one bonnie. He claims that he slowly seduced her. In actuality, she was the one who accidentally got him hook, line, and sinker. They start dating after a month or two of knowing each other.

Hobie is so irredeemably in love with her. And they look so out of place with each other. Half of her belongings are pink all of her socks have ruffles. Hobart is so grungy and dirty compared to her. But (Y/n) is absolutely enamored by him. She is fascinated by how different and real he is. Every time she comes over to his house she looks out of place but it makes his heart ga-lump every time he sees her picking through his collection of vintage pins. One day while looking through his desk full of knick-knacks she finds a neglected spiked bracelet.

"Hobie?"

"Yes, love?"

"Can I have this bracelet?" he hears the clink of a snap and sees the ratty piece of leather with tarnished pewter spikes. He notices how it looks so out of place on your ‘pretty in pink’ look and his heart thrums at the disruption.

“Yeah love, looks great on you.” He tries to bite back the smile forming on his face.

Another time you two are making out and and you get caught on his lip ring. Not physically just mentally. Your in his lap, straddling him, finger threes in the back of his hair. He’s got his hands on your ass and he uses them to keep you as close as possible. He tries to pull back for air but he notices that you’re adhered to his lips like a damn leech.

“Dear, what’s gotten into you?” He smirks in contentment

“I love that little hoop Hobie.” She smirks and half licks her lips

“Yeah?” He questions punctuating with a kiss.

“Yeah.” She chases his kiss as he pulls away.

“Well maybe we should get you some.”

“Ok,” she climbs back in him taking a more dominant stance than before. Hobie loved when she got riled up. She was so hot. That following night Hobie found a piercing shop and even booked an appointment.

Hobie had to hold her hand the whole time she was getting pierced. She didn’t go so extreme as he did with his dermals. Instead she walked out with a bar through her tongue, a nostril hoop, and seven different cartilage piercings. It was going to be torture not to kiss her for “4-6 weeks” he rolled his eyes at that. Somehow though her body healed much quicker than the piercer thought and she was able to return just 16 days later to get a smaller bar in her mouth. She did add one nipple ring and something glittery in her bellybutton.

Hobie was over the moon about being able to kiss her but now he could only play with one titty and he loved both of your titties. He was extra tic to see you become a more punk person while still holding all of your values. And your hole punched ears could be easily hidden if you wore your hair down. You did however have to skip Christmas claiming sickness instead of returning to your family.

Hobie was beside himself. On the one hand Christmas is a Marxist celebration that’s been stripped of its initial pagan roots and been commercialized into a plot for capitalism. On the other hand you were very upset that you couldn’t go home to have mass with your family because you knew they would disapprove of your piercings and of Hobie. Both things you loved endlessly.

I order to cheer you up Hobie had to sacrifice all of his pride. He bought you a few presents, mostly thing you’ve said you need for your flat which he has sporadically moved into. He pinned mistletoe on oversold way with tape because your landlord is a complete asshole. He made you breakfast in bed and told you to get dressed. There was a church nearby and as much as he hated organized religion he hates to see you upset far much more.

The whole time you were smiling. You sang every word to every song. Even before the priest was done quoting the scripture you would cite it. When you got home he made brunch as you set out presents around the tiny plastic tree. Every time you passed through a door way he would trot over to you and say something sly like

“Oh look what we have here? Looks like you need to kiss me.” And you two ended up turning off the stove and shagging like animals in heat.

slowly though, you start to rub off on him

he starts using your fancy expensive ass skincare. You find him napping under your giant fluffy chunky knit blanket; especially after late-night spider escapades. He especially takes on your drama shows and soap operas. He loves when you throw one of your fluffy robes at him when he forgets to grab a towel after the shower.

Eventually, he wears you down enough to introduce him to your parents. they're terrified of what he could be because for over 2 years you've hidden him from them. they're shocked because you squeezed him into a cashmere sweater and slacks. His hair was combed and his piercings had been removed. You manage to scrape through the dinner with no bonfire temper tantrums from your mom. When you finally get back in your car he sighs and tears the sweater off. He drives you home completely shirtless and is grunting and moaning the whole time.

"Love, if you ever make me wear a button-down shirt again, I'll cut the nipples and arms off of it."

"What?" she shreiks

"Yeah, and I'll shag you in front of your old man."

"Hobie!" you slap his bare chest

"I can't help it love, you get me going." He put a hand on your thigh and gives them a gentle rub.

"Hobie wait until we make it home!"

"What, c'mon! You won't even jerk me off a little babe? Please?"

"Well, you sit with the thought for a moment. "You did so well playing house for me. And, you look pretty hot right now." you pull your seatbelt from behind your back and shift your hips around "Maybe just a little." you pull your hair into a ponytail and pull down his zipper. Let's just say Hobie's foot was on the gas pedal all the way to the apartment.

[spindle-girl]

Shadow 5.10

Time under Valefor's control, the subsequent fight when out of control powers get out of control, and then BOOM

“Valefor,” I said, just loud enough for the others, Damsel included, to hear.  “Hypnotist Master.  I wrote about him in the document.  Don’t look him in the eyes.”

why must you do this to me?

Chris was in his bird-spiral Dark Introspection form, and he curled up further, eyes nestling in deep, so his eye only barely peered out.

dawwww. this doesn't make up for the above, but i appreciate it's right after. i'll move on

Nailbiter stopped, then withdrew her fingers.  Breathing hard, Sidepiece held a chunk of what might have been appendix or ovary in her hand, blood dripping freely down her arm and off of her elbow.  More blood flowed from the fresh injury in the roadkill mess that was her gut, over her pelvis and the rise of her low-rise jeans, and splattered onto her sneaker. She dropped the bit at her feet.  It detonated, and she was flung to one side.

cool

The fact that he was talking to me meant that I was off limits for the rest.  The hooligans with demon masks and the darker, more adult Fallen walked past me, toward Beast of Burden and the others.  We were quickly getting surrounded, except surrounded was the wrong word.  We were stones in a river, and the Fallen were the water.

neat imagery. shame i can't draw

I felt angry at that.  I was reminded of being in the hospital, of being manhandled by nurses and carers that only wanted to get on with their days.  When you were a certain kind of helpless, people took it as their right or common sense that they got to touch you.

really fucking weird to have Sveta bat for the asylum and for Victoria to have no reaction to it when this was her experience. none that i remember at least. were they just too scared to treat her poorly with how reactive her power was?

The manservant was slower to get back, his attention on helping Valefor.  Compulsion, possibly.  An invisible hand struck him in the arm, and the arm folded backward, wrist slapping against elbow, skin tearing from the blunt impact and the bones cutting him from within.

this would be an interesting choice if Victoria had any actual, well, choice or control in the matter. instead it's just a wild power effect and it ends up harming this dude who's also being mind controlled. nothing to really say about it when it's like that

Valefor’s distraction had apparently freed people, or served as a kind of punctuation to end his ongoing commands.  I was free, even as the ‘serve’ command lingered in the corner of my mind’s eye.

oh shit his stuff is permanent?

Love Lost screamed, aiming the scream more at the Fallen stragglers.  The red smoke Fallen had already thrown some defenses up around Valefor, so the two of them seemed unaffected.

so Love Lost and Victoria aren't resistant enough to Valefor (if at all it's unclear)

Some weren’t getting up.  Sveta.  I could see her looking up at me.  Sidepiece lay where she was.  Others weren’t fighting.  Chris in particular had backed away.  Good.

daw, she's caring about Chris

The first cases had inspired things, major functions and interests.  Committees had been formed and those committees had become something.  Even though a whole chunk of the early ones were minor or fabrications in the end, the virus theory included, they’d led to things like a dedicated parahuman science department.

extremely funny paragraph. all these institutions were built on lies abut at least we got something out of it like Good Powers mean You're A Good Person

“Cease,” Valefor said.  “Let’s distract you.  Kill your friends.” Damsel wheeled around, turning toward Nailbiter and Sidepiece.  Then she hesitated, looking up at me.

hah!

I hadn’t even meant to.  It was instinct, and it was instinct on behalf of Chris.  I didn’t even care that much about Chris.

i take back what i said earlier lmao. Victoria's chart of care looks like this:

Sveta > Kenzie > Ashley > Tristan > Byron > Chris = Natalie

The compulsion wasn’t gone.  It was there. But it had abated.  I’d served the rule, but not the spirit.

fun. maybe Victoria does have some immunity? honestly i'd rather attribute this to clever thinking

“I hate- I hate losing control.  I only have control over half my life to begin with,” Byron said.

Byron, i don't mean to rain on your parade, but i don't think there's a single member of Breakthrough that doesn't have highly similar issues bud. Kenzie probably got some shit from her (earlier) childhood too i'm sure

For all these reasons and more, mind control was another one of the parts of the game.  Too many people found it viscerally horrifying, myself included, and the way things could break down if mind control saw common use was too big of a problem.  The natural reaction from society, or from our sub-society, was to fight back. Valefor obviously didn’t care.

i mean, unless you're cauldron you don't really have a choice in the matter, in so much as you get Canary'd by your shard. Valefor obviously goes extreme, but still. i'm sure people would have a problem with broken arms too if it wasn't already commonplace and something that regular people can do, which is funny with where the book later goes to with the normal v parahuman debate

“This isn’t a democracy,” Beast of Burden said.  “This is a fucking tyranny.  You signed on for it, and you agreed I’m leader because I’m good for the business and track record.  You also agreed that if the crown is moving to another head, it’s going to do so outside of jobs.  Leaders can’t be second guessed on the field.” “Either we run or we press on,” Damsel said, second guessing him.

love Victoria's narration here. eat shit bob

Her power sparked.  This time she fell. “Good.  Stay like that,” Beast of Burden said.  He stepped forward and placed one iron boot on the edge of her dress.  Damsel remained where she was.  Struggling would have been futile. “Don’t be a dick,” I said.

kick his ass Victoria!

It seemed with Prancer mobile and Velvet having some emphasis on enhanced maneuverability when driving with her telekinesis, they were moving around a lot, and the Fallen were giving chase. They had moved away since the fight with Valefor.

this would be such an annoying duo and so much fun too

A big part of what let them do that was the heroes at the west end of the settlement, and the presence of the Undersiders.  Bitch and her dogs were standing beside Vista.  Narwhal was close, and two black stuffed animals reared up at the edge of the camp.  Foil was there, but Tattletale was not.

:D rachie

Turning toward Beast of Burden’s group, I was just in time to see him backhand Damsel across the face.  It was a casual swing, but he was strong and he wore a gauntlet.  She hit the ground hard. “Jesus fuck, no wonder your team is mutinying,” Capricorn said.

same Tristan

“Stop,” Beast of Burden said, pointing at Damsel, talking over me. One hand still on her face, she pointed at him and blasted before his expression could change. Darkness, shadow, distorted space and visual static ripped through armor, flesh, and armor again, tearing a hole clean through him.  The hole caved in on itself, metal creaking as it bent, blood fountaining out and splashing up on half the people nearby. “You stop,” she said.

I GET TO REBLOG THE ASHLEY FANART yippee

End Notes:

another fun chapter. can't wait to see what happens next

no major thoughts. seems like Valefor is being set up for a return to control Victoria. i wonder if Ashley will have to figure out a way to stop her without killing as a parallel to this.as for the murder itself, while it didn't need to be done, i'm not gonna lie, i 100% wanted it to be done. dude's a dick and i'm excited to see where the story goes with her choosing to defend herself

[kori-senpai]

What’s an au (or aus) that you would love to see in the Fence fandom? Any guilty pleasure tropes, tags, universes? 🪐💫✨

AUs I like. Hm. Im a big sucker for pirate AUs in general (@ryerum did a really cool secret Santa fanart for that and while it wasn't for me it really made my day). Since I haven't read any fics in three years, a fact that I cry over nightly btw, I can't tell you if an AU for that exists, but if it doesn't then someone should get to that. Soon. When I'm finally able to read again I need me some pirates or I'll promptly just wilt away :')

Oh, something else that gets me everytime is cowboys. Johanna made lovely fanart for that a good while ago and I remember other people mimicking that after that, so that was neat to see. Inspiration is like a forest fire I suppose and I'm the black kite watching happily at my brethren spreading it yada yada insert something actually philosophical here

Magical fantasy stuff is also a seller to me. But people tend to go off on tangins with that, either over explaining or not explaining original ideas at all, which whiffs me out a bit. It's a difficult balance, but if you find a good one that hits then boy oh boy 👀

Honestly, all things considered, it's all pretty basic. I read most things if they're formatted and at least decently written (English isn't my first language either so I'm pretty forgiving when it comes to grammatical errors and punctuation - I mean, look at all my commas. At least half of them will probably be incorrect as well since I'm used to putting so many, because us Germans love them commas in, the, middle, of, the, sentence)

If you wanna get Fence specific, there's the very obvious 'Nicholas actually being raised by Robert as his son' which is neat, anything that deals with Seiji's parents in a good manner (more trope than AU here), and I like the different sport AUs that give the guys anything but fencing. Big defender for the most used being ice skating if I assessed that correctly

Look, an ask where I stayed on topic the whole time. Isn't that neat. Anyway, thanks for the asks, anon, it was really nice to reflect a bit on all that lol :)) (translation for: wow I sure do love attention gimme more)

[superdumbfan]

I wrote a fun chapter playing around with the characters from my concept line, Trash and Treasure.

Knots of Frustration

The quiet hum of the nearly empty classroom was interrupted by Reya’s loud declaration:

“Crochet? Pfft, how hard can it be?”

Sage stiffened slightly, the crochet hook poised delicately in her hand. She looked up from her nearly finished green scarf, her expression a mix of skepticism and irritation.

“It’s not hard if you pay attention,” she replied, her Southern drawl coming out just a bit sharper than usual.

“I always pay attention,” Reya said confidently, flopping into the chair next to her. “Show me how to make, I dunno, a hat. Hats are cool.”

Milo, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, smirked. “This should be fun.”

Sage sighed. “Fine. But you gotta promise to listen.” She rummaged through her bag and handed Reya a ball of light blue yarn and a spare hook.

Lilith, seated nearby and sketching in her notebook, glanced up. “I’d love to learn, too,” she said, setting her pencil down. “I’ve always wanted to make a cute hat for myself.”

Sage’s eyes darted between Lilith and Reya. Her hands tightened on her crochet hook. “Sure,” she muttered. “Why not?”

---

Sage started by demonstrating the chain stitch. Her hands moved fluidly, creating a neat row of loops.

“See? Simple,” she said, holding it up.

Reya stared at the chain with exaggerated concentration. “Got it. Chain stitch. Easy.” She gripped her hook like it was a weapon, jabbing it into the yarn.

“No, no, gently,” Sage corrected, wincing.

Reya loosened her grip, but somehow the yarn still ended up in a tangled knot. “Uh… is this supposed to happen?”

“No,” Sage said flatly, taking the mess from Reya’s hands. “You’re not even holding the yarn right. Here.” She positioned Reya’s fingers.

Reya tried again. The knot got bigger.

“This is impossible!” Reya declared, throwing her hands up. The hook flew out of her hand and narrowly missed Milo, who ducked with a laugh.

“You’ve been at it for two minutes,” Sage snapped, her frustration bubbling over. “You can’t expect to be good right away.”

---

Meanwhile, Lilith had quietly started her project. “I think I’m getting the hang of this,” she said, holding up what looked like a very tiny hat.

Sage’s jaw dropped. “What is that?”

“A hat,” Lilith said proudly.

“It’s the size of a teacup!” Sage exclaimed.

“Oh,” Lilith said, tilting her head. “I might have… miscounted the stitches?”

Milo chuckled, walking over to inspect Lilith’s creation. “That’s not a hat. That’s a hat for a doll. Maybe a rat doll.”

“Don’t encourage her!” Sage groaned.

---

Reya was now thoroughly entangled in her yarn. “Help! I think I’m turning into a cocoon!”

Sage buried her face in her hands. “How did you even do that?”

Reya grinned sheepishly. “Talent.”

Milo took a seat across from them, casually working on a small steel sculpture. “Y’know, Sage, maybe you’re just not a good teacher.” The loud squeak of metal punctuates his sentence as he bends the metal with pliers.

Sage glared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re so focused on doing it perfectly that you’re forgetting they’re beginners,” Milo said with a shrug. “Maybe you should let them mess up a little.”

“That’s what she’s been doing!” Sage shot back, gesturing at Reya, who was now attempting to untangle herself with her feet like she was in a cartoon.

“Okay, but hear me out,” Milo said, smirking. “What if you just give up on teaching them and let them crochet chaos?”

Reya brightened. “I like that plan!”

Lilith looked thoughtful. “Chaos crochet… that could be an art movement.”

“No!” Sage cried. “Crochet is supposed to be neat and organized! The only way you can free-hand a pattern is if you already know how to crochet!”

---

After what felt like an eternity, Reya managed to make a wobbly chain stitch.

“Look! I did it!” she said, holding it up like a trophy.

“It’s… something,” Sage said begrudgingly.

Lilith, meanwhile, had adjusted her pattern and made a slightly larger hat. It still wouldn’t fit a human head, but at least it was progress.

“Thanks for teaching us, Sage,” Lilith said with a warm smile.

Sage softened a little. “You’re welcome. Just… maybe don’t call me for help next time.”

Reya grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got this now.” She said, not realizing that each time she pulled her project, it unraveled little until she was just holding yarn. Reya looked down in shock at the unraveled yarn in her hands.

Milo laughed so hard he almost fell out of his chair.

Sage sighed, but despite her irritation, she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad after all.

[contains-bees]

I have more to say about this book actually. It’s really cool and an excellent resource for worldbuilders, but it’s also very clearly the product of an enthusiast who’s read a lot of different texts about history, but doesn’t have a clear overview of any historical discipline.

So what you get is a lot of generally accurate historical information, punctuated by long-debunked ideas, fringe theories, and straight-up myths presented as, if not historical fact, then at least as the current consensus among historians. There’s a bit in there about the origin of the ‘fair folk’ that was absolutely bewildering, as well as a lot of statements about the development of the patriarchy, religious institutions, and so forth that are way too sweeping to ever be provable.

I’m not slamming the book - I think it’s doing a much better job than most pop history. It’s just a neat look into the way most people know history.

One thing I didn’t expect from my new worldbuilding book is the author, roughly my dad’s age, including his opinions on furries

[sphxremint]

(man this art is really old but im usin it anyway lol)

☆ heya heya! it's me, Mint!

i'm the guy that does the funny draws (and music (and sometimes edits)).

some of you have definitely heard that line way too many times before. some of you probably still know me as the Simple Yet Stupid guy from like two years ago. if you haven't seen me before... congratulations! you've successfully met "that guy" (me) for the first time!

This is my tumblr. I say things and I reblog stuff I think is neat and post art/music/stuff I like once every [unspecified time frame]. I dipped (sort of) from Twitter like a year or two ago because some guy had too much fun ruining it. I'm a lot less active on medias in general but I like to pop by here now and then.

...right, this is an intro post. lemme get on that...

☆ cool stuff you should know

• i'm 20 (born July 4th, on MINT day. not whatever the hell independence day is. eugh)

• he/they + aroace (certain of it now! we out here)

• i'm black (there's like no way to make this funnier it just is what it is)

☆ some other neat stuff

• I draw!

i'm not consistent with it at all. but I'm trying, 'cause it's fun and I like doing it. I may be into a lot of medias too, but I'm mostly an oc artist, and it's a curse I will bear until the end of time

• I make music!

i'm also not very consistent with it. i talk about it a tad less than i do other things, so it goes under the radar sometimes. i think it's fun, too; it's more of a personal thing compared to my art, though.

• CST timezone moment

...which is about UTC -05:00. in case you need to know that. i know we all got varied timezones around here

• I'm very good at being inconsistent!

such as basic punctuation and grammar. if you haven't noticed yet. like that stuff is important... sometimes i'll actually use apostrophes and sometimes ill just completely forget mid-sentence. lmao

☆ my 5 core interests

aka. the main things i like! it's been several years and they still haven't left my thoughts. i switch between the five of these on a whim. you can inquire me about any of these.

Be ready when it happens.

• Sonic The Hedgehog

(he's just THAT GUY, yknow. just a guy who loves adventure. ultimate life forms and two-tailed foxes and whatnot)

• Kirby

(i'd forfeit everything for him. #1 blorbo living life)

• FINAL FANTASY

(esPECIALLY XIII (13) and XIV (14). but it's mostly XIV. two lalafells reunite after being apart for forever and now they're world's strongest duo. partners in crime)

• Celeste

(#1 game ever. i love everything about it so much, i naturally get my friends to play it. i'm also pretty good at speedrunning. maybe grandmaster levels of good. smile)

• and osc stuff!

(though I'm not part of the fandom "like that". just on the surface layer, yknow? bfdi, ii, boto, ppt2... and my own objects of course. funny shows go brrr)

☆ cool and awesome tags

□ #mint.txt = probably some random garbled text i spat out one night

□ #mintdraws = i sure do! and you should go look at it!

□ #mint.png = funny image included (not guaranteed)

□ #mint.mp3 = rarely use this but i still want people to know i make music

□ #mint.ask = because i get those. sometimes art, sometimes stupid funny stuff

□ #simple yet stupid = yeah its for those funny objects i talk about. i put this one here just in case

□ #mint's expoboard = i'm probably talking about one of my ocs

☆ and some extra stuff i guess

□ my sonas and stuff

if you need that

□ my carrd

go read it cause most of my extra links (and contacts) are already there

□ my toyhou.se

Did you know I have a toyhou.se? Because I never shut up about my characters, and sometimes people just need the Repository of Information. Well... here it is.

okay. I'll update this post more as time goes on, but... that's about it. that was probably like a read and a half. oops.

Remember: if you do follow me, you are (unofficially) officially consigning yourself to my presence and any stupidity and/or brainrot that follows.

...if that's cool with you. =ᴗ=)b

(big shoutouts to the old pinned i had. you will forever be missed)

last updated: May 07th, 2025

[virusinfected-memes]

TUMBLR TEXT POST SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 2 ;

75 starters. CW: blood mention, cussing, death. Starters come from various text posts floating around Tumblr. The only thing changed for this post was adding capitalization and punctuation. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed! [PART 1]

“Academia is cool and sexy until I’m expected to work.”

“An anime with more than a hundred episodes is a bigger commitment than marriage.”

“Anyone who believes all water tastes the same is no acquaintance of mine.”

“Anyway, that’s every reported eyewitness account of Mothman through ‘68, and that’s just in West Virginia! Haha, but enough about me. Let’s hear about your top five cryptids!”

“Aside from being the worst person alive, I am literally perfect.”

“At the end of the day, I’m just a girl who loves her bed.”

“Being equally obsessed with each other sounds hot to me.”

“Being good doesn’t get you anything.”

“Be the worst you can be.”

“But do aliens believe in me?”

“Don’t let anyone dehumanize you. Dehumanize yourself. Be the creeping eldritch horror you’ve always longed to be. Rain furious vengeance down upon those who would unmake you.”

“Do something today that would’ve gotten you burnt at the stake four hundred years ago.”

“Do you ever just want someone to come over and sit on the floor with you for a few hours?”

“Do you ever wanna listen to music, but every song is just not the right song?

“Feeling safe around someone’s energy is a different kind of intimacy.”

“Flirting is childish. We’re grown. Just tell the person you like that you see God in their eyes.”

“Friendly reminder that the age of technology is coming to an end and a new age of blood magic and dark rituals will take its place.”

“Friendship is temporary. Blood pacts are forever.”

“Girls don’t want boys. Girls want to live in a Victorian estate and be the most feared widow in the village.”

“Half of me is a hopeless romantic and the other half of me is, well, an asshole.”

“Having a body causes me so much agony. I wish I was just a floating entity with no physical form.”

“How do I overthink so much and still make the wrong decision?”

““I can fix him!” You can’t even fix your sleep schedule, bestie.”

“I don’t care if your body is a temple. Call me when it’s been closed down and taken over by Spirit Halloween.”

“I don’t know about soulmates, but those people who eat parts of the food or candy that you don’t like and you do the same for them... We’ve lived a hundred lifetimes together, probably.”

“I don’t think we can romanticize our way out of this one, boys.”

“If you see me in the streets, just know that my mind is in the void. I’m physically alive, but mentally checked out.”

“I guess we all learned a valuable lesson. Except for me. I wasn’t paying attention and was asleep for most of the time.”

“I hate when people ask what I would do in their situation because nine times out of ten, I would literally never be in that situation in the first place.”

“I hope manners is the next cool trend.”

“I just love sleep so much. Like, you just close your eyes and you’re gone, bitch. Brain logged the fuck off. Powerful.”

“I just realized there’s, like, a hundred new Pokémon coming this year, give or take, and I have to decide what personal memories and details about friends to forget in order to make room for them all.”

“I like my women like I like my woods. Haunted and could kill me at any moment.”

“I like to fuck around and waste time at least six to ten hours a day, and let me tell you, that puts some pressure on your schedule. You have no idea how busy I am.”

“I love to learn. Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t like to remember.”

“I love when I ‘make a mental note’ of something. It’s gone within twenty seconds.”

“I’m not a religious person, but I do sometimes think God made you for me.”

“I’m not playing hard to get. I genuinely don’t know how to talk.”

“I’m wearing dark glasses today because I’m seeing the future, and the future is looking very bright.”

“I think it’s so neat that everyone develops their own unique handwriting even though we’re all taught to write our letters the same way. Really, it’s so cute.”

“I think making sense is optional. Sometimes I just be talking.”

“I think the meaning of life is eating good food in the company of people you love.”

“It’s because I’m pretty, that’s why I have problems.”

“It’s crazy how I’m just some person.”

"It seems you are in love with your computer.”

“It’s not rude to interrupt someone to point out a dog. It’s actually more polite because then they don’t miss out on the dog.”

“I will never elaborate because I have no idea what I just said.”

“Live, laugh, love? Nah. Languish, lament, lay down.”

“Michael Myers taught me a valuable life lesson. Don’t worry about how fast everyone around you is moving. If you’re determined, just move at your own pace and you’ll kill shit every time. Thanks, Mike.”

“Moving to the forest to eat leaves and lie in the dirt. Insurance companies can’t deny me this.”

“Okay, bored of being alone now. Ready to get married.”

“Okay, hear me out... What if—now bear with me—we held hands? Maybe even kiss a little? Hugs would be nice—”

“People keep posting ‘what’s REALLY in your food’ articles like I’m gonna stop eating whatever it’s about. Listen, death is coming. Death is coming. Pass me a hot dog.”

“People who fall asleep right away freak me out. Don’t you bitches have thoughts?”

“Really starting to understand old people these days. I love letters. Love packages. Terrified of my email inbox.”

“Someone take me out. Either in the assassination way or in the date way.”

“Sorry for being so sexy and having the best taste in literature. As if I asked for it.”

“Sorry I called you a fucking idiot. I was trying to flirt.”

“So what if I love you? Shut up.”

“The fact that I have to be in the ‘right headspace’ to do even the simplest tasks is absolutely humiliating.”

“The only difference between me and a medieval peasant is that I can make a Spotify playlist to express my feelings.”

“The only reason I haven’t gone insane is because I romanticize everything.”

“There should be a dating app where you talk to people who borrowed the same books from the library.”

“There’s something inherently holy about kitchens.”

“Tired of being a person. Would much rather be an unidentifiable and nebulous entity that lives in the woods and may or may not be an omen of misfortune to come.”

“Wanna haunt the neighborhood with me tonight?”

“Well, I used to be attracted to people, but now I’m exclusively attracted to abstract art and the concept of death.”

“What is the logic behind naps leaving you with a weird taste in your mouth? I wasn’t eating, I was sleeping. It’s the spiders, isn’t it?”

“Winnie the Pooh didn’t rock crop tops our whole childhood to watch us become unconfident about our bodies.”

“Yes, I’m dramatic! What did you expect? I read classic literature for fun.”

“You’d look prettier under six feet of dirt.”

“You don’t always need to talk. Like, it’s good to shut the fuck up sometimes. I love not talking.”

“You gotta walk into rooms like God sent you.”

“You’re beautiful, but you’re empty. No one could die for you.”

“You wanna know what’s annoying me right now? It’s me. I am annoying the goddamn shit out of myself.”

[gretavanfleetposts]

Valence: Chapter Two

Summary: The daughter of a drug lord, you're ready to take over the family business. Your father's only stipulation? You must marry the man he has picked out for you instead of the man you love in order to claim your kingdom.

TW: themes of death and dying, suggestions of sex, talk of drugs, swearing

Word Count: 9k

Chapter One Masterlist Chapter Three

The wind whipped through your hair as you stood on the balcony off your bedroom, your long, thin blue robe tied tightly and held shut by your shivering arms as a gust picked up and blew the fabric around your legs like it did the leaves rustling on the ground beneath you. You could make out the multiple security guards walking their routes about the grounds but what captured your attention was the two figures, one in all black and one in all navy blue, standing still in the center of your view. Your father and Jake, you surmised, touring the grounds: a duty that was likely assigned to you in silence but one that you had not fulfilled. And now it seemed your father was fulfilling it for you, ever the gentleman.

Your father's gestures were wide as he presented the land to Jake, likely giving some speech about how this all belonged to him now too. Or rather, would soon belong to him, like some sort of offering, some sort of repayment for doing his perceived duty. A thank you for agreeing to ruin your life. The sight bit you harder than the cold.

You watched as Jake turned, no doubt taking in his prize in all its glory, before his eyes landed on you, the figure shrouded in light blue silk standing on the balcony like the ultimate surveyor of the land. And you watched as his lips spread into a smile and his arm reached up in a wave. Your father's eyes followed soon after, not a wave this time but a motion gesturing you down to meet them.

A heavy sigh poured from your chest as you turned to obey your father, forgoing putting on any real clothes and opting instead for a long navy blue coat thrown overtop of your robe before you descended to the ground level floor and braved the brisk air to meet them where they stood.

Your father had sternness waiting in his eyes, ready to turn toward you and reprimand you, no doubt.

“I was just giving Jacob a tour. He says you haven’t offered him one yet.”

His tone was polite but you saw through it. And unless Jake was stupid, he saw through it too.

Your eyes shifted from your father over to Jake for a brief moment, taking quick notice of his long hair being agitated by the wind more thoroughly than any brush, you imagined. How he managed to make disheveled look so neat, you weren't sure. But there he was, standing in a cool, deep blue suit looking unbothered and almost downright amused, eyes boring a little too deep into you for your liking.

“I’ve been helping prepare a wedding, in case you’ve forgotten,” you retorted, turning your focus back to your father.

Anyone else might have been afraid to so casually test the length of your father's fuse and to be fair, they would have been right to. But rarely has a daughter not challenged her father and you were certainly no exception.

And you could see the distaste in his eyes before you heard it, thinly veiled, in his tone of voice.

“You’ll let your sister and the staff take over all wedding preparations so you can spend more time with your soon-to-be husband.”

“Should I finish the tour then?" you continued, doing just as little to mask your distaste as your father did as you directed your words toward Jake instead. "We have a private gun range that I’d be more than happy to show you.”

But Jake's smile only grew as his eyes proved unwavering on yours. Your father, however, showed no such amusement as a tight smile punctuated by an inward sigh pulled his skin taught.

“Surely the two of you can find a way to get to know each other better in the next three days,” he said, clapping a hand on both yours and Jake’s backs at the same time, less of a jovial gesture given the current context. Actually, it felt something like a warning.

It was Jake who spoke up next, much to your surprise, braving the chill of the tension that could have cooled the morning air on its own.

“Actually, my brothers and I were hoping you’d join us for dinner tonight.”

His words were addressed to you directly, evident in his gaze that had yet to move from your face since you stepped foot on the lawn. But regardless, your father was ready with an answer, all too enthusiastic for your taste, punctuated by another strong grip of his hands on the both of you.

“Excellent! She’ll be ready by 6.”

Another disapproving glance shot Jake’s direction at his insistence on being a good little boy in front of your father and he and your father moved on with their tour, leaving you standing in your place in the grass, shivering against the cold as you watched them walk on, the topic now something about maintenance and your father’s fondness of plants the groundskeepers couldn’t seem to keep alive, not the way your mother could.

They looked softer that way, in the absence of their words ordering you around. Jake seemed almost likable, even, turning up delicate autumnal flowers with his fingertips, a silver pendant swaying away from his chest as he dipped to admire the plants. He kept one hand in his pocket as he walked, much different than the way your father held his own hands behind his back, but somehow exuding the same restraint and power as the older man. He carried himself well, you could grant him that. Although that was hardly reason enough to marry someone. But perhaps if he could be delicate with the flowers, he could be delicate in other ways too. Perhaps he would rest you at his fingertips and dip down low to admire you.

You abandoned the thought as soon as it formed, shaking your head to yourself as you silently retreated back to warmth.

—

Hours later you found yourself being greeted by a chauffeur as your driver stopped the SUV in front of a house that challenged your own in grandeur. The comparisons stopped there, however, as you beheld the gothic structure, dark and romantic and heavy as it weighed upon the earth beneath it, sinking like a stone into the cold, wet ground of autumn, every bit as fitting for Jake as you had pictured.

The heavy black door swung open on cue as you were escorted up the stairs and there stood Jake, ready to greet you in the grand entrance like some sort of king or baron. Or drug lord, as it were.

He was ready with a smile, too, warm and inviting, just like the house, as much as you hated to admit it. He fit in there, with his navy blue dress shirt unbuttoned to show off the better half of his chest and the silver pendant still resting heavy against his skin. He looked like he belonged with the backdrop of dark mahogany walls and rich velvet drapes, somewhat mysterious and compelling, although you would never admit that to him.

“This house is breathtaking,” you said instead as you stepped inside and undid the tie of your coat.

He was beside you in an instant with a smile barely tugging at his lips, running his fingers up your coat sleeve until they met the collar, where he dragged the material off your shoulders and folded it into his arms, disappearing behind you to hang it up in some hidden closet built into the wooden walls.

“We make do,” he smiled as he reappeared.

You eyed him carefully as he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, not letting his fingers linger at your earlobe or the side of your neck nearly as long as his eyes did.

“You look beautiful,” he remarked as he dropped his hand back to his side.

You must have given him a distrustful look because he suddenly chuckled and added, "Relax. You're making me nervous now."

It wasn't exactly an easy task though, relaxing. Not when his every move felt so purposeful, so pointed. And certainly not when he hardly let his gaze shift from anything but you while the two of you were together, as few occurrences as it had been. Not to mention, his hands. He clearly liked using his hands. He felt his way around the world, that much was evident. And you weren't anxious to be included in the discoveries he made with his hands.

Thankfully a commotion coming from a hallway somewhere nearby let breathe the tense air, two loud voices echoing among the bleak gray statues and heavy velvet curtains softening the dark wooden walls sculpted to the high heavens: a pair of boys appearing almost out of the woodwork.

You were instantly greeted by the lankier of the two, a figure much taller than Jake but with hair that matched his in length, dressed in all charcoal with the most natural smugness you had ever observed in someone. The only feature that felt out of place on his face were his eyes, downturned with a sense of sadness to their shape, but just as warm as Jake's.

He pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground like you were a long-lost friend who had finally made their return home. It took you aback, leaving you, no doubt, with an even more startled look on your face than had been there when the commotion from the boys had started down the hall. But even as he set you down and took in your startled look, his eyes were warm and welcoming.

"About time this asshole became an honest man," he joked, gesturing to his brother watching with annoyed amusement from behind him.

A second boy took you into his arms then, the one with the frizzy curls topping his head and the striking resemblance to Jake, similar in stature and facial features despite the differences in hair and dress. He looked like the sunnier of the two, much less brooding.

"Welcome to the family," he sang over your shoulder as he rocked you both back and forth several times before finally letting you retreat back to yourself.

"Not yet, Josh. There still has to be a wedding," the tall one corrected.

The word 'wedding' still set your teeth on edge but somehow the lanky boy with the long hair and the sad eyes managed to make it sound much less like a sentencing than when your father said it. Or, God forbid, when Lily said it.

"Sam and Josh. Sam's the youngest; Josh and I are twins." Jake gestured to both boys as he introduced them and suddenly you saw past the differences in hair and dress and saw Jake and Josh for the twins they were. Something you certainly hadn't been expecting.

“You didn’t tell her you had a twin? How was she supposed to know it was you she wanted?” Sam continued on with his teasing.

Irony you could have appreciated had the siblings left a second of silence untouched.

“I’m the oldest by five minutes. I'm sure he didn't tell you that either."

"But don't worry. Josh won't let you forget it," Sam echoed.

You couldn't help the smile that teased up the corner of your mouth as you chuckled lightly at their antics. You certainly weren’t expecting these two boys to be his brothers, so much less stoic and cool than him. So much louder. He fit the scenery. They didn't.

"You all make much more convincing siblings than my sister and I," you mused, astounded by the closeness of their features.

“Hey, don’t insult me that way,” Sam feigned hurt as his arm snaked around your shoulders again, only this time with the purpose of leading you back the way he and Josh had come, down a long hallway toward the smell of something delicious cooking.

“We were just starting dinner when you arrived; you can drink a glass of wine and entertain us while we finish,” Sam promised, giving your shoulder a light squeeze.

“I was doing all the hard work,” you heard Josh pipe up in between sounds of sibling badgering between him and Jake as they strided behind you and Sam.

“Is that why it smells like something is burning?” Jake was quick to quip back.

Sam ignored them quite easily, as if he had been doing it all his life. And you were quite certain, even despite not knowing them all for long, that he had been. Josh, on the other hand, didn’t ignore his twin.

“Does your fiance know you’re the least funny one in the family?”

And then you came upon it, a big beautiful kitchen whose centerpiece was an oven shrouded entirely in dark stone. The rest of the kitchen matched the mood of the house, dark wood paneled walls that emanated a deep comfort. Pots and pans dangled from the ceiling and a heavy wooden island with a black marble countertop sat in the middle of the room. And gracing almost every other surface were tall, waxy candles, showing clear signs of their extensive use.

“Hope you like pasta,” Sam remarked as he unlatched himself from you and situated himself behind the island in front of a cutting board with assorted vegetables already in the process of being cut.

A glass of wine was suddenly produced in front of you, offered to you by Jake now with his own drink in hand which you practically accepted with open arms.

“How long until dinner?” he asked.

“Thirty minutes if you’re not helping," Josh chimed in. "Forty-five if you are.”

“Perfect, just enough time for a tour.”

With that, Jake led you out the back of the kitchen and up a flight of stairs to a second floor of the giant home, another long hallway covered floor to ceiling with heavy picture frames encasing some of the most beautiful artwork you had ever seen.

“I think that back there was the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

His observation broke your concentration, and your efforts to ignore him, as it were, and you turned to him, inhaling deeply as you met his soft and tender gaze. You hadn’t expected him to take notice of you that way and he certainly still was as he watched you with intent, it seemed. It suddenly made you feel vulnerable and you hesitated in his eyes before you acknowledged his comment.

“Your brothers are great,” you offered in a near whisper, a smile turning up your lips ever-so-slightly at the thought of the two boys you had briefly met downstairs.

It certainly wasn’t a lie. You might have even said they were his best quality.

“I should have introduced you to them first,” he smiled. “We might have gotten off on a better foot.”

You felt your smile, small as it had been, fade from your face as the thought of your first, or rather, second, meeting with Jake brought itself back to your attention, and with it, the thought of the predicament you were in. You turned your eyes back to the hallway in front of you that you and Jake slowly marched down, some symbol of what was to come perhaps, and swirled your wine glass absentmindedly before taking a long sip.

"I've hardly been introduced to you anyway," you said as the liquid did its best to fix your nerves, to no avail really.

You could feel his eyes still searching the side of your face before he finally gave up and turned his focus in the same direction as yours, down the long stretch of dimly lit hallway lined with ornate red carpets on one surface and detailed wooden accents on the other three.

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, turning once again to you despite the fact that you couldn’t meet his eyes.

"I can let you snoop through my room if that would help."

“It might," you admitted.

Picking up his stride, he led you to the end of the hallway, to a door that stood tall carved into the wall that resembled the other doors interspersed down the hall, likely the bedrooms of the other two more bubbly boys.

“This is my room,” he said with a push of the door open, leaving room between himself holding the door open and the frame, enough for you to enter first to take it all in.

The first thing you noticed was the heavy wooden poster bed in the very center of the room, draped in cozy-looking linens that were plentiful enough to swallow him up every brisk morning, you imagined. It was disheveled and slept in and your eyes lingered for just a second too long.

The walls were dark panels of wood that matched the rest of the mansion’s interior but that was about where the similarities stopped between his bedroom decor and the decor of the rest of the house, aside from the ornate rugs covering the cold wood beneath your feet and the heavy drapes drawn tightly closed.

The room was littered with vinyl records and books and instruments that were too many to count as you spotted more and more in various nooks of the room. An old-looking record player sat in one corner surrounded by music, most of which you didn’t recognize but some you were very familiar with, and the bookshelves built into the walls scarcely had any open space left on them. He was like a vampire bored of venturing into the world around him, turning inward to appreciate music and literature instead.

“I take it you’re a musician,” you inquired, though it wasn’t really a question.

With one hand running along the walls as you walked about the room, trying to count the instruments you saw, most of them guitar-like in nature, you turned your head back to him, where he stood practically still in his bedroom doorway as you awaited an answer. He almost looked…vulnerable, that was the best way to describe it. Nothing too tangible but the intensity in his eyes that was usually there was suddenly a bit more unassuming, like he was trying his best to let you into this place you didn’t really feel like you belonged in, trying to show you some part of himself without scaring you off, without scaring himself off, maybe.

The room said a lot about him but his demeanor as he watched you unravel his secrets with your eyes and your fingertips said just as much.

“Good way to unwind at the end of a stressful day,” he answered simply, not so much a reveal in and of itself.

“You play all of these?” you asked, gesturing widely around the room with one hand in reference to the miscellaneous instruments propped up on miscellaneous objects that surrounded you.

He gave you a quiet, easy nod.

“I do.”

He didn’t seem to have much commentary, you noted to yourself. Although what that said about him, you weren’t entirely sure.

“Would you play something for me?” you asked as you continued your walk about the room, half expecting silence as his answer but curious nonetheless if he would.

But he wasn’t silent. You caught a glimpse of a smile crossing his face as you turned back to the path laid before you and you could hear that same smile in his voice as he answered, “Tell you what, I’ll learn your favorite song and play it for you next time you’re here.”

You nodded at his answer, mostly to yourself as you digested it, just as your fingertips grazed a book where his floor-to-ceiling shelves began.

“You like to read,” you asserted. Another non-question about his hobbies that he answered without much comment.

"Escapism."

"When do you have time to manage the farms?"

You caught his shrug out of the corner of your eye before you turned your back to him fully to read an assortment of titles squeezed into the shelves in front of you.

"It's more Josh's thing. I'm just a figurehead."

"Ah,” you nodded, “shirking responsibility." You gave him a tut with the click of your tongue as you perused book spines, glass of wine still in hand and emptying quickly.

You finally heard him take a few steps into the room, still keeping quite a bit of distance between the two of you, but close enough now that as you turned your back to the books and faced him, he looked like he had finally joined you in the room, his normal intensity suddenly drifting back into his eyes.

"I recognize when others are more suited for something than I am."

And with that he had evaded your judgment, although it was a bit irritating, his simple answers, never really giving you much and leaving you with many more questions than you had to start.

Nevertheless, you bit the inside of your cheek and eyed him carefully, his own eyes never faltering as the two of you stared at each other, willing the other to relent in some unspoken fight for understanding, before you finally abandoned it altogether in favor of turning back toward the books, much more expressive than Jake’s words up to that point.

"He does a good job, I suppose.” You pushed the conversation forward. “Largest producer in the country. He’s more than tripled output since you're father."

"I knew it was a good idea to let him borrow 'Drug Production for Dummies'."

You turned back to him again, struck by his sarcasm as you stood in incredulous silence before finally huffing out an exasperated breath with a shake of your head.

"Do you plan to take a backseat once we're married as well?"

He took a few more steps forward, beginning now to decrease the space between you by a not-so insignificant amount. He looked past you, not really looking at anything in particular but, rather, looking as if he were deep in thought, chewing on the inside of his lip for a brief second before he finally rested his eyes on you again, a smirk tinging at his features and threatening to completely overtake his face.

"Do you mean in terms of the business or in terms of taking care of you?"

You could tell what he meant without even asking. It was clear in the grin that finally overtook his lips at your brows furrowing with disfavor that he wasn’t asking in any wholesome sense.

"The business,” you corrected him sternly. “Obviously."

"Obviously," he parroted back with a smirk, taking more steps toward you despite the way you practically clung to the bookshelf at your back. More steps, even, until he was mere inches away from you, looking toward the books like he was picking one out that just so happened to be almost directly behind you, but instead of a book, his eyes landed on yours once again.

"I intend to stay out of your way when you want me out of your way. And I intend to get in your way when you want me in the way."

He hadn’t been this close to you since helping you out of your coat at the front door. But now, with wine flowing through you, you couldn’t help the way your eyes dropped to his bare chest and flickered back up to his lips, making a slow journey finally back to his eyes. Even as you stood there speechless at his boldness.

It wasn’t until the thought of Danny hit you like a truck that you suddenly got your bearings back, the thought of the man you had woken up with only a few days prior, the man you hadn’t seen since later that same day. And suddenly guilt was coursing through you, gnawing at your edges and threatening to double you over as you shook the daze from your eyes and slipped from the space between Jake and the bookshelf to continue walking about the room.

Danny, the one you loved, unaware that you were perusing your future husband’s bedroom. It suddenly felt inappropriate being there, though you knew you hadn’t much choice. Letting Jake corner you that way though, thinking thoughts about him that would have dragged Danny’s heart through the dirt, that was something you had to avoid.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to keep yourself busy then," you retorted, a bit of bite showing itself as you retreated.

You heard him chuckle from behind you, a sweet sound that ground on your nerves.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say I make you nervous.”

You answered without ever looking at him.

“I’m not good with small talk,” you said as plainly as you could manage, trying to quell thoughts of Danny for your own sake.

“I don’t think this is really small talk.”

“What would you call it?”

“Well, I’m attempting to flirt with you and you’re attempting to get drunk.”

You turned toward him again, once again surprised by his audaciousness and unable to not let that surprise show, even if only for the slightest of moments before you collected yourself.

You faked a chuckle as convincing as you could, trying not to give yourself away. Trying to look poised as ever even though you were far from it.

"There's no off switch, is there," you shook your head, dropping your eyes to the glass in your hand and breathing in a sigh so deep, you practically felt the pressure in the room change.

"Well I can't turn it off now,” he shrugged for a second time. “I haven't even wooed you yet."

He said it so easily, so matter-of-factly that you couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not. The look on his face was just as indiscernible too. And suddenly his seemingly flippant attitude brought anger to the surface of your tone, running hot behind your cheeks not too differently than the heat that had been there when you were backed up against the bookshelf. But an entirely different emotion attached; much less confusing at that.

"Is that what this is, you attempting to woo me?” you accused somewhat meanly as you stepped away from the wall toward him with a start. “Because it's not working."

What was Danny doing at that moment? Had Lily already told him of your plans for the night? Would he take this as a sign of you abandoning him for Jake? You should have told him you were going. You just couldn’t find it in you to face him, to get out of bed in those few days. It was ridiculous really, hiding from the one person you wanted. But that you were no stranger to.

Jake made a similar step toward you but his tone held no such anger. It was simply his same quiet voice, low and crackly and infuriatingly soothing.

"Well you’ve hardly let me get started."

Another step toward him and you found yourself doing the same dance with him that you had done several days prior when he was insistent upon calming you down. And you were just as angry now as you had been then, not because he had done anything as egregious as your father. Although, with the wine in you, saying yes to the whole thing in the first place was beginning to feel just as damning for the poor boy in front of you. He was the one keeping you from Danny, him and his agreement to your father’s deal without any regard for how it affected you.

"Have you considered that maybe I don't want you to try?” you spat the question in his direction. “This isn’t a game to me, Jake."

“I’m sorry,” he started, lifting his hands up as some sort of symbol of peace as he stepped toward you again, this time multiple paces. “I’m just trying to diffuse the tension. It’s not a game to me either.”

You shook your head with a mean laugh, your frustration and anger growing hot inside your chest now, burning in your lungs and down your arms until you felt it pulsing in your palms.

“Says the man who clearly benefits from all of this,” you seethed, voice beginning to raise.

“Whatever your father thinks I get from this, he also thinks you get from this.” His voice was still even, though touched now ever so slightly by something a bit more stern.

That’s what you were looking for, after all: a fight. Maybe he would give it to you.

You had no regard for if the boys downstairs could hear you as you stepped ever closer to Jake, arms flailing widely as you continued your assault on him with your words despite your wine glass still in hand.

“I don’t care what my father thinks you get from this, I want to know what you think you get from this. It’s better than what I get from this and we both know it!”

And then suddenly, without even realizing how far the two of you had moved, he was right in front of you, grabbing your wrist with his right hand and prying your empty glass from your grip with his left before moving his hand that held you tightly to your forearm and dragging you further into him. It was all at once that you suddenly found yourself inches away from his chest as your seething anger turned into something else entirely.

“Okay, okay,” he started softly as he held you there, unrelenting as his eyes searched for any shred of calm in you and his teeth clenched lightly. “I won’t be such a tease. Just a little bit of a tease, how about that?”

If you hadn’t been so utterly speechless at his ability to deflect, you might have been struck by the way your anger melted from your body, not just due to his sudden change in proximity but also thanks to the way he held you, like he was unwilling to let go until you proved to him you were calm.

Maybe that was what he had wanted to do when you had hurled insults at him in your bedroom. Maybe he had been too afraid to.

And then that sudden change in proximity set in again and you realized just how close you were, closer even than you had been when he had cornered you not long ago, too close to evade his eyes unless you stared directly at his bare neck, tensing lightly at the effort he was using to hold you where you were, draped in silver. Too close to evade his eyes unless you stared directly at his lips, plusher than you remembered them being the last time you had seen him, lips slightly parted as his tongue darted out to wet them, awaiting any type of response from you.

It was unfair how beautiful he was. He clearly used that to his advantage, the same way he used his hands to calm you, discovering something you wished he would have left undiscovered.

And suddenly it was the thoughts of Danny melting from the back of your mind too. A simple touch but a feeling you had never quite felt with Danny.

You finally shook yourself out of your thoughts to whisper a meek, “Fine,” which he appreciated with a single nod and a, “Good,” before letting you go and retreating back to the doorway, your wine glass still in his hand as if he didn’t want you to get any ideas. You usually saved violence for your father but Jake didn’t exactly know that.

“There’s more I want to show you, if you’re done trying to fight me.”

Silently you crossed the room, trying your best to look unphased and unashamed of the entire altercation and trying even harder to avoid looking at his slept-in bed one last time before you crossed the threshold back into the hallway.

He led you down a flight of stairs at the end of the hall, a long flight that wrapped back around to the large entryway and led almost directly to a study off the same room.

“This is the family office although Josh is really the only person that uses it. I imagine you could get some use out of it too.”

It was a magnificent room to say the least, not that the house had anything short of magnificence throughout, Jake’s room included. It was tall and grand and had even more books than Jake’s room, the shelves there dwarfing his own with tall ladders attached to golden rails to reach the books two stories up. The desk that sat in the middle of the room was clearly the focal point, backed by an enormous wooden fireplace that looked like it could swallow the room, but what drew you in were the windows, floor to ceiling, overlooking the lawn, gray as it was. It was a beautiful view, one that had you imagining doing work there, watching the grass freeze over with a fire to your back, Josh and Sam being their loud, jovial selves in the background. It felt almost like it could be home, save for the lack of your mother’s touch around. Or Danny’s.

It took you out of the moment, the thought of them, and you swallowed your awe with a reluctant sigh as you swiped your fingers delicately over the wooden desk, appreciating the grandeur beneath your fingertips while still trying to shake the feeling you had been left with in Jake’s room.

“I would think I’d work at my own house.”

He followed you to the desk, standing a few steps away on the opposite side, his eyes watching you carefully, following the trail of your fingertips along the glossy desktop.

“We can have anything moved in,” he assured you quietly, just above the crackle of the fire. “Just say the word.”

He was picturing you there, you knew it. You were picturing yourself there. And it angered you coming from yourself. But coming from him? It only filled you with hurt that you had to quell his delusions.

“I don’t plan to live here, Jake,” you started slowly, eyes still fixed to the desk, “as beautiful as it is.”

You didn’t look up at him but his voice was its usual calm self. If he was masking any hurt, you certainly couldn’t tell behind the typical husky cadence he had, humor never too far behind.

“Well I guess I can move in with you but Spanish architecture really isn’t my thing.”

You mostly ignored his remark, retreating back into your thoughts as you tried to imagine some version of Jake that fit into your home, some version of him that fit into your life. And of course, wherever he fit in, that was space taken away from Danny.

“Would be easier to sneak around with Danny here though. A few less interested eyes prying.”

Now that had you lifting your eyes to look at Jake, his demeanor unchanged while you looked at him in unstifled uncertainty, unsure if he was being sincere or not although he certainly looked like he was.

But you shook your head, slowly at first as you processed the idea, what he was suggesting.

“That would feel…very wrong,” you asserted, more to yourself perhaps than to the boy standing in front of you turning the wine glass between his fingers, letting the light of the fire glint off of it.

“Why’s that?” he asked softly, almost too softly.

“I mean…” you began with a heavy sigh, “if I’m going to have an affair, I could at least do it in my own home.”

He pursed his lips and cast his gaze downward to the wine glass still in his hands as he nodded, adding, “Well, it’ll always be here. Just something to keep in mind. I’m sure Josh would love the company.”

He was easier to look at when his eyes weren’t boring holes into your soul, easier to confront when you didn’t feel like he was watching your every move and taking notes. You couldn’t help the question despite the fact that you regretted it almost immediately, absurd as it was, especially coming from your mouth.

“Would you prefer me here?”

He raised his focus back up to your face, straightening with the sincerity he placed behind his words.

“I would prefer you to be somewhere that you actually want to be, y/n.”

You stared back, unwavering, determined now to take just as much note of him as he did you.

“And where do you want to be?”

“Wherever you want me,” he answered plainly. And you shook your head at the response.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

Finally a sigh evoked from the boy with the long, straight hair resting at his shoulders and the silver medallion shining on his chest, a piece he seemed to never take off.

“Okay, truly?” he asked, reluctance not sitting far behind his tone. “I want to be here with my brothers. And in an ideal world, you’d feel like this was your home too. But I’m not an idiot and I realize that none of this is happening in an ideal world.”

The tiniest hint of pain behind his eyes rose up as he said it, clouding the warmth that was usually there just a tinge, cooling it off the slightest bit. You imagined that pain amplified by a million after his father died. If you were to ever witness it in him, it might have broken you.

But even so, your reply was almost snide, unintentionally but snide nonetheless.

“See? Not so hard to actually answer a question every now and then.”

He shuffled on his feet and pursed his lips again, pausing a moment before addressing your pointed remark.

“You feel like I’m not answering your questions?”

“I feel like you’ve rehearsed all of your answers to give me the least amount of information possible.”

Here you were being unfair again, despite your intentions not to be.

“Maybe I don’t have the information you’re looking for,” he answered, not quite as calm as he had been up to that point. There was frustration growing, you could tell.

“Maybe you’re hiding it from me,” you accused, voice quiet but accusation still there.

His voice wasn’t nearly as quiet when he answered.

“Maybe I’m not the one choosing to hide it from you.”

It was sharp when he said it and you deserved the bite as you reeled in your mind, suddenly more sorry than you had been since meeting Jake. Your father was at the center of this, perhaps you had forgotten. Turning your anger in on Jake wasn’t getting you anywhere and it was unfair to him. But the words he deserved to hear, ‘I’m sorry’, died on your tongue as you stared at Jake, eyes suddenly starting to go glossy.

You were sorry, why couldn’t you say it? And more importantly, why were you unable to be in a room alone with Jake without picking a fight with him?

“Is the fight over or should I keep my distance?”

It was Josh’s voice that broke the heavy silence as he peeked his head into the study, his curls arriving first.

Jake seemed instantly more annoyed although at you or Josh, you weren’t sure. Probably both of you, to be honest.

“You need something, Josh?” he asked without turning to his brother.

Not that Josh seemed to really be bothered by it.

“Yeah, come eat this delicious pasta I slaved over before it gets colder than whatever happened in here.”

You and Jake both stared on at each other, a tense silence so thick in the snowy air you could practically cut through it with a knife despite Josh’s best attempts to warm the room with his wit. There was more hurt there, behind the warmth of his face, hurt that he had clearly been hiding from you, maybe even shielding you from. If you hadn’t felt guilty before, you certainly did now.

But unable to even whisper out a pathetic apology, finally you relented with a sigh, breaking the stare as you couldn’t bear to look at him any longer, opting to follow his twin out the door, Jake sighing before he followed suit.

“Gonna give each other hypothermia if you’re not careful,” Josh remarked before taking your arm and looping it through his to lead you back to the kitchen.

Silence carried you all back to the kitchen where Josh busied himself with plating pasta and Sam was busy filling glasses with mostly liquor. Well, all liquor in the glasses you could see.

Jake made quick work of your empty wine glass while Josh handed you a plate and guided you toward the large dining room right off the kitchen. A large mahogany table sat in the middle, covered in so many candles it looked like it might go up in flames and surrounded by walls of artwork akin to what you had seen upstairs.

Jake followed closely behind and took his seat at the head of the table as you took the seat closest, followed by Josh opting for the chair next to you and Sam the chair opposite you. Nice and cozy at one end of the substantial slab of wood. Like a neat little family hiding messy secrets and dramatic arguments.

“Did he show you his bad music taste?” Sam blurted out above the sound of silverware scraping along plates.

“I told him; wait until after the wedding,” Josh chimed in, bumping your shoulder with a wide smile on his face.

“It didn’t look so bad to me,” you shrugged quietly, trying to avoid Jake’s eyes.

Sam wasn’t nearly as quiet though as he slapped Jake on the shoulder.

“Oh she’s a keeper for sure,” he bellowed as Jake fought him off.

He leaned over to you then, feigning a whisper in your ear while he spoke loudly enough for the other two boys to hear. “Remind me never to bring you back here.”

“Oh come on, you love us.” Sam banged his fists on the table as he addressed his brother before turning to address you. “He loves us.”

It seemed Jake had put your fight behind him as the dinner continued. Well, as much as one could call a one-sided argument a fight. You learned about the brothers' proclivity for music while twirling pasta around the tines of your fork to the sound of any of the three fighting over what could be considered good music these days. You learned about their father, a kind and warm man who just so happened to inherit one of the largest cartels after their mother, her mother's successor, died in childbirth. He never really wanted it. You learned that when he had died in a car accident several years prior, he had named Jake as his successor despite the fact that he was five minutes late to the race for eldest. More of a burden than a gift, as Jake recalled it. He also never really wanted it. He took after his father in that right.

"It was better off in my mother's hands. In my grandmother's hands. It needs a woman now too," he had said.

"Corny," Sam had interjected with an eye roll.

You learned that Josh was, in fact, the only brother really interested in keeping things running smoothly with the business and that Sam had more of an inclination toward their weapons arsenal, both expanding it and using it.

“I like fire,” he had said with too much of a glint in his eyes.

“We all like fire, Sam,” Josh had added, too much of a glint in his own eyes too.

You couldn’t help but think about your mother’s theory on sitting down to dinner and unveiling oneself to someone. Jake opened up with his brother’s around. He opened up at the dinner table.

And when plates were emptied and glasses were drained, Josh excused himself to carry dishes to the kitchen, turning down the attempts of multiple housekeepers to unload the task from him. You followed the twin into the kitchen with your own plate and glass despite Jake's protests, leaving him with his younger brother as they picked out another bottle of some dark liquor from the cellar sitting somewhere beneath your feet.

"This place is beautiful," you commented as you and Josh entered the quiet confines of the kitchen and set plates down on the island.

"It'll be yours too, after the wedding," he said with a half smile as his eyes flickered up to yours through his lashes all while his hands were busy brushing food scraps into a trash bin.

But you didn't return his look, merely cast your eyes downward at the thought of having some claim to stake in something that wouldn't ever really belong to you, not in the way you wanted it to.

"It feels wrong," you admitted. After hearing the stories they had told about their parents, their grandparents, you felt even more like an intruder, even more than you felt like you didn’t want to belong there.It was an endless tanglement of emotions that you felt pulling you further underwater with each passing moment.

But Josh's features were soft even still, as he halted his task at hand and stepped towards you, leaning against the corner of the island and catching your gaze with his big brown eyes and rosy cheeks and pink lips that a smile hardly ever abandoned.

"A home can be that to many people, no matter how deserving they feel."

You let your eyes fall again, feeling far too vulnerable for your tastes and opting instead to let the silence cement in the air.

A home with Jake and his brothers, carrying on their legacy alongside your own simultaneously. It wasn’t exactly what you had imagined. That was surely no secret. Even if you did come to want it, would you deserve it?

You spoke again after a moment, slowly and quietly, giving Josh no context for your question, not that he really needed it.

“Did he have a choice?”

He was quiet for a moment as he pursed his lips, looking to be deep in thought, or maybe like he didn’t want to give you the answer he had to.

“I’m not sure he felt he did, no.”

You watched as he lifted the bottle of red sitting on the island to pour more into your glass before bringing it to his lips and taking a swig himself.

It was strange the way the silence that fell over you both felt almost comfortable, not like an awkward silence between two strangers might have felt, sending you searching for some meaning behind it in the swirl of the liquid in your glass. Whatever it was about Jake that made you nervous despite the warmth behind his eyes, Josh didn’t have it. It was like you had known him your entire life, like he was your closest friend and most trusted confidant. Not a bad choice for a brother-in-law, as it were.

Although why you were entertaining the thought of actually marrying Jake, even in passing, you weren’t sure.

But you wondered then if it hurt him to watch his brother agree to marry a woman he didn’t love, all because some man had come knocking at his door. A powerful man, too powerful to say no to. He had to have felt it. And if Jake felt it, surely Josh felt it too.

“He certainly doesn’t blame you though,” Josh finally broke the silence.

“You don’t have to say that,” you sighed heavily as you looked up from your glass and met his eyes with remorse clouding your own.

“No, I mean it,” he nodded before a smile broke the lines of his lips. “And I know that because as twins we share our thoughts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his remark, dire as the topic at hand seemed. It felt impossible not to smile in Josh’s presence. Such a fitting pair of twins they made.

“He just wants to make you happy,” Josh continued, his voice low and sincere, no hint of a joke anywhere to be found. “You both deserve to be happy.”

You thought back to the offer Jake had made you a few days prior, about letting you see Danny in secret, the offer he had reiterated before dinner, and suddenly you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it was he was getting in return for all of this. A wife that despised him? An empire he didn’t even care about? Suddenly you felt a pang of guilt prick into your chest at the anger you had hurled at him earlier that very night. Jake wasn’t really getting the better deal. He wasn’t really getting anything, for that matter.

“How do I make him happy when I’m not even happy myself?”

Josh’s eyes met yours for a brief moment before he dropped them to the marble beneath his fingers, likely as he saw the genuineness behind your own. But then he shrugged and cocked his head to the side, looking past you with what you could only describe as theatrical thoughtfulness.

“That one I might have to put some thought into,” he admitted, chuckling to himself as he took another swig of wine straight from the bottle.

His words, although understandable and certainly not pointed in tone or inflection, stung nonetheless. The thought of being doomed, it scared you.

You downed the rest of your drink in silence.

—

Jake stood at the front door with you as you awaited a car to take you home, his fists clenching and unclenching and his eyes fixed to your form as you swayed a bit precariously thanks to the heels you had donned and the wine that had flowed freely, looking like he was resisting the urge to reach out and steady you, perhaps not wanting to push his luck any further that night.

“I can go with you-” he started but you quickly cut him off.

“No, that’s okay. No reason to prolong your night.”

He nodded, perhaps a bit reluctantly, but dropped it nonetheless.

You hadn’t raised your voice with him since his bedroom. In fact, the remainder of the evening after dinner had been served had been quite pleasant, other than the conversation had with Josh in the kitchen, removed from the ears of the other two boys. But now as you stood by the door, the air had gone almost a bit awkward as end-of-the-night pleasantries were exchanged between two people who still hardly knew one another. Better as the night had gone on; not at the level required for marriage.

“You know, my offer still stands,” he started. “Everything I said the other night, I still stand by all of it. You don’t owe me anything.”

You gave him a silent nod as he handed you your coat, this time letting you don it yourself. You weren’t really sure what to say. Of course you still wanted to see Danny, but part of you felt bad for leaving Jake with nothing. Not that he wasn’t perfectly capable of seeing someone else on the side if he wished. Although if your father found out that he was being unfaithful, the consequences likely went much further than your own infidelity being found out. Maybe there were no good options for either of you.

So it begged the question, the question that had been on your mind since you had met him and the question that burned harder even now, now that you knew what he was willing to give up for seemingly nothing in return.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, voice soft so as not to let the guards or the housekeeper or, god forbid, his supportive, rambunctious brothers hear.

“What do you mean?”

You shrugged.

“Any of this. Try being so nice to me, for starters.”

A soft smile touched his lips as he chuckled and for a moment, he resembled Josh more than he ever had. You watched as he shuffled his feet, his eyes following the movements before he finally raised his gaze back to your face, his soft brown eyes studying your expression.

“Well, being mean to you would kind of just be adding insult to injury at this point.”

Your face never abandoned its seriousness, even as his amusement touched his eyes. Another avoided question before he changed the subject altogether.

“Was tonight terrible for you?” he asked, softer this time, more genuine a topic of his interest apparently.

You decided not to fight him on it, to let him drop it for the night. You could give him that, you supposed.

You shook your head very matter-of-factly. “No, not terrible. I can’t speak for if it had just been us but if you keep your brothers around, it might be enough to stave off the misery.”

A smile teased up at the corner of his lips at your response.

“I’m not going to stop trying to make you like me, I hope you know that.”

You nodded this time, feigning defeat with an exaggerated eye roll.

“No off switch, I know.”

“Does that bother you?”

“I find it incredibly annoying,” you nodded again, just a hint of a smile crossing your lips. A hint it was but it was enough for him to catch, enough to widen his own smile, his face looking entirely illuminated for the first time.

“Annoying,” he mused. “I can work with that.”

The front door opened seemingly on its own as a chauffeur appeared, just in time to witness a genuine laugh fall from your lips at the hand of one Jacob Kiszka, sworn enemy and future husband.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can,” you beamed before you turned your back to him and stepped out the door.

You could hear a laugh from him in return, sincere and bright, as you embarked into the rain, the chauffeur dutifully holding a black umbrella over you as you retreated to the dry interior of the black luxury sedan awaiting you.

Taglist: @lvnterninthenight @gretasmokerising @jordierama

[drippiesfm]

"i mean, when i'm a horse, i don't really have complex thoughts, so, yeah... it’s kind of freeing to just let others take the reins." he chuckles at that, effortlessly blending sincerity with humor. it’s second nature to him. but, now that he’s reflecting on it, no one’s ever really asked him how he feels about anything. it dawns on him that, perhaps, he’s shut himself off emotionally—locked away parts of himself he’s not willing to share, as though safeguarding something vulnerable. "sometimes, it’s easier being a horse, because the duplications haven’t figured out how to replicate in that form..." he punctuates that sentence with a hard shrug.

he considers the walkie-talkies and the color-coded systems, but the thought feels more like a fleeting fantasy than a realistic possibility. if it were truly that simple, he would have done it years ago ( right? ) back when he first discovered his ability to replicate. that sort of process wasn’t something he was accustomed to developing on his own. "maybe..." timidity swallows his voice again, "you could color-code them for me?" he asks, his lip trembling slightly.

but then, this is nothing compared to the deeper questions he's grappled with before. "sometimes i can read their minds, but only when the duplications are..." he falters, searching for the right word. "...live?" the concept of the hive mind is difficult to articulate. "if they’re offline, i can’t access their thoughts. so any information they might hold, when they’re not active, is lost to me."

at present, his only access is to the hive mind of the kyle duplications are of those who are currently active—which, in this moment, amounts to none. "i have to be careful when they’re live. i have to pay close attention to which kyle is replicated and track the thoughts of their duplication." he isn’t sure if he’s even making sense. "it’s like... notes stacked on top of notes. i have my notes on the first duplication, but once they duplicate again, it becomes harder to trace and harder to like... notate. does that make sense?"

he knows this likely sounds like utter nonsense to anyone who isn’t a mutant. he wishes he could explain it better. but there isn’t exactly a user manual for toddling minds and their duplications—at least, not yet. maybe with time, he could organize it into chapters, subsections, and detailed annotations and maybe a whole bibliography. but now, this is the best he's got.

when ren looks at him with a look of panic, he does what feels instinctively right: he crouches down and gathers the confused, lost chris into his arms. a big hug is given. his broad "kyle" frame envelops the little boy, and he gently rests chris’s head on his shoulder. "it’s okay, bud. shh..." he murmurs. once he’s leveled with the boy, assuring him that his dinosaur is "neat" and flashing him a trademark "kyle" smile, he adds, "this is ren. he’s a good guy, i promise. he’s really nice, and super cool. he just wants to know if you'd like to have a sleepover tonight! if not, that’s okay—we can take you back to your parent's house. no big deal !" he gives it a moment. he tries to give chris and ren their moment to bond before he asks, "do you know where your parents are, bud?"

"A horse." He repeats. By far, the mutation wasn't the strangest Ren had ever come across. Eyes glide over Kyle as he tries to imagine him twice as big with a dark brown mane and...he has a million more questions than answers, none of which he's sure how to ask. Would Kyle even know the answer? Based on their current conversation...probably not.

His weight shifts on his feet. "I mean...I've seen weirder..." Which is maybe not the best thing for him to say in that moment. "Do you...um...enjoy being a horse?"

What kind of question was that? Temptation arises to lock himself in the bathroom and bang his head on the wall. Instead, he tries to imagine life if there were six of him all trying to keep track of one another. "We'd have walkie-talkies. And color-coded schedules," He decides. If his life had been like that since childhood, Ren's certain he'd get used to it.

"Can you like...read one another's minds? Or is it just...an intuition thing? Are your duplicates ever older than you, or is it always just your age and younger? Are you ever scared that maybe your the duplicate? How do you keep track?"

His mouth runs faster than his mind. "Sorry. You don't have to answer any of that if you don't want to," He's not sure how comfortable Kyle feels. Or if he even has any of the answers. Ren leans down so that he's eye level with Chris. "Do you know where your mom or dad is? Is there anyone we can call?"

But the question only leaves the poor boy with his bottom lip stuck out. Tears begin to well in his deep brown eyes. Ren looks to Kyle in a panic.

[crownandwriter]

In which he notices your...frustration

Pairings: Kazuha, Diluc x gn!reader

Warnings: suggestive themes/dialogue (nothing actually happens, though), flirting, fluff/comfort??if you squint, not proofread because im impatient

Author Note: A little idea I had, but I left the smut off for now lol. If these are well-liked I’ll do other characters

Part 2 (Xiao, Chongyun)

Intro

You couldn’t say where such an intense need had come from, or if something specific had caused it, but it’s presence was unyielding. Worse, it’s been one busy-bee-thing after the other today--a task here, too many people there, your help needed there…. You hadn’t had chance enough to take care of the problem yourself, let alone seek out your partner and ask him to sweep you away for much-needed relief.

Little did you know, he’d already taken note of your predicament. How the need flushed your cheeks and the discomfort made you seem ever-so-slightly...frustrated. And, well, how could he not offer to ease your burdens?

Kazuha

Kazuha came strolling back over the hill with the water satchels in record time, and laid them out neatly near Aether as he assembled the fire pit for cooking today’s lunch. Before you could offer to get the soup pot ready, Kazuha gingerly took your wrist and tugged. The look he leveled you with was sweeter than usual...doting almost.

“There’s something by the water I want to show you,” he said. “Traveler, we’ll be back shortly.”

Aether waved you off good-naturedly, responding something about the other still fetching ingredients anyway,, and Kazuha laced your fingers together as he led you back towards the river. As you approached, you scanned the area for what he may have discovered. It wasn’t uncommon for Kazuha to lead you off in private like this to share in a particularly beautiful scene and a few moments of respite. Though, if you were being honest, you doubted your ability to enjoy it right now….

As you tip-toed to the water’s edge, however, his hand gently guided you further up the embankment. There was a gorgeous waterfall too, and you found yourself wondering if a cold dip would help this burning urge. Kazuha looked between you and the cascading water for a few rich moments, and then cleaned closer so you could hear his soft voice over the rush of water.

“You’ll never guess what I’ve found,” he said. It was hard to structure a guess when his breath on your ear sent a shockwave down the pulse of your neck. You were sure he noticed the thick swallow that came after, too.

He chuckled, and then his free hand came up to guide a large palm leaf growing from the cliffside into the water. The torrent split open, neat like pulling open a curtain, and revealed a cozy little cave beyond the cool mist.

“I rarely find anything beyond waterfalls,” Kazuha says and he guides you under the opening. “Storybooks could certainly make one think they’d be more common. No treasure in here, though--”

You flicker a smile at him for the sentiment, and take in the space. There’s moss-covered rocks and a scattered few glowing lamp grass that seem to have been recently plucked. Before you can ponder too much on their presence, Kazuha steps in behind you and his lips find your ear once more.

“--yet.” You whirl, and catch his autumnal eyes burning right into yours, temptingly close, but half-lidded and gentle. His fingers dance over your hips in ritual that’s long become casual, skirting the edges of your clothing and waiting for any ounce of refusal. “I believe you’ve been on the precipice of finding it for a while now…. May I be so bold as to offer you my assistance in reaching it?”

“K-Kazuha, I don’t think we have time,” you felt the need to whisper--but surely the whitenoise of rushing water would cover even the loudest yelling…. Oh. “The others will be waiting for us.”

Kazuha shakes his head slowly, never breaking gazes with you, even as he slowly backs you into the rock wall and begins to slide down your body. “Not to worry; we have a little time, and that’s all I need. For now.”

“I’ll be sure to take care of you more thoroughly next time we’re alone. But for now, please allow me to ease your troubles just a little.”

Diluc

Angel’s Share was close to closing, but you couldn’t say you had survived the night just yet. A scarce few regulars remained, mostly drunk, either awaiting their escorts home or sipping on water to sober up enough to make it alone. They all knew the closing routine by now, so Diluc stepped into the back room to take inventory without worry. And you were back with him to help speed things along too.

Although, surprisingly, it was actually going slower with your aid.

“Archons-- damn it, sorry Diluc, I’ve lost count again.” He wasn’t upset with you, but that was the third time. You’d been helping him with these sorts of tasks for so long now, the sudden difficulty with it concerned him. Now, he was a very observant man, and your reddened cheeks, lack of focus, the way you couldn’t meet his eyes in some moments.... Diluc had a theory as to what was going on, but felt guilty in lingering on an assumption so personal. He tried, instead, to observe you for signs of injury or fatigue, but his unwavering attention instead seemed to fluster you more.

“Is everything alright?” There, he finally asked. He did keep his voice down, though, lest the remaining patrons hear the conversation through the splinter-sized cracks in the bar door.

Your face dipped darker red immediately. You pointedly kept your eyes on the wine racks.

“Y-yes, of course! It’s just...been a long day. I’m quite ready to go home.” There’s a brief pause, and then you whirl to look at him. “Oh! Not that, I don’t like helping out here! I-I just, ah…”

“...Just?”

“I just...have some things to do at home,” you mutter.

Diluc knew that sentence was one large punctuation to end the topic; you were embarrassed, though he couldn’t tell for certain if there was discomfort mingled in with it. While you scrambled to finish counting the dandelion wine, Diluc leaned his hips back on a stack of crates, stretching his legs languid and crossing his ankles. He watched you even more intently now, digging with his eyes for the reaction to his next question:

“Is it something I can help you with?”

Your breath hitches at the inquiry. It takes much more courage than it should to flicker your gaze back over at your shoulder at him. You know--they say fire breathes. And it’s true. Diluc is there, flickering heat over in the corner of the dim room, eyes crackling embers, just waiting to burn the whole room down with you...or is that just wishful thinking?

“Come here,” he speaks again. He’s more assured in your wants now, and his pupils are blown wider. Your legs wobble over to him before your embarrassment gets the better of you. He slides the glove easily off of one had by a pinched finger, and then takes your chin gently between his bare fingers, leveling your eyes with his so hotly you think you might combust. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, quieter. “Do you need my help?”

Your hands grapple his shirt in desperate response, but fall limp and weak against his chest. Squirming in your place, you only just manage to nod. Diluc hums, and gently pulls you flush against him.

“I don’t love being so unceremonious with you,” he says while leaning in. “But I’ll worry about making it up to you later. For now, just remember to keep your voice down.”

“If you can’t walk to the Winery after this...it can’t be helped, I’ll just carry you. Though, it doesn’t bode well for you when we get back.”