#I know very little and it’s his story to share or not share

[goldsbitch]

Blink Once

Lando thought taking care of his twin daughters would be the hard part. Turns out, he can manage. Now, figuring out which one is which - that's a whole different story.

2k word count warning: none - domestic, fluff, fun

The room is in a state one could describe as a battlefield. Tiny clothes, diapers, creams, powders and God knows what scattered everywhere. There is also an intense stare down happening between the two pairs of blue eyes and one set of greenish. The latter belong to Lando, the former to his dearest offspring. The most adorable duo of little girls that he had ever seen. Every since they were born, he's been getting random streaks of immense pride throughout the day. That is until now, when he is staring at the two little grinning demons, holding a green sock in one hand a purple one in the other. Normally, he'd be overjoyed that he had managed to keep the two happy and not crying for so long. Y/N has gone out to much needed and postponed catch up with another adult, that's not Lando or anyone they're related to. It was his first time alone with the kids. He needed to prove it to her, and himself, that he can do it.

One of their daughters was expected, the other one was a happy surprise. To say taking care of two, instead of one, was a challenge for the new parents would be an understatement. Sleep deprived Lando was begging silently for his daughters to give him at least a clue to solving his latest fuck up. Identical twins. Y/N was so terrified of mixing them up, that the color designated socks and clothes were established right from the beginning. Olivia has green, Maya purple. Right?

He sighs dramatically, standing in the middle of the nursery and trying to recall which one had which pairs of socks on.

"Oh, how great of you that you can sit on your own now," he proclaims to the two, who keep beaming back at him, blabbering and apparently finding this very amusing. "If you could just magically learn how to talk now and tell me which one is which, that would be a-mazing!"

Nothing. Obviously. They have a long way to go to be able to do that. He tries to retrace his steps one more time. He put one on the changing dresser, that must have been the one with the green socks and went on to grab the other one to put her -on the left? Or was it right? He curses himself in creative swear words for taking the socks off so mindlessly.

It might be humiliating, but Lando is self-aware enough to have somewhat expected something like this to happen. He checks the shared note he and Y/N have. Ok - so it's right, Olivia is green and Maya purple. Great. Now which one is which?

He decides to sit them down in the living room - most likely mixing them once again, but what difference does that make now, he thinks.

He holds the two socks in front of their faces. This works with dogs, it must work with children too. He tries to brush over the fact he just compared his heirs to an animal.

"So, which one do you like better? Hm? You must have developed some sort of notion of which colour is yours at this point, right?" he speaks is sarcastic baby voice as the girls keep on laughing. Lando frowns. "This is not some sort of game, ladies. For all I know this might be the grounds for a divorce and your villain origin story." Nothing. No reaction to the socks, they just keep looking at him. Adorably.

He starts to properly panic now. Calls himself a shit parent, immature dad and just plain stupid idiot. Y/N is gonna kill him. He has to fix it somehow.

He tries different approach. "Olivia? Olivia, is it you? Blink twice if you’re Olivia. I’ll settle for a burp!" he speaks to the one on the left. It's like this child has stopped needing to blink completely. "So you're Maya?" he asks and figures the response of her hand reaching up must be enough to confirm her identity. He turns to the daughter on the right. "So, you're Olivia? Does that sound familiar?"

He is going to explain this to them one day, it's going to be a very funny story of how their father fucked up their whole life. Mixed them up so much that they end up becoming drug addicts. Oh, God. He is truly spiraling. Were they born with a destiny he’s now sabotaging by switching them? Or not switching them?

"Okay, Team Chaos. Maya, blink once. Or just scream, because that’s your go-to answer for everything anyway." He watches them intently and finally sees a blink! And immediately another one from the other child. He groans and puts his head in his hands. After a moment spent in a pit of despair, he comes back to reality with new found determination. He is a father, their father. His instincts must work. He picks one up and in the air and examines her intently. Turning her left, right and upside down. And then the second one. He's got nothing. These kids are point to point exact copies of each other.

As a typical young parent, he turns to internet for help. And as per usual, he finds zero reliable advice to go with. No - there is no secret birthmark on one of them. No, they both have identical eye color. No, there is no difference in their teeth. In amidst of all of this, he panic buys a fingerprint kit and full on plans on preventing this from happening in the future.

He comes back to stare at his kids, who are uncharacteriscally quiet, calm and content. As if they know that for the first time in weeks, he does not need their help to achieve chaos in his mind.

He calls the one person who is smart, won't probably laugh too much in his face, won't tell Y/N on him and might understand his parent panic.

Max Verstappen picks up after third dial.

"Lando!" he greets him cheerfully. At least someone is having a good time. "What's up? How's the new parent life looking out for you?"

Lando gets to the point straight. He is after all running out of time. "I've mixed up the twins. Don't laugh. I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean, you’ve ‘mixed up’ the twins?" the Dutchman asks.

Lando rolls his eyes, how does one not understand the simple premise. "I mean, I was changing their diapers, I took their socks off, and now I don’t know which one is Olivia and which one is Maya. I’ve stared at them for an hour, and they’re just...Point to point the same."

Max bursts out laughing on the other end of the line, a loud, unfiltered laugh that makes Lando cringe. He waits for the inevitable to end and lets him speaks first.

"So I assume you're alone with them? Is Y/N out of the house?" Why is that important, Lando does not understand.

"Yes. I’m serious, Max! They’re identical. Identical! It’s like trying to tell apart two...marshmallows. Two tiny, giggling, adorable and judgmental marshmallows who know I’m losing it and find it hilarious."

It seems that Max is finally somewhat on board with the seriousness of it all. "Right. So what’s the plan? Are you just gonna call them ‘Baby One’ and ‘Baby Two’ until Y/N gets home?"

Lando pinches the top of his nose in frustration. "Max, I need to solve this. If I don’t figure this out, Y/N will kill me. She was already paranoid about this happening, and now I’ve gone and done it. I mean, what if I ruin their entire lives, Max? What if they grow up thinking they’re each other-"

Max is solution oriented. So he jumps into interrupting the young father, because he might have just got on forever.

"Okay, okay, calm down. Let’s think this through. Did you check for a birthmark? Sometimes one of them will have a birthmark or something small that’s different."

Lando groans loudly. "No birthmark, no physical difference, Max, my kids look identical and I can't recognize them apart at all!"

"Hm," he stops to think, Lando stops to think and hopefully the whole world stops for a moment so he can fix his cardinal mistake. "What about… I don’t know, their personalities? Isn’t one supposed to be louder than the other?"

Lando appreciates the idea, first good one. Sadly, not a helpful one. He keeps staring at menace his children are. "They’re both loud. And they both cry at the exact same time, like they’ve rehearsed it. I think they’re doing this on purpose to mess with me."

"At least you can be sure you're the father," Max rhetors and laughs again.

"Not funny," Lando gritts his teeth.

"Well, I’d mess with you too if you were my dad."

"MAX."

"Okay, fine, fine. Why don’t you just pick one, call her Olivia, and call the other one Maya, and just stick with it? What’s the worst that could happen?" he tries to calm Lando, but it backfires masivelly.

Lando is now pissed at Max as well. The guy has kids far apart in age to obviously not understand the gravity of the situation. And he's more that willing to make him understand. "The worst? The worst! I’ll tell you the worst. What if they figure it out when they’re older and I’ve been calling Olivia ‘Maya’ for years? What if Maya’s like, ‘Wow, Dad, you didn’t even know who I was?’ And Olivia’s like, ‘I always knew I was the favorite.’ And then they hate me forever and end up in therapy, and the therapist is like, ‘Your father was a moron who couldn’t even tell you apart."

"That… sounds like a lot of "future you" problems."

Lando start to pray silently to all the gods he's aware of. "Future seems pretty damn close, given Y/N probably comes home any minute now."

And that's when he hears the door open. Fuck.

"Just wait when they're teenagers and start switching on purpose," is the last he hears from Max before hanging up indefinitely. Lando freezes, the phone slipping from his hand and landing on the carpet with a soft thud. His eyes dart between the door and the two grinning culprits, who have now decided to crawl toward each other and share in their apparent victory. He whispers under his breath, “Traitors. Both of you.”

He gets up automatically, the plan now being wooving Y/N, the mother of his devil children, out by his adorableness. It worked when he was trying to get to agree to go on a first date with him, it has to work now. He wonders into the kitchen, where he sees her putting some box of pastries onto the counter.

"Hello, my love," he attacks and immediately steps all over to her personal space. Hand on her cheek, the other one on her hips and he locks them in a kiss. He's not fully certain it works, but it earns him a pleased smile. Baby steps - no pun intended. "So, what did you do?" He know already, coffee date with a bestie, bla bla bla, but he needs to buy himself some time. She tells him anyway and he is pleased to her happy, for the last time in their lives probably. Oh, what a nice journey this has been. He gets lost in the love-filled thoughts that he temporarily forgets about his predicament.

She kisses him gently one more time and flashes a look into the living room. "Look at them, so happy." Fuck, that was quick. It was foolish of him to rely on the fact Y/N might just forget about their kids. "How’s everything going? Did the girls behave?"

Behave. Right. The girls behaved perfectly. It was him who had descended into chaos.

"Yeah! All good on that front. We're a great team!" he responds, maybe too enthusiastically. He is certain this was the last time she's left him alone with the them, until they're able to identify themselves on their own. It was fun while it lasted. The pit of despair in his stomach is growing.

"It makes me so happy to see you all having fun," she says and it's the kind of relaxed smile he hasn't seen on her face for weeks now.

"Honey, do you wanna take a nap or some alone time in the bedroom?," he asks sincerely, casually tangling their hands together. "Looks like some time off suits you." This is not said as a part of his salvage plan. It is actually really nice to see her rested for once. She looks at him sheepishly.

"You're amazing, you know that?" she whispers, several positive emotions written all over her face.

"Keep focused on that," he says before he can stop himself. Fuck once again. He freezes. She winces, her spidey senses on. He glance is averted to the children now.

"Lando, did something happen?" she asks, suddenly worried.

This time Lando looks over at the girls, who are still preocuppied by themselves. "No, all good. Look at them, all content." And mixed up, he thinks, but does not add that.

Y/N does not look conviced and goes over to check up on them herself. He does not stop her. It was bound to happen anyway.

He's an adult. Knows well enough from his high demanding job that fessing up to a mistake is ultimately better than have someone find out. Deep breath in. Here goes everything.

"I don't know which one is which," he says and lets the reality of it sink in. Y/N looks at him with eyes wide out. He continues. "I was changing their diapers, took the socks of and then forgot which one is which. I'm sorry."

She stares at him, then at the girls and right back at him. To add some gravitas to it all, the kids are now playing with both socks. Lando is pretty sure the blood stopped flowing in his veins. He tries to calculate how long it's going to take him to pack his stuff up. Y/N kneels down to level with the girls and smiles at them. Lando's fighting the urge to take a photo, so that he can remember what having a family felt like. Then she picks up the child sitting on her left.

"Hi, Olivia," he mumbles and puts the sock on accordingly. Lando does not compherend. "Hello, Maya," she continues and repeats her action. Has his wife just decided which one is which and moved on? He could have done that minutes ago! He stays silent as he takes careful steps toward his family. Y/N stands up as well and looks at her disheweled husband.

"Olivia's got little tiny dimples," she says simply to provide some explanation.

"What?" is the only response Lando is capable of giving her. She waits with a sneaky smile as he comes over to them and examines the girls one more time. After a moment, he speaks again. "You're lying."

She laughs and dismisses that. "No, I'm not, look." Lando still can't see a damn difference, but decides on believing Y/N. "How do you-"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I guess it's mom instincts." Lando is stunned at how casual she is about this all. Just like that, she goes back to unloading her back to the kitchen. Lando's heartbeat slowly goes down to the normal a human is suppose to have and turn to watch Y/N. When he's sure that she in fact not being sarcastic, does not seem to be mad at him and confirms that he might just have survived this all and gets to keep access to his family, he walks over her to cherish her once again.

"I'm so sorry, I was really trying to avoid doing that," he apologizes, still not quite done being guilty. "I know you were afraid of this."

She turns to him with a smile. "It was bound to happen eventually. I was really worried about that when we came back from the hospital," she glances at the little girls lovingly. "I'm with them so much that I guess I started to see the tiny, miniscule differences. Don't feel bad not doing so," she walks over to him to be the one doing the comforting.

"If you want me to keep them straight, we’re gonna have to tattoo their names on their foreheads. I’m kidding. Kind of."

She chuckles. "Yeah, do that and you are dead."

He shakes his head. "Always dismissing my genius ideas."

"And always will be, honey," she leans over and kisses him. Just like that, the perfect moment is over. Sounds of crying creeping in from the living room. Y/N sighs into their kiss.

Lando looks at his two identical, mischievous daughters, he can’t help but smile. He may not have a clue what he’s doing, but one thing’s for sure. Life with these two is going to be anything but boring.

"Go lie down, honey. I got this," he notes and this time Y/N nods back at him.

[josephscoat]

The Budgerigar Burglars

"A little birdie told me something..."

@professorcalculusstanaccount, thank you for doing the promotional/cover art of the story!! I would also like to thank them for bouncing ideas with me and subsequently proof/beta reading chapter 1 ― they’ve been very supportive and encouraging.

While I was unable to post on the actual dates I set up due to some personal reasons on my end, I will *hopefully* have it out sooner or later.

As a sort of teaser 2, here’s the first 101 words of The Budgerigar Burglars by @professorcalculusstanaccount and me, Jo :> !

Tintin was Bobbie’s most expensive drunken purchase.

He can’t remember much from the night he got the cockatiel, much less how he got his name― he just woke up with a pounding headache one morning, to a bird singing showtunes in his ear, in the dilapidated state of their (once shared) apartment.

Recalling past events, it was the night they’d finally settled for the divorce; his then wife was packing her belongings, planning to head off to who knows where and Bobbie was drinking enough spirits that could turn him into a spirit, if he kept at it for too long.

When the full thing does come out, I plan post it on to AO3 and post a link to the fic here on Tumblr.

For slightly more info on what the story and AU is about, click on to here to visit teaser 1 which is also the current pinned post of my blog!

[if-loves]

because you're everything (i have left)

// Phainon

sum: Is it so wrong that Phainon is everything you know?

wc: 1001

warnings: 3.0 story quest spoilers, amphoreus inaccuracies, ooc phainon, written before phainon release, implied (??) yan phainon, reader is a hot mess tbh

a/n: help i tried to make him yan but this just devolved into codependent relationship 

likes & reblogs appreciated :)

Phainon has known you his whole life. You have both seen each other in your most vulnerable of times, as children who had yet to understand the cruelties of the world, and as adults who have suffered the cruelties of the world. Through it all, you and Phainon held onto each other, mumbling promises of never leaving each other.

That was when Aedes Elysiae first fell to the savage flames, and the two of you were the only ones who managed to escape.

Years have passed since then, but the sight still lives in your mind, a vivid image that only seems to refresh and worsen the pain and guilt in your heart. Could you have done something and saved at least one more person? Was the way you were acting at the moment too selfish? Had you been a little stronger, a little smarter, would your home still be standing? 

You know enough about Phainon to know that for all his act as a playful young man, he harbours a grief and rage so deep in his soul even you don't know if you'd be able to coax it out of him. It's true he'd do many things for you, yes, but asking him to open up may be a boundary even if you can't cross.

But you'd do anything to keep Phainon happy, because you know he would do the same for you - because you're all each other has to remind you of home. Because you're all each other has left.

Upon finding asylum in Okhema, Phainon decided to leave his original name behind with the ruins of Aedes Elysiae and start somewhat anew in the Holy City. He had even told you to forget the name you've known him by all your life in favour of this new one, yet asked you sweetly to keep yours.

Sometimes you wonder if, had it not been for the destruction that rained upon your village that day, you and Phainon would be as close as you were today. Would you have shared all these intimate moments, like kissing and cuddling and all that naturally followed after, if everything was still as you had known. Would he have looked at you with the same disarming smile he always does when he comes back from another mission, or would he have slowly left you, like watching a boat be carried away by the sea's currents. 

You try not to let yourself be consumed by these thoughts. Phainon wouldn't be happy to know you doubt his love for you, and you'd hate to make him sad. He works so hard to keep you safe and happy, so the least you could do was make him happy when he was home. 

You'd do anything to make him happy. Even if it meant isolating yourself in the four walls of this home, even if it meant reducing yourself to nothing more than the one he'd come home to, even if it meant sacrificing your happiness for his, because this is what love is, isn't it? 

Phainon tells you he loves you often, while holding your face gently in his calloused hands. There's an emotion in his eyes you can't quite decipher, but it reminds you of a feeling you're very familiar with - guilt. You wonder why he feels that way, and why it only appears when he looks at you. What emotions does he harbour inside that lonely head of his?

You think it's hard to imagine Phainon wanting to hurt people. He's always been a kind person, even as a child and especially as an adult. He's always wanted the best for everyone, and he's never done anything to make you feel otherwise, so it's no surprise that when he tells you to never leave the house without him, and to never answer any knocks on the doors or windows, and to never open the curtains and windows, you listened. As a Chrysos Heir, he must be privy to some sensitive information, and as your lover, he must only wish to protect you. Phainon would never do anything to hurt you.

Despite your unwavering faith in him, you find it especially difficult to control your thoughts on particularly lonely days like these. He told you that he may be gone for awhile for some business to do with being a Chrysos Heir, and left you with a chase kiss on your lips before he was locking the door on his way out. How long would he be gone this time? 

Without him around, the disease named fear starts its infection and spreads throughout your soul. You're well aware of its tell tale signs, and you have yet to find a remedy for it that isn't Phainon's presence. It starts slowly, taking its time to seep into the crevices of your soul, before it comes crashing down on you and all of a sudden you're drowning.

Is Phainon taking care of you because you're all that's left of Aedes Elysiae? Do you deserve everything that Phainon has given you? Was your life worth the deaths of all those villagers? Phainon is a Chrysos Heir, greatness is written in his script since the moment he was born. What were you?

It's okay, though. Because when Phainon walks through the door, all your doubts disappear in an instant. He engulfs you warmly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, and everything feels right even if only for a moment.

But sometimes even his presence isn't enough to dispel some of your doubts. Does Phainon truly love you for you, or does he love you for what you remind him of? Of a bygone past that only exists in your memories, that smells of ash and sounds of screams, that the both of you can't let go of, even as it threatens the destruction of you and him? 

But it's okay if it’s Phainon, you think. Because you love him. Because he's all you have left.

[makeitmingi]

When Mingi Leaves For Tour [Drabble]

pairing: mingi x fem!reader (y/n)

summary: before leaving for the european tour, mingi dropped by to spend some time with you. and despite being used to his busy schedule, the thought of your distance makes you miss him more than you thought.

word count: 2K

story warning(s): kissing, cuddling, soft affection

a/n: don't ask me why but i just had this dream for 2 consecutive nights and wanted to write it. also this is my 1,200th post!

*ding dong*

Mingi stood outside your door, hearing your mother's voice from inside the house. He rocked on his heels, trying to control the excitement of seeing you. When your mother opened the door, she smiled when she saw Mingi.

"Omonim." He greeted with a smile and hugged her. Your mother chuckled and wrapped an arm around him, patting his back.

"Aigo, what are you doing here? (y/n) said you were flying off today. Shouldn't you be packing?" She asked as she guided him into the house after he removed his shoes.

"I am but I packed early so I could come by and stay with her for a bit. Hello abonim." Mingi bowed to your father.

"Hello, Mingi ah. Thank you for dropping by to see her." Your father came to shake Mingi's hand.

"No need to thank. Please, don't let me interrupt your work." He gestured after shaking his hand, knowing your father mostly works from home now.

"She's in right?" Mingi blinked, making your parents laugh.

"Yeah, she is. I think she just finished a project meeting. She's trying her best to hold it together." Your father said with a soft smile.

"Don't say that, you'll make him feel bad. Ignore him, Mingi ah." Your mother waved your father off. But Mingi knew what your father meant, you were trying to act excited for Mingi to go on tour but in fact, you were sad to say goodbye to him. And your father was always very protective of you.

"Mom? Who was at the door? Was it my package?" Just then, your parents and Mingi heard your voice from your room. He heard your house slippers shuffle against the floor.

"M-Mingi?" You blinked, as if to check if you were dreaming or not. Mingi smiled and headed to you, engulfing you in a hug.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting ready for the airport or something?" You asked.

"I did all that early so I could come see you. Now, can you hug me back, please?" Mingi requested. You chuckled and wrapped your arms around his middle.

"Come." You held his hand and pulled him to your room, feeling a little awkward with your parents there.

"So, what did my dad tell you?" You glared.

"Nothing, baby. I swear." He held his hands up. You love your dad and you know he has your best interests at heart but he reveals things to Mingi about you and your feelings, which you don't feel like sharing sometimes. Plus, he always exaggerates.

"I wanted to spend time with you before I have to go to the airport. Manager-nim is picking me up later." He smiled softly, sitting on your bed. You smiled softly and stood between his legs.

"Thank you." You put your arms around his neck.

"Don't thank me. I did this for me. I don't like being away from you." He sighed, putting his head against your chest.

"Me too. But you gotta do what you gotta do, which is make Atiny happy." You said. Mingi held your waist and carefully laid back you were draped over his body.

"I wish I could take you with me." He turned you to your side so he could hug you.

"Me too. But I don't want you to pay for my plane ticket." You buried your face in his chest. Mingi kissed the top of your head.

"Can't I fly you out to one show?" He asked.

"Mingi..." You lifted your head gave him a conflicted look. When you started dating, one of the first things you told Mingi was that you didn't want him to pay for everything.

"I know, I know. I was just offering in case you changed your mind." He pouted, pulling you close to him. You and Mingi just cuddled in silence, enjoying each other's presence and the peacefulness. To you and your family, he was Song Mingi, your boyfriend. He wasn't Song Mingi, fierce and flirty rapper of Ateez.

"Oh, right. I have a present for you." Mingi temporarily pulled away and left your room to grab the bag he had left in the living room.

"A present?" You sat up. Mingi hummed and dug through his bag, taking a stuffed giraffe out of his bag. He didn't miss the way your eyes lit up like an excited kid.

"A giraffe!" You squealed at the sight of your favourite animal. (Toy)

"It's me." Mingi came to sit on the bed, tugging at the customised 'Fix On' hoodie and black glasses on the giraffe.

"It'll keep you company whenever I'm not around. I wanted to get you a Bbyeongming but you already have 2 so I thought this was different." He said.

"I only have 2 because you wanted me to have more Bbyeongming than the others." You scoffed.

When Aniteez came out, the boys got you the whole set of all 8 characters. But Mingi, being competitive in his own way, bought you an extra Bbyeongming so it looks like you 'love' Bbyeongming more than the others.

"But I love him. Thank you, Mingi." You leaned to give him a peck but Mingi surprised you by cupping your cheeks and holding you there so he could kiss you longer.

"Ah, I really don't want to leave now." He groaned, his face pressing on your shoulder.

"Hongjoong might have an aneurysm if you don't go." You chuckled, stroking his head, fingers toying with the ends of his hair.

"He's so cute and I can't believe you made the hoodie for him. He does look like you but he'll never be you." You giggled, holding up the giraffe to look at it again. Mingi smiled proudly at your words.

"Come, I still want cuddles." Mingi pulled you down so you laid on his chest and his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

"I'll come up with a name for him." You said, hugging the giraffe.

You and Mingi didn't know how much time had passed but it definitely felt too short when you were interrupted by Mingi's alarm ringing, a reminder that he had to get ready to leave.

"I want to follow you down." You said, grabbing a hoodie from your closet and slipping it on. Mingi smiled when he recognised the hoodie as one that was missing from his closet. But he won't call you out on it and tease you, and risk you returning it to him. He wanted you to keep it so it can comfort you when you miss him.

"Wait, you want some snacks? Asian snacks in case you miss home." You asked him.

"Yes! Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen." Your mother stood up from the couch and came over. You opened the pantry door to look at your snacks.

"Here, take this. And these too, the others like them." You said, taking some of the Korean snacks out.

"You don't have to give it to them, baby." Mingi chuckled, leaning against the island.

"I can always buy them again. You guys can eat it when you're there or even on the plane." You smiled, grabbing a bag and putting the snacks in there. You even added some cup noodles.

"Ah, that's enough, baby. Thank you." Mingi blushed as you held out the bag of snacks to take.

"Yeah, we should go. Don't keep the others waiting." You said.

"Oh, yes! I bought these hydration packs. Share it with your members, it's a powder that you just add to water. It's good for your gut too with probiotics." Your mother ran to the kitchen, coming out with a box and giving it to Mingi.

"Omonim, you shouldn't have! But thank you so much." Mingi deeply bowed, holding the box in his hands. You smiled softly, your parents really loved Mingi.

"Take care of yourself, Mingi ah. Stay healthy, make sure you rest enough and eat all your meals." Your mother said.

"Thank you, omonim and abonim." Mingi bowed again as your mother reached up to hug him.

"Have a good tour, son." Your father patted him on the shoulder. With another bow, you and Mingi headed downstairs to the driveway to wait for the manager to come pick him up.

"Have a safe trip, Min. Come back to me, okay?" You said.

"Oh, baby. Of course. I promise I'm not going off to war." He placed the box down so he could hug you.

"I know, I know... I'm just going to miss you." You sighed. Mingi cupped your cheeks, tilting your head up so he could give you a sweet kiss.

"I'll miss you too, baby... so much. But it won't be for long." He stroked your cheeks softly with his thumbs. There was a honk and you both pulled away to see the van pull up. The manager opened the door, revealing Yunho, San and Jongho inside. You bowed and waved to the manager and the members inside.

"Hi, (y/n)~" They waved back enthusiastically. Mingi handed his manager the things to put in the back with all the bags.

"Alright, I gotta go. I love you, baby. Take care of yourself, hmm?" Mingi patted your head. You didn't trust your voice so you just nodded with a small smile.

"Love you too." You squeaked and hugged him. Mingi kissed the crown of your head.

"Bye." You waved, watching him climb into the van. But as the door closed, you turned around, unable to control the feelings anymore.

"Wait, Mingi..." Yunho tapped Mingi's leg, pointing to you, whose back was facing the window. Your shoulders shook slightly, indicating your cries.

"Go. We still have time." The manager said, opening the door.

As you stood there, you were surprised to find a tall body engulf yours from the back. Mingi spun you around, pulling your arm to wrap around him so he could hug you tightly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You apologised repeatedly as you grasped the material of his jacket, sobbing softly into his chest.

"Silly girl, there's nothing for you to be sorry about. Hmm? Don't apologise." He whispered, stroking the back of your head to comfort you. You really wanted to pull away and let Mingi go, knowing the manager and the other members were waiting but you couldn't.

"I'll be home before you know it, my love." He said.

"I know. I'll be okay, don't worry. You should go or you'll be late for your flight." You took a deep breath to ground yourself. Mingi didn't want to leave you but he knew he had to.

"I love you. I'll call you every day." He kissed your forehead, wiping your tears away with your sleeve.

"Goodbye." You covered your face in embarrassment and waved as he reluctantly entered the van and closed the door.

"Poor (y/n)." San pouted as the van began to move and you disappeared from Mingi's sight. Yunho wordleslly reached over to hold his best friend's hand.

"She'll be okay." Yunho assured. Mingi let out a hum and nodded.

When the van disappeared, you went back upstairs to your home. Even if your parents noticed that you cried, they didn't mention it.

"He'll be back soon." You told yourself and fell onto your bed, hugging the giraffe to your chest. Everything still smelt like Mingi and you impossibly hoped it would last until he comes back home.

"What-" As you put your hand under the pillow, you noticed something tucked under there. Sitting up, you frowned in confusion as you took out the items. Your eyes widened as you saw a First Class airline ticket to London with Ateez VIP tickets to both London shows and the Manchester show.

'I'll see you soon, my love. x Mingi'

[whereubeenloca]

Leftovers

Part 4 of the Neighbor! Reader series! Table of contents

Summary: Carmy brings you leftover menu items as a thank you.

Tags: VERY slow burn, Awkward flirting

Word Count: 1069

a/n- thank you all for the support! I'm happy yall are digging my silly little stories :)

You realize you don’t know a lot about your upstairs neighbor. 

Well, you know his name - Carmen, but it’s not like you talk. You know he works late and wakes up early, you know he smokes based on the collection of cigarette butts that suddenly appeared on your shared stoop after he moved in. Other than that? Nothing, nada, zilch. 

This is to say, you were incredibly surprised when you saw his name pop up on your phone. 

“You around?”

Yeah, you had his number, but save for the initial “hi” text the thread had remained silent. It’s almost embarrassing how quick you are to type back. 

“Yeah, why?” 

He doesn’t respond but you hear him moving around upstairs. Heavy footsteps move from one corner of the ceiling to the other, followed by the slam of a door. Before you know it, he’s knocking at your door. You’re quick to open it, shooting him a confused look. He stares back, arms full of small deli containers.

“Hi.” He says curtly, shifting the containers in his arms. “You uh- eat meat?”

You must have made some kind of face at him, because he looks down at the containers and back to you. 

“So, no…?” He asks tentatively, you finally snap out of it. 

Your face flushes hot with embarrassment, “No- well- yes. I eat meat.” You say simply, looking him over again. “But… what?” You ask, gesturing to the containers vaguely. 

Suddenly he’s aware of how odd this looks. His cheeks go red as he clears his throat. 

“I own a restaurant.” He says a little too fast, as if his statement explains anything. 

You must still look confused because he tries again. 

“Was trying out some new stuff for the menu. Uh… lots of leftovers.” He clears his throat as he shifts his weight. “As a thank you for the door thing.” He explains. 

You nod at that, he blinks back. 

“So… can I…?” He asks, readjusting the containers in his arms. 

“Oh- yeah of course. Please.” You stutter, scrambling to the side to let him in. 

“Sorry, it’s a mess.” You huff, picking up things as you move through your living area. “Kitchen’s over there.” You say, pointing to your left. 

“Cleaner than mine.” He responds, eyes scanning your apartment before he turns into your kitchen. 

Kitchen was a strong word for it. Along the far wall sits a row of sad looking cabinets, a fridge and a stove. Carmy’s shoes squeak against the poorly installed linoleum floors as he gently dumps his containers onto the small table in the center of the room. You watch as he fusses over them, arranging them into a line. 

“What kind of restaurant do you have?” You ask, looking at the containers. You can’t really tell what any of this stuff actually is. Each container is adorned with its own set of green labels, one with a date the other with its name. 

“It's a fine-dining, chaos menu, full service experience.” He rattles off before meeting your confused gaze. 

He clears his throat “Uh… a little bit of everything.” He corrects. 

You lean your palms into the table to inspect the food further. You gesture to the array of tupperware between the two of you, circling your palm around the three deli containers. “What’d you bring?” 

He points to the smallest container. “Mango chutney, pureed.” He says as he picks up another container and places it on top, tapping his finger on the lid. “Goes with the cod. And uh…bucatini in a bolognese sauce. There’s pork and cherry in it. Still working on that one.” He explains, poking the lid at the end of his sentence. 

“Sounds really good actually.” You hum in response, shifting your weight with a smile. “You didn’t have to do all this though, Carmen.”

“Carmy.” He quickly corrects. 

You furrow your brows. “You said your name was Carmen.” You say, confused. “Right? Have I been calling you the wrong name this whole time?” 

“No- no.” He interjects. “I just prefer Carmy. My uh. My friends call me that.” He clears his throat, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. Carmy’s cheeks go pink as he quickly busies himself with a scratch on the surface, dragging the nail of his thumb into it over and over.

You feel your cheeks flush a bit at the word friend. When did that happen? “Well. Thanks, Carmy.” You say softly, testing the nickname. 

His eyes flick to yours again, a boyish smile on his face. “Yeah, f’course. I mean, if anything you’re doing me a favor.” 

“Yeah?” You laugh in response. 

“Oh yeah.” Carmy laughs back, straightening out his shoulders. “I’ve got all kinds of stuff up there, there’s no way I can go through it all.” 

“Well I’m glad I could help.” You smile back.”I’m excited to try it later.” 

He hums softly as the conversation peters out. The two of you stand there for a second, side by side soaking in one another. You can feel him standing next to you and suddenly you become more aware of your own body. Do you always stand like this? Are you slouching right now? Was he standing this close the whole time? Your mind buzzes with self-awareness you haven’t felt since middle school. You don’t really want him to leave but you can’t think of anything else to say. Before you can do anything, he drums his palms against the edge of the table before pushing off of it. 

“I should get going.” He says softly. 

“Oh- yeah of course.” You nod in response, “Thanks again for the food.” You smile as you walk him to the door. 

“Let me know what you think, yeah? Don’t hold back.” He says as he crosses the threshold into the hallway, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants as he faces you. 

“I’ll be thorough.” You joke. He laughs and you bite back a grin. 

Again you swear he’s lingering. He shifts his weight back onto his heels as his eyes stay on you. 

“See you around?” You ask, an attempt at a goodbye. 

“Yeah.” He looks at his shoes before taking a full step back. “See you.” Carmy raises his hand to you before disappearing up the stairs towards his apartment. 

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you shut the door.

[sanni276]

Joker Jr. AU but a bit different

I have recently seen and read several Tim Drake AU's where he is Joker Jr. They were all really interesting but I noticed how Tim was (obviously since that's like the main trait of the Joker) always insane in these fics, which has given me the following idea: Tim is Joker Jr. but he is not insane and actually purposefully became him to at as a spy.

Hear me out: Little 11/12-year old Timothy was out at night doing some nighttime photography (*cough* batstalking *cough*) when he witnessed the Joker doing something so brutally sick and wrong (Barbara being shot maybe?) that Tim decided that Joker needed to be stopped and it had to happen soon. Somewhere in that thought process it somehow got into his head that he had to do something.

I am sadly not actually smart enough to explain to you how he did it, but Tim tricks the Joker into making him his "son" and into thinking that he is insane. However instead of bringing chaos and harm upon the people of Gotham, Tim is using JJ as a cover to infiltrate the world of Gotham's rogues and send warnings to the police and citizens before attacks so they can be stopped or at least as many people saved as possible.

Another use of Tim pretending to be JJ is, that he can slowly convince Harley to leave the Joker over time and even better: Joker might take him to Ethiopia where Tim saves Jason. Through Jason's vague memories of being rescued in the last second by a child that was with the Joker? the Bat's finally become aware of the fact that Joker has a child (i imagine that they only heard rumours about it before and they kind of brushed it off since the story didn't really add up or some other excuse like that). They are obviously very concerned but when they finally find Tim and expect to meet a traumaticzed child that has become close to insanity, this happens instead:

*Batman and co. dramatically landing on the roof JJ is standing on*

*Tim turning around and starting to wave exitedly when he sees them*: Hi :)! Omg I can't believe I'm meeting you guys, i am a big fan do you need something from me? Information maybe? That would be no problem although you might have to wait a bit if you need like specific info on a rogue because i would have to investigate first and-

Nightwing: Wtf B?! You told me to come from Blud tonight since I am the best of us with children but I wouldn't touch whatever this is with a ten-foot-pole.

Batman (ignoring his son): Hello Timothy (yeah they figured out his identity), we are here to rescue you from the Joker and bring you home to your family.

Tim: Rescue me? Why would you have to rescue me? *whispering to himself* and my parents have found out i'm not at drake manor? I am going to have to check they're travel plans again.

*Bat's sharing a concerned glance*

Jason: I know this is hard to understand for you and you must be so scared, but Joker is very dangerous. We can help you. You are safe now and you don't need to defend him.

*Tim looking at them with a confused Pikachu face*: Ewwww, I would rather drop my camera off a roof than defend the Joker. I think we are having a little misunderstanding right now.

Tim, completly convinced from his Hero's greatness, just assumed that the Bat's knew about his existence, who he was and that he was only pretending to be a rogue. Why wouldn't they? There the best detectives in the world after all!

He then procedes to explain to them how he is literally the perfect spy, since his parents wouldn't even really miss him if he died and he already made contingencies that would assure all the data and evidence he has on people would be automatically deleted.

The Bat's leave that rooftop not only without Tim, but also somehow even more concerned than before.

In conclusion: Give me an AU that is just Tim my sweet-summer child doing the most reckless shit that is somehow atually very helpful for everyone while the Batfam is just desperatly trying and failing to convince Tim that he has no obligation for what he is doing and that his sacrifice would not be worth it (during the many encounters they have, Tim slowly turns out to be the perfect adoption bait and I think we all already know how this is going to end.)

This is literally my first ever tumblr post or post about the batfam so I hope I did this the right way and this was somewhat possible to enjoy. Please tell me if i made any mistakes since english isn't my first language and feel free to write fic's using my idea!

[adoriels-tears-if]

ADORIEL'S TEARS PROGRESS UPDATE

Hi everyone,

It's an even day, so I thought it would be a good time to give a quick summary of where I'm at with Adoriel's Tears.

As I hope you've noticed with the sneek peaks, I'm continuing to write in my corner and interacting a lot less here.

The last Q&A and some asks I received after it have a lot to do with it.

The end of 2024 and the beginning of this year has been and is hard for me in the real life I'm prioritizing, so I'm writing less regularly than before, but the days dedicated to this activity are generally enough to make up for the days off.

I lost a good part of my progress in mid-December due to an oversight on my part, but I eventually caught up.

So far, I've written the entire path of the Familiars and its various branches, added a little to the Plushie one and started the first scene of the one about Sirius.

This one is rich in branches and choices, but after having a fellow author read it, I know it's worth it.

I'm also continuing to polish up the old chapters and writing the Christmas special side story, which I'm thinking of charging for to be honest.

I've also decided that I won't be answering any more questions where Elianna and Ashlyen's names appear together and about how they're handling things with Mc. These questions have already been widely addressed and only serve to make me sullen and just want to either stop the whole thing or do a complete rewrite of the story, bypassing Mc's childhood.

I've also blocked Tumblr notifications as I found they were taking up too much space in my mind and I encourage anyone who might feel overwhelmed to do so if they wish.

That's it, I think I've covered it all, let's meet again for a new excerpt sharing very soon. 😊

Arielle.

[lucycore]

Harry Potter Headcanons

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊ ˚ ☁️✨️☁️ ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚₊

For all the people with daddy issues.

Summary: Now how do I explain this? It's pretty much about you having daddy issues and therefore what would include dating these older men.

Includes: Severus, Sirius, Remus, Lucius,

☁️ fluff ☁️ reader is 18 or older

˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🪐⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🪐༘

Severus:

Very protective obviously

Worries a lot about your well being

Would keep you save from voldy & death eaters..He just doesn't want you to be involved

Can be strict sometimes about who you interact with

He loves when you sit on his lap

He would teach you a lot about potions & dark arts how to defend yourself not how to practice it

Keeps the relationship with you very private

A lot of hugs and kisses

He can get sometimes a little rough but obsesses over you

Also very calm as it's not in his nature to yell when he's mad

Sirius:

Lot's of kisses on the forehead

His kissing is very gentle even when you make out with him

He loves to stroke your hair and tell you how good you are & all that sweet stuff to make you feel loved

Cares about you like a real dad

You're his first priority even above Harry

Lots of late night cuddles

Likes to tell you stories..Sometimes you fall asleep to them

Loves to take you on little walks also at night in the moonlight

Very gentle with words & touches

Would never make you feel uncomfortable

Remus:

He is so sweet to you. Can get little serious/strict with you but never yells

Is literally the best at cheering you up

Likes to give you chocolate no matter if you're upset or not

Handles situations where you're crying really good like he's not awkward or something.

Cuddles you a lot or just give you hugs

He is more of a hugger than kisser but he loves to kiss you don't get me wrong there

Also very gentle with words & touches even more than Sirius

Loves to see you smile..I think your smile is what he loves most about you

He smiles a lot at you & listens to your troubles whenever you need to open up to him. It never annoys him & he always has a good opinion & resolution or just simply shares what he has to say.

Loves to hold your hands & kiss them to show how much he honors you.

Lucius:

Dude i don't even know I feel like he would add to your daddy issues haha but no in all seriousness

You're his princess. Literally.

He takes you shopping & you can buy whatever you like

A lot of gifs but also lots of sweet words

He praises you a lot

He is always very proud of you no matter what you do

Loves kissing you and having you sit on his lap

Also loves when you cuddle into him, your face in his chest.

A lot of compliments & prioritizes to make you feel safe no matter how much he's shitting his pants (referring to his state in HP 6&7)

He finds it very romantic to slow dance with you & look you deep into the eyes with much love in them.

—

Something Important I can't stress enough: Daddy issues or father complex is a real condition that only people with a bad father can have. So if you have a good or ok relationship with your father but you like older men, you do not have daddy issues but a preference which is called 'daddykink'. Stop for fucks sake romanticizing a psychological condition. Not all people with daddy issues like older men btw.

[letsgobarbs]

The Wedding (Acacius Marries His Priestess)

Summary: This is part of the His Priestess universe but can be read as a stand-alone. Acacius marries his Anaticula.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Former Vestal!Reader (No use of y/n, terms of endearment are used.)

A/N: Anaticula means little duckie/duckling. Vestals were initiated at ages 5~7ish and served the temple for 30 years before they were permitted to marry, and Acacius is described to be a decade older than the Reader in the original story. I had meant for this to be a nice, fluffy wedding. But then I got my period in the middle of writing this and this grew progressively hornier... so it's a wedding and the wedding night.

Warnings: PDA, loss of virginity, oral sex (both receiving), eating ass (f!receiving), cum eating, unprotected p in v sex, discussions of having children, food play.

“You must cry.” The Vestal begged.

“Why must I cry? I happen to be very happy today, the tears are not forthcoming.” His anaticula sounded almost petulant, this was not the first time they were having this discussion. Acacius gently stroked his thumb over the side of her finger; their right hands were bound together by wool ribbons, fingers interlocked. 

“The bride has to cry during the wedding procession, show some reluctance and modesty—”

“I am so joyous, I would skip to my husband’s home if I could.” Acacius snorted into his cup of wine, spilling some of the liquid over its edges. He made no effort to suppress his chuckle as he placed the wine down to wipe at his mouth. His lips were still curled into a grin, he found he hadn’t been able to restrain it since he awoke this morning. He cannot decide which sound is sweeter, his name on her lips or her address of him as husband. 

“—it is Roman tradition.” Her friend insisted. 

“I don’t believe I would like to invoke the Roman tradition of kidnapping women for marriage.” Oh, but Acacius had wanted to invoke it several times a day leading up to their wedding. They had been reduced to chaste kisses and clasped hands, always chaperoned by a hawk-eyed matron who would squint at the most gentle caress he dared to share with his betrothed. Now his wife. Her father and brother had insisted it was for his own safety, so their anaticula didn’t attack him again as she had in her office— forcing an honourable man to wed her, they had teased. 

Acacius felt they were having far too much fun at his expense. Because all this honourable man wanted to do was haul her over his shoulders and carry her off to the nearest cave. He wanted to hide her somewhere, not even share her shadow with the world; keep her trapped underneath him until all she could see was him. Alas, he had to settle for buying a domus near her father’s home. He has ensured nobody would interrupt them for the next few days so he could take her over every surface, wall and square foot of the floor before letting her up. Let their pleasure and love strengthen the pillars of their home.   

He had spent over a decade with only his hand for company, but now the few meagre weeks of abstinence riddled his brain with insistent need. His skin buzzed with excitement, a current working its way up his limbs, as it would before a battle, at the very thought of having his Priestess to himself tonight. He had thought up so many ways to unleash that tigress he had encountered in her office.

“You know it is not just about that… The lares will be upset. Your household deities have guarded you for so long, they will be upset to see you spurn their protection for the gods of your husband’s home. You must cry to let them know you do not leave them willingly.” Acacius paused at the words, he had no lares; there were no spirits of ancestors or deceased family to call upon. 

He had been orphaned young, his whole family was lost to illness and he hardly remembered them. He had long lost faith in the deities and gods. But perhaps marriage was making him sentimental, even if ineffective and symbolic, he did not want his Priestess to go without protection. The shrine in his new home was fashioned with a single wooden statue of Vesta he had carved, it bore a distinct likeness to his Priestess, along with rose-scented incense— reminiscent of her scent. However, he couldn’t invoke her own spirit to protect her now could he— that was for his protection.          

Acacius had given up his previous tools of protection. All his equipment had been military commissioned; as a General, he did not believe in using a weapon that his soldiers could not afford; sometimes well-made weaponry was the difference between life and death, and his life was not more valuable than any of theirs. His gladius was the only weapon he had owned— the very one he had used to defend himself in the Colosseum.

Acacius had melted the sword to make two identical daggers— one of which he had gifted to his Priestess as a betrothal gift, the other he had kept for himself. An engagement ring had also been made from the same metal, which she now wore on the third finger of her left hand where it would connect to her heart. It had felt right to slide that ring onto her finger; it was only fitting that the woman who had rescued and protected him had a piece of the blade that had guarded him. He had vowed to never fight another war. After all the victories and bloodshed across the world, he had returned home to submit at her merciful feet. And there had never been a defeat sweeter than losing himself in her, especially not when he had won her too.   

There had been enough metal left over to form a thin betrothal medallion, engraved with their visages sharing a kiss along with two clasped hands on its back. He knew his Priestess wore the medallion around her neck, a gold chain could be seen disappearing into her tunic, the disk surely nestled between her bosom. Acacius wondered if he should convince her to place the token in their shrine. After all, their love had protected and sustained them both through difficult times. He knew it would guide and watch over any children or descendants they might have.

“Did you want me to cry, Acacius?” She asks him as she draws closer, resting their bound hands on his thigh, easing the stretch of the muscles of his arms and shoulders. He really should unbind their hands, they were sitting beside each other, so he had to stretch his arm across his torso to grasp her hand. But judging by how tightly she held him, she did not want to let go either.

He shook his head no, he did not believe he could stomach seeing her reluctance to marry him even if it was feigned. He had even offered for them to stay with her family if she was unwilling to part with them since she had lived apart from them for the last three decades. 

“Are you sure? I could shed some false ones… maybe get closer to the smoke so it would make my eyes water”—Acacius kissed the irresistible little moue off her lips—“If I don’t cry then everyone will say you have married a disobedient wife who will tyrannically dominate your home.” She continued her exaggerated words anyway. She didn’t know that he planned to acquiesce to all her commands and requests, he could swim across oceans blazing with fire just to see her smile— he had done worse for much less. 

Acacius watched the sway of her earrings, the metal catching the light from the setting sun behind her. He hadn’t been able to look away from her since he had lifted her flammeum for their wedding ceremony. The flame-coloured veil glittered around her, casting a warm golden glow upon her skin. His priestess was not one for dull colours, but she looked radiant in her white tunic and stola. 

He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, then trailed gentle pecks all the way to her ear where he nibbled on the soft, petal-like skin of her ear lobe before he widened his jaw, tongue reaching out to capture her earring into his mouth. Acacius savoured the coolness of it in the warmth of his mouth as he gently suckled on the jewellery, relishing the shiver that went down her spine. He nuzzled the loose coil of hair behind her ear, knowing she enjoyed the scrape of his beard on her skin— he heard the hitch in her breath. He released the earring in his mouth, letting its wetness streak across her neck.       

“You can cry for me… later when it is just the two of us.” He whispered to her. But his words did not have the intended effect on her. He watched her eyes waver before skittishly looking over his shoulder, her own shoulders tensed and curled away from him. Acacius retreated and saw the nervousness painting her face, her lips pursed and brows slightly furrowed. 

He playfully nudged her nose with his, “What is it, anaticula?” 

He heard the harsh gulp of her throat, her eyes frantically looking around for the right words. When she looked at him again, her gaze was hesitant and embarrassed. His Priestess cupped his jaw with her free hand, her fingers pinched his earlobe in retaliation before her thumb softly stroked under his eyes. Acacius melted into her loving touch, his eyes drooping shut. 

“You woke so early today…” She smelled of her gardens— flowers, herbs and fresh earth. 

He had awakened well before dawn, but he felt rested and replenished. Usually, the bride and her mother would collect flowers from their garden to weave a wreath on the day of the wedding. But his anaticula’s mother had already passed away. He knew the other matrons of her family would gladly help her, but Acacius had wanted to weave her wedding crown himself. He had decided so when he saw her wear a wreath the day she was to be unjustly punished for unchastity.  

He had sneaked into her room, woken her up with cakes collected from the kitchen before stealing her away to the gardens so they could make her wreath. He had chosen marjoram for honour, love and joy; rosemary for fidelity and loyalty; lavender for devotion; sage for long life; verbena, basil and mint along with roses, lilies and violets. The crown had ended up a bit too heavy but she wore it with grace. 

“And you also went hunting with my father and brother.” An animal had to be sacrificed for the wedding. Acacius had decided to hunt a wild boar himself. The entrails of the animal were read by the auspex for omens and the approval of the Gods. It would not have mattered what the auspices prophesied, he would have hunted every animal in the city until the omens were read in his favour. But the first boar had been enough, the omens had signified a joyous and lasting marriage. After the offerings had been made to the gods, the animal was cooked for their wedding feast. 

“Then you cooked in the kitchens as well.” He hadn’t cooked, he had made the bread needed for their wedding ceremony. It was not supposed to be made by the groom. But in the absence of his Priestess, during the months he had believed her to be dead, Acacius had perfected making bread in the kitchens she used to feed the poor. He had wanted that bread to be offered to the gods, he had wanted that bread to be fed to his bride. It was another token of his devotion. 

“The ceremonies were so long.” She was right, Acacius thought the Pontifex Maximus would never stop talking and praying and chanting. He suspected the man dragged out the wedding ceremony solely out of spite that his Priestess had lied about her death. But he had not heard a single word of the chief high priest, his Priestess had stood before him and he was lost in her adoring, twinkling eyes.

He had always believed her eyes to be wondrous, always bright with mirth and mischief, they found joy in the smallest pleasures of life. A single gaze from her could fall on him like a soothing salve as well as disturb his constitution— make him restless with need and desire. His heart always trembled when she looked up at him through those full lashes. But today her eyes had looked so captivating with the kohl lining them that Acacius had almost stumbled in an effort to get to her. He had blindly signed their marriage contract, unwilling to take his eyes off her for too long.

The only time he had lost sight of her today was when he had cried during her consent of their marriage, his own tears blurring his vision. Theirs was a union of equals, he would never make demands on her wealth and personhood, and she was free to keep the name her parents had graced her; all Acacius had wanted was a chance to spend his remaining life by her side, and the privilege of belonging to her. So he had been dumbfounded and overwhelmed when she had forgone the blessed and auspicious name Gaius to lovingly and proudly take his name during her vows. 

Ubi tu Acacius, ego Acacia. Where you are Acacius, there I am Acacia.

He had not deserved the honour, the name meant very little. It was not what his parents had called him; neither was it a name that held any high esteem in terms of legacy and social standing, nor was it the name bestowed upon him by the people. Acacius was always preceded by General and it was a name tainted with the blood of the innocent. But she had taken that piece of himself he was most ashamed of for herself. And in doing so, she had breathed a new life into it— she was what gave his name honour and worth.

And he was proud to be her Acacius. Ubi tu Acacia, ego Acacius. Where you are Acacia, there I am Acacius.

He had broken the bread he had made over her head, careful not to drop crumbs in her hair, before handing over half as an offering to the Gods. Acacius had fed her that bread, her teeth gently grazing his fingertips, affectionately nipping at them, before she had taken the same piece to feed him. And the bread was sweeter where she had bitten into it. But far sweeter was her mouth when he had sealed their marriage with a kiss. 

There was a rightness, a sense of tranquillity, that had settled about him at the conclusion of the ceremony as their hands were being tied. For the first time, Acacius had been content and at peace. His mind was serene, devoid of the usual demons that haunted him; his heart could taste the rising joy within him, and he could pluck the excitement from the air.  

“So you must be very tired tonight…” Her words had tapered into mumbling, which was so unlike the woman he knew. Acacius figured she was hoping to avoid their wedding night which was a surprise since she was so receptive to his advances. 

“One of the women gifted me this… salve. Some ointment they got from a trader.” He knew he wouldn’t need to pry for answers, she would work her way to telling him her concerns eventually. 

“And all the other matrons have been looking at me with these faintly pitying looks. At first, I just thought it was because I did not have a mother… but they sat me down last night for the most interesting conversation.” Her hand left his face to pick a grape before offering it at his lips. Acacius obediently accepted the fruit in his mouth. 

“They said my wifely duties would be very difficult.” She looked at him, as if awaiting a reaction.

“Why? I plan to be the most amenable of husbands, dulcissima.” He dropped an affectionate kiss on her palm. 

“Because of your size, Acacius. They said you would be very big, like a bull”— Acacius choked on the second grape she had shoved into his mouth, a strange sound between a strangled laugh and a cough escaped his mouth—“And it would hurt me very much but I should just lay back and endure. I do not want to endure…” 

Acacius took a moment to appreciate her aggrieved face, “Anaticula, did you not enjoy our play in your office—”

“Yes, about that. It is most uncommon I am told. But that bodes well for our marriage—” he huffed a laugh at the sagely nod she gave, he would have loved to hear her explain to an elderly matron how he had kissed her between her legs. Was that why he had been receiving odd and appreciative glances all day? He felt a flush climb up his neck, how many women had she told?

“I did enjoy it… but do men do it to compensate for the pain after they have taken their pleasure?” He blinked at her, it wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion based on what she knew.

“I assume… it should not be too difficult, right?” She said, almost as if convincing herself, “I’m told it is quite nice sometimes…”

“I swear to not do anything that doesn’t please you tonight, dulcissima.” 

“Everything you do pleases me.” She gifted him a soft smile. 

“Even when you believe it will hurt you?” He couldn’t help but tease her. 

“I know you won’t mean to.” And she sounded so certain that he felt a tender spot in his heart give away. He could still taste her essence on his lips. If all she allowed him tonight was to drink from her nectar, he would happily pass away on his knees with his head still buried between her thighs.

“Carissima, I will enjoy our nights together, and I expect you will find your pleasure as well. I will ensure it, because it brings me more joy and gratification than you can imagine—” 

“Can the newlyweds please be mindful that the guests are trying to eat their meals?”

His wife reared back with a soft gasp before turning to face her brother. Acacius was pleased to know he held the same effect on her as she had on him. Because he had been heedless of their wedding party all day. Their guests had been raucous, tittering and chatter filled the air; the wine flowed freely and the food was plentiful. Many people had come up to speak to them, but the conversations never extended beyond pleasantries and congratulations. 

After all, he was no longer an important political force and the highest echelons of society still didn’t know of his Priestess’ influence amongst the people. It was baffling how disconnected the aristocrats could be from those they considered lowly. Moreover, their guests were too busy ingratiating themselves with their young Emperor who was in attendance with his mother.

His wife had pointed out no less than three women who had thrown themselves at Lucius, quietly snickering to him when they were rejected. According to her, a prospective paramour had tough competition in both Fortuna and Ravi— who shared a very interesting history. His anaticula loved gossip, it was the most endearing thing about her. And she had informed him with great relish how both Macrinus and Ravi had been lovers once who chose to lead very different lives after earning their freedom. Macrinus had been different then, but he had slowly rotted and corroded just as his owners had. Ravi would go out of his way to help those Macrinus owned, Lucius and Fortuna included— grieving for the man he used to be. She believed the Emperor would be sharing his lovers. Acacius didn’t care as long as none of them came to disturb him and his wife. 

Acacius pulled his wife to stand, urging the wedding to its final ritual. He unbound their hands, so she could pray to the lares of her father’s home and bid them goodbye. He wordlessly assured their household gods that he would take care of her and keep her happy while leaving an offering of food and coins at their shrine. He watched as his wife’s eyes glazed over with tears, helplessly his hand found her arm offering her warmth and comfort. 

“If the lares are unwilling to part with you, tell them they can find you in my home.” He whispered to her. The words pulled a teary huff of laughter from her. 

“I miss my mother.” She quietly confessed. And Acacius felt his heart break for her. He gently wiped at the tears on her cheek, his nose stinging with his own tears as she leaned into his touch.

“She would have been the happiest at this match”—Her father told her, as he handed his wife a clay mask resembling her mother’s face—“take her with you to your new home. Let her guide and protect your family.” Acacius was grateful for another addition to their shrine.

He could think of no better protector than her mother. Acacius had been young and barely literate when he had arrived in Rome and the woman had shown him enough grace and favour to educate him along with her children. It was at her behest that her husband had trained him as a soldier. As a General, he had learned that diplomacy and negotiation prevented unnecessary bloodshed. While he was no politician, these were skills he had learned as a youth when he had watched the woman run her household and business. He remembered anaticula’s mother to be remarkable, shrewd and protective— qualities that he was grateful ran to her daughter as well.        

She lit a torch from their hearth and passed it to the matron of honour before her father and brother tearfully embraced her to say their goodbyes. As he had no family of his own, this man— his mentor— had served the role of his father in all the wedding rituals while his wife’s brother had served as her guardian. There was an uncertainty in the air, even as the guests had begun the wedding chants and songs. As a groom, he was supposed to put on a show of forcefully ripping his bride from the arms of her family. But he knew his wife did not agree with this particular tradition so he waited for her lead. 

She reached out for him and he pulled her closer by the hand, kissing her knuckles as she stood by his side. But instead of walking together, Acacius stooped to carry her, his arm coming under her hips to offer her a perch, another arm supporting her knees. He shouldered past the curtains and flower garlands on the archway of their door to walk out onto the street.

The entire city seemed to have shown up to see her married; in addition to the passers-by, those who used the charitable services she offered had shown to throw honeyed almonds and walnuts at the newlyweds— shouting their blessings and good wishes for her. Her arms found purchase on his shoulders as she looked over them to wave at someone in the crowd. His wife, overwhelmed and astounded at the love people had for her, buried her face in the crook of his neck, and his skin burned with the tears she shed there. Acacius soothingly rubbed her hip and placed a chaste kiss on her arm. He couldn’t help but feel so proud of the woman he loved. 

She sniffled and collected herself as they neared the neighbourhood crossroads, “Acacius put me down, we have to worship the shrine at the crossroads.” He heaved her higher in his arms to readjust his hold on her and bring her closer to the shrine at the crossroads. She placed a ceremonial coin to the protective gods of the shrine along with some food a boy had carried for her. 

Her friend Aquilia, another former vestal, served as the matron of honour and led their group to his home. While her marriage was not as long as was required for the role, her husband’s love for her had persevered through the three decades of her duties in the Temple. Acacius liked the man, he had vowed to take no other woman in his life and had kept his word. Although, he was still upset that all of the Vestals had suspected his anaticula was alive when he had believed her to be dead, but they had not thought to inform him. 

“Surely you don’t intend to carry me all the way home.” She spoke into the curve of his shoulder. He most certainly will carry her to their home.

“I’m too heavy, you’ll tire yourself.” He didn’t grace that with a response. He had carried men heavier than her; in the heat of the battle he had lifted drawbridges and ship towers. She should know better than to question her husband’s strength, he hadn’t earned his physique without the heavy labour. 

She gave a resigned sigh, he felt her warm breath down the back of his neck. She nuzzled behind his ear, and took a deep breath before her tongue lapped at the sensitive skin. Acacius shivered and his knees weakened, his grip instinctually tightened on her so she would not fall. 

“Carissima, wait… we are on the street.” He hissed through his teeth while she quietly laughed. She could not have tasted anything other than the light sheen of sweat he had worked up in the warm evening. His anaticula picked a honeyed almond stuck in the folds of his toga and apologetically offered it to his mouth, Acacius did not forget to kiss her fingertips for the gift. She took another sweet treat for herself that had been trapped in a crevice between them. 

Acacius finally set her down when they approached the new domus, allowing the Pontifex Maximus to utter some more prayers while his wife smeared the fat of the boar to honour Ceres, and the fat of a wolf to honour Rome on their doorposts. She tied the wool strings that had bound their hands to the handle of the door. He felt the first stirrings of impatience, to be so close to their home and not have her to himself was making his hands twitch. 

The guests clamoured to warn her to not step on the threshold as she entered her new home— doing so would insult Vesta and bring bad omen. But Acacius simply lifted her again, with an arm under her waist and knees so that her feet were as far from the threshold as they could be and carried her into their home. 

Only their family followed them inside and watched her light the hearth of her new home with the fire from her father’s home. Acacius extinguished the torch and threw the wood at the audience gathered at their door who rushed to catch it. 

It seems his wife was becoming impatient as well because she had begun the prayer and offerings at their shrine without him. Acacius bent to unlace her sandals, removing the single coin she had stashed in her footwear and placing it at the feet of the wooden Vesta in the shrine.

“Does that statue… look a bit like me?” She murmured. She had yet to discover the depths of his devotion. 

Acacius offered her a lamp and a bowl full of water, “I give you fire and water”—she touched both items—“You are the Domina of this household and master over everything that resides within its walls, including your husband, Carissima.” 

He kissed his wife before turning to his guests, resolutely ushering them out of his home and unceremoniously closing the doors on their teasing and obscene jeers.

You stared at the nuptial bed. It was small— too small. It would barely fit just Acacius, and that too only in width, because one end of the bed lifted into a curve they would have to rest their back against so their feet didn’t hang off the other end. Or perhaps this wasn’t the nuptial bed because it was here, out in the open courtyard, rather than in your husband’s sleeping quarters. But the bed was finely made, with sturdy wood and soft cushions decorated with roses and crocus petals— a current tingled in your belly at the sight of the aphrodisiac flower. That won’t be needed.

Acacius returned in a huff after seeing off your guests, plopping down on the chaise— because really this can’t be called a bed. You looked down at him, resplendent under the glittering moonlight; it made the grey hairs in his curls glimmer silvery. The torches around the atrium cast playful gold shadows across his face. Instead of a white toga as was the custom, he had chosen to drape the red cloak you had made for him all those years ago, its gold embroidery gleamed against his tanned skin. 

But it was his eyes, that made your heart flutter with the verses of love you didn’t have words to express. Acacius managed to make even the cold, luminous moon burn bright and hot in his eyes. Sometimes the way he looked at you still made your heart feel raw and vulnerable. You had waited thirty very long years for him to simply look at you— to recognise you. While you had loved him for as long as you could remember, never once had you hoped for his love too. Your younger self would be in disbelief had you told them one day he would be your husband.     

“Are you hungry?” He asked while stretching out his hand for you. 

You hurriedly shook your head, your insides were suffused with enough love and awe to sustain you for a lifetime. He pulled you to sit on his lap, his thigh felt strong and firm under your bottom. 

Acacius stroked your back, his hand was large and warm as it reached up to cradle your neck; his fingers calloused and firm as they massaged away any tension. Your head lulled back over his hand, a soft sigh escaping your mouth. He leaned forward, another hand coming over your waist pulling you closer into the heat of his chest. You gasped as Acacius kissed along your exposed neck, his beard deliciously scraping against your sensitive skin as his lips lingered over your beating pulse before reaching your upturned chin. He playfully bit your chin. 

You turned in his arms until both your legs framed his waist and you had straddled his lap. You pulled at the wool of his toga, removing it from his shoulders so it lay spread beneath him before your hand slid into his hair; the curls wrapping around your fingers as you claimed his lips with yours. The force of the kiss pushed him down until his head was leaning over the backrest of the chaise.

What you lacked in experience you made up for with need and desperation. There was a groan from his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist to haul you closer to him— something hard was prodding at your thigh. You reverently traced the shape of his lips, feather-soft kisses to the plump cushion of them, light licks over the swooping edges. But you craved more, more, more. You needed to feel his tongue against yours, you needed to be closer somehow. 

Your hand wrapped around his throat, fingers barely reaching the sides of the thick muscles. His heartbeat thundered on your fingers and then onto your palms as you slid your hand up to cup his wide, square jaw. You dug your fingers into his jaw to pry his mouth open. Acacius parted his lips to allow you to explore his mouth, you stroked and delved deeper in the chase for his tongue. He closed his lips around your tongue and suckled. His tongue met yours now, teasing and confident before he released you, placing a gentle kiss to the tip of your tongue and then on your closed lips.

“How do you want me, dulcissima?” He purred against your lips. 

You did not know what he asked of you, “Desperate.” You answered honestly. 

Acacius laughed. A loud, free sound that made your heart race. 

“For you? Always.” He promised as he guided your hips to sit directly on that hard, throbbing part of him. He did feel large.

“I will not do anything you do not wish me to, anaticula. Tell me, what do you want from me tonight?” His tone was breathy as if words were difficult for him. 

“Everything.” You didn’t want to waste another second. It didn’t matter how much it would hurt, but you needed a part of Acacius within you, physically and in every other way you could possibly consume him. 

“Are you sure?” He confirmed even as his hands had already unpinned your veil allowing it to fall behind you. But he waited, for permission, for something as small as a nod while he fingered the Hercules knot tied at your waist— a sign of your chastity.  

“Yes.” Your voice barely about a whisper. Acacius pulls the wool at your waist, both hands fisting your girdle around the knot, and breaks it with apparent ease instead of untying it. He then pushed your stola down over your shoulders until it pooled at your waist. Anticipation curled in your belly as he slowly pulled at the tiny bows that ran down your shoulders and along the sleeve of your tunic. Each tug of string was a sensual display of possessiveness and desire— his eyes were raptured on the swathe of skin as more of you was exposed to him. The tunic too fell at your waist, pooling over his lap and yours; only a plain binding lay between him and your breasts. And instead of unwrapping you, slowly as all his other actions had been. Acacius swiftly and impatiently tugged the fabric down. 

You both gasped at the movement, the cloth dragged across your sensitive nipples causing them to stiffen and bloom towards Acacius. The winds were blowing colder in the night than they were during the day. A shiver ran down your spine as you sat bare on his lap, he made no moves. Acacius just stared with intoxicating eyes; they roved over your body, studying your face, the slope of your neck, the expanse of your chest, the curve of your shoulder, the length of your arms and the swell of your belly until finally, they settled on the betrothal medallion that hung in the valley of your breasts. 

Even as you held still for him, allowing him to look his fill, the experience of being displayed thus was new and uncomfortable— no man had seen you this way. But it was not unwelcome. He looked breathless and awed, his hand faintly trembling as he brushed your nipples with the back of his fingers. The touch was so light, lighter than a feather, but it incinerated you, it sent a fiery current down to your womb which contracted; there was an insistent throb between your legs. 

But whatever sensation you felt seemed dwarfed by his reaction. Acacius shuddered. His eyes were wide and glassy. You placed a hand over his heart, its pace wild and erratic. Abruptly, he dug his fingers into your waist, lifting you off his lap and stood with you. Your clothes fell to your feet, and you fisted his tunic to guide it over his head. You regretted that he chose to wear the tunic that fell to his calf, the longer fabric took a few scant moments longer to be pulled over his head but the wait was torturous. His underwear swiftly followed yours on the floor. 

Acacius was better than anything you could have ever imagined. Better than those marble statues of gods and heroes, better than art and most certainly better than those erotic drawings you bought on the streets. He looked unworldly, bathed in both the cool of the moon and the warmth of the hearth. He had been stripped to his basest form now both hardened warrior and wild beast with the eyes of a man in love. Your husband. 

You laughed then, wide and happy, “You are divine, Acacius.” 

He answered with a chuckle, light flickering over the dimple on his cheek, “You do not see yourself, carissima.”

He held nothing of himself back as he allowed you to touch him; he sighed as you caressed his scars as if you relieved him of the pain, his breath hitched as your fingernails raked over the hair on his chest, he gasped as you scraped over his nipples. The planes and hills of his body leaned into your palm as you explored all the ways he was different from you.   

He did not stay still under your ministrations for too long and his lips fell on yours without reserve, his hands cupped your ass using it to pull you closer towards him. Your arms wrapped around his neck like a garland of love, a hand buried in his hair in a silent command for him to never stop kissing you, another hand exploring his broad shoulders, the stretch of his back and the bulk of his arms. You decided Acacius had to be naked until the sun rose tomorrow so you could study every freckle and spot on his body.

His kiss was raw, elemental— there were no gentle explorations and tentative touches. Acacius claimed and conquered, his lips on yours were hard and insistent while his hands on your body were rough and restless. He touched where no decent man would linger, using your delighted and shocked gasp to enter deeper into your mouth; you clung to his shoulders to keep up with his pace and only his hands held you upright. 

A calloused thumb grazed your nipple before he pinched and pulled at the sensitive flesh. You bit into his lip, giving it a sharp nip in response and Acacius groaned into your mouth. He kneaded the flesh of your hips, but his fingers slipped as they moved to the inside of your thighs. You were dewy and wet for him, the hairs and skin surrounding your sex were covered in slick moisture. 

He lazily explored your folds, his fingers parting and squeezing as they pleased until he bought his tips right against the bundle of nerves at the apex of your slit. You ground your hips against his curled fingers when he stilled his motions, desperate for the friction as your pleasure built, steadily climbing up your spine while he nipped under your jaw before receding to watch the sway of your hips to and fro, to and fro over his hand, smearing it with more of your sticky fluid. 

“Please…” You begged him. And Acacius moved his fingers then, in dizzyingly tight circles on your nub, his calloused finers offering just the right roughness needed for your muscles to seize. Warm currents coursed through your veins as you trembled and shuddered through your release in his arms— your skin overheated against the cold air. The hair on his chest dragged against your erect nipples causing more of your limbs to twitch; he held you close through your pleasure, his fingers unrelenting until the little bud was oversensitive to touch.

You rested your weight against him, your legs feeling too soft under you and took his flat nipple in your mouth wanting to give him the same pleasure he gave you. You gazed up through your lashes as he brought the hand that had been between your legs close to his mouth and groaned as he licked a wide strip from the side of his wrist to the centre of his palm. Your tongue lapped over his nipple to mimic the movement before encircling the little peak, you toyed it between your teeth and Acacius greedily shoved three fingers into his mouth to taste you— a soft breathy moan escaped him. 

He pulled you off his nipple, your lips making a soft pop sound as they left his flesh slightly red. His hand curled into your braids as he pulled you by the head, “Taste yourself on my tongue, anaticula. Sweeter than honey…” 

Your tongues met again in a dance of their own before you suckled his tongue as he had yours, drinking him in. You weren’t particularly sweet, but something about your taste mixed with the spit of his mouth sent a heady thrill through your body which made your toes curl. His hands roamed your body again, finding the spots and places that were sensitive, he lingered there with light touches and tender caresses— surprising you entirely when he sharply pinched your waist. You pushed deeper into the strength and heat of his body as your waist rolled with his unruly touch. Acacius swallowed the surprised moan from your mouth. 

He had always been so… staid, controlled and solemn that you had expected Acacius to be such in his intimate moments as well— respectful and gentlemanly. There had been a wild, unpredictable demon that had come out to play in your office all those weeks ago but you had attributed his actions then to the high tensions and unresolved conflicts. But he was here now, lurking in the dark gaze of his desire, the tremble of his lips and the urgent grasp of your body. He could barely contain himself. 

And it made you realise just how much of him you had yet to learn. Like the rest of the world, you had seen the dignified General. You knew the reluctant conqueror and the grieving soldier. You had met the loyal friend, the protective family, the kind elder in him. But you were unacquainted with this man before you— unrefined and almost savage under the influence and vulnerability of his own wants and impulses.   

It filled you with a childish, stupid sort of rage to know that others had seen him as such. He had lovers before you, while you were trapped in a temple. He was so familiar with the female body, while you had to flounder for answers. It made you all the more resolved to erase all those previous embraces and lovers from his mind. You clutched him closer still, his cock insistently pressing into your belly, the tip leaking and smearing a wet patch across your skin. 

From this day forward, there will be no other for either of you. It had been an entirely new discovery to know you were a jealous, shrewish sort of wife who could not even bear that her husband thought about another lover even in passing. Should your husband ever tire of this marriage, he will have to squeeze the life out of you himself to be free of you. And this realisation was entirely unsurprising, that you would be content with such a death. You only had one life and one heart but if you had more, those too you would gift to Acacius.   

You guided him to sit on the chaise again, and despite his forceful and desperate advances, he went obligingly— never once pulling his mouth away from yours, pulling you to sit on his lap. But you evaded his embrace and knelt between his feet the only way you knew how; like a devout priestess kneeling at the altar of her deity— like a lover submitting at the pulpit of her beloved. 

Your eyes trained on his phallus, you had seen the male form before on statues, art and even in ceremonial rites to ward off evil; but you had never seen one quite as wide or large as his— your fingers barely touched as you wrapped your hand around him. He hissed as you gripped him and stroked to its base, pulling some of the skin and exposing the angry bulbous head that was leaking clear beads of liquid. You moved to taste him as he had tasted you, but his hands framed your face, halting it in its descent. 

“What are you doing, anaticula? That is not for wives to do.” Of course, it wasn’t. It hadn’t been the old matrons who taught you how to suck a man’s cock. No husband from a respectable household would expect this from his wife. But you wanted this. And before shame could eat away at your courage you confessed to your husband. 

“But… I want to.” Ever since you had felt his tongue between your legs, there was very little you had thought of. You couldn’t bear the idea of never sharing this intimacy with him.

“You can explore all you like later. I can’t— I won’t last if you toy with me now…” His thumb caressed the apple of your cheek, his torso hulking and leaning over your knelt form.

“But we have all the time in the world, Acacius.” You struggled against the hold he had on your face, and stretched your tongue out of the confines of your mouth when he wouldn’t allow you closer to him. You barely tasted that small drop on the weeping slit of his cock on the tip of your tongue with a short cat-like lick. Acacius shivered.

He spread his legs wider and gave you a chaste kiss on your lips before lowering your mouth to his cock. The tip of it nestled against the curved roof of your mouth, the flared head pressing against the wrinkled ridges behind your teeth and it already felt so full. It was ticklish if not altogether strange sensation and you took him deeper until he was touching the more sensitive and softer part in the back of your mouth, your hand coming up to stroke the rest of his length that was left outside. 

You realised you could do this forever as your eyes closed shut. Your tongue was pressed to the vein that ran along the underside of his cock which thrummed with his heartbeat. It was like you were holding his beating pulse, his very heart, in your mouth. You felt his thigh quiver under your hand, and you chanced a curious glance up at your husband to behold the sight of him trembling, his teeth clenched and jaw twitching with the effort to remain perfectly still. And yes, you realised, you could do this forever— just hold him in your mouth until he lost his composure and grew desperate enough to fuck into your mouth. 

Acacius frowned at you, he looked dark and forbidding, “I know that look in your eyes, put away whatever idea you just came up with, wife.” He spoke through gritted teeth and his chest racked with the effort to breathe. 

You started moving your head, slowly at first as Acacius guided your hand to stroke over his length as he liked— tightening your grip and twisting your wrist. You hollowed your cheeks to envelop his cock tighter and suck him deeper inside your mouth, relaxing your throat to adjust to the fullness in your mouth. Perhaps, your husband was to be cursed with the most selfish sort of wife because you stopped looking for his reactions, his cock was in your mouth for your pleasure alone and whatever he might glean from it was secondary in your mind. 

He smelled of musk, sweat, the floral powder used to scent his clothes and something so addictingly Acacius. You rubbed your thighs together, the arousal had pooled from between your thighs to coat your ankles and feet under your folded legs. You hated to feel him receding from your mouth, sucking him as your head moved up, swirling your tongue around him to taste him before coaxing him deeper into your mouth again. Experimentally, you brought a hand to the sac hanging heavily under his cock, testing its weight and the hairy texture of the skin, gingerly massaging it until it drew tight in your palm. 

His cock jumped in your mouth as his hands entangled in your braids to pull you off him. But you suckled him with a petulant whine, refusing to be wrested off him. A warm, salty and slightly bitter taste filled your mouth while he wrenched your head off him, the rest of his spend falling in spurts across your face and neck. What a waste…

Acacius glowered down at you, mouth agape and panting, “You are going to be the death of me… One of these days you will kill me.” His eyes were focused on your tongue as you licked the side of your lips to taste more of him. And he watched as some of his cum glittered on your skin as it trickled down until it was halted in its path by the gold chain hanging from your neck. He lapped at your skin, collecting his cum from the chain and depositing it into your mouth with what could barely be considered a kiss, his tongue surged into your mouth until you had cleaned his thick release off it.

You felt a smug satisfaction as you noticed that he was still shaking, a bit unsteady on his feet as he stood and lifted you onto the chaise. You thought you could consummate your marriage now, but to your confusion he knelt before you— his cock looking much flatter, softer. You felt your lower lip wobble as Acacius guided you to lean back. Was it supposed to do that?

“What did you think was going to happen?” He chastised you. 

“I had no reason to believe he would just go soft like that… can’t you make him go up again?” You whispered, a bit uncertain of the male anatomy. Would you not be able to consummate your marriage tonight?

Acacius leaned over to kiss your pouting lips, “It comes back faster when you’re younger.” 

You adoringly caress his bearded cheek as he smiles down at you, an uncertain vulnerability curved about that smile. You struggled to think of what to say to him, he could be old and decrepit and you would still be glad to have him as your husband. You had still wanted him a few short hours ago when you had been expecting pain and shame on your marriage bed, and you wanted him more now that he had shown you pleasure and wonder instead. You loved him not because of his prowess in bed but because of the simple fact that he was Acacius— steadfast, loyal, protective, kind, and loving, oh so loving.

But complex sentences evaded your mind as his lips closed around your nipple, he lingered there with his teeth and tongue before moving just a bit below to bite under your areola. He insistently sucked the flesh of your bosom into his mouth until it came away with a small bruise. His lips traversed down your body in a sensual dance of kisses, nips and almost painful bites. He spread your legs and groaned at the sight of your arousal smearing large patches of your limbs. 

“So wet for me, anaticula.” His voice was breathless.

“You’re perfect.” You settled for simpler words that were just as true. He was perfect. Acacius huffed a warm burst of laughter. 

“I’m glad you think so, wife.” He chimed even as his gaze seemingly searched for the sincerity in your eyes.

“I love you.” You offered him another nugget of truth. 

You watched as the colour rose from his chest to his neck, Acacius shyly smiled before obscenely licking at your arousal and suckling another bruise on the inside of your thigh. He was marking you.   

You squirmed with anticipation, feeling his hot breath on your cunt as he spoke, “Don’t worry, he’ll be back just as we have prepared you some more.” 

“Here, hold these for me.” He spread your thighs and pushed them towards you, your hands came under your knees to hold yourself open for him as he had commanded. 

His mouth on your cunt was a reunion like no other. Acacius remembered every sensitive spot and fold of your sex. But the swooping in your womb had more to do with the sight of him rather than the pleasurable feeling of his tongue on your slit— his mouth attached to your cunt, eyes glazed over with a half-awake and half-asleep look in his eyes, lashes gracefully fluttering as he tasted you, a patch of his cheekbone shimmering under the lamp light where the slick from your thighs had smeared across his face.                

Gone was the urgency with which he had devoured you previously in your office, he was instead languid and slow. But there was a fervour in his grip and his fingers painfully dug into the flesh of your hips. He toyed with one of the lips covering your opening, sucking it into his mouth and nipping it with his teeth before doing the same with the over. His tongue roved over your sex sometimes just the tip, lightly and ticklishly grazing over a sensitive spot, and other times he was insistent, tongue flat against your folds as he roughly lapped up your essence. 

You grew desperate as he purposely avoided that crest right at the apex of your sex that would ensure you would see stars behind your eyes again. And you grind your hips against his face, hoping to catch the needy spot against his nose, or his lips or even his chin— the lightest of touch there could set you off, you were so close, the tension curled so tightly inside you. There was a resounding smack in the air, it didn’t occur to you that Acacius would hit you until there was a tingling on the side of your ass, the impact making you gush into his mouth.

“Of course, you would enjoy something like this,” He murmured. And he laughed. He had the audacity to laugh as his lips closed around the exposed little bud, the vibrations of his amusement travelling straight into your nerves. You came undone with a shout, your eyes unseeing while your veins felt alit with delicious flames coursing through them followed by warm currents that doused your body in a dreamy languor. You lost your grip under your knees, letting your legs fall apart in the most inelegant fashion but still spread so wide for your husband. Acacius moved away with a teasingly tutting at you, and you whimpered at the loss.

“Hold them for me again,” He said. And you obediently took your position, hands under your knees, lifting your trembling legs so you were entirely exposed for him. 

Acacius took your clitoris in his mouth again, his tongue encircling the oversensitive bud. You felt his thumb gather some of your slick before going down to the ring of muscles far below your cunt. You gasped his name in surprise as his digit followed the same dizzying circles around the ridged fig-like skin surrounding that opening. 

“Is this alright? Do you trust me?” You gave a hasty wordless nod for both questions. 

Acacius pressed two fingers into your cunt and suddenly it was all a bit too much. His tongue flicked the bundle of nerves, the intrusion of his fingers felt foreign and the thumb circling your other hole was sending waves of pleasure to muscles you hadn’t realised could be used for such a purpose. He watched you restlessly whimper and whine with half-lidded eyes as you squirmed at his touch. He released the nub of flesh from his mouth, making soothing sounds as he comforted you. 

“Relax for me, let it happen, my love, do not fight it.” He said as he curled his fingers inside you catching some dormant set of nerves which threw you into another release. You came with a gasp, still shaking and quivering as he pressed soft kisses to the inside of your thigh. You hadn’t yet descended from the heights of your pleasure, your muscles feeling fuzzy and boneless when he flipped you over. Your head rested sideways over the backrest of the chaise as Acacius guided your own hands to your ass. 

“Spread yourself for me, wife.” His tone clipped and terse. You had thought yourself past surprise and shame but were still so unprepared for the feel of his tongue against your anus. His tongue burned hot against the ring of muscle as he held it in place while his fingers found their way inside your cunt again, three this time instead of the two before. And this time he lets you grind yourself on his face. You are mindless and hazy with pleasure, there is no real pace or rhythm to your hips.

His hand curved around your waist so he could curl his fingers into your clit, providing delicious friction as you swayed your hips. His fingers lazily dragged in and out of you, his beard scraped against your sensitive skin, and his tongue pressing hot and wet against the opening of your ass, burrowing inside despite your haphazard movements. Acacius gives you a deep hum of approval the more desperate and determined you grow in pursuit of another release. 

It crept up on you, steadily climbed your spine, long and drawn out rendering you utterly silent as your body gripped and convulsed barely being able to hold itself up. For several moments you were lost to the world, Acacius circled and patted the erect bud of nerves until you stopped twitching while another had soothingly stroked and petted over your shivering skin. He turned to lay you on the chaise, pressing an affectionate kiss to your parted lips and covered you with his own body, whispering soft praise and encouraging words as his legs entangled with yours— you gasped at the feel of his weight, another throb coursing down your sated sex, you clenched around the tip of his cock as he bullied his way inside.

As he had promised, it did not hurt. But you felt full, and far too relaxed and pliant to be overwhelmed even with the slight burn of the stretch. Dazed, you noticed the wet patch on the backrest where his hand gripped— you had drooled. It was worse, your release had coated his cloak underneath you, it glistened against his face and it dripped down his chin, his neck, his chest. 

“Dulcissima, you have to let me in, please— you’re strangling me. Breathe—” Acacius was tense, speaking through gritted teeth, his words breaking from his effort to breathe. And your body complied with his request, you could never deny him. And you felt complete once he had nestled inside you, filling not only your cunt but your heart and your soul. Your gaze was wondrous and awed as you held him inside you, you clenched around him trying to pull him impossibly closer still. 

He gasped before kissing you again, trying to hold most of his weight off you. You stay that way, connected in more ways than just the physical, locked together in both love and ecstasy— your hands exploring his warm skin and the strong contours of his body. A surprising laugh bubbled up your throat when you realised Acacius had broken into goosebumps, his hair raised alert and small bumps ran along his arms. 

His forehead pressed against yours and you nudged his nose with yours gazing into the eyes of your beloved seeing the love and adoration reflected there. He softly caressed your cheek and your temple, “I haven’t done this in years,” he confesses. Years?

“Good.” 

He chuckles at your response, “Good? It means I won’t last long…”

“You don’t have to. It is done, is it not? The consummation.” 

He pecks your nose, “We aren’t done until you come all over my cock, anaticula.” 

And then he moves, in sufficiently long and deep strokes that have your eyes rolling back, grinding his hips so the hair above his cock rubs against the erect nub above your opening. Your nails dig into his back, the coil of pleasure winding tighter at your core. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the skin of your neck. 

“It doesn’t hurt.” You told him as your hips rolled to meet his thrusts.

“I’ve done you a disservice—” Why was he talking? Did he expect you to hold a conversation? All you could manage was a broken keen when he rubbed the most perfect spot on the inside. 

“You’ve been trapped in a temple for thirty years, you deserved to see the world, take a few lovers, but I have trapped you instead.” 

“No—” He couldn’t possibly be saying these things while his arm wrapped under you to massage your anus. 

“You can roam the world, freely conduct your business— take over Rome if you want to— I’ll follow you… anywhere. I’ll go.” He wiped the tears that slipped out of your eyes before continuing, “But this is what you will do at the end of every day, anaticula.”

“You will go about your dreams and ambitions and then you’ll come home every night into my arms, my bed, with my cock buried deep in your cunt. Do you understand?” He brutally snapped his hips into you while you responded with some sound between a sob and a laugh. 

“Say it, say it to me. Tell me you’re mine.” He commanded, his eyes overcome with a zealous light. His fingers dipped into the tight ring of your ass. You could feel his cock all the way in your throat.

“We’ll have to train this hole of yours open if you do not want children, carissima. This is where I will fuck you next. But you’ll take me, like a perfectly biddable wife— into your heart, into your body. It is my home, and you will not cast me out—”

“I want them— I want children, everything you give me— please please please— Acacius.” You begged. 

“I’m yours. Your wife, your lover, your whore— please, Acacius—” You weren’t sure what you were asking of him. But your husband, ever the provider, brushed his fingers against your clit and you shattered under him with a distorted scream. You convulsed and shook underneath him with no effect as his weight pressed down on you. And your husband followed soon after, shivering and groaning as he painted the inside of your cunt with his warm seed; your walls fluttered around him to milk every last drop of it. 

“Daughters… wife. Give me daughters, ones who take after their mother in both looks and heart.” He prayed to you. Acacius stayed that way for several long moments, reverently kissing your warm and sweaty skin while you felt him softening inside you. You clenched around him in distress, hating the inevitable loss as he slipped out of you.

You had watched with great interest as he had stumbled away from you, admiring the sight of his ass, wishing you can sink your teeth into it. And with even more interest, you stared at his cock as he returned with a wet cloth to clean you both along with a tray of food he had prepared. The both of you had ravenously polished off the feast of olives, cheese, fruits, stuffed dates, spiced cookies, bread and sausages. Your husband had plied you with more wine before dipping his strawberries in your cunt to eat them; they tasted sweeter that way he had claimed and you hadn’t believed him until you had cleaned up honey from his cock which had tasted impossibly sweeter to you.

You lay on him, sleep still evading you because you knew you had to address his words when he had been inside you. Your back leaned against his chest, and Acacius had parted his legs to make room for your bottom between them. Another reason sleep was not possible, this chaise was too small for both of you— you told your husband as much. 

“You should have seen the one they brought before, it was much smaller… So I built this one.” He chuckled.

“You built this bed yourself?” You whispered, appreciating the work and polish under new light. You thought he only worked on smaller projects.

He hummed in response, “And the bed in our chambers. Don’t worry, I made that one palatial.”

“So why aren’t we there?” You laughingly demanded. 

“Because I wanted the heavens to witness our consummation, dulcissima.” And your heart fluttered again. 

“I still quite like this one, despite how small it is… It’s our marriage bed and I’ll be fucking you on it as often as I can.” Despite, how sated and spent you felt, heat still curled in your belly at his promise. 

“You know, Acacius”—you turned in his arms to face him, chin resting against the swell of his stomach, you gazed up at him with imploring eyes—“You have done me no disservice. I wanted to marry you.”

You couldn’t hold in the words any longer, “You can never imagine yourself as some chain around my feet… you make me brave. You bolster me, make me feel safe— like I will always have someone on my side.” 

He sweetly caressed your spine, “I’ll never give you cause to be disappointed in our marriage, anaticula.” 

“You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried, Acacius.” You struggled against the insecurities in his mind, before realising that only time will reassure him. 

“I love you,” Acacius said, not as a confession or a desperate sigh, but in the same steady way he would voice a fact. 

“I love you, too,” You whispered against his chest. 

“Are you sore?” He gently asked. 

You were, not just between your legs but also in your heart— you shook your head in denial. Just a little white lie because you knew that having him close, having him inside you could cure all ails. 

Acacius watched the sun rise, as he would on most days of his marriage— casting his wife in an ethereal glow, the rays shining down on all the marks he had left on her body while she languorously rode his cock to their shared bliss. 

[milkb0nny]

Addicted To Crimson Kisses

... Dean loves your twisted grotesque quirks

Pairing: Dean x insane angel!reader

Summary: You are twisted, your hobbies and admirations being extraordinary. But Dean fell in love with your gruesome nature, sometimes wondering if you share human traits or not. Nevertheless, Dean was head over heels for your ethereal being.

Note: This is another niche scenario, and its not as comforting and romantic as the other fics I’ve written. I hope this isn’t the type of edge that makes one cringe...but I longed for some disturbing content. I got inspired by that one season of American Horror Story where Lady Gaga acted in.

Content: MDNI +18, blood, spn violence, kissing, reader being obsessed with injured dean

The sharp pain of a claw embedded in Dean's shoulder yanked him back to reality, his knees buckling as he stumbled against the cold, damp wall of the vampire nest. Blood seeped through his jacket, the metallic tang sharp in the dank air. The nest was chaos; a mess of snarling fangs, swinging machetes, and the occasional grunt from Sam as he fought his way through the bloodsuckers.

You, however, were a different force entirely.

The sound of a wet crunch filled the room as your blade sliced through one vampire’s neck, your expression calm, eerily detached. Whenever you killed one of these beasts, you seemed to be one yourself. The flicker of dim light caught the crimson streaks across your face, but you didn’t flinch. In fact, your lips curled ever so slightly, almost as if you found beauty in the carnage.

Dean noticed it even now, through the haze of pain… the way your eyes gleamed, like a predator reveling in the hunt. Like a snake watching its prey die from suffocation.

He sometimes wondered if you were entirely insane. And why he was so oddly drawn to you?

Outside the hunts you were an ordinary sweet person, caring and loving. Only your small hints of admiration for grotesque things made him notice from the start; you weren’t quite alright in your mind.

Another vampire lunged toward you, but you sidestepped it with an almost feline grace, delivering a deadly blow without hesitation. Your movements were calculated, smooth, and ruthless. There was no trace of fear or doubt, only precision. It was that very nature of yours… twisted, extraordinary, and unapologetically dark… unusual strength which had drawn Dean to you in the first place.

"Sweetheart!" Dean’s voice was rough, strained as he swung his machete with his good arm. The other one slowly became numb, blood rushing out, dropping onto the ground. "A little help here?"

You turned toward him just as a vampire closed in, its claws outstretched for another swipe at Dean. Without missing a beat, you flung a dagger with pinpoint accuracy, embedding it deep in the vampire's chest.

„My, my…,“ you said, your eyes watching his wound scream for help.

Dean sank to the floor, clutching his shoulder as he let out a shaky breath. "You sure know how to make a guy feel useless," he muttered, but there was no malice in his tone - just a rough-edged admiration.

You crouched in front of him, your eyes scanning his wound with a cool detachment. There were marks all over him, his gorgeous face, his strong arms, his broad back. The vampires really wanted you to see Dean like this; beauitful, vulnerable and defenseless. Your eyes glistened with love, as you picked up your calm voice.

"You’re not useless, Dean," you replied, your voice calm but tinged with something he couldn’t quite place. "You’re just... mortal."

There it was again - that hint of otherness that made his chest tighten, even as his blood soaked into his shirt.

Sam found you to be creepy, not sure if his brother will be safe in your hands or not, but he couldn’t deny you were a handy help when hunting. You didn’t let emotions faze you, and handled the situation with a numb mind. Times like these simply demonstrated that you were an angel.

But a distorted one; making you more demonic than angelic.

Sam dispatched the last vampire with a decisive swing, his panting breaths breaking the heavy silence that followed. "Dean, you good?"

"Peachy," Dean grunted, though the expression of his face told a different story.

As the chaos settled and the last vampire’s body hit the floor, you turned back to Dean, still slumped against the wall, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Blood dripped from the wound on his shoulder, pooling darkly against his torn shirt.

Your hands were steady as you pressed against his wound to stem the bleeding. His jaw clenched, a hiss escaping his lips as pain flared through him.

"Stay with me, Winchester," you said softly, your voice firm but laced with a touch of worry.

Dean chuckled weakly, the sound more like a rasp. "A little hard to do when you’re pressing on my bullet hole."

"It’s a claw wound, not a bullet hole," you corrected, your gaze flicking to his green eyes, which still burned with that familiar fire, even through the haze of pain.

For a moment, you hesitated, your hand brushing against his bloodied cheek as you adjusted your grip. Something in the way he looked at you… raw, vulnerable, and yet so unyielding… stirred something deep inside you.

"You look like hell," you murmured, though your voice softened, a trace of affection slipping through.

Dean smirked faintly, his lips curving even as blood stained the corner of his mouth. "Good thing you’re here to clean me up, huh?"

Without thinking, you leaned closer, your breath mingling with his. "You’re impossible," you whispered, shaking your head.

"Yeah," Dean replied, his voice lower now.

And then, you kissed him.

It wasn’t a delicate kiss; it was fierce, desperate, and tinged with the metallic taste of his blood. The coppery flavor flooded your senses as your lips pressed against his, and you could feel the heat of him, the way his body leaned into yours despite the pain. He was full of life, yet he sat here, bleeding terribly. His good hand came up to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

When you pulled back, your lips were smeared with his blood, your heart hammering in your chest. Dean stared at you, his eyes wide for a brief second before a crooked grin broke across his face.

"Didn’t think I’d ever say this," he said, his voice rough, "but I think you just made bleeding out a little more bearable."

You rolled your eyes, the corner of your mouth quirking into a smirk. "You’re lucky I like you, Winchester. Now, let’s get you patched up before you try to charm me to death."

Even as you worked to bandage his wound, the lingering taste of blood on your lips and the look in his eyes stayed with you. Dean might have been battered and bruised, but he was still every bit the man who made your pulse race.

And you knew he’d fight tooth and nail to make it out alive, if only to steal another moment like that with you. Dean caught the flicker of something in your eyes. Concern? Guilt? Or was it something darker, something he didn’t dare name? - Adoration for his pain.

"You’re enjoying this too much," he rasped, a half-smile tugging at his lips despite the pain.

Your lips quirked in return. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like keeping you alive."

Your blood drenched hands cupped Dean‘s face again, and you took a moment to take in that beautiful view god had offered you. Your heart jumped, began racing uncontrollably and you were about to lose your coolness.

„You’re so good looking when roughed up,“ you whispered, leaning in closer. You gifted Dean a small kiss, before pulling away and continuing to stop his bleeding.

He knew you’d keep the blood soaked fabric afterwards, as you always did.

They were your sacred treasures. A strange collectible.

You were his disturbed, deranged, sweet angel.

Sam rolled his eyes, already moving to check the perimeter. "You two can flirt later. Let’s get out of this hellhole."

You helped Dean to his feet, your arm firm around his waist as you guided him toward the exit. The weight of his body against yours was heavy, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, there was something almost protective in the way you held him, as though the blood and chaos of the nest had awakened something primal in you.

As you stepped into the cool night air, Dean turned his head slightly, his deep eyes searching yours.

"Babe," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the sound of Sam’s footsteps ahead. "You scare the hell outta me sometimes, you know that?"

Your smile this time was faint but genuine, the sharp edges of your demeanor softening ever so slightly. "Good," you replied, your voice low and steady. "Fear keeps you alive."

„Though,“ you acted innocent and pure while speaking, “I would never dare to hurt you. It’s on you if you’ll trust me on that or not.“ There was it, your sweet, usual side.

Dean chuckled, though it turned into a wince as the pain in his shoulder flared. A sound which strangely sent a blush down your cheeks.

"You’re one hell of an angel, you know that?"

Your gaze wandered to his face.

"Yeah," you murmured, your tone laced with a quiet intensity. "And you’re one hell of a man, Dean Winchester. Dating an angel, that by all means, defies the human definition of one."

[imliterallyf7ckin9crazy]

may i request a gi-hun x fem reader running into him after he wins the games? reader happens to be on the street they toss him onto (she’s prob getting a late night snack) she sees him and rushes to help him and invites him back to her place to wash up. maybe she could draw him a warm bath so she can wash the knots out of his hair, lends him some comfy clothes and makes him some tea uwu

(i was rewatching season 1 and i just want to tuck that man into a warm comfy bed after all the trauma)

tysm ^^ 🤍

FUCKING FIREEEEEEEEE

“𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩”

Gi-hun x f!reader

Warnings: established friend(?)ship, angst with comfort, gi-huh tells reader abt the games, f!reader, gi-hun is going through shit.

A/N: fire request. I also recently rewatched season one and my heart longs for fluffy hair gi-hun back. My shaylaa <\3 this is 4 u fine shyt.

———-

You never guessed this is where your life would have lead you. Alone in a shitty apartment. When you were younger you thought you’d be a doctor or teacher- a lawyer at least. Now you had little money and even fewer friends. The only friend you had really made was long missing. And oh did you miss him.

He was a very sweet man, he always came by the food vender with his daughter. You knew he was also poor, sometimes he wouldn’t have enough money to pay for their dinners. And you’d always cover the rest, telling him it was no huge deal. You could tell him and his daughter were thankful. He would come by without his child too sometimes. He would order something small and cheap… then chat with you the rest of the time. Telling you about all the money he won!!!… then the next day he’d tell you how he had just lost it all the same way he got it- gambling

Though it wasn’t your place, you’d tell him to relax on the gambling. He’d tell you he isn’t in too deep and can stop whenever. You hear it all the time from countless people who decide to share their life’s stories with you. But it didn’t make you see him any less, if anything it showed you why you SHOULD care. Why you should look out for those less fortunate because you never know who might need it.

After so many times of him coming in you guys shifted to a first name basis. You greet him with a smile and a “hello, gi-hun! Welcome back.” Or a “hey, it’s been a while since you’ve stopped by, gi-hun” he became a core part of your shift, you’d see him at least three times a week. And he always had some crazy story to tell you while you worked. You listened to him talk about life. His debt, his destructive habits, what happened to his family. You’d give him real advice and listen to him if he needed. Sometimes you’d even share parts of your fucked up life. How you got to where you were.

But it wasn’t always problems he came to you with

Every one in a while he would win big and come in to tell you about it. Leaving a heavy tip with a joyous smile “keep the change” he’d say as you laugh at him. You’d always get a good laugh in whenever he’s around. If not at his jokes then at his goofy situations he’d get himself in. Over all, you had felt you made a friend. You even got his number so you could reach out when needed

Only he’s been gone for a while. He stopped popping in to say hi and buy a snack, he stopped running by to tell you what he’s won and he stopped flying into your shop asking to be hidden in the back to hide from his loaners. He was just gone. And day by day you figured he either got caught up by the people he was running from or he some how moved far away. And it saddened you, you never realized how lonely you were till now. Up to this point you’ve had someone to occupy your thoughts and time, and now that it’s been gone you struggle to see how you made it without those stupid conversations over street food. And you had no clue where your gi-hun went.

You let out a very long and somber sigh, pulling yourself off your dingy discount couch and shuffle to your room before pulling on a sweater and some sweat pants. You checked yourself over once in the bathroom mirror before lazily walking out of your apartment, locking the door. You then descended down the elevator and onto the Main Street. You had a few extra dollars to spare and a rumbling stomach, so you decided to head down to your local convenience store to pick out some food.

The night air was chilly and the stars that hung in the sky were drowned out by the light pollution of the city lights. You clench your hands into fists and jam them into your pockets to protect them from the freezing cold. You picked up the pace and continued to walk, ignoring people and minding your own business the best you could. You turned down this one back street, dangerous at night but a much quicker way to your destination. That was until you were stopped dead in your tracks, mouth agape.

There he was, gi-hun! Your gi-hun!! Stood at the corner of two streets, looking very lost and confused. You could distinguish that messy hair from any distance. Your hunger was forgotten as quickly as it came, and you couldn’t stop yourself from calling out to him. “G-gi-hun?!” You yelled, waving your hands at him. His head snapped harshly in your direction, eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. It seemed like he aged 20 years, he looked incredibly roughed up and exhausted. Seemed like he was barely upright, and he carried large bags with him.

It took a moment of him staring at you until it clicked. It looked like he had forgotten you for a second before it all came rushing back. You didn’t get a smile back though, and you dropped your waving hand. Your smile began to fade as you approached him, only he flinched away and took a small step back. “Gi-hun? It’s me, remember? I work down at that corner noodle stand?” You say, gesturing to the general area of your store. He nodded a bit before relaxing, looking around a bit.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask, worry laced in your voice as you close more of the distance. He just looked at you as you inched closer and closer, this look of pain seemingly permanently etched into his face. He looked like he wanted to say a million things but couldn’t find the words. And most of all he looked like he had just crawled through the deepest pits of hell. “Do you need to sit, oh god. Come with me” you say as you lightly reach your hand out to him, beckoning him to follow. He looks at your hand distrustfully, skeptical for a reason unknown to you. “Cmon, I can help you.”

He closes his eyes and lets out a breath you didn’t know he was holding before turning to follow you silently. You were glad for that, you had no clue what the hell happened to him but it was clearly something. And he clearly needed help. Your snack venture was long forgotten as you lead him back to your place, trying to get any information out of him. You asked where he went, what happened, why he was gone for so long, how he got back… every time he tried to say he would tear up, and he’d choke the words back down. Telling you he can’t tell you yet, and even if he could he doesn’t know how.

And that was ok with you. You eventually got back, and you guided him to your couch. He analyzed basically your whole house, eyes scanning back and forth and back and forth, looking for danger. Like something could reach out from the walls and get him. You got him a glass of water which he thanked you for but didn’t drink, instead he just stared into the reflection in the water. Lost in thought. You tapped his shoulder, pulling him out of the reeling memories he can’t express.

“Hey, it’s ok. Look, do you want to take a shower or something? No offense but you look like you need one” you say, half trying to help and half trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t really work though, his lips barely twitched. He would have found that funny a few months ago. He did agree though.

The shower wasn’t long at all, maybe 10 ish minutes. You had set him up with some of the over sized things you have, including a hoodie he had bought you months ago after a winning particularly handsome prize. His gazed softened when he saw those laid out for him. He put the clothes on, happy to finally be in something clean, soft, and comfortable clothes. After taking a long, sad look at himself in the mirror he walks out to you waiting for him on the couch with a brush and some tea. “Come here” you call.

At this point in the night he’s so exhausted and shell shocked he was barely awake. The weight of whatever he experienced weighted down heavily on him and you could see it draining the life from him. He hadn’t even smiled yet, the thing you found you missed the most. He sits down next to you. You slide the cup of hot tea to him across the table with the brush in your other hand. He looks at it suspiciously before you reach your hand holding the brush up, flinching a bit before returning to normal. That’s when you noticed the slight bruising across his face.

“It’s ok if you can’t talk about it yet… I was just so worried about you” you start “I missed you coming to say hi at work” you added, chucking slightly as you moved to brush out his wet hair, careful to not rip it out. “I’m sorry” gi-hun says, voice wavering as tears prick his eyes. “I’m sorry”

Your eyes widen a bit as you rub his shoulder lightly “no no gi-hun, it’s ok. You did nothing wrong”

Though you were trying to comfort him your words of reassurance only fueled the tears to fall. You didn’t comment on them, instead you kept rubbing his shoulders, brushing his hair till it was dry, and listened to him softly cry. Cry over everything that happened, that he had to do, and that he has to do going forward. So much had happened and he’s the only one alive to tell the tale. The only one out of all those people to live. The only one…

Eventually, after much comforting, after many “shhh I know”s and “it’s ok I believe you”s gi-hun was finally able to sleep for the first time outside of the games. Games that no one knew of. But you told him that you believed every word of his story. And you did, saying you’d help him find who he was after, but only when he went to bed. That man slept in your arms, on your couch for HOURS. From the story he told you this was probably the first safe nights sleep in days, and you could tell he needed it.

And you needed him. And now he’s back. Talking about mysterious death games and a sales man with a briefcase, but back none the less. And you were grateful for that.

[midnite-c6]

After reading ur patient!namgyu fanfic I was just wondering if you could pretty please w a cherry on top write a fic about Seowan !! Doesnt have to be doctor x patient, I just need more fics w my beloved Seowan 🔥🔥 have a great day/noon/night!

i haven't seen any fics about seo-wan, it makes me so sad, but here's oneDJFH also, i added squid game tags because i want more nam-gyu lovers to see roh jaewon's character in daily dose of sunshine!! FIRST NON SQUIDGAME FIC .. my fav schizo TT.

kim seo-wan x reader !! <3 warnings: fluff , angst ?! , mentions of mental illness </3

つ⁠｡⁠☆ he's your study buddy!! both of you couldn't pass the exams the first time and you guys bonded over that. the two of you would sit next to each other when the professors lecturing about a lesson, since you both share the interest of being determined in passing the exams this year, there wouldn't be alot of talking during a lecture, but afterwards he's actually quite talkative!

he would also share his notes, giving you a bunch of sticky notes, all of them would have silly random doodles and small comments about how "you can do it!"

you manage to even hang out with him after classes ..which still includes studying, but you told him he needs to let lose, even for a little while. eating noodles in those small shops on the sidewalk, visiting libraries, and if you feel like your falling behind in studies, he would share the other side of his headset, making you listen to the lecture he found on youtube.

a new store would open up right next to the university, because the lessons were tiring and obsessing over the tests is unhealthy, the two of you decide to explore. it was actually a computer-shop.

since then, it's been you and seo-wan's new hobby, to play videogames for hours after lectures, how you were practically his pocket healer, how you two can't play alone without the other right by their side.

this newly-shared interest has gotten you two alot closer, you'd even ask him out, gratefully, the feelings are mutual, kim seo-wan is a simple man. now there'd be long sessions of kissing inside his small apartment, cosplaying, the two of you didn't have alot of money, but this was enough.

video games became a part of your life, one to escape reality. but unfortunately, this hit a little bit harder for kim seo-wan. you'd notice how he wouldn't take the time to study anymore. of course, as the concerned lover you are, you would remind him all the time, but he just wouldn't budge.

his parents were nice, they'd always treat you like you were family, even cooking dinner or lunch for you whenever you come over. since you haven't seen seo-wan in awhile, you'd ask them, only to find out your boyfriend has been sent to a psychiatric unit.

you would visit him everyday, telling him about your day, and asking about his. his day was filled with thinking of you, playing ping-pong with the other patients, and this fantasy world he lives in. but whenever you were too busy to visit, he'd be extra depressed inside the hospital and says he has ran out of mana. </3

you were always intrigued whenever he would tell you about his visions. his stories contain that you were truly his 'mediator', and that you're there in his life to save him. "this is very unprofessional, oh my dear.. mediator, but i'm inlove with you, for you make me look forward to explore even the darkest caves or the highest mountains." he'd take your hand to place a soft kiss on-top. he had forgotten your previous relationship before, atleast he still loves you in the new world he's living in.

you'd end up taking the test without him, but you'd never talk about it in the hospital, you know he needs more time.

in the end, you two agree upon each other to fight the fire dragon together, whatever the future may hold. because, as he confidentally says: "once i've saved up enough mana and leveled up all my armor, i choose you to come with me. you're the only one i can trust in defeating the fire dragon. i will protect you with all my life, my dear mediator!"

i'm sobbing just thinking about this bye ☹️☹️☹️ was gonna do nsfw parts too as i usually do but like i was too up in my feelings LMAOFHBRK trust im gonna post sum nsfw story next 🤞🏻

[elliequeen777]

Ok, so now and then I think about one post I so a couple of years ago of this person asking why do people like winterwidow. At the time I gave a very basic answer, that I liked their dynamic and how they understand each deeply. Since then I've thought way more about the things I love about this pair.

The one thing that amuses me the most about them is how little were the odds of them actually being together as a couple. Not only in story, but also the real world implications. When you read them interact it seems like they have always been drawn to each other, like it's only natural there's love between them. But the truth is that they weren't always meant to be.

Unlike some of the most popular couples in comics Bucky and Nat weren't created to become a couple at the beginning. All the time Nat was around, writers gave her a good share of serious romantic relationships some of them crafted since her literal birth (in all senses), it had to pass a long time before someone thought to pair her with Bucky. On the other hand, when he was brought back to life she wasn't a clear obvious candidate to be his romantic interest, their relationship was a surprise for both the audience and the characters around them. They weren't an obvious choice at the beginning.

They weren't each other's fated mate at any point, and they have never been untouchable by the narrative. But, somehow, they are always at their best when they are together, even if it's not in a romantic relationship, when they cross their paths they are better.

We already know that they don't find each other in every universe. We have seen them love other people and have fulfilling lives away from each other. The possibility of their romance succeeding isn't a hundred percent every time. Yet, when they are together it feels so natural, like they were always supposed to go side by side.

There is a unique kind of trust and understanding that only exists between them. One that's so deep and so rare, that a lot of people aren't able to perceive it. Therefore, sometimes the fates aren't in their favor and sometimes the odds are even against them. Most of the time they aren't together because is their destiny, but rather in spite of it.

[the-inkwell-variable]

author ask tag

thank you so much for the tag, @the-golden-comet! ooh this is gonna be fun!

i'm going to focus on my current wip, Why Should I Be Careful? I'm Going To Die Anyway! because it's still very much in the planning stages (despite how much I'm writing for it) and I have Thoughts

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

I'll be honest, I haven't really thought that far ahead. I suppose, if there is a lesson to take from WSIBC?IGTDA!, it might be that you should always chase your goals and desires, and screw what other people think. Maybe put a little more thought and planning into yours than Aura does hers, though. I mean, she almost dies due to her recklessness. Don't be like Aura.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

Well, it's a zombie book - I love zombies, in case you can't tell - so the world is an amalgamation of zombie stuff I love. The zombies are based off of the Train to Busan zombies. This is a self-insert mess, so I'm using the town and people I know in the town as location and characters. Little tropes here and there that I love in movies and books alike. It's just a big chimera of stuff that I grab from stuff I remember and shove into it. It definitely needs polish when it's done, but I'm having a blast so far, so I'm'a keep doing it :3

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

Uhhhhhh this is a tough question. Right now, Aura is trying to make it to Roger's Grocery Mart to save her girlfriend, but most of the time, she's just trying to have a good time in the zombie apocalypse and hopefully not die. She does eventually grow into a character that (mostly) thinks things through and takes other people's situations into account, so I suppose the lesson is "the world doesn't revolve around you - be kind and helpful to others"?

As for what I'm trying to achieve... mostly, to be honest, I just want people to pick up my book and have a good time reading it. I want to write a zombie book because it's my passion and because there aren't enough zombie books out there. I guess I'm trying to inspire others? To show them that you can survive an impossible situation if you work hard and think things through?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

The only time I've written a full-length book (sorry, the only two times, forgot about Zero: ALPHA), it had about twenty-odd chapters. Z:A had...uh...thirty? That was a long time ago and I sadly no longer have that draft. This one is going to go until it's done. Hopefully more than thirty though!

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content! I have no idea where I'm going to post it. I'm torn between Draft2Digital (originally Smashwords) or Substack. Thing is, I'm really bad at marketing and keywords and all that technical stuff that goes into publicizing, so I'm really hesitant to share it at all. I'm the type of person that gets absolutely morally devastated if my own self-inflicted goals aren't met, and I'm not sure if I can handle that kind of crushing heartbreak with this one lol

So yeah. Might publish, might not. Unsure right now.

When did you start writing?

My dad set up a Windows 95 computer for me in his office, his old one, and taught me the basics of using it. I was five, about to turn six. I immediately sat down and wrote a story about unicorns. I've been writing ever since.

I didn't start writing fanfiction until I was thirteen and had just binge-watched Lord of the Rings for the first time. We don't talk about those works. They were awful.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Write it. Oh it's cringe? Who cares? Write it. Oh, it's a rare pair? Write it. You're worried people will hate it? Fuck the haters. Write it. Writing is about having fun. Writing is about pouring your soul onto the page. Writing is about getting those ideas out of your head so they don't drive you insane. It's about reaching that one person that finds your work and loves it. Even if no one reads it - you still accomplished something. You still wrote it. And no one can take that from you.

I have so many writers in my follow list. Uhh. I have no idea how many are still active, so I'm just going to tag who I know and hope for the best lol

@idyllicocean, @keeping-writing-frosty, @bloodtiesnovel, @asher-writes, @kitswrite, @theink-stainedfolk, @karkkidoeswriting, @lavender-gloom, @orphanheirs, @aquixoticwrites, @alinacapellabooks, @marlowethelibrarian, @flock-from-the-void, @dyrewrites, @storycraftcafe, @writer-imagination, @toragay-writing, @inseasofgreen, @stephtuckerauthor, @thatndginger, @finickyfelix, @eternalwritingstudent, @drchenquill, @paeliae-occasionally, @the-golden-comet, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @watermeezer, @goldfinchwrites, @winterandwords, @badscientist, @clairelsonao3, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @leahpardo-pa-potato, @mjparkerwriting, @rowanwriting, @oliolioxenfreewrites, @emelkae, @rita-rae-siller, @rebelxwriter, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @stesierra, @francineiswriting, @sunset-a-story, @chauceryfairytales, @hollyannewrites, @jaydenswaywrites, @captain-kraken, @violets-in-her-arms-writes, @romy-thewriter, @pure-solomon, @writingmaidenwarrior, @koiwrites

go, go follow them. they're all so good and make my timeline glow.

[in1-nutshell]

Can I request more of Apollonis and drift with them forcefully bonding? Drfit needs to make up with his child

And make you Drift needs to do.

Hope you enjoy!

Apollonis and Drift

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Apollonis tries to avoid Drift at all costs.

Which isn’t an easy feat considering that they were in the same ship, everyone was bound to bump into each other at some point.

And when one was working in the med bay, the chances of seeing the same bot increased by a tenfold.

Rodimus didn’t make things easier either.

As soon as he found out about Drift and Apollonis being related, he tried his best to get his Amica to reconnect with her.

While she has respect for her Captain, this is one thing she has asked him to stay out of.

Which he politely disagrees with and continues to try and help Drift.

Too bad things haven’t been working out well for both mechs.

Apollonis walks over to her assigned med slab. There is a slight glare in her optics when she see Drift sitting there. Apollonis: “What happened this time?” Drift: “That’s a bit harsh to ask, isn’t it?” Her glare hardens as she continues to do the checkup. There was a heavy silence. Apollonis: “How did you get this rod in your gears?” Drift: “It may have involved Rodimus and I—" Apollonis: “Oh if Rodimus is involved, you’re going to have to bring that up with Ratchet. And this time, keep things short. You can’t keep using the med bay as a way to keep on talking to him like that.” Drift: “Like wha—OW!” Apollonis gives a fake smile as she squeezed a bit hard around the mesh wound area. Apollonis: “Oh did that hurt? I’m so sorry.” Drift grunts a bit. Drift: “Look at you, your sarcasm has improved so much Little One.” She freezes for a second before putting on a neutral face. Apollonis: “You’re free to go now.” Drift: “Wait…” The young doctor turns and walks away from the med slab. Drift looks sadly at his daughter walking away.

Drift knows he messed things up with Apollonis.

There isn’t a day where he doesn’t regret how he treated her back when they were with the Cons.

He was her father for Primus sake!

He should have done more to protect her!

The mech accepts all the cold shoulders and sarcastic comments as part of his punishment.

Most bots can physically feel the tension these two have whenever they are in the same room.

It was generally thought that the two had some sort of shared bitter history.

What exactly is it?

No one has managed to get the story yet.

Mainly because Drift is very vague about it and Apollonis gets a bit touchy on the subject.

Also they didn’t want to push the Ex-Wrecker and mini Ratchet too far.

Though that doesn’t stop some crew members from asking.

Apollonis and Tailgate are sitting in a booth at Swerve’s. He was waiting for Cyclonus to show up and wanted some company. Tailgate: “So… what happened with you and Drift?” Apollonis sighs deeply. Apollonis: “Tailgate, we’ve talked about this.” Tailgate: “I’m just trying to think on what he could have done! I mean you’re a nice bot, kinda like a nicer Ratchet.” Apollonis tries to hide a chuckle at that comment. Tailgate: “Your even nice to Cyclonus and not everyone is. Why hate Drift?” Apollonis: “I don’t hate Drift… I don’t think I could if I tried…somethings can’t be so easily talked about Tailgate.” Tailgate sighs in defeat. Tailgate: “You’re starting to sound like Cyclonus.” Apollonis chuckles a bit at the minibots expense. Apollonis: “I’ll take that as a complement.”

Ratchet does try and talk to her about talking to Drift.

She needs closure and Drift needs it too.

Apollonis proves to be just as stubborn as her mentor and father.

Even with her avoiding the topic of talking to Drift, Ratchet did catch a little moment the two shared.

A couple bots had managed to get the drop on Drift and left him a bit banged up. Bot 1: “So what are ya going to do Deadlock?” Drift flinched a bit hearing his former name. Bot 2: “Aww look at him on the ground. Pathetic!” Drift gets a swift kick to the tanks and grunts a bit. Bot 1: “What? Not going to make us pay? C’mon, hit me!” Apollonis behind him: “With pleasure!” WHAM! The doctor decked the bot square in the face, successfully knocking him out before kicking one of his friends in the face. Out of pure surprise and shock the bots drag their leader away. Apollonis dusted her servos a bit. Apollonis: “What a bunch of beryllium baloney…” She turned to a slightly battered Drift. He notices her optics soften a bit as she hoists him onto her back. He slightly remembered the position being called ‘piggy back’ or something like that. Apollonis: “I can’t leave you alone for one minute, can I? Always getting yourself into trouble… ” Drift: “Aww—ouch. You do care—Hey!” She gave a little smile when she pinched the back of his pedes and made her way to the med bay.

[sleepypanda01]

SPOILERS FOR SEASON FINALE/Theories for next season

HUGE SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION (only read after you have read the season finale, you have been warned)

I wanna talk about my theory of Buddy stealing Chase's narratonin this whole time. After re-reading some eps, there are some clues I gathered (This turned out to be a mix of observations put together, some sort of character analysis and a few theories. It also turned out to be very long, so Buckle up!)

I apologize in advance for any mistakes, English is not my first language. I also apologize if people in the past have made similar theories, I would not want to get repetitive, but I have not come across any similar posts so far

Now without any further ado, I am ready to share my super long CB essay.

-First and foremost, we have seen Chase feeling down for getting so little narratonin compared to Deacon and Prunella. If Nox can track Chase in every book, he might be able to steal his narratonin too. Since he is some sort of key, he might not be able to earn it on his own.Αs stated by Silver, only humans are able to earn it. Even if Nox seems to be different from the other keys, he might still be sharing some specific traits with them ( just like how he knows how every story is supposed to go by the time he enters it, which is another trait of the keys).

-When Nox met Chase for the first time,he seemed enraged and was the most aggressive we have ever seen him. After seeing a glimpse of his circumstances in the finale,we can assume that anyone in his shoes would be desperate to achieve their goals. Nox comes off as a perfectionist and control freak and Chase being in the equation obviously wasn't in his initial plans, whatever those were,so I believe his aggressive attitude during their first meeting stemmed from his desperation to take control of the situation.

-When Nox grabs Chase by the collar during their first meeting,he makes sure to take a good look at Silver.Nox knows that the key is merely a symbol around his neck and that the real key is in the real world,that gives me the impression that he was aware of the crack and he wanted to check on Silver’s condition.

-Nox said that Chase was wasting his time and to quote him"after all that and it's just a small weak little thing like you".The way he phrased that showcased two things. Firstly,he hints that he (either directly or indirectly) has been planning carefully towards his intended goal and putting a lot of effort into it,but Chase's presence stands in the way as he doesn't deem him worthy to possess a key. Secondly,it shows that he didn't think that Chase was good enough for whatever job the person who was supposed to find Silver had to do.But, his opinion on Chase seems to change during the toffee break arc when he starts considering him useful. By that moment, it seems that Nox had already been making adjustments to his plans and adding Chase into the equation. This brings me to my next point.

-At first, Nox was really determined to get Chase out of the books,but in the cinderfella arc he was willing to come to an agreement,why the sudden change in attitude? I think that's the point where he started to make adjustments to his plans and decided to add Chase in them without Chase's knowledge.In other words,he decided to use Chase so he could carry on with his plans. Also, Nox never leaves a story first, could it be because there have to be conditions met so he can steal Chase's narratonin? Maybe this is why he insists on Chase following the stories and completing them. He can't earn narratonin on his own, so he needs someone else to complete the story for him. If certain conditions are not met, he can not steal it. This means their bet during that arc could be some sort of way for Nox to test Chase, and see if he is suitable for his plans and whether he can ensure that Chase meets the necessary conditions for Nox to steal the narratonin. This would explain his pensive expression by the end of ep 7. He doesn't seem to want an innocent person to get involved in any of this, which could mean that his aggressive attitude at first could be a mix of desperation to regain control and also an attempt to protect an outsider that has no idea what he got himself into. However,since his attempts to kick Chase out of the books proved to be unsuccessful,he had no choice but to revise his plans and include Chase instead. Ultimately,Chase was a stranger to him and the stakes seemed too high for Nox to show any consideration for Chase. From Nox’s perspective, Chase is an outsider whose intentions Nox found difficult to trust. Nox always made assumptions about Chase,believing him to be incompetent, a quitter and even dishonest and underhanded.It is possible that Nox held onto these beliefs as if he wanted to create a narrative in which Chase was not a good person, convincing himself to adhere to this perspective while not wanting to give Chase the chance to prove him wrong.

-Back in the beach boys arc,I think that at the time when Nox was hypnotising info out of Chase, it was for his own personal purposes and not because someone in a higher rank forced him to do so. First of all, if a magical, evil organisation had lost some of their precious artifacts, you would think they would put more effort into getting them back.Especially if they knew that two keys are actively being used by two young boys. If Nox was Indeed an agent sent to retrieve the keys,he sure would not be the best one at his job as he not only doesn't show results,but he actually lets the boys use the keys despite his threatening attitude,which means that Nox is operating on his own with the help of Violet and presumably the aid of other keys(?). Thus, ex libris doesn't know that Nox is going into books and a part of Nox does seem to want Chase to continue with the stories so he can fulfill his plans. For the reasons mentioned above,I think when Buddy tried to get info out of Chase in that arc, it wasn't because he was forced and, we also know that he personally wouldn't be able to go where Chase lives (not when he is smaller than the chocolate bars he likes to eat),but it was because of his own curiosity about Chase (cause he was starting to warm up to him a bit at that point) and probably in order to shake off any possible guilt he might have felt about using Chase. His goal was to convince himself that Chase was indeed like any other human he has met before— selfish,a liar and manipulative and he wanted to convince himself that if given the chance,Chase would also use him,but Chase keeps proving him the opposite,slowly changing Nox’s view on the world cause he teaches him that there can be honesty, there can be kindness, there can be selflessness.

- Now I previously said that Nox is most likely not forced to work for Ex Libris,but he did mention that there is an old man that shouldn't notice that there is something missing. That gives us two pieces of information. 1) Even if Nox is not under constant supervision,he isn't free either.2)I assume that what's missing is not only Silver (and some other keys, but I will get back to that later),but also the ripped page that was within the book that Chase found, because the comic cuts off to a panel of a book with a ripped page back in ep 3. It is impossible that Nox was the one that put Silver and the page in the library, unless he can control his height and is allowed outside which I doubt, cause what would be the point of all this,then? Still, the book was obviously put there on purpose by someone and even had the words "read me" as if meant to capture one's attention.It was most likely a sign for someone to recognise it and take it.But who? All I can think of is that either Nox, or someone in a similar situation as Nox,had the chance to get in contact with someone of the outside world that could help them, cause if the person that was meant to find Silver was someone within the organisation ,why would they need instructions on how the keys work?Nox seems to know plenty about the keys and I assume anyone in the same situation as him would too(or it could be because Violet shared all the information she has about the keys). This crosses out the theory of that person being part of the organisation and leaves us with the assumption that the person intended to find Silver was either an outsider, or someone with limited knowledge of the keys and the organisation. This theory gives me the chance to talk about the flyers about the keys that are all over the town. I doubt that it is Ex Libris, though it is a possibility,but if it was Indeed them behind the flyers, why do they look for a set of missing keys and not mention the exact number of the keys that are missing? Maybe because the person that posted the flyers doesn't know how many keys there are, maybe it is someone with limited knowledge that would need instructions on how to use the keys.That makes me think that the person that posted the flyers is the person that was supposed to find Silver (and maybe other keys as well), but they were late as someone else had already found them.After that, they put up flyers with rewards in hopes to find the keys.As the reward seems to be high,we could assume that this person is rich and might have some sort of power which is why their help would be of use to Nox.

-Finally, concerning the old man I have the following theory. I personally think that ex libris is not an active organisation anymore. It might have faded away over the years and that old man that Nox mentioned is perhaps a descendant of a high ranking member that discovered its archives and rebuilt it or is attempting to rebuild it on his own terms. In dreams by night, we see Nox dressed as if he's a captive trying to escape. This leads me to think that the old man from whom Nox is trying to run away,in his attempt to rebuild the organisation, established some kind of institution as a front—perhaps an orphanage or a facility meant to help kids and young adults without homes or families to turn to. Such a set-up would make it easier to exploit them without anyone noticing or searching for them. I feel that Nox likely grew up in this newly established organisation, having no family of his own, which explains why he knows so much about the keys and ex Libris,as well why he is now wary of others.His trust was likely betrayed when a place meant to help him turned out to be using him.The theory that the organisation is no longer active can be supported by the fact that when Silver awoke,she didn't seem to recognise the style clothing from today's era (unless ex libris had some sort of dress code to enhance the cult like Vibe—which I understand, cause if I was running an evil organisation I would totally have a dress code) or any of the technologies (But this could also be because the keys were too restricted). Additionally,the book shown in ep 3 (I think), from which a page is missing,is likely the same ripped page that explains how the keys work. This suggests the book might be a set of records intended for future use,as members of ex libris would already know how to use the keys. Also,as mentioned above,Nox and violet are not shown to be strictly supervised. An organisation with the profile of Ex Libris wouldn't go too long without using the keys or allowing them to be awake, which means that the old man's priorities may lie somewhere else for the time being instead of using the keys or even tracking them.There's a possibility he hasn't noticed that Silver is missing or maybe he doesn't care enough to try and retrieve her. If we accept the theory of ex libris being inactive for years,it would be logical if some keys were lost over those years and it would be too hard to find them now,so the old man instead of looking for them is trying to replace the missing ones by experimenting on humans (Nox's case? He seems to be a replacement for the villain key)

-Before I reach my final point, I wanna talk about ‘’Dreams by night’’ because it has been on my mind A LOT.When Nox looks at the mirror, he sees his own reflection with an expression that seems both surprised and contemplative,as if he is summoning courage.This could signify that Nox is presenting a facade or some sort of persona to survive,implying that his current self is not who he is supposed or wants to be. He desires to leave this part of himself behind and change. This idea is reinforced when he picks up a clock, determined to break the mirror.However, then he  notices that the reflection has changed—it is now Chase.This could symbolise that, in order to escape, Nox feels he has to use Chase, which explains his guilty look and apologetic behaviour.Alternatively, Nox seeing Chase in the mirror could indicate that he sees Chase as a reflection of himself, or rather as someone onto whom he projects his own shortcomings/perception of himself (it is not uncommon for people in dysfunctional environments to see themselves in a bad light). Now Nox is forced to face an uncomfortable truth about himself as Chase’s presence could be bringing to light suppressed feelings and emotions.At the same time, Chase’s reflection could represent someone that Nox aspires/wishes to be— someone who lives freely, enjoys a normal life and has the luxury of being a kind and genuine person without any ulterior motives. Chase is a person who is authentic, like an open book. He is not restricted or forced to put up a front. This could be the kind of traits Nox would want to have had he not been in the situation he is. To achieve his desired life,Nox realises he has to break the mirror,but he is also aware that doing so will end up hurting Chase in the process of fulfilling his wish.However, on a more positive note, since Punko mentioned in her creator’s note that dreams are not always what they seem,the destruction of the mirror might foreshadow the collapse of Nox’s villainous persona, allowing him to transform into his desired version of himself. Chase might serve as the catalyst of this change,pushing Nox toward a positive change.

- Last but not least, when it comes to the keys we know for sure that some of them have gone missing. What bothers me is Silver's crack back in the beginning of the story and why Nox seems to be replacing the villain key. We have seen that keys can suffer damages if a book is destroyed or in the process of being destroyed. Maybe something went wrong the last time Silver and the original villain key were in a book and as a result, Silver was cracked, while the villain key was damaged beyond repair, which is why Nox is replacing him.  In the ‘’still waters’’ arc, Nox said ‘’I have never seen it attempted on a damaged book’’ to Chase’s question of whether completing the story would get them out. This leaves room to interpret that he has seen keys being stuck in a damaged book before. (The original villain key and possibly Silver as I mentioned which is why he checked her condition upon his first meeting with Chase).

It is also noteworthy that when Chase found Silver, she was not rusty like Bronze and Goldie. Does the rusty condition of Bronze and Goldie suggest that they have been lost for a longer time than Silver? On the other hand, if we accept the theory that that one time Bronze visited a book ,Nox appeared and decided to leave the book in fear of being recognised when he saw Bronze was the one who entered, it could mean that Bronze and Goldie know Nox, so there is also a chance they were not lost a long time ago after all. What seems to be true is that someone intended for Silver to be found, while Bronze and Goldie were probably lost/scattered. Maybe someone wanted to prevent an abuse of power and prevent a wish from being made, so they stole some keys since all 12 need to be present for a wish.

Long theory less long,I think Nox is a captive in a shady organisation run by the old man he mentioned. This new group somehow discovered Ex Libris and what they used to do with the keys, so now they want to use magical items for their own purposes by experimenting on other humans. In an attempt to escape, Nox came up with a plan involving Silver and Violet, but things didn't go as planned cause he would not have guessed that on a random summer day, Chase would stumble upon Silver in a dull library,giving him the opportunity for a miracle to save his mom,all while being completely unaware of the chaos unfolding behind the scenes. Also, in ‘’dreams by night’’ the image of Nox breaking the mirror, where Chase’s reflection appears and it causes him to apologise, could also be a metaphor for Nox using Chase and stealing his narratonin in order to escape.This is why we see Nox passing through the mirror after shattering it, because he has no choice but to use Chase so he can be free and he feels guilty about it.However, now he seems reluctant to carry on with his plans as he realised his feelings for Chase.It is also heavily implied that Chase makes his motivation of turning back into a human stronger, so he might need to have a change of plans in order to avoid hurting Chase. (It is a nice parallel of trust between Nox and Chase, as this time it is Nox who needs to prove his trust in Chase. He was recently hurt that Chase kept a secret from him,but now it seems he will be the one to reveal a secret he has been keeping and I feel Silver’s letter to Violet will play a role in that).

This is just a theory, a Cinderella boy theory… ( that could turn out to be a total bunch of nonsense, but it was still fun to write). if you read this far, thank you so much for your time, here’s a virtual cake-> 🧁 to thank you for sticking this long!