#all the stuff I usually use to distract myself just isn’t appealing me right now

[quibbs126]

The realization that I’m failing nearly all my classes is hitting me and it’d 5 in the morning so I can’t do anything about it

And we’re about a month from finals

Edit: you know, it’s funny, I told myself at the end of last semester that I’d limit my use of my iPad, since I recognized it as the source of my distractions, only for me to end up using it way more to the point of detriment this semester

[robininthelabyrinth]

i've been keeping a list of possible prompts for you and there's one i have no memory of adding that just says "courtesan nmj????" so i guess that's the prompt you're getting lmao

What Does the Fox Say - ao3

“Second Madame Nie!” a disciple shouted, rushing into her little garden. She didn’t recognize him, but he was solidly built and well-muscled like most of the others – truly, the Unclean Realm was a rapturous feast for one with eyes to see it. Yum, yum. “Second Madame Nie, I have bad news!”

Boo. She hated bad news: bad news meant she’d have to do something, usually, and right now she was seated very comfortably in a pleasant piece of sun in the garden path that’d been made up just for her and to her preferences, with her feet up on a chair and a full plate of fruit from the kitchen on the table in front of her just begging to be devoured, morsel by delicious morsel.

Her schedule was packed!

“I regret to tell you, but your husband has been killed!”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Has he? How obnoxious of him.”

How unreliable. Men.

She sighed.

“Second Madame – Second Madame – you don’t understand!” The disciple was all red-eyed and weepy, which was a look she liked, especially in big, stout men like this. The salt added a bit of spice to the whole thing. “You must flee at once! He was killed by Sect Leader Wen in an act of outright aggression – Sect Leader Wen has declared war – the Wen sect is invading!”

She nodded and picked up another lychee to start peeling it. She’d get around to fleeing in her own time. As long as this Wen sect or whatnot was being led by a man, she wasn’t terribly concerned.

“They intend to wipe out the inheritance of Qinghe Nie! They will rip out the child in your belly!”

She hummed noncommittally. Really, how attached was she to having a child of her own? Really?

“They will slaughter civilians – execute Nie-gongzi –”

Her hands stilled.

“What,” she said, and the disciple took a step back automatically, proving that he, at least, had something more of a survival instinct than her late husband did. “Hurt my little meat bun? My darling rice roll? My savory zongzi?”

She stood up, diminutive height and over-large belly and frilly clothing doing absolutely nothing to diminish the vaguely menacing aura that darkened the sky around her. She bared her teeth.

“Who does this upstart Wen dog think he is?!”

The disciple blinked owlishly, but nodded, seeming relieved that she’d finally accepted his concern, though she could see on his face that he was thinking that her reasoning was – characteristically – a little strange. But then again, and she could see this thought process on his far too honest face, it was well known that the second Madame Nie been quite strange ever since Sect Leader Nie had found her in some lonesome place with no family or background and brought her back to be his new wife nevertheless.

Such a charming man. Pity about his loss, really.

“You have to flee at once, we can’t possibly fight so many people,” the disciple said once more, and this time she nodded in agreement. “We can escort you to a hidden exit –”

“No!” a little voice called. “We can’t go.”

She turned to look, and there was the little pork-and-shrimp dumpling himself, chubby-cheeked and earnest-eyed, looking as delicious as always.

“What do you mean, fish cake?” she asked. “Of course we have to go. Didn’t you hear what this strapping young man said? This Wen person wants to kill you!”

“If Father is dead, then I’m the sect leader,” her stepson said. He was serious and solemn in a way that made her want to pinch his cheeks and bury her face into his belly to blow raspberries, and also possibly to eat him right up, flesh and marrow and gristle and all. “That means it’s my responsibility to preserve the Nie sect.”

“Nie-gongzi, no!” the disciple cried, throwing himself to his knees in a dramatic display of loyalty. “You would only die – far better for you to run, and live!”

“Then isn’t the same true for everyone else?” the tasty little dish asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Possibly he was trying to put on a fierce expression, maybe, she couldn’t quite tell sometimes. He was so cute. “Why should I live, and them not? I refuse to buy my life with their deaths!”

“But – Nie-gongzi –”

Her charming little honey cake shook his head and held up a hand to stop the disciple, turning to look at her instead.

“Second Mother,” he said, and he had that wholesome trusting expression again that was such a perfect little one-shot-kill to the heart, ugh. “You always said you’re the best at hiding. The best in the world, no one better among all the gods or demons!”

She was, too. She couldn’t help but preen a little, proud.

“– can’t you do something?”

“Oh, darling cabbage bun,” she said, not without fondness. “I can hide myself from even the net of Heaven itself if I so choose, from gods and demons alike, and I can most certainly hide a small group from any mortal eyes that dare to look, if you don’t mind being a little tiny bit dishonorable about the business. But an entire sect? That’s a bit much, even for someone as talented and skilled as me.”

Her stepson looked up at her, all straight-steel sincerity and upright righteousness wrapped into a perfectly edible little snack-sized package. “If we split them up, the sect could be small groups,” he said eagerly. “Couldn’t you do something then?”

He was so cute, and he trusted her. He trusted her, believed in her, felt that she could perform miracles with a wave of her sleeve if only she so wished.

It was awful.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Oh all right, you nummy little slice of roast pork belly,” she said, yielding. “But I’m telling you now, it won’t be the least bit honorable! There’s only so many excuses you can come up with for having a lot of strong men with wide shoulders and women with thick thighs hanging around, and not a single one of them has the slightest bit to do with what you people consider to be appropriate.”

“That’s all right. Preserving human life comes first, always.”

The disciple looked between them, clearly completely confused. Clearly all his effort had been spent on developing the muscles in his arms (quite nice) rather than his brain (quite slow).

“What?” he said. “What’s happening?”

“We’re saving the sect,” Nie Mingjue announced happily, clapping his hands together. Too precious, too precious entirely; she’d have to make sure no one else even thought about going near her darling little snackling. “Tell everyone to prepare to evacuate.”

“That will take too long,” she said, and smiled, with teeth. “Let me call some friends to help.”

-

When the Wen sect arrived at the Unclean Realm, they found the gate open.

That was unexpected enough, but when they entered, they found that the entire place had emptied out – not just of people, but of everything else, too. There wasn’t a single intact chair or table in the entire place, not a scrap of cloth nor a bit of food, like it’d been swept clean by locusts or wild monkeys come to pilfer whatever they could.

Even the paving stones where arrays had been laid out by the Nie sect’s ancestors had been pried up and carted away.

Sect Leader Wen ordered a search, but there wasn’t any trace of it – of the people, of the stuff, anything.

No one ever found out what happened.

-

Jin Guangyao despised social events, he’d found.

It was one thing when it was something he’d planned himself, where the work was interesting enough to distract him, but when he was an honored guest for someone else…miserable. Utterly miserable.

The only thing more miserable was when the host was his erstwhile father, from whom he’d forcefully extracted recognition. With Wen Ruohan as his backer, indulging his favorite torturer as if a beloved pet, there wasn’t much Jin Guangshan could do to refuse, and neither could he force Jin Guangyao to do anything on his behalf, either. And so Jin Guangyao, sitting as always by Wen Ruohan’s side, right beneath his sons, was now an honored guest at his father’s house, getting offered his pick of prostitutes as if the man had no notion of the irony.

Maybe he didn’t. Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite tell if his father had just forgotten his origins, thinking his bastard son too unimportant to remember the details of, or whether it was meant as a deliberate insult – who could tell?

“Oh, right,” the simpering idiot in front of him, a nephew or cousin of some sort to the sect leader, said. “Our dear Jin Guangyao is known not to like the gentle flower queens, even when they come from the finest houses in Lanling. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Jin Guangyao’s fists clenched. A deliberate insult, then.

Despite that, his face remained neutral. Instead, he chuckled and said, “The appeal is limited. After all, I have seen the best of them.”

Beside him, Wen Ruohan nodded and smirked. He appreciated Jin Guangyao’s devotion to his mother, though Jin Guangyao suspected it was because he thought it funny that Jin Guangyao would bother to honor such a lowly woman – but what he thought didn’t matter, not really. All that mattered was that he let Jin Guangyao pay his respects to her to his heart’s content.

“Well, you’re in luck!” the idiot Jin Zixun said, looking absurdly smug. “We have something of a different flavor than the usual tonight – we’ve invited entertainment from the local branch of Splendid Spring.”

Jin Guangyao barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

The Splendid Spring Palace was a series of brothels that had popped up fully formed just about everywhere some years back, with madams and girls and musicians and bodyguards of all sorts. It was so patently a political move that Jin Guangyao had barely bothered to pay attention to it once he’d become actually powerful, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t paid attention to it at all. After all, in the unlikely event that the business really was backed by a cultivation sect that didn’t care about its face any longer, anyone who needed to use such a façade to gather power was clearly beneath notice.

Jin Guangyao had paid only very little attention, but to different and unusual aspects of the place: by all accounts, they were surprisingly decent employers as far as places like that went. They didn’t steal girls or accept unwilling goods – they had some connection with the merchant caravans, or at least one of the companies that helped coordinate routes and provide protection to such things, and they were as meticulous about checking things over as they were about seeking refunds if they were dissatisfied – and they did accept married girls fleeing unhappy marriages, which not everyone did. They did buy up all the girls in the local markets wherever they were, but they swept them away and brought them back transformed, even the ones that wouldn’t sell because they were too ugly; Jin Guangyao assumed that meant they had people who were talented in make-up and clothing, since the usual rumors of the girls being blessed with a yao’s enchantment were obviously ridiculous and nothing more than the usual marketing gimmicks that brothels since time immemorial had tried.

Even once they had the girls in hand, the places were pretty decent: they had physicians on staff to help with the usual side effects of the business, made sure their girls were clean and healthy, and were said to even limit the number of customers a girl would be obliged to take on in a given evening…honestly, knowing as he did the brothel business, Jin Guangyao sometimes wondered how they’d managed to bespell enough people to even make money in the early days. At any rate, whatever they’d done, it’d worked, because by now they had a solid enough reputation to trade on.

In short: a decent enough place, far better than the usual run of the mill. Once he’d had the ability to do so, he’d even pulled a few strings and arranged for the better of his mother’s old compatriots to end up there, since he couldn’t convince them to leave their old professions behind entirely.

Anyway, if they also seemed to have a sideline in information brokering and assassinations, well, let them. In the cultivation world, where the only thing that mattered was strength, real strength.

A little thing like that wouldn’t make any real difference.

Or so Jin Guangyao had thought.

He found himself re-thinking that, though, when the entertainment in question came out. There were the usual set of attractive (albeit in a wider variety of shapes and sizes than usually seen) dancers, dressed up in silks that seemed actually high quality, and plenty of strapping young men carrying sabers – dancers as well, once assumed, to provide some spice to the entertainment, and implicitly on the offer for men who cut their sleeves or women with more flexibility, like widows or ones with especially permissive husbands. Wen Ruohan’s wives were in that latter category, and they were already whispering to each other excitedly, looking at them.

They’d even brought in the local madame, who was…

Well, she was actually breathtaking, even by Jin Guangyao’s extremely jaded standards. She had hair that fell almost all the way to her ankles, shimmering in the light, and dark eyes shining with liveliness, a smooth and ageless face that simultaneously suggested youth and health but also winked at knowable experience, the features characteristic of what his mother’s employers had called the ‘fox-face’. As if to emphasize that, the lady was wrapped in fox-fur and draped in embroidered brocade, with little stylized foxes running up and down the hems of her clothing and along the gazy silk draped on her shoulders.

It ought to have looked absurd, looked gaudy and overwrought and overdone, but it didn’t.

She was a thousand dreams of wealth and beauty and power and sex appeal all wrapped up in one, and even Jin Guangyao – who was in his personal preferences quite firmly a cutsleeve – couldn’t help but intrigued by her, wondering what it might be like to touch the hem of such a glorious creature.

And next to her…

The lady was accompanied by two men that seemed completely different from each other. One was a slender and winsome young man, fluttering his eyelashes from behind a fan with a charming smile, emanating the appeal of softness and weakness, ready to be indulged. While the other…

Jin Guangyao swallowed.

He was the exact opposite of the first man. Clearly strong, muscular and powerful, and tall to the point of towering, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, a chest that you could lean your head against and an ass that begged to have someone’s hands on it – and there were his hands, big and broad, perfect for holding someone down or up if they so wished and of a size that was very promising as to what was only hinted at under his clothes. His face was hidden behind a veil as if he were a woman, marking him, like his comrade, as one of the available courtesans of the Splendid Spring, but his body was visible under clothing clearly cut to put it to the best advantage.

And oh, what advantages it had…!

“It seems we found something to the tastes of dear cousin Guangyao after all,” the idiot said mockingly, sniggering and snorting like the pig he was, and for once Jin Guangyao didn’t even care.

“Who’s the woman in front?” Wen Ruohan asked, ignoring their interplay. He seemed utterly fascinated, almost spellbound, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him one bit. If this woman had been at the same brothel as his mother, there wouldn’t have even been room for jealousy or shame; his mother would have gone straight up to her to ask for some tips. “She seems…familiar, somehow.”

“That’s the madame of the Splendid Spring,” Jin Zixun said proudly, as if he’d done anything at all in relation to this – nonsense, of course. Everyone know which brothels were backed by the Jin sect, and Splendid Spring wasn’t one of them. He was acting as if he deserve a pat on the back just for the introduction! “That means she’s not for sale.”

His smile faded a little, twisting in a small bit of bitterness. “Or so she told my uncle, anyway…although I’m sure if it were Sect Leader Wen asking, the answer would undoubtedly be different.”

Probably because Jin Guangshan couldn’t slaughter prostitutes with impunity if they said no to him, whereas no one could stop Wen Ruohan from doing any damn thing he pleased.

Wen Ruohan grunted, pleased by the answer – he was a possessive man, in the rare events that he did exert himself in the realm of women, and there had been more than one instance where he’d stolen away some girl his sons had been eyeing first just for the joy of having had her first – and raised a hand, catching the lady’s eye and gesturing for her to come over, which she did.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She laughed. “You can call me Hu Jiuwei. With the ‘Hu’ being the character for fox.”

Jin Guangyao tried not to choke. There were false names and then there were false names – the lady’s theme was already clearly related to foxes, given her fox-face and fox-fur lining and the foxes embroidered onto her robes. Was the over-the-top name really necessary?

“It’s a fake name,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding a little choked himself. Possibly it was the woman calling herself ‘Foxy Ninetails’ and then kindly reassuring them all that the name was false as if she thought them too dumb to figure it out that was tripping him up a little. Jin Guangyao couldn’t tell if she was doing it deliberately in order to make her frankly inhuman beauty a little less frightening, or maybe she was blessed with so much beauty that she hadn’t bothered to cultivate her brain at all. “Are you our entertainment for the evening?”

She smiled, and any complaints Jin Guangyao (or indeed Wen Ruohan) might have had about her intelligence faded away at once.

It was that type of smile.

You could wreck nations with that type of smile. Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but wonder: how had a woman this extraordinary ended up in a brothel, of all places? How had no one snatched her up to keep her all for himself before now?

“My sons and I –” she gestured at the two behind her, “– would be more than happy to provide you with all the entertainment you could possibly want.”

Her smile widened.

“We’ve been hoping for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

[moonlighttfoxx]

The girl with the golden eyes: Part Five

Warnings: smut, complete filth, horny Steve, horny Bucky, horny reader, a little girl on girl make out session, mentions of BBC

‘Hey, Steve! Wait up!’ Bucky shouted in the empty hallway, chasing his friend after he had stormed out from the gym. Steve stopped, turned around and looked angrily at his friend, face still red, both from anger and from the workout.

‘What?’ he asked annoyed.

‘What’s with you? What was that all about?’ Bucky asked once he caught up with him.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’

‘So… you just happen to storm out like that on a regular basis, huh?’

‘It’s nothing important’ Steve answered coldly.

‘Again, you are not a particularly good liar, Stevie. Besides, it doesn’t go well with Captain America’s image to lie now, does it?’  

Steve sighed.

‘Sure, sure. But dry – humping in public areas goes well with everything, I assume.’

‘Is that what this is about? I had a little fun, so what?’

‘It’s inappropriate. That’s what. Today’s dry – humping, tomorrow who knows… I might go to the gym and find you two actually fucking’

‘So what if you do?’ Bucky crossed his arms in front of his chest.

‘It’s inappropriate!’ Steve raised his voice, repeating himself one more time.

‘Is that the reason it bothers you? Because you see, I think you’re lying.’

‘You can think whatever you want. I couldn’t care less.’ Steve grunted.

‘You sure about that?’ Bucky said quietly. ‘You know what I think? I think you want to fuck Y/N just as much as I do if not more. I think you think about her all the time. I can only imagine the thoughts running through your head. And I think it drives you nuts when somebody else is so much as looking at her. Because you are jealous. You are a jealous son of a bitch. And you can deny it as much as you want, but don’t forget I know you all too well. And don’t think I don’t know you are aroused all the time when you are around her. I’m a super soldier too. Now, you have two options: you can admit that you fucking want her so I can back off or you can continue acting like a horny little boy that doesn’t know what he wants.’

Bucky could see Steve’s jaw tightening.

‘I don’t want her. I can barely stand her. And I couldn’t care less about who she sleeps with. So will you drop it already?’

‘A horny little boy it is then’ said Bucky. He turned on his heel and went back to the gym, leaving Steve in the middle of the hallway. Pissed. The Captain was a stubborn man. Bucky knew that if he pushed him enough, he would eventually have to face his feelings, therefore the winter soldier just set a new goal for himself: piss Captain America until he caves. Steve would thank him later.

____________________________________________________________

‘Okay, guys. As some of you already know: I have planned a little Truth or Dare for tonight’s game night. I’m sure you’re familiar with it. In case you pick truth, you have to answer honestly, you don’t get to switch questions. If you pick dare, you can’t back out and again you can’t request a different dare.’ Natasha gave detailed instructions as the rest of the team sat in a circle on the floor.

‘Are we still doing that? But there’s just the four of us here’ Steve complained. Tony and Bruce had some science stuff to do that came up in the last minute. Clint saw an opportunity to spend some time with his family during the weekend and Wanda and Vision had decided to find good usage of the weekend as well and take a short vacation. That left only Steve, Bucky, Y/N and Natasha in the compound.

‘Of course we are still doing that. I’m not letting anyone ruin my game night.’ Nat said confidently. ‘Where’s Sam?’

‘In his room. He injured himself badly during workout earlier. He took same painkillers and went to bed’ Bucky explained.

Natasha nodded.

‘That shouldn’t be a problem. I actually think it could be way more fun like that’ she smirked.  ‘Sooo, grab something to drink, I feel you’re gonna need it and let’s get the party started!’

Boy, as annoying as Nat was right now, she was right about the drinking. Steve needed a lot of that if he was going to make it through tonight. Not that he could get drunk anyway. But there’s no harm in trying, right? That way at least he was going to focus on something else instead of Y/N. He could smell her again. He was sitting in between him and Bucky, right next to him and that didn’t help one bit. Those damn lilacs. And as if that wasn’t enough of a distraction, she was wearing casual shorts and a tight top. No bra again. And guess what? Her nipples were pushing hard against the fabric. Yep, Steve needed alcohol big time.

‘Sooo, let’s start. I’ll go first. Bucky, truth or dare?’ Nat asked.  

‘What do you think? Dare, of course’ he smirked.

‘Oh, this should be fun. I dare you to send a text to the last person you messaged, but not just any type of text. A sext. Send a sext to the last person you messaged. And make sure it’s descriptive. Tell them in details what you want to do to them’

‘Oh, neat! That’s a nice one!’ Y/N cheered, sending a smile in Nat’s direction. ‘Who is it, Buck?’

Bucky took out his phone, unlocking it and opened his messages.

‘Uh, it’s Sam. Why couldn’t it have been one of the two of you? I have no problem picturing what I want to do to you’ Bucky said, referring to Nat and Y/N.

‘I can help you with that’ Y/N said, a slight smirk appearing on her face. ‘Give me the phone’

Bucky rolled his eyes, but gave it to her anyways.

‘I’m gonna embarrass myself one way or another. How bad could it be?’ he sighed. Steve watched Y/N typing something, a devilish grin on her face.

‘There’ she said, clicking the send button. Then she returned the phone to Bucky.

He read it himself and his eyes widened a little bit.

‘Jesus, doll. You’ve got some mouth on you’

‘What is it? Read it out loud for us’ Nat pleaded.

Bucky sighed.

‘I wasn’t able to stop thinking about you all day, big boy. You looked so good at the gym today I wished to have a bite of that sexy ass of yours and feel your big black cock in my mouth. I just love gagging on big black dicks’ he read. Steve choked a little on his drink. For no particular reason he couldn’t help but wonder if Y/N really thought that.

‘Awesome!’ Nat laughed.

‘Do you really love gagging on big black cocks, doll?’ Bucky asked raising an eyebrow.

‘Maybe I do, maybe I don’t’ she answered mischievously.

‘Oh, come on! Tell me! Today is all about truth and dare, isn’t it?’

‘Well, I suppose you’re going to ask me later anyway. So, to answer your question: I love gagging on big cocks. I love the challenge if you know what I mean. They don’t have to be black necessarily. Although, there’s a certain appeal to the black ones’

‘Totally!’ Nat agreed.

Now, why did she have to say that? Steve’s mind drifted off in a very inappropriate direction including Y/N’s mouth on his big hard cock. If she loved gagging so much, he sure as hell was able to help her with that. Steve bit his bottom lip.  

‘Mmm, doll, then you’d love to have a taste of me’ Bucky whispered.

‘I’m sure I would, Sergeant.’ She giggled. ‘But it’s your turn.’

‘Oh, right. Truth or dare?’ Bucky looked at Y/N.

‘Dare’ she answered confidently. Her answer brought a big smirk to his face.

‘You choose wisely. I have this particular fantasy of mine that involves you. I’d like to make it a reality and it seems like I might just have the chance for that.’

‘Tell me you’re not that desperate to dare me to give you head’ Y/N joked.

‘Why should I dare you? If I wanted it, you’d already be on your knees in between my legs gagging on my cock. Trust me, I can make you gag reaaaal good’

‘You wish’ Y/N rolled her eyes. But the scent coming from her that filled Steve’s nostrils was unmistakable. He was willing to bet she was dripping wet.

‘Damn right I wish’ Bucky chuckled. ‘Anyways, what I want you to do now is make out with Nat. I want a heavy make out session: tongue, heavy groping, dry humping if possible. I want it all.’  

‘No problem’ Y/N said. ‘I’m sure she’s better than any of you anyway’

‘You bet I am’ Nat said. ‘Come here babe’

Y/N laughed, getting up from the ground and going to Natasha. She took her face in both her hands and roughly smashed her lips into Nat’s. A few seconds later Y/N slid her tongue into the other woman’s mouth. In the same time, her hands were roaming down Nat’s body. With every second it was getting hotter and hotter. The two women’s bodies were brushing against one another. Steve could see Y/N’s hands going on Nat’s waist and then slowly sliding down, squeezing her ass. At the same time the Black widow reached underneath Y/N’s top, her own hand moving up to her boobs. From what the Captain could see Nat’s fingers were gently playing with Y/N’s nipples, which lead to a loud moan escaping from her lips. Oh, that was the single most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

Eventually the ladies parted. Both of them breathing heavily.

‘Well, was that good enough for you, Sergeant?’ Y/N asked.

‘Y – yeah’ Bucky stuttered, his voice raspy. He cleared his throat and then his usual smirk appeared once again. He rubbed his visibly hard cock through his pants on purpose of course, bringing everyone’s attention there. ‘It was perfect.’

The air in the room was heavy. Steve could smell the arousal on all of them. Especially on Y/N. But he couldn’t blame her. Nor Bucky. He himself was rock hard. Back in his day things like that were taboo. It wasn’t perceived very well. He hadn’t thought he could actually enjoy it that much. But he did. And the pressure in his pants was the absolute proof of that. He felt as if his cock was about to burst.

Y/N took her place between him and Bucky and turned her flushed face to him. Jesus. He hoped he wasn’t obvious. He hoped his erection wasn’t visible.

‘So, Captain Rogers, truth or dare?’ she asked. There was something so hot in the way she used his title. It made his cock twitch in his pants. Fuck. That definitely wasn’t helpful.

‘Truth’ he answered huskily.

‘Wuss!’ Bucky whispered. Steve looked at him sternly and then his eyes found Y/N’s once again.

‘So… Captain…’ she started, her eyes sparkling dangerously. ‘Have you ever jerked off to someone in this very room and if so when did you lastly do it?’

Fuck. Heat rose to Steve’s cheeks.

‘Ohhh… that question was on point!’ Bucky said. ‘So, Stevie, tell us the truth. Does Captain Goody – two – shoes do such inappropriate sinful things?’

‘I… well… yes, I’ve masturbated to somebody in this room. Two hours ago while taking a shower’ the red color on his cheeks deepened. He downed his drink, suddenly feeling anxious with the three pairs of eyes set on him.

‘Oh… I think that’s cute’ Y/N said. ‘You don’t have to worry about that being embarrassing. It’s totally normal. I also masturbated before I came here for the game.’

‘Were you thinking of me?’ Bucky asked.

‘No’ Y/N laughed as Bucky’s face formed a ridiculous pout.

‘Excuse me’ Steve said, interrupting them as he rose to his feet. ‘I need another drink’

He wasn’t so sure he was going to make it through tonight after all. That little minx was pure torture for him and he wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself much longer around her.

[ohgodmyeyes]

Hot Wax (Like A Band-Aid)

Luke Skywalker x Reader, 2k words. Modern AU? Mature, but no sex.

Summary: Your infallibly sweet husband, Luke, helps you wax your pussy because you’re too pregnant to do it yourself.

...

"I— um, I'm not sure about this anymore. This stuff is hot."

"Come on, Luke! You promised you'd help!"

Luke looked up at you from between your legs, desperation writ on his face. He had to peek around your belly to do it— you were about eight months pregnant right now, which was why you'd enlisted his help with this in the first place. He might have been nervous, but you weren't about to let him back out now... especially given the fact that it was his baby whose steady growth was preventing you from performing your usual hair-removal ritual.

"I just— I mean, I don't want to hurt you. And anyway, you know I don't care whether or not you—"

"I care," you interrupted him, from your spot on the living room couch. "I like how it feels with no hair down there, and anyway, you've already trimmed everything down to the right length— you don't want to quit with the job only half-finished, do you?" Appealing to Luke's sense of duty, you thought, was the most effective way to get him to do something he didn't really want to do.

"Trimming it was easy," he mumbled, seemingly to himself, as he peered back between your legs as if to examine his own work. "This seems... I don't know, dangerous." He paused. "...You didn't really used to do this by yourself, did you?"

"Of course I used to do it by myself," you told him. You weren't crazy about the idea of a stranger removing the hair from your vulva; you'd always shaved or waxed it yourself. Now that you couldn't see the area in question well enough to perform the task, Luke was the next best option— whether he thought he was or not. "Now, hurry up and start putting it on before it gets too cool. The sooner you get to it, the sooner it'll be over."

Luke sighed in defeat. He was sweet, you thought— sometimes almost too sweet. When you'd told him you needed help with something, he'd agreed right away, before even asking what it was you needed him to do. He was probably thinking, now, that he'd made a mistake; however, you knew that with the right amount of reassurance, he'd do a fine job of grooming your pussy. Luke was good at nearly everything he tried, and you were sure this would be no exception.

"...Alright," he conceded. "Alright, fine. But if I screw up, you're not allowed to get mad, okay?"

"You won't screw up! You'll do just fine." You spread your legs as widely as you could, and went on to instruct him, "Just gather some of the wax up on the little stick, and spread it into a line wherever you want to start. Leave it for a minute or two, and once it's hard enough that it makes a noise when you tap it with your fingernail, it's ready to be pulled off."

"Won't that hurt?" he asked, the concern in his voice coming through loud and clear.

"Of course it'll hurt, but only for a second."

"What if you yell? What if there's blood? ...Wait, this can't hurt the baby, can it?"

"I might yell, but there won't be any blood," you told him. "And no, there's no way this can hurt the baby." You placed a hand gently upon your stomach and smiled. "I think she's asleep right now, anyway," you added. "She won't even notice."

He laughed despite himself. "Still think it's a girl, huh?"

You hadn't opted to find out the sex of your baby; you'd both agreed a surprise was a lot more fun. You had a feeling you were carrying a girl, although Luke happened to disagree.

"I do," you said. "It's just a feeling I have, though— we'll find out soon enough."

"I still can't believe you're doing this for us," he said, peeking around your belly and back up at you one more time. "You're going to be a fantastic mom, you know."

"I'm glad you think so... but you wanna know what I think?"

"What?" he asked, flashing you one of his loveliest smiles.

"I think you're going to be a fantastic esthetician. As long as you don't let the wax get too cold."

"Okay, okay! You just want me to start, then?"

"That's exactly what I want."

He shook his head and sighed again, but that sweet smile didn't leave his face. "Okay. I'm going to start at the bottom, and work my way up. Does that sound alright?"

"Sounds fine to me, Luke. Don't worry, it'll be over in no time."

He went to work, after that— just like he said he would, he started at the bottom, with what felt like an appropriately-thin strip of wax in just the right position. He was quiet while he waited for it to harden, and so were you. Your hand stayed on your belly; the baby still seemed to be asleep.

Luke was going to be a wonderful dad, you thought absently as you waited for that first strip to cool— he'd proven to you over and over throughout the course of your relationship that he was willing to do just about anything for the people he loved. Waxing your pussy was just the most recent manifestation of that willingness, and you appreciated it... especially considering that he didn't care whether you were fuzzy down there or not.

"Okay," he said, after a couple of minutes had passed. "I think it's ready. What do I do now?"

"Can you tap it with your fingernail?" you asked, just to confirm that it was, in fact, time to pull it off.

"Yeah, I can. Do I just... pull?"

"Hold the skin right below the edge of the wax so it's super-tight, and then rip it off as fast as you can."

"'Rip it off'?"

"Yep— just like a band-aid."

You heard him take a deep breath, and then he did exactly as you had told him: He held your skin tight with his fingertip, and proceeded to wrench the strip of wax right off of you. You shrieked, partly because you weren't the one doing it; partly, too, because it stung. It would have stung no matter who'd been doing it.

"I'm sorry!" he said. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to—"

"I'm fine," you laughed. "Actually, it felt exactly the way it's supposed to. How does it look?"

"Like your pussy has a bald spot."

"Well, then you'd better get started on the rest."

Having taken on a more serious expression (Luke always looked quite serious when he was hard at work on something), he glanced up at you, nodded, and went on to complete the task of rendering your pubic area perfectly smooth.

You didn't speak anymore so as not to distract him; he didn't say anything else either, except to confirm, periodically, that you were still alright. Every time you squeaked or squealed or otherwise showed even the slightest hint of discomfort, he looked up at you with concern; however, he didn't deviate from his task. By the time he'd worked his way up to the spot just beneath where your belly bulged out, he seemed as though he'd grown quite comfortable with the process.

"Looks like I'm just about done," he said, as he spread one last strip across your mound. "How do you feel?"

"A lot better," you answered, and that was the truth. Not being able to do this job for yourself happened to be one of your least favourite parts of being heavily pregnant. It was worth it, of course; you'd always wanted a family with Luke... but carrying a child did come with its fair share of frustrations and inconveniences. You were glad to have someone like him, who was willing to help you with whatever you needed, whenever you needed it.

Luke, you mused, was an infallibly sweet man— you'd always considered yourself very lucky to have him, and the fact that he was willing to do this for you only served to drive that point home.

By the time you'd finished contemplating how wonderful he was, he'd warned you that he was about to pull off the final wax strip. You told him to go right ahead, and so he did— and with one final pinch (and shriek), the task was complete.

"You have a pretty pussy," he said admiringly, running a finger along the edge of your outer labia. You looked around your belly and at his face; he was smiling again. It made you smile, too.

"Only thanks to you," you said. "I can't tell you how much it means to me that you helped me with that— it was driving me nuts."

"It wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be," he admitted. "I just didn't want to hurt you— you, or the baby."

"You didn't," you said, heaving yourself back up into a seated position (Luke, being the gentleman that he was, helped you by taking your hand and giving it a gentle tug as you did). "We're both just fine. Although I do think I might have woken her up with all my yelling."

"She— I mean he— woke up? How do you know?" He got to his feet, and then sat down beside you on the couch, eyes trained on your stomach.

You gave him a look, and took his wrist in your hand. "She's kicking," you told him. "Right about... here." You placed his palm on the upper part of your belly, just a few inches above your navel. You couldn't actually tell if the baby was kicking or punching right now, but she was certainly doing something, and you had no doubt that her father would want to feel it, too.

He waited a few moments, staring curiously at his own hand. Then, all of a sudden, a broad smile completely overtook his features.

"Feel that?" you asked, with a grin of your own.

"Yeah— yeah, I did feel it!"

"Strong, isn't she?"

He appeared to think for a moment. "...Maybe you're right," he said. "Maybe it is a girl."

"What makes you say that?"

"All the strongest people I know are girls. You, my sister— my mom, too, from what my dad always tells me." He took his hand off your belly then, and leaned in closely to offer you a kiss. "Do you know how proud I'll be if our baby turns out to be even half the person you are?"

You looked into his eyes, which were absolutely brimming with love. Yes, you thought— you really were very lucky to have somebody like Luke to share your life with.

"Whether it's a boy or a girl," you said to him, "I hope they turn out to be just like you— kind and loving, and always willing to help anyone who needs them... even if the thing they need help with is kind of awkward." Like pussy-waxing, you thought. "You know that's why I fell in love with you in the first place, right?"

He blushed, which he'd always been prone to doing. "You're too nice to me," he said. "I just didn't want to hurt you— I wasn't going to tell you I couldn't do it without at least trying first."

"That's why you're a perfect husband, Luke... and it's why you're going to be a perfect dad, too."

You put your arms around him after that, and drew him in as closely as you could to give him a tight squeeze. He hugged you back, and went on to whisper something into your ear... something about heading to the bedroom, for the purpose of more thoroughly checking his work.

With a giggle, you nodded emphatically, and watched as he stood up. Once he'd deftly helped you to your feet, you sauntered off together hand-in-hand, down the hallway and in the direction of your favourite place to spend time together.

All of your 'spending time' together might have been the very reason you couldn't wax your own pussy today... however, not being able to see between your own legs for a few months was a tiny sacrifice, given all of the wonderful things that came with being tied to somebody as kind and generous as Luke.

[mintseesaw]

Mad Passion | 2

Pairing: namjoon x reader Genre: arranged marriage au, smut, angst, fluff Word count: 14k Warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, graphic sexual content, unprotected sex Summary: As you become emotionally invested with your marriage, you have grown accustomed to being Namjoon’s wife. Not until you realize you barely have an idea what it is really like to be his wife.  *unedited

Part I | sequel 

The midnight moon illuminates vibrantly on the clear, dark blue-ish sky— a clear view from the sky high cocktail bar and lounge, of which is about to approach its peak hours, serving exclusively to the hotel guests.

The four and a half thousand square foot space is indeed a perfect place to unwind minus the bustling crowd and unnecessary loud music. Among the tables neatly scattered in the open air terrace, the two men occupied the miniscule pavilion situated on the right corner of the sky high rooftop, the farthest possible spot from the little crowd growing as the night progresses.

Seokjin and Namjoon are currently on a business trip. Namjoon rarely joins him on his international-scale meetings one as he isn’t an expert of the global market of fisheries like Jin himself. This time, however, it was Namjoon who initiated the trip to meet a good number of businessmen to secure a majority vote on the retail corporation he had invested in several months ago. He was new to this particular field, which was why Jin was here with him. 

Jin was with him all through the course of said meetings. As Namjoon’s schedule abroad concluded today, it was safe to say the result of these meetings posed a good sign. Namjoon will soon take over another company. Of course, Jin wouldn’t let the night pass without them celebrating. He could’ve invited the rest of the group if they came along on the trip. So it was only the two of them who are celebrating, as Jin insists to call it. Namjoon could have turned it down, and calling his wife appeals to him more, but he really needs a proper drink even if Jin under the influence of alcohol means having to endure his annoying ass for an hour or two. “Your wife doesn’t have any idea on all of this, does she?” Jin nonchalantly asks, the alcohol cleansing his palate refreshingly from the numerous glasses he had. They had been in the pavilion for over an hour or two, he’s not certain.

Namjoon gave him a stern look, almost feigning innocence on the question his friend suddenly threw at him. “Know what?” There it was, the annoying side of Jin. Jin smirks, shaking his head. He could read his friend like the back of his hand. Amongst the group, he knows Namjoon the longest. Even with the passive expression he always wears, Jin could easily see through him.

“She doesn’t know? You’re screwed, Kim.” By now, both have already had a decent amount of alcohol in their system. The younger one, however, doesn’t appear as fuzzy as the older one. “She doesn’t need to know about my business affiliations. It would not matter what she would think of it.” He remarks, before emptying the liquor in his glass. His reply only made Jin snorted. “I bet you don’t.” He muses before continuing, “No doubt, it would be a pleasure to meet the woman who stole your heart. Hoseok told me a lot of things about you and her. I’d like to confirm it myself. After all, it’s been months since you secretly changed your marital status.” Also, he ought to know why Namjoon seems to talk too little about his wife, as if he was avoiding the subject itself. Namjoon’s eyebrow shots up. “Confirm what, exactly?”  “How smitten you are to the woman.” Namjoon leans his back on the couch, “Shut it, Hyung.” He shrugs, eliciting too little expression that only fuels Jin’s amusement further. Crossing his leg to the other, he continues to nag his friend. “I thought I’d never see the day, my friend. Have I not mentioned how surprised we were learning about your marriage in a newspaper?”

“You did, you couldn’t seem to move on from it, can you?”

“How can I? You didn’t even us at your wedding!”

“I already told you why.”

“Well, you have to give the girl a proper wedding. That is… if you already bear feelings for her.”

“There’s no need for that.”

“Did you ask her? Girls like those romantic shit.” Jin concludes, his own experience being his reference.

“The marriage is a part of the deal, Hyung.” He says in an indifferent tone, a pretense he had mastered through the years of his experience in the industry. Jin already knew the story behind his marriage, but the rare chance of pissing his friend off tempts him as always.

“If you don’t love the girl, you can easily get a divorce once you have secured the position. With the influence you have over the Korean government, there’s no way you can’t be granted a simple request.” Jin continues to press, enjoying the look of irritation growing on Namjoon’s face. Namjoon chose to keep quiet, distracting himself with pouring alcohol in his glass.

“What do you think the princess would feel if her castle has already been claimed by her King long before her father steps down on his throne?” Jin queries in a teasing manner.

“You forgot to mention she had long abandoned her throne. She already lost the title when she left.” Namjoon was quick to answer back.

Jin smirks, “Touché.” Namjoon purses his lips, letting the air be filled with silence. At the mere mention of the lost princess that is his wife, his mind wanders off. It’s been almost a week since he last saw his wife.  He misses her that no amount of alcohol could suffice. Although he consistently calls you every day, it was not enough to make peace with his mind. How should he converse with you to prolong the conversation? He loves hearing you talk endlessly, regardless of what it is about. The conversations feel restricted. Whether it was because of his intimidating self or you’re merely not interested to talk to him—he has yet to know why.

What is certain, though, is he will finally come home tomorrow.

Mingyu quietly turns the ignition on the moment you climb inside the passenger’s side. Silence has awkwardly ruled between the two of you since two weeks ago especially when you don’t initiate a conversation, yourself. His actions are always calculated alongside the formality in his voice whenever you attempt to have a casual conversation with him.

And you figured, he might have been instructed not to entertain your friendly gestures, much less converse with you.

You find his awkward but formal disposition adorably hilarious, which sometimes make you laugh out loud, that in return, earns you questioning look from him.

Since his post as personal security detail two weeks ago, Mingyu always lingers on your whereabouts. The role he plays is obviously a college student, casually eating on a table far away from your usual spot, or pretending to read books in the library when you’re studying so he could unnoticeably guard you around. The pretense alone is a dangerous task, you presume, because he is an eye catcher and he has to stay low-profile not to gets busted.

You don’t even know how they can roam around the vicinity of the campus without alerting the security department. When you say ‘they’, you’re generally referring to the team of agents responsible for your well-being. After the incident involving your friend and one of them weeks ago, they have visually disappeared. But you were not that dense to believe they’re literally gone. For all you care, they are just scattered everywhere, pretending to be whoever they are. Namjoon is too smart to have the same men follow you around. If he intentionally wants to make you think he has removed an entire team in your care, he would strategically have new faces to do the job. As if Mingyu’s presence will make you believe that he’s the only person that guards you.

Until now, you couldn’t believe your husband selected Mingyu as your shadow amongst the couple of hundreds working under his security agency. Knowing he’s territorial when it comes to the male acquaintances you have, it makes you there’s an underlying reason for it. Perhaps, is it trap to test your loyalty? But the probability of it being true is too low, because why would your loyalty matter to him in the first place?

When Namjoon married you several months ago, not only has your life changed, but your feelings too. You used to dislike the thought of being forced into a marriage with him, with someone you barely know, with someone who has so many similarities with your father.

It wasn’t just a simple attraction that you have developed towards him, nor was the socio-economic status he has. There is not even extraordinarily admirable about his personality that could justify your feelings—that unavoidably blossomed through time.

He was not the typical guy, of course. Men his age are probably enjoying the time of their lives, partying and all that stuff or perhaps, struggling to even get a decent job that would financially support themselves. He was not the romantic type of guy. Sweet talks, knows how to make you feel giddy, charms his way to your heart— he is far from that. Strange, how he still unknowingly earns more brownie points the longer you live with him, despite the uncertainty.

The awkward tension between you two have improved after months of having formal and painfully monotonous interactions. Perhaps, the rare intimacy has helped you open up to him more casually.

Despite that, you couldn’t rest your mind with the fact that your relationship with him lacks emotional commitment.

While he has the money and power at such a young age, you have nothing but student loans and your father’s last name. While he sees to your every need, it was never really established what you two are aside from the arrangement of your marriage. Unfortunately, it was just that. There may be papers which legally conclude your matrimony as husband and wife, but there’s no certainty of mutual, requited feelings. Every single day that comes and goes around, you couldn’t stop yourself from wishing that the marriage had been alternatively a result of a conventional, romantic affair. Part of you wishes he could, at least, learn to reciprocate your feelings for him.

He asked you on a date before, the first and only one so far. It turned out as expected— a little awkward because he basically rented the restaurant leaving you two alone in the spacious, luxurious place which meant having to endure silence while he enjoys his food as you try to think of things that you could talk to him about. It was, nevertheless, sweet because you have not predicted he would be thoughtful enough to know the food that you like, having it served as the main course.

Since the date, Namjoon never really spoke about it or anything that may hint another one. You’re ashamed to even admit that you’re eager to know what he feels for you, now.

Has it changed?

~

It didn't take long before you arrive at the apartment.

Without waiting for your guard, you went straight to the bedroom, the same one you share with him. Despite his absence for six days, the scent of his signature perfume still lingers in the vicinity.

Heaving a sigh, you huff on the mattress, allowing your muscles to relax, and allow your mind to wander into nothingness.

Earlier, you magically crammed mind-draining essays due today as well as made progress on your provisions for your upcoming midterms. The mere thought of it all makes you want to take a nap before proceeding with your papers, again.

After a moment of silence, you decided to have a long, warm bath instead. It’s been ages since the last time you had one since you have a waiting husband in mind whenever you’re using the bathroom even though he has several spares in his penthouse.

You did just that. And about half an hour, the comforting and relaxing warmth seeping through every part of your body, and the peppermint scented diffuser further lets your mind float elsewhere. Before you know it, you have lurked farther into the depth of your endless thoughts, slowly leading you where darkness and dreamland meet. You woke startled by an endless sound of a familiar tone ringing. And as your eyes strained by the blinding light, you mindlessly search for the source. You couldn’t seem to find where it was coming from, although you know it was your phone. The mere sound of it tells it was not in the bathroom. Where did you place it, anyway?

Still dazed with the traces of your unsolicited nap, you carefully but swiftly climb out of the tub, grabbing the towel on top of the counter to quickly dry your body. You found it on top of the bedside table. The eerie silence inside the room made the sound echo all throughout, that you feel your ears bleed as it continuously rings.

Your thumb slides on the screen after you took a brief glance at the caller.

Your abandoned, dripping hair sticks irritatingly on your nape, soaking your towel as you forget to put on a robe.

“You’re not answering my calls.” Namjoon greets, his voice unrecognizably low.

What time is it there, again? You wonder. “Sorry, I dozed off in the tub.” You replied too quickly, words jumble in your mind as they stumble out of your mouth. Listening to the words seems wrong when you have come to understand what you said.

“You what?” He asks, sounding puzzled. A trace of concern laces in his voice more than anything, although you were too flushed to take the hint. “Uhh... Yeah, I fell asleep. Sorry about that...” You sheepishly falter. As you wait for his reply, you hear some shuffling instead on the other line. 

Your mind still is blank as white while struggling to come up with a better reply. 

“I heard that, but you fell asleep? In the tub? That’s not safe.” He probably just woke up. Perhaps, that must be why his voice is extra low, though he calls you every night and it sounded quite normal in his previous calls. “Right, I’m fine though. It’s not like I would drown or something.” You try to joke.

The silence lingers for a few seconds, before you hear him speak on the other line. “You should have rested instead of taking a bath.” He lightly scolds over the phone.

A chuckle bubbles past your throat, nodding in agreement. That was your initial plan. “I will...eventually.”

“Busy?”

This time, you hear people talking in the background. He’s in his hotel room, right?

“Just about. I had a long day, spent most of my free time in the library. I presumed, Mingyu already told you that, right?”

At the mention of his name, you didn’t see the way Namjoon’s eyebrows rose, as something weak but ugly feeling stirs inside him. “Hanbin communicates with him.”

Your mouth fell into an ‘o’, nodding as if he could see you. “Oh, right. He’s fine, right? I mean you approved of him as my guard?”

“Yes. Why do you ask? I trust that you’ll tell me if he ever acts inappropriately and I’ll make sure—“

“No, no, he’s okay, I mean… uh, he’s actually really formal.” You stammer, slowly growing flustered at the way you have spoken about Mingyu. The subject itself doesn’t really interest you, it’s just that you don’t want him to be dragged into Namjoon’s territorial issues especially when he’s not around.

Not only is Mingyu a taller version of Namjoon’s physique, he is also as attractive as your husband, which didn’t matter to you as Namjoon pretty much owns your heart, that you didn’t choose to.

“Good. I’m also expecting you to behave while I’m gone.” He warns playfully.

You scoff, returning the playfulness of his tone. “When have I not?”

“Of course. You’re a good girl for me, yeah?” He casually prods although the impact of his words seem to have struck you somewhere. 

You bit your lip, started pacing back and forth with the towel as the only cover in your body. What would he feel if you tell him that?

You decided to change the subject, “Hey, listen… uh… I heard your birthday is approaching.” You begin, recalling the conversation you had with the housekeeper. This would be your first time spending his birthday with him.

“Uhuh...” He trails, silently telling you to keep going.

“Do you have plans for it?” You nervously ask, biting your nail in agitation as you kept going around the vicinity of the room.

Being a part of the elite social class means birthdays are extravagantly celebrated. You had them when you were young. Yet, Namjoon has not mentioned to you about his birthday plans, if he has any.

“Plans?” He echoes with a curious tone.

“I mean parties and stuff.” You immediately clarified back.

“Angel, I don't celebrate birthdays.” He says in a casual tone as if he was just telling you a random piece of information.

Taken aback by his response, you repeated what he said in a form of question. “You don’t?” Namjoon has not sensed the change of tone in your voice.

“I don’t. I have to go, baby. I will call you again. Hmm?” He didn’t even wait for your reply, ending the call right away.

He doesn’t celebrate his birthday? 

Namjoon, who obviously has all the resources in the world to organize the most luxurious social events, happens to have disinterests celebrating his birthday?

You mean, you have too little enthusiasm toward social gatherings but that doesn’t mean you don’t celebrate your birthday. Even when you barely have enough savings to pay for your bills, you couldn’t let your birthday pass without treating yourself or spending the day with your friends.

It sounds weird, at the same time, lonely to hear that he disregards such an occasion enough to make your heart tug painfully. He must have had a horrible childhood, you thought. Or perhaps, he’s merely not fond of any kind of celebration. It shouldn’t be a big of a deal, right?

Slight dismay washes through you at the abruptness of the call.

What is it about him being away that bothers you? Is it his safety, your safety or...his mere absence?

For the nth time since Namjoon left for his business trip, you had slept through your alarm which only meant you were late again in your first class.

The day progresses rather slowly. When it feels like you’ve spent ages sitting inside the lecture theatre, barely listening to half the professor was saying turns out to be just a couple of minutes whenever you check the time on your phone.

After what felt like a day, your break comes rolling around. Bearing the effect of sleep deprivation, your walk towards the dining hall was unusually sluggish. Fortunately, Jihyo was already on the table of your usual spot waiting when you arrived. 

Your shadow has yet to make his presence known which seems odd as he always tail you far behind, at the same time, intentionally allowing you to spot him wherever he is.

With his height, you could easily see the top of his head through the crowd, only that you didn’t need to look around because he’s in front of you and Jihyo, slightly wide-eyed with Jackson on his left, the former seemingly forced to be here.

Your eyebrows narrow in confusion. Though your friends knew you’re being guarded by him, they never really showed intention to befriend him.

“What’s going on Wang? Mingyu-ssi?” Jihyo seems amused at the mere sight, holding back her laughter as she notices the discomfort written in the poor handsome boy’s face. Your bodyguard surprisingly fits well in his all black casual attire like as if he is sporting a bad boy college student vibe. You couldn’t even point anything suspiciously odd with the way he casually holds himself as if he has his own world, not minding others’ business.

Jackson plops on the vacant seat across Jihyo’s and drags Mingyu on the seat next to him. He obligingly follows suit.

“He seems nicer and harmless than the other ones, Y/N. Had to befriend him before he makes me his next target.” Mingyu gazes at him with his sharp gaze that strangely reminds you of your husband’s stare.

“I can perfectly hear you.” He formally says to your friend, which presumably meant alternative to warning him.

Jackson paid no mind on the harmless threat, giving Mingyu a friendly smack on the back instead. “I know, bud. I’m not the enemy here, is what I’m trying to tell you.” He quips, which made Jihyo chuckle in return. Mingyu peers in your direction, then goes back to Jackson’s and Jihyo’s in utter confusion.

He probably has no idea what transpired before.

“You didn’t know?” Jackson attempts to confirm with a question.

“What?” Mingyu immediately asks back.

His act of ignorance isn’t believable enough for you. On his first day as your guard, you were stunned at how proficient he seemed to be on his pretense for someone who barely knows his way around the campus as if he’s been here before.

Shaking the thought away, you chose to butt in, “Don’t give him ideas.”

Jackson’s eyes slightly widen in realization. “You’re right. Anyways, I’m officially inviting you to eat lunch with us everyday. Is it a yes or a yes?”

Mingyu stares at him, dumbfoundedly.

“Shut up, Wang.” Jihyo laughs and then turns her head to meet Mingyu’s curious eyes. “Ignore him, but you’re always welcome to sit with us, just in case you’re allowed to— you know, eat with us.”

You only nodded in agreement.  

If he ever considers it, he never showed any sign that he did as he ate silently the whole time while he listened to the three of you converse endlessly.

Like the past few days, the home feels different and strange without the towering owner lurking around the spacious vicinity like the king, himself. Namjoon never really confirmed when he will be back. He had not brought it up again after he once mentioned that the trip would take him a week. Perhaps, longer? It’s been a week. You don't know how long you’d manage without seeing him. His absence, as you first thought, would be a sense of breather for you for the first time since the marriage happened. But as days rolled around, you only hope for the week to end so you could see him again.

The longer you ponder over the thought of missing him, the harder it is to ignore the ache on the pit of your stomach, and desire pooling between your legs. The temperature on your body feels strangely higher considering it’s not yet summer and the room is fully air conditioned like the rest of the apartment. Your hair was pulled up in a bun, clothes thrown haphazardly on the cold, bathroom floor as you skimmed inside naked without bothering to close the door.

You let the shower run as you gradually get used to the feel of the water on your skin, your body shudders ever so lightly as you step under the running water, cautious enough not to get your hair soaked in the process. Shortly after, your shoulders slug as the water finally cools down your body, your insides almost relaxing.

You drew a long sigh, eyes closing, loving the therapeutic sensation of water as it soaks your body.

It wasn’t until you felt strong arms encircling your waist from behind that the heat spirals back into your body, especially in your lower region.

Their clothed body molding perfectly against your naked back as they pull your body impossibly closed. It was too sudden, and you were probably too lost in your own thoughts that you failed to hear any strange sounds, footsteps even. A shriek of surprise went past your throat, harshly squirming in reflex. You're too shocked to process who it is until he made a hush sound, calming you down. His lips found your naked shoulder, further making himself known through his gestures. “It’s me.” The familiar voice whispers next to your ear. Your violent movements instantly halted, but the shock still is evident through erratic beating of your heart. “Joon?” you softly call, trying to peer behind to have a proper look on him. In a teasing manner, he kisses your other shoulder, ruining your intent while your body is kept locked on his arms. By now, his clothes are already soaked against your back as wet as your hair as the running water continues to shower you both. And just as his lips found your nape, his hand cups one of breasts, softly squeezing the mound, his fingers gently pinching the pink nub. Your hand mindlessly flew to the hand on your waist that is keeping your body close to his, gripping it tight enough that your knuckles are turning white. Your eyelids fell shut at the sudden sensation, biting your lip to suppress any sound from your throat. His hand didn’t stop the gentle tormenting on your breast, his warm, sinful mouth now assaulting the skin on your neck, sucking it until the spot turns purple. The mere contact is enough to make you dizzy in need, intensely lighting your long overdue desire. And then the sensation stops all at once, his hand gone and his nose nuzzling your now-soaked hair. “J-Joon...” you softly beg. He didn’t answer, yet you could hear his ragged breathing, his crotch pressing hotly on your back. “Please,” you impatiently murmur. “Hmm...” Hums Namjoon, feeling his lips on your temple. “Please let me see you,” Your voice almost breaks. It’s been a week since you last saw him, his absence certainly overwhelmed you achingly.

His lack of response drives you into frustration. Then he swiftly spins you around, his hand on your hip pushes you further until your back is pressed flat on the cold tiled wall. Palms planted on either side of your face, entrapping you.

Your mouth left agape at the sight of him. His soaked white dress shirt, clinging to his torso like a second skin, further accentuating his lean body, his dripping wet slacks evidently showing the bulge of his arousal. Your mouth instantly waters at the sight, suddenly wanting to feel it under your touch, have your mouth and tongue taste him.

But you were too nervous to initiate a move. He continues to torment you under his wanton gaze, as if challenging you to protest against his captive. His eyes then roamed over the length of your body, feasting the view beneath his lashes, “Beautiful.” His fingers caught your chin, tilting it so he could look into your eyes.

His mouth draws nearer, until it lands on the wet skin of your cheek. He mumbles against your skin, “You have no idea how much I missed seeing your pretty face. Did you miss me, sweetheart?” Your eyes closing shut, nodding. “Yes,” You manage to say, while finding the strength to rub your palms sensually on his forearms that would hopefully coax him to initiate a move. He only hums in return, to your dismay. The running water from the shower head has stopped. Namjoon probably turned it off although it was too late as his whole body is already dripping with water.

His mouth is so close to yours, teasingly hovering over the corner of your mouth. When you ever so lightly tilt your head to the side, your lips caught his supple ones. Your delicate fingers found his cheeks, deepening the kiss. A groan vibrates on his chest, the weeks worth of abstinence has not been too kind for him, and he would undoubtedly break you if he suddenly loses the control he’s been nurturing instead of his desire.

Your actions, however, are doing so little for your own good. To your dismay, he was reacting too little, maintaining a minimal response. “Joon, please...” You mumble in between kisses.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” “I-I... I want you.” You moan, your voice almost failing you from the overwhelming heat of your desire.

The burning ache on his abdomen only intensifies at the mere sound of your begging. “You have me.” He says back in a soft voice, nuzzling your cheek while keeping a safe distance between your bodies. When your hand dares touch his crotch, a low growl rumbles on his chest, swiftly catching your hand on his, restraining your very intention. Tears pool in your eyes in desperation. And as much as you want him to fuck you senseless right this second, the desire to taste him was too intense and stronger to just set the thought aside. “Let me touch you... Joon, please...” His breathes quicken, refusing to entertain your offer. But it didn’t mean his desire is not spiraling wildly, his member twitching painfully the more your pleas feed his ears. His head momentarily threw back, and you use it as an opportunity to shuffle on your knees, your hands quickly found his crotch. Taken aback by your bold eagerness, he hisses harshly as your delicate fingers found his bulge. His intent to drag you back on your feet vanishes as he took in the sight of his naked goddess— blazing eyes returning his stare while hovering over his sensitive arousal. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He curses when you impatiently palms him while your other hand trembles as it attempts to unbuckle his belt. Helplessly murmuring, “Help me...” when you couldn’t seem to do it on your own. At your helpless plea, Namjoon quickly came to rescue your little dilemma. No more than a second, his large hand swiftly unbuckles his belt, your hand greedily undid his buttons, and tug his boxers enough to release his hard member. A gasp falls on your lips, taken aback at the sudden jolt of his thick cock against his stomach before your eyes. Surprise at the size of it, your insides clenches achingly, wondering how it had fit inside you before. But realizing why his entrance burns your insides despite your wetness, his huge cock filling you would extremely stretch your walls to fit himself.

You have seen it so briefly before on your first night together, but you haven’t had the time to admire it as Namjoon took you so urgently.

Your mouth waters at the sight of a glistening pink head, your cold, delicate fingers coming in contact with his slick member to wrap themselves around his thickness.

The subtle touch of your fingers felt too good. If it’s possible, his brown eyes only grew darker, that they are almost black now. Your mind is in shambles as both of your hands gently pump their way up and down his length.

His hips stutter at your ministration. As Namjoon falls into a state of euphoria, his head is thrown back, palms glued on the wall behind you to prevent his strength from crumbling. Drawing your lips near, your tongue did an experimental lick at the glistening pink head. The harsh intake of breath you heard from him coax you further, swiping the underside of his length with your tongue before slowly taking him in your mouth. ”Fuck!” He growls so sexily at the feel of your warm mouth. You felt his cock twitched, hips bucking at your warm, inviting mouth. Then you suddenly felt your bun loosens, followed by the pull of your hair as his fingers thread into your soaked hair.

“That’s it, pretty slut.” He breathlessly praises. He draws back before filling your mouth full again. His sensitive tip touching your throat has you moaning rather erotically which only turns him on further.

He is huge, and despite willingly taking him down to your throat, the length of his cock couldn’t possibly fit all inside your mouth. Your eyes closing for a moment, suppressing the urge to choke.

“Such a good little slut for me, aren’t you sweetheart?”

Namjoon’s grip on your hair tightens, manipulating the pace to his desired speed. You didn’t care, because his pleasure matters to you more at this point.

When he glides his cock back inside, you hollow your cheeks just in time, tight enough to have him nearly gasping his next breath.

You let him fuck your mouth slowly, until he picks up a pace. Assaulting your mouth with the intrusion while mixture of your saliva and his arousal continues to leak out of your mouth.

The sounds of pleasure you hear from him only intensifies your own arousal, your stomach heating up each time your core achingly clenches.

The darkness in his eyes and the way curses recklessly stumble out of his beautiful mouth while you suck him raw takes your breath away. You’ve never seen him this vulnerably clouded in pleasure. And you’d willingly let him fuck you again this way if it means having to witness him this helpless while he chases the feel of your mouth. Your eyes never left his as you peer up from your knees. The more you listen to his pleasure, the harder you want to take him in.

When you felt it twitch again, you deliberately took him deeper until you’re nearly choking.

Namjoon has had his fair share of women— all of whom are experienced, knew their way to pleasure him. But the goddess beneath him—his sweet angel, the woman of his dreams and dirty fantasies unknowingly had him at his mercy.

The addicting warmth and suction of your mouth pulling him further into the depth of bliss. “No, angel—” He rasps in between rapid breaths, wanting to prolong the fire until he gets to fill his favorite addicting hole, so tight, he could already taste the feeling.

You whimper, “No…” You wanted it so much. The thought of him cumming undone inside your mouth is a dirty fantasy you suddenly wish to fulfill right now.

“We’ll save it up for when I’m inside your tight pussy.“ He breathes, pulling you up and bracing you against the wall. Your thighs wobble from your previous position.

His eager mouth captured yours, harshly sucking your bottom lip, teasing it as his teeth gently pierces through your bruised lip.

He could taste himself in you as his tongue thoroughly laps the inside of your mouth. Until he moves down to your jaw, his tongue tracing his tracks down to your neck onto your already purple skin while his fingers found the pink bud of your breast. It was what made you react so sexily, moaning helplessly, burying your fingers in his hair tightly as his teeth punctures the skin then laps the area soothingly.

Your body continues to heat up in his ministrations despite the cold atmosphere in the bathroom, certain that your arousal now visibly pools out of your core to your thighs.

Your fingers hastily unbutton his dress shirt, impatient to reveal his bare torso for your eyes to feast on. But just about you had undone the last button, he crouches, robbing you of the chance to admire his body. His mouth encloses on your hard pink bud, his tongue teasingly encircling on the crown of your breast as his other hand works simultaneously, squeezing your mound inside his palm.

The sensitivity of your breasts adding up to the sensation of his mouth and hand is too much, panting as you struggle to catch your breath. Until his head lowers farther down, tracing his way down with his open mouth kisses.

Namjoon swiftly pulled your thighs apart, hooking your thigh over his shoulder to see all of you.

The mere sight of your sex could already tell how turn on you are, but it wasn’t enough for him. His fingers part your folds, dipping his thumb to feel your arousal. “Ah, you’re dripping, baby. Is this for me, hmm?”

His head lowers more, mouth hovering your pubic bone, teasingly planting sloppy kisses there.

The rapid intakes of your breath did not go unnoticed by Namjoon. A devious grin spreads on his lips as his thumb starts assaulting your clit enough to have your legs trembling from bliss. The reaction he seeks from you were generously poured out of your mouth.

“Yes god. Joon please—” Your hips jerking, needing more friction than what he’s giving. He was quick to restrain your movements, pushing your hips flat against the cold wall. Your whines of frustration soon echoes inside the bathroom.

Namjoon draws his mouth nearer, his nose erotically nuzzling your front sex that you could already feel his warm breath, “You smell exquisitely alluring, angel.”

Your anticipation shortly turns into desperation, continuously sobbing his name. Your heavenly pleas were enough to give you what you want, Namjoon willingly rewarded his tongue on your clit, licking your nub so good your eyes clenched from the sudden spark of sensation.

“So sweet…” he mumbles appreciatively, before sucking the sensitive nub in his warm mouth. The act alone has you panting in pleasure.

“Ahhh! Joon—fuck!” Your fingers quickly found his hair, your grip tightening the harder he sucks and laps your clit. You were drowning in need, darkness fills your vision as they remained shut, focusing on the sensation brought by his mouth’s ministrations. You could feel yourself leaking, and made it easier for him to slide his fingers inside your aching core, rubbing and curling them until you're visibly writhing. Cries of pleasure continue to pour out of your mouth.

“Ah! Joon! Oh god!”

Your beautiful sounds alone could bring him to hilt, his cock painfully growing harder, merely listening to you as his mouth and fingers drive you oblivion.

The painful tug of your fingers on his scalp as they tighten their grasp on his hair signals your forthcoming orgasm.

“That’s it, cum for me, little slut.” He mumbles against your sex, the vibration of his mouth against your core sending you further in the brink, as the knot of pleasure building up in your stomach snaps. You cry out, his name the only thing you can articulate of, as you climax deliciously against his mouth. Hips grinding to ride out your orgasm.

Namjoon greedily lap every bit of your sweet juices, while his thumb strums your clit to prolong your orgasm. He didn’t stop, not even when he hears you whining from overstimulation. He only withdrew his mouth on your core when you finally met his gaze, coming back from your high.

Your fingers raking his wet locks out his face as it keeps the span of his forehead hidden, wanting to see all of his pretty face.

Namjoon stood, his knees skillfully bracing you flat from the wall. He yanks his soaking, white top off his body, discarding it there before doing the same thing to his slacks proceeded by his boxers, revealing his perfectly honeyed skin body. This is the first and only time you had seen him completely naked right before your eyes.

The two of you sharing an expansive closet lets you have a glimpse of his naked torso once in a while, sometimes him adorning a pair of boxers while he selects his working attire for the day. But those times were always short lived, you shying away from staring for too long than casual glances.

From the intimate instances you had with him, you never had the opportunity to appreciate his nudity. Your eyes glint with pure admiration, seeing all of him now in front of you. Your tongue dazedly darted out to wet your lips, feasting purely on his body.

Namjoon yet again found your lips, his tongue unsolicitedly invading your mouth, fighting for the dominance which you willingly gave up. He took your responsiveness as an opportunity to pull your body in his embrace, your legs following on their accord as they automatically weave themselves around his hips over his back, your hands finding purchase on his nape. His very arousal pressing on your stomach has you moaning against his greedy mouth.

Namjoon gracefully carried you all the way out towards the bedroom, completely dazed in his kisses.

He didn’t let go of your lips all the way out, not until he dumps your wet body on the mattress. Namjoon kneels on the foot of the bed, hands grasping on your hips to flip you over.

“On your knees, sweetheart.” He commands.

A sound of what he initially recognizes as a moan tears out of you. He plants a small kiss to your hip, before he hears you object, “No!”

“What—“

“I want to see you,” You whimper, pulling his face closer, fishing for a kiss.

A smirk slowly made its way on his face, eyes darkening at the sight of you helpless in his mercy.

“You want to see me while I fuck you, is that it?” He trails, pulling your thighs apart, crawling his way between your thighs.

His nose nuzzles yours teasingly, hovering over your mouth.

Heaving a sigh in contentment, you nod. “I miss you...”

“Do you, now? Or... you only want to be fucked hard?” He murmurs, mouth ajar as it tormentingly touches your lips.

Your forehead creases in a frown, “That’s not true.”

“I’ve never seen you this needy before, Y/N. Tell me, what do you want me to do?” His fingers brushing wet locks away from your beautiful face.

“Please, fuck me...”

He nods, gently bucking his hips to slide his length on your slit. “Is this enough for you, sweetheart?” You whine helplessly.

“Joon, please… just fuck me!” Plea pours out of your mouth in complete devastation. His warmth doing nothing but fuel the ache in your core as it clenches in wanton need of friction.

You beg more and more, the longer he teases you. Namjoon lowers his head further in the crook of your neck, his teeth and tongue alternately grazing and soothing the sensitive skin. The sensation feel achingly erotic, until he not so gently bit your skin, enough to leave a mark. The mere distraction made you almost forget his tip on your entrance, until he thrusts so hard your eyes closed from the undesired pain, stretching you far too much.

“Joon—“ Your moan stifles, crying out at the painful intrusion. Tears brim in your eyes as his length stretches you fully, your slick wetness welcomes him in a swift but burning entrance. He captured your lips, somehow distracting you from the unavoidable ache of your union.

You almost didn’t want him to move from the burning ache of your walls around him. He rocks ever so gently, eliciting a sound of pleasure from you. The burning ache didn’t subside, but as he prolonged the small pace he started, you became used to the pain, chasing the tiny pleasure that comes with each thrust he gives.

The sounds you continuously emit signals him to keep going, until he picks up a pace. Soon after, sparks of euphoric bliss came shooting within your core, numbing the pain.

Your lustful gasps and his grunts were in unison as you both get used to the delicious friction of your intimate union.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You deliriously moan when he suddenly pushes your thigh up on his shoulder, allowing his cock to plunge farther into your warm, tight depths until you’re writhing, your sounds were music to his ears further pulling him deeper in euphoria.

The feeling of your tight walls gripping around his cock is such a sweet, addicting sensation. The deeper he hammers into your core, the closer he gets to chase down the delicious spark of his pleasure. The new angle allowed him to discover the places untouched, thus finding your sweet spot, that has you rolling your eyes in the back of your end. Toes curling as sparks violently shoot through your core, intensifying the knot that holds your desire.

“I’m— oh yes, right there!” you gasp, “Fuck!” Your fingers tightly thread on his hair, mouth greedily seeking his attention.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart. You feel so good around me.” Namjoon growls in between sloppy kisses against your mouth. 

“So good… Joon, please... don't stop!” You sob, getting lost at your pleasure as you desperately chase the end.

Namjoon rolled his hips incredibly faster, ramming through you endlessly making you shudder from the intense sensation.

You could feel it, so close.

The violent pushes and pulls of his hips didn’t stop, rapid plunges in and out of your depths until the pleasure came rushing from the pit of your stomach.

“Joon!” You moan, the knot finally twisting, waves of euphoria shattering through your trembling body.

Namjoon’s hips stutter, savoring the feel of your clenching walls around, nearing his high. “Angel—fuck!” A long, carnal sound vibrates on his chest, as he picks up his speed while your insides tremor at the intensity of your orgasm, ferociously thrusting his cock so fast as he chases his own climax, and shooting his liquid generously inside you. His mouth attacks your breast to counter his sounds of pleasure. 

Your whimpers echo in the room, the post-orgasmic bliss mixes with the stinging sensation brought about by the love bites he generously marked on your skin slowly pulls you back from oblivion, while you listen to your pants and his rapid breathing.

When he finally comes back to his senses, his tired eyes briefly surveys your length. Your body remains still as your eyes are closed shut, chest rapidly rising and falling. Assuming you dozed off, he carefully untangles his limbs off of you to clean you up before tucking you in.

As he climbs off the mattress, your hand manages to grip his arm in time. “No, don’t go.” He hears you breathlessly whimper.

You look spent— satiated even. He could clearly see your eyes as they struggle to open still. He retreats back on the mattress, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He reassures you in a soothing tone. A sigh went past your lips in relief. You gave him a subtle nod, trusting his words.

“I miss you,” You croak, you were just so tired, and sleepy. But you can’t seem to move on from missing him too much for the past few days.

He could see it in your eyes, the vulnerable side of you in the aftermath of the lovemaking.

“I know, baby.” He whispers close to your ear as he strokes your hair in a comforting manner.

His touch, so gentle in contrast to how he rammed you to the hilt minutes ago. It was as if he was cooing you to sleep. Few moments later, your consciousness slowly shrinks, finally succumbing to darkness.

The next moment your eyes open, the first thing they search around is him. His side of the bed is empty. And the moment you dared to move, you instantly felt the ache in your muscles and the numb feeling in between your thighs. Then your eyes noticed a shirt, which you have on. Just by the size of it, you knew it was Namjoon’s but you don't ever remember putting it on before you fell asleep.

How long have you been sleeping?

It was dark in the room, the dim lights supporting just enough so you could see your way through the room.

“Joon?” You call out, looking around the room. There’s no sign of him— until your ear caught a distinct clinking of glass, your gaze instantly landed on the very subject you were seeking for.

At the sound of you calling his name, his head snaps, instantly meeting your gaze as you struggle your way towards the corner of massive room.

He wore a pair of plaid pj pants and a plain white shirt similar to the material that covers your body now. His messy hair tells you that he had pushed back his locks more than once. His isn’t this long before, and you wonder how many regular haircuts he had abandoned to have it this long. With how endearing he looks with his hair, you made a mental note to have your way to stop him from cutting it any time soon.

When you shifted your gaze away as you near the stone coffee table, you saw there on top, a glass container of expensive alcohol, a liquor glass and an ashtray which made you turn your eyes back at him. You didn’t notice the stick in between his fingers right away.

“Angel,” he greets in a curious tone, surprised to see you awake.

“You’re not asleep.” You say, your stare following his fingers as he inhales a long draw through the stick before crushing its end against the ashtray. Smoke coming out of his mouth and nose as he exhales.

His hand caught yours, coaxing you to sit on his lap. His fingers brushing away your hair out of your face. “You okay?” His surprisingly gentle tone laces in concern.

You only nodded in reply, willingly obliging onto his embrace. Your thighs curling on his lap as his arms instantly pull you on his chest, preventing you from falling off.

The lingering smell of cigarette and alcohol from his breath mixed with his natural scent wafted through your nostrils as you find yourself burying your face on the crook of his neck. You didn’t know it could smell this intoxicating on him. As if your core is not literally burning enough from the intimacy earlier, you could feel yourself slowly leaking, core clenching painfully at the thought of his thick length inside you.

His hand rests on your back, the other on your thigh, the warmth in his body enveloping you from the cold.

You tilt your head to the side, “I didn’t know you smoke.” You say in dazed of your growing desire.

“Hmm, does it bother you?”

You didn’t answer. But let yourself drink in his exquisite smell.

You felt his palm soothingly rub your back, “You should rest, I’ve worn you out.” You cheeks heating up on his mere words.

Your lips pressing tiny kisses there, on the skin of his neck.

He stills, recognizing the intention of your sweet gestures. “Sweetheart—“

“Please, make love to me Joon.”

He sighs, “I was not gentle with you, sweetheart, it’s too soon for you.”

His shirt crumples beneath your fingers, “I want you.”

The way you beg him to take you made him forget how he was striving to control himself to fuck you again and again, until his needs are temporarily sated.

He was not gentle and the aftermath of the intimacy surely left traces of pain from how tight your core is. It was the reason why he’s now several glasses in from liquor, distracting himself because it’s too soon to satisfy the urge have his addicting vice.

With your plea, his restraint vanishes so quickly, giving you what you had begged for.

He took you there on the couch.

You were clinging onto him, urging for him to fuck you harder. Your sweet moans, your stinging bite marks on his shoulders, and your warm, tight core choking his cock brought him to the hilt. Cumming in the depth of your insides raw and hard. The thought of you bearing his child briefly feeds his mind as his liquid mixed with your juices gushes out of your core.

The alcohol, being the source of his early distraction, fail to restraint him to fuck you, again. For the third time of the night, you willingly gave yourself in to his carnal needs. Despite the evident ache in your muscles all throughout your body, his touch, his kisses and the pleasure he made you feel were enough to coax you.

The next morning, you unquestionably feel horrible. You could feel your head throb, and the slight attempt of moving made you whimper in pain. The burning sensation in your core is difficult not to miss as much as the ache in your body.

Namjoon is nowhere in sight and as much as you want to come search for him, the blinding light seeping from the floor to ceiling glass wall made it such a heavy task to do so.

What time is it?

You inwardly groan at the thought of missing your classes. You have done it a lot of times before that you literally couldn’t afford to miss some more.

Feeling the exhaustion from your body, you dozed off some more and only stirred awake when you felt something on your face.

With your eyes closed, you know it was no other than your husband. His hand moves from your face to your hair, gently stroking and raking your locks away from your face.

When the afternoon break came approaching, he paid a short visit to the room to check you in. He didn’t come to his office today, shifting his appointments through digital meetings in his study.

He’s been watching you for a few minutes now. Worry creeps into him, the intimate activities must have drained your energy empty. He mentally reminds himself to be gentle to you next time.

“Hey,” Namjoon suddenly hears you greet. His gaze lifted toward your eyes.

A smile slowly spreads on his lips.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart.”

He laughs when you groan, shutting your eyes closed in distraught as you realized it is indeed late.

Frowning, “I missed my classes.”

“You did. Your friend called this morning, I answered the call and told her you’re unwell.”

“Jihyo?“

“Yes. Perhaps, you’ve rested enough?” You nodded.

Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the only time you missed most of your classes just because you were too tired to get up in the morning.

He didn’t falter the following days. Taking you one way or another. You even thought he would finally be sated with his needs after several days. You’re wrong. Because the more you allow him to touch you, the more he wants to take you shamelessly just about anywhere he can make his advances. “Joon, we’re in the kitchen.” You manage to say as his hand slides inside your sweatpants one Sunday evening. You‘re heating up a pasta that was abandoned several hours ago, starving from fulfilling your other needs. Miyoung must have kept the food in the fridge when she realized the two of you have no intention to eat the supposed lunch. Namjoon tags along, watching you prep the food in the microwave until he decides touching you seems like a better idea. His fingers almost there, where they were earlier on the bed, and if you weren't too hungry and spent, you would probably let him do you here. Your hand grips his arm tight, restraining whatever intention he has. “No one is here.” He insists, lips assaulting the skin on your exposed shoulder. The bulge of his crotch pressing on your back, feeling the evidence of his growing arousal.

A mere slave to his touch, you appeal, “Joon, can we eat first? I’m hungry,” when you feel his other hand sneaks under your shirt. His movements gradually took a pause, sighing in defeat. He kisses your temple before letting you eat in peace.

“Listen, can I talk about something?” Mingyu gave you a brief glance, although he seems to have his focus fixed in front as he drives you back home. “Of course, Mrs. Kim.” He says politely. Your face scrunches up. “I told you to call me Y/N.” That was on his first day, you instructed him to address you by your name when Hanbin introduced you to Mingyu as ‘Mrs. Kim’. Mingyu nods without returning your gaze, “I could, but I’m not sure the boss would be thrilled to hear I’m on a first name basis with his wife.” He could be right. But you choose not to voice it out. Shrugging, “I’m sure he would not mind.” “You don’t want the boss to get mad.” He states as a matter of fact, then adds, “What do you want to talk about, anyways?” You shifted in your seat, slightly angling your body towards him. “So, do you guys know what time Namjoon usually comes home?” He didn’t speak right away, eyes narrow hearing your question.

“Hanbin does not tell me that sort of information, unless it’s necessary. My job is to guard you, anyway. Why do you ask?” There was something in his demeanor that changed, or was it your mind playing tricks on you? “I... Uhm...” You fumble through the right words that could explain your plan, but all you had come up with is a simple reassurance of his participation. “Can I trust you though? You know... not to tell him?” He clears his throat and shuffles on his right earpiece. Your eyes caught it. Is someone speaking on him through it? “I’m not sure, we don’t keep a secret to the boss.” He responds, shortly. Part of his job requires him to disclose your activities and anything related to your safety. Entertaining your antics might put him in serious trouble. Your eyebrows rose. “Ever?” You ask, testing the water. His cooperation would really help you out.

His forehead creases, sizing up your words whether it’s a trap or just some white lies far from a threat to his job. “Are you questioning my loyalty, Mrs. Kim?” The thing is, as the conversation prolongs, it would be difficult for him to avoid trouble, he thought as he fails to understand your purpose.

“No. Just... it’s a different kind of secret.” Your voice falters. If you want to keep a secret, why should you drag him with it? “A secret is a secret. It would cost me my job, you know.”

Your eyes roll as if you don’t know that. He’s not even letting you talk before deciding on his own. You wouldn’t even bother telling him if you don’t need his support to pull off your plan, how will you buy stuff without him tipping it all off to Namjoon’s right hand man. Speaking of which, perhaps, you shall consider tagging Hanbin along in your plan. Heaving an exaggerated, you convince him further, “It's not something bad, will you hear me out? You won’t be in trouble if you keep it a secret. Just promise me you won’t tell him?”

He didn’t look at you, nor made an effort to acknowledge it. “Hear me out first?” You try again when he seems doubtful. His focus was clearly on the road as he shows clear disinterest to listen to you.

“Fine then...” You surrender, crossing your arms.

Silence filled the air inside the car all throughout the journey home, with you frequently shooting childish glares in his direction the entire time. When Mingyu expertly maneuvers the car on the garage, you quickly climb off the car fully intending to ignore him just so you could stir guilt in him because you couldn’t directly admit you need his help.

Unexpectedly, Mingyu catches up with you and suddenly offers, “We can talk tomorrow. On your break.” Then he sprinted toward the flight of stairs instead of usually taking the lift  before you could even process his words. 

He changed his mind that fast?

Out of curiosity, you did try to talk to him again during that night but you couldn’t get a hold of him. And going to the basement where the team camps in could raise suspicion so you waited until tomorrow.

The following day, you notice an unfamiliar guy adorning a similar all black uniform. It does not bother you though since your husband owns a whole agency. However, Mingyu didn’t show up and was replaced by a new one. Although questions start stirring up in your mind, you never really voiced out your concerns to anyone.

When you got home that night, you attempted to wring out an answer from Namjoon. You didn’t need to find him because the moment you returned from uni, he was at the foyer with Hanbin, backs facing your direction. By the mere looks of it, he was sort of giving commands to his right hand man, something you couldn’t properly hear what it is about.

“Hi.” You finally speak, catching both of their attention. Namjoon made a gesture in his hand, dismissing Hanbin while you approached his tall figure.

As Hanbin passes by you, he sends a polite nod to your direction as a greeting, before disappearing from one of the doorways.

With a few steps forward, Namjoon met you half-way, eyeing you up and down. “Sweetheart,” He murmurs while swiftly reaching for your hand, to pull you in for a kiss.

It wasn’t even just a peck. His lips have instantly dominated yours, making sure he sucked and licked your lips enough to have you catching your breath when he drew back. Your cheeks instantly flame at the sudden ministration. You couldn’t even keep an eye contact with him, too embarrassed with how quickly your body reacted to his lips. Unlike you, Namjoon still wear a passive expression, not even a single affected by the kiss. Of course, he did more than just a kiss to you before. Keeping a safe distance from him, you took a step back. “You replaced Mingyu?” You begin inquiring. Out of all the things you can ask, it has to be the very reason for his anger. He didn’t seem one bit pleased to hear you mention your bodyguard’s name instead of asking how his day had gone like your usual opening question during dinner. “I did, should it matter?” He answers with another question. Nervous by the intensity of his stare, you shrug, “I was just wondering why he’s not around.”

It’s true. If Mingyu didn’t promise the talk today, you wouldn’t be this curious. “He’s back in the headquarters.” Namjoon briefly provides.

But the information was too short to rest your mind in peace. Why did he suddenly removed him as your guard? “Oh, okay.“ Something tells you, it’s not all of that. Mingyu’s absence, for all you care, could be anything work-related or personal as long as the boss is concerned. You‘re already aware that Namjoon does not take jealousy too lightly, and somehow you’ve presumed Mingyu will inevitably be victimized under Namjoon’s territorial behavior. The problem is, you couldn’t seem to think of any instance that would make your husband jealous. Unless... Namjoon knows something else you’re not aware of.  “Will he come back here?” You ask further, nervously fidgeting your bracelet while surveying his expression. His eyebrows knitted for whatever reason, significant or not. “No.”  “Why not?” Namjoon cocks his head to the side, his now pitch black eyes strangely spoke with raw emotions you couldn’t tell what exactly is. “Tell me one good reason why he should be here...” He suggests with a nonchalant tone. Unknown to you, his patience is shrinking as he lowers his head to eye you with his tense stare. You didn’t understand what it is for, but you couldn’t help your body as it faintly shudder under his stare. “I’m just curious—”

“How many secrets of yours have you told the boy, Y/N?” Your heart momentarily stops at the mention of your name. Because he rarely calls you by name.

Is he referring to the conversation you had with him yesterday? “W-What... do you mean?” The cold temperature couldn’t even cease the rising tension between you two. “You perfectly understand what I mean.” He answers right away, locking his gaze to you. Making sure you could see the way his eyes flicker with fire. Mingyu told him?

You fumble with words, confused at Namjoon’s anger towards you. “How...w-what...what did he tell you?” “What do you think?” Namjoon returns the question back. And it confuses you more now for how your inquiry has turned into a confrontation, especially that the unnecessary anger is directed at you. You should have not beat around the bush and just directly told him you wanted to surprise Namjoon.

Now, Namjoon thinks you’re actually keeping something serious from him. Did Mingyu really snitch on you? You quietly ponder over, as you recall what happened inside the car. Mingyu was barely participating in the conversation, and the way he responded to you... it was formal, and uncooperative like the usual. The fact that Namjoon knows about it is already a giveaway that Mingyu actually tell-taled. Unless... the earpiece— “If he told you about it, then you would know he didn’t even let me talk, unless he told you something else...“ You trailed. The longer you think of it, the more convinced you are that Namjoon knows something more, just from the look he bears... “We can talk tomorrow. On your break.” Mingyu’s words echo in your mind, once again. And as your brain slowly processes the information, it gradually makes sense to you…

The way he was talking to you in the car made you believe he didn’t want to participate in whatever ploy you have, but he quickly changed his mind once both of you were out of the car. It was not his two-way earpiece. But the car-- Namjoon saw the horror slowly creeping into your face. “You heard, didn’t you...” You breathed. Namjoon heard it clearly, fully comprehending the words you just uttered.

“Something must be in that car, isn’t it?” You press, further.

He is well-aware that you’re not stupid, and you’ll eventually find it out. He just didn’t imagine it to be revealed this way. Nonetheless, his lips only pursed as he remains calm and collected, no trace of remorse or guilt visible on his face. 

His expression tells you he was not bothered by the fact that you found out. You didn’t know how the fire in your eyes is effortlessly piercing his heart. The kind he does not want to see in your eyes. You scoff, “What else—Is my phone bugged?” You suddenly prod, tilting your head up so you could fully observe him through your lashes. His face, however, maintains a straight face. You waited for his answer, silently wishing he would debunk your assumption.  The lack of response only made you confirm it. Fury quickly courses within you, “Why?” Your hands rub your face in utter disbelief. “You have me tailed everywhere by your men, is that not enough?” You spat, resentment slowly clouding your mind, 

”You have my freedom under your mercy, now my privacy? What else do you want from me?”

“It’s for your safety—”

You laugh humorlessly, harshly brushing the stubborn tears on your cheeks. “Tell me, is everything in your apartment bugged? The bedroom? The closet? The bathroom—” “Hush sweetheart, your body is mine and only for my eyes to see.” He was quick to come to your side, catching your arms. You didn’t like the proximity. It makes you weak.

“I’m not your fucking toy! You can’t do this to me!” “Calm down, baby. I love my woman submissive.” He says in a soothing tone. His words as softly as they were spoken hurt you deeply, fueling your ire even more.

You didn’t know how you found the strength to slap him. Your hand trembles, stinging from pain after it meets his skin.

“Find another woman, then!” His face barely turned from the impact, proceeding to address your anger.

“Calm down.” He attempts to console, but it only did the opposite to your ego. You trash your arms out, hating the way he still has the upperhand despite the table being turned upside down. Your strength could never compare to his as you struggle to push him. “You are my woman. Need I remind you that?” Harshly shaking your head, “No! Don’t touch me!” His grip loosens on your arms, and you took it as your chance to sprint off towards the stairs, not wanting to repeat what happened in his office before.

You locked yourself in the bathroom, somehow trusting that this is the only place kept hidden from any prying eyes. Tears uncontrollably flow through your cheeks, face buried on your hands as you helplessly listen at the loud thumping of your heart. If you didn’t pull back, chances are he would have his way to take your weakness in his advantage. The strong surge of emotions you feel cannot even compare to his physical strength.

You’re confused, hurt and disgusted all at once. You didn’t expect how messed up this whole marriage thing could get, realizing you actually know so little of him, of what he does in a living. To think that you have learned to trust him because of the stupid affection you have been nurturing for months, makes your insides twist in fury. Perhaps, it was a spur of the moment thought that you regarded as a wise decision, as anger overpowers your senses. You didn’t understand how it transpired, accordingly. When you quickly packed up a few things put the bag underneath the bed while waiting for the night to progress, Namjoon didn’t come to the bedroom. You thought it helped you leave smoothly.

Little did you know, Namjoon was watching the scene unfold through the numerous cameras simultaneously viewing before his eyes on the screen of his laptop. It was taking all of his willpower to stop you and lock you in his bedroom until your anger subsides, but something tells him it would not do good to cool down your anger.

Funny how the situation unexpectedly turns upside down as he recalls being gutted with anger. Not liking how you so easily open up to others than him. He couldn’t deny the ugly feeling traversing within him when he listened to your interaction with the boy.

As the night rolls around, the burning sensation of the alcohol in his throat becomes addicting, taking more until the ache in his chest numbs.

Jackson’s apartment was the only place you could reach at this hour. Considering Jihyo is staying in the college dorm, you wouldn’t be able to get inside the building for it was already past two in the morning. His place was not even considered a hideout. But at that point, you don't even care if Namjoon comes along breaking down Jackson’s doorway to force you back at home. You only needed a safe place away to think at the moment because you couldn’t bare to see him, yet. And you’re well aware of the effect he has on you. He can quickly cloud your judgement over his will through his mere touch. That’s how bad you’ve fallen for him.

Few days of distancing should enough for you to sort your feelings, if he doesn’t come collecting you himself.

“You okay?” Jackson croaks, seeing you trembling a little. Minutes prior, he was ready to beat the shit out of the person who was smashing his doorbell like a madman. Never would he think it was you of all people.

“He didn’t... hurt you, did he?” He hesitatingly asks, seeing the traces of tears staining your cheeks. Shaking your head, “No. We just had a fight.” “He doesn’t know, right? That you’re here?” You gave Jackson a knowing look, “He probably does by now.” Jackson offered his bed on the first night, but you turned his offer down. You took the couch instead, somehow preparing yourself for the imminent devastation of the storm. Fortunately for you, no one tried to break their way into Jackson’s apartment that night, relieved that everything is still in place or it’ll surely make you guilty for dragging your friends to your problems with Namjoon.

That following morning, you transferred into Jihyo’s dorm, deciding it would be best for Jackson’s safety. Six days insufferably passed. However, it felt longer than that. Staying away had not concluded the fight you had with Namjoon. There was also no sign of Namjoon or his men lurking around the college or the dorm in the past few days. And it bothered you more than it should have given you peace. The thought alone made you realized, you were more affected by your action as you were deeply tormented by the thoughts of him and the possibility that he doesn’t want you, anymore.

Your anger towards him couldn’t tame your feelings for him. Maybe you have underestimated it as a mere attraction—infatuation, even.

That night, Namjoon showed up in the dorm’s doorsteps, to which you had already expected since the first night. But you’re still left surprised, nonetheless.

Your heart painfully tugs, as your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. “What are you doing here?” Indeed, it was unfair. While you wallow in despair for days, he seems not one bit affected by the situation.

“You will go home,” He calmly orders, his eyes briefly scanning you over.

As ever, he didn’t fail to make your heart thump crazily from the mere sight of him. While you look worse—missing a lot of sleep from trying to balance your studies and your issues with him, he looks stunningly gorgeous, powerful, and unfitting to be in a place like this. “No, I‘m staying.” You insist. “I’m not asking for you permission.” He corrects you in a formal tone, before walking past your figure. “Namjoon—wait! Where are you going?” You panicked, tailing behind him as he immediately finds Jihyo’s room where he scans around the small space. This is barely a room to stay in, he silently thought. “Pack your clothes. I’ll give you five minutes before we go. Unless, you want to leave without them—” You didn’t let him finish, cutting him of mid-sentence. “No, I'm not coming with you.” You compel, determined to follow what you had planned in your mind.

The look on his face is all too familiar, the one that tells you he won’t take no for an answer. “Do not test my patience, sweetheart.”

“Namjoon, stop.” You begin, visibly in distress by the sudden shift of the situation. You are aware he always has the upperhand.

“I want to stay here. Can’t you at least give me that after what you’ve done?” You implore. As much as you miss him, you couldn’t afford to see him yet, or it could break you. “I already gave you space, that’s enough for you.” Shaking your head, “I didn’t ask you to. I left.” You say. His height does not intimidate you anymore, but the way he holds himself now, he seems different. As if he was deliberately trying to make you succumb to him.

“Sweetheart, I had all the means to stop your ploy if I wanted to. I didn’t, because I figured you would need it.” Declares Namjoon, drawing himself closer to where you stood.

You took a step back. “What if I don't want to?” You challenge.

He lowers his head, allowing you to have a glimpse of his dark eyes, silently warning you. “You don't have a choice, sweetheart.”

You let him win, again. Because you were left with no option. You couldn’t think of anything else that you could do to oppose him without compromising anyone, especially your friends. Nothing you could do but to give in for now.

Namjoon already disappeared from somewhere when you entered the living room, leaving you all alone until you hear footsteps nearing towards your direction.

You turn to see who it was.

“What are you doing here?” You warily ask, utterly surprised to see him. How many more surprises do you need yo deal with today? By how ugly the events have turned out, you won’t expect to see him again, or anywhere near the penthouse. He gave you a nod as a form of greeting, before answering, “Working. What else do you think I’m here for?” “For Namjoon?” “Of course, he’s my boss. But he gave me a specific instruction to guard the queen.”

You only gave him a look, although with the obvious height difference, you had to tilt your head up to do so.

Your visible annoyance quickly amuses him. After what happened, he really has the nerve to smirk right in front of you?

“I’m sorry Mrs. Kim, but you look horrible today. You alright?” He shamelessly nags to which earns him scowl from you. “That’s nice of you to say.” You retort, “I’ve been missing a lot of sleep, thank you very much.” He laughs as if nothing really happened.

It’s not his fault, anyway. You don’t blame him for what happened. However, the urge to ask him why he’s back here almost slips past your lips. Only that you remember someone could potentially be eavesdropping to which you didn’t need unnecessary suspicions from Namjoon, anymore.

The conversation was short lived when Miyoung called you in, gesturing for you to come with her in the kitchen, not expecting to see Namjoon sitting in one of the stools in the island counter where food is sumptuously served.

Your footsteps stagger, half-considering to leave the kitchen. However, Namjoon patiently waits for your next move, as if silently ordering you to take a seat.

Heaving a sigh, you did just that, not wanting to stir an argument with him.

Once you sat down across from his seat, he starts placing various food from the empty plate in front of you, until it is almost full that you’re not sure if you can eat all of it.

“Stop... I can’t finish all of that.”

Namjoon pauses, peering at you in disbelief. “You can, it’s your favorite.”

You didn’t like the way he was acting up like he didn’t cause the problem in the first place. You hated how the impact of his action didn’t seem to affect him a single bit.

“I’m still angry,” You couldn’t help but to say.

His serious stare tells you he has no time for a confrontation, but so are you.

“I know, you can be angry for as long as you want. But please, angel, eat the food so I could have the peace. You haven’t been using your cards for your meals, did you intentionally do that to make me worry?”

You scoffed, his indifference to your issue only frustrates you even more. “Why would you think I’ll use your money while I’m gone?”

“You don’t have the means to live independently.”

“That’s not the point here, Joon.”

“It is, when you were not looking out for yourself. You haven’t been coping well… you look a few pounds lighter.” He said in a firm persistence to prove your inability to live well without using his resources.

So what if you were miserable? You couldn’t really force yourself to eat if you didn’t have the appetite to consume food. Either it was because of your distress over the fight or food simply didn’t appeal to you.

Speaking of, you barely touched the food in front of you. You’re not even hungry anyway.

“Shut up—“

Namjoon was quick to cut you off, dismayed by the lack of light in your eyes, you almost look like you’re about to pass out. “Why is it so easy for you to disregard yourself for your pride? If you have been taking care of yourself well I would have given you longer time to mourn in that little cubicle room you call a place.” Namjoon says in a clearly disappointing tone.

The fact that you lost a few pounds in a matter of days bothered him. It took so much of him to let you wallow in despair, he knew that disrespecting your privacy is not right and he understands how it left you scarred with the horrid feeling of betrayal. The same reason why he let you on peacefully for days, until he couldn’t handle it no more.

The short glimpse of you while he had you followed only did more damage to his heart than the peace he was aiming for. A single look from you and he already knew the fight took its toll on you deeper than what he had expected. Your physical state was the last straw to make up his mind to take you back, unwilling or not.

“My pride? You think it’s because of my pride? You think I’m mad because you outsmarted me with your stalking shenanigans?” You echo his words, finally losing the will to touch the food.

“What else is there to be angry about, I told you, it’s for your safety.” He counters back. His mind was spiraling wildly, uncertain how to handle this situation in a way it wouldn’t upset you more.

Namjoon was used to having the control in every situation, a single look from him and no other human being would dare speak further. He used to not care whether he could tear anyone apart with his mere words or sharp glares. He tried it with you and the impact only came shooting back at him, there in the depths of his heart, which no one had been able to inflict him with such raw powerful emotions, enough to make him bend helplessly on his knees.

“That’s the problem! You didn’t even tell me! I was kept in the dark all this time! And now what? You suddenly care about me when you didn’t even consider what I would feel when you gave everyone else something to snoop in about right under my nose?” You accuse, finding the strength to hit him with your words. A moment ago, you felt too empty to even bother a conversation with him. As the remnants of disgusting feeling stirs within you, you now want nothing but to lash out every bit of your anger towards him.

However, Namjoon didn’t want the confrontation this soon when he just had you back home. Though he would not avoid it, he believes now is not the time to talk it over.

“We can talk after you eat, sweetheart—“

“No, we will talk now!”

His gaze pierces straight through your eyes. Although his eyes almost reflected defeat, the aura he carries is so powerful. No one would ever dare scream or say no at him, unless, they don’t value much of their life.

You really are something. Someone who can never compare to him, someone whom he can easily crush in a snap of his fingers— but you’re not just some woman out there. You are his woman, the only one who has bewitched him—not only claiming his heart but also owning his dark soul. If you only knew the effect you have on him...

Silence fills the cold air, shortly. As you look away, not liking the effect he has on you, he quietly seeks for your eyes. He could always see through you—the emotions your eyes transparently reflect. He failed to see any of it when you turned your head away.

He sighs, before breaking the cold silence. “No one can access your phone, you don’t have to worry about it. It is for when… something happens, I could track your location and your digital activities.” Namjoon briefly explains.

There are things that should be left unsaid for your sake. His company has long strayed away from the black market since his father died. But the industry he belongs to will always bear ugly truths in order to sustain the reputation of his company. What he did, to put it into the simplest terms he could articulate of, protection does not only mean hiring people to be your human shields. In this digital age where perpetrators can utilize technology to harm their target, something has to be sacrificed to protect an individual alongside. In your case, it was your freedom, privacy and much more you have yet to realize. He didn’t want you to run away every time you learn something about him or the kind of business he has.

He could not tell you anything else.

“Liar! You’re only saying that to validate your action.” You say in an accusing tone. You got up from your chair, increasing the distance from him as the ambience gets suffocating.

“I’m not justifying what I did whether it’s wrong or not. I would do it again if it means to protect you. When have I not shown you I didn’t care?”

He didn’t mean no harm to disrespect your privacy, but that’s just a part of many things you would have to deal with when you’re married to him. Danger has come along with his name long before he was born.

As he steps closer, you quickly step away. Your head lowering, avoiding his eyes. “W-What are you… saying, you shouldn’t have kept it from me, in the first place. You don’t have to pretend you care. You’re only protecting me because I’m your responsibility.”

His forehead creases, “You are my wife. That makes you my responsibility, isn’t that the same thing for caring, sweetheart?” His hands extend forward to coax you closer.

You shook your head, “No.”

You couldn’t deny that he’s been attending to your needs, being more than just a guardian, crossing the line beyond the role of a mere provider. He became someone you have come accustomed as a husband despite the lack of emotional commitment from him, a friend under the guise of a husband. Even if you wanted more from him, who are you to demand such thing? The mere thought of your unrequited feelings towards him painfully tugs your heart.

Namjoon caught the raw emotions swimming from eyes. To what are those for?

“Have I not shown you enough? With my actions, with my kisses... when we make love—“

“Shut up, you d-don’t know what you’re t-talking about.” You stammer, turning your back at him as you feel your eyes welled up. 

“Then tell me how you feel, I can only take so much when it comes to you. I’ve never felt so helpless when I see you suffer, when you cry. Baby, I was so lost when you left. Tell me what I should do.”

“Stop… you’re confusing me with your words.” You croak, as you struggle to process his words.

The sound of his steps nearing made you still. Your eyes clenched shut, and as the tears stain your cheeks, you quickly wipe them away. Namjoon is so close, you literally could feel the heat of his body. 

“I’m not good at expressing my feelings. But I thought I made my intentions very clear. You don’t know how much I’ve missed you baby, please let me hold you.” Namjoon drew himself nearer, until your bodies are touching. When you made no effort to distance yourself farther, he cautiously encircled his arms around your waist.

You remain still as he pulls you even further in his embrace, nuzzling your hair from behind. You hate yourself for giving in too soon, the moment he has you locked in his arms, your anger quickly melts away. The warmth from his body felt too comforting as it slowly envelops your body, reminding you one again how much it tore you apart when you left. The ache in your chest, somehow, subsiding. You didn’t want him to let you go from his hold.

His nose traces an invisible path on the side of your head, loving the alluring scent of your hair. Softly murmuring just above your ear, “I have loved you since the day I saw you taking orders in that coffee shop. While you made me this crazy for you like no one else has ever done, you’re willing to leave everything. It was that easy for you to walk away and leave me, just like when you left your home for your freedom—“

The hard thumping of your heart is so loud as you cut him. He could probably hear it from the close proximity of your bodies.

“No, that’s not true! I didn’t leave you,” you pause, shaking your head violently to give emphasis on your point. Your heart aches, as your chest felt suddenly constricted hearing his confession. The information felt foreign in your ears, as if you were hallucinating. Is it true? Did he really know you way before you met him?

“I needed some time to think for myself. But I wouldn’t leave. I could never… I’ll always come back. I would come back to you.” Tears instantaneously flow in your cheeks. 

Namjoon spoke no more, as he squeezed your body in his arms, burying his face on the crook of your neck. Savoring this moment.

You in his arms.

You barely had a glimpse of what kind of his life he has, and have no knowledge of half the ugly things he had done. The deeper he falls for you, the more he willingly succumbing himself to your mercy, as if surrendering a dagger for you to destroy him through his weakness.

He silently wishes from the gods above that you would never walk away from his life again, when pieces of him slowly unravels to you through the course of time.

“Namjoon,” you whisper, seeking the attention you unknowingly have.

“Don’t leave me again, Y/N. I can take your anger, scream at me, hurt me— anything. I can take so much from you, as long as you’re right in my sight, the way I can protect you. I’ll give you as much as time alone.”

“Joon,”

“Promise me—”

“Namjoon!” You plead loudly, tugging his arm to gain the attention you want.

He takes a deep breath, confused at the tone of your voice. “Hmm?”

“I love you, too.” You murmur so suddenly.

He stills, hearing the words he had heard you say in his dreams. This time, he was awake with you in his embrace and he was uncertain if he actually heard the words right.

“Angel—”

“I love you so much.” You repeated, with a longing voice, this time you turned to face him. The look in his face tells you all of it. Shock was written all over his face, as if your confession was something he was not expecting in his wildest dream. Between the two of you, his confession of love for you is the most unpredictable thing you heard from him.

You tiptoed, reaching for his lips. He quickly met you halfway through, greedily capturing your mouth. His tongue went past your parted lips to dominate the kiss. You sigh against his mouth, missing the rich taste of his lips.

Nothing else matters now but his embrace.

Note: Hope you all enjoyed this one sjajahahagj 

This turned out a bit longer than what I had initially written only because I kind of included something to introduce characters/details that are part of my upcoming series. 

mintseesaw © 2020

[galacticlamps]

Tagged by @the--highlanders​ ! Thanks!

How many works do you have on AO3?

13

What’s your total AO3 word count?

76,200

(oh what a nice even number - I should try to mess that up as soon as possible, shouldn’t I?)

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Aw man is this intentionally worded to be really hard to answer? I get that it says ‘written’ and not ‘posted’ but then what constitutes a ‘fandom?’ I definitely wrote fics for stuff I was interested in long before I even knew the word ‘fic’ - I did it throughout my childhood, and then in high school, and while I didn’t do it as much in college, it still happened from time to time. So a lot of the books/movies/tv shows/plays/musicals I wrote things for aren’t really fandoms, and frankly, I had to check my old folder just now to even remember some of them existed. I’ll just list the ones that I know for sure had fandoms, since that’s more fun (and embarrassing), right?

Obviously Doctor Who, classic and modern, Torchwood, Sherlock Holmes (ironically more of these seem to be about the books, but yes, I will admit, some for that tv show too), Les Mis, a couple different Marvel comics & movies, Good Omens, hell, I even found a Night Vale fic in there just now.

And I know there are other older things not even in that folder, some of which never made it to a computer at all, so if I had to ballpark a number I’d probably say around 25ish but really, who knows?

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Across the Gap

On the Spot

Expectations

Shards of Memories & Fragments of Glass

Itemized

(this was fun, I’d never noticed Ao3 even had a stats page until now lol)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to! Sometimes I take a long time to do so but for the most part, I usually get around to it. The rare exception would be if I first saw the comment when I was super busy/distracted and then felt like way too much time passed before I noticed it again, that it might be awkward if I said something at that point.

I do genuinely enjoy hearing what people think, but I’m also weirdly terrified of making anyone feel like they have to reply to my comments. I know that’s probably a little strange, but it’s actually a large part of why I made this Ao3 account in the first place - my original one, from high school, is followed by some long-time friends of mine who aren’t interested in this fandom, some of whom are involved in art & writing professionally. The thought of anyone like that reading something I wrote out of friendliness or even just curiosity and potentially having to pretend they liked it for the same reasons stressed me tf out, so I like having this virtually anonymous one because I can relax knowing that anyone who reads or interacts with something I wrote has probably done so only because they wanted to, rather than feeling obligated, and there’s no pressure on them to be nice to me about it if anything I write or post annoys them - so I really hope nobody who does just know me as an anonymous blog has ever worried about offending me by not replying to something, trust me, I’m perfectly happy with it!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think I’ve really written any angsty endings? I guess the answer would have to be Reckless just because it involves the characters arguing about sad/weighty things and there isn’t really any solution to those issues - but even then I think I ended it with a kind of acceptance that stops it from really qualifying as angst? I also set it in the the same universe as other fics, so maybe that doesn’t even count as an ending? Am I that bad at ending things on angst? Lol

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Obviously none of the fics I’ve posted are crossovers but I’m trying to think now if any of my WIP’s are - I’ve definitely poached setting/premise ideas from other media, but in terms of actual crossovers . . . I’ve got a few cross-era or cross-Doctor, a few involving Torchwood, but that’s already the same universe, so the only thing that’d qualify as a true crossover would be some vague pieces of a fic where Jamie, Zoe, and Two end up on the Enterprise, since I think the 60s series of Star Trek and Dr Who feel kind of compatible, don’t they? In fact, aren’t there like officially licensed crossover comics or something? Or did I make that up? Idk, and the ideas are very loose, so it’s not much of a WIP either

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope, never

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I’ve never written smut, but I’m wondering if it’s possible that could change soon. There’s a longish multi-chapter fic I’ve been working on for a frankly embarrassing amount of time, and the plot does call for a sex scene at one point towards the end, but I can’t seem to make up my mind on how - uh, I guess the word is explicit? - it should get. I know I could easily do a fade to black/implication thing, but it’s kind of a source of contention and anxiety for the characters, so to skip over writing the actual scene and just revisit them afterwards rings of “and they slept together and now everything’s fine!” which feels kinda cheap to me - in this context, anyway - and not the right payoff for a long fic that’s otherwise more of an interpersonal drama/slightly a period piece, if I had to place it in a genre. I feel like my aversion to actually writing the scene might just be prudishness I should get over, or maybe just self-doubt, because I know I’d rather have a well-written, funny, character-development-supporting sex scene than nothing at all, but since I’ve never had any interest in writing a scene like that before, I don’t know if I can do it well, and I also don’t want to ruin a fic I’m otherwise proud of by doing it badly... ugh I have to figure this out

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I seriously doubt it

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I mean, it’s gotta be Two & Jamie. I’ve shipped things before with varying levels of investment, but I’ve never been able to use the term ‘otp’ in a literal sense until I came across them, and now it’s already basically gone out of fashion, go figure!

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I’m not sure if I have one? My WIP doc is huge, but I don’t actually intend to get around to finishing everything in it, so I’d like to think that anything I’ve currently singled out to complete can actually get done.

That said, I do have a few AU’s that I don’t really plan to finish, but it might be cool if I could. Two of them are for all the main + some supporting characters of the Second Doctor’s era - one’s a modern day school teachers AU, and the other is a typical fantasy/fairy tale AU. Another is just Two/Jamie, based on Doctor Faustus (specifically the Marlowe play version) but right now there are two different versions of the ending coexisting in my head. I’ve written parts of scenes & some gen. backstory for all of those ideas, but I don’t know if I’ll ever try to finish them, or what form a finished product would even take - a series of one-shots set in the same universe? one long multi-chapter fic with some kind of overarching plot? And the amount of context/worldbuilding a big AU like these would require might not make them very appealing fics for people to read, so maybe it is better if I just keep them to myself, since in my head I already know what’s going on in those worlds lol.

What are your writing strengths?

I honestly don’t know. I haven’t had a creative writing class since middle school, and since then I’ve only ever shown creative writing to others in a fandom context, so it’s been a while since I’ve discussed it or gotten critical feedback. I suppose when I work in other arts or even academic writing contexts, people usually say I’m kind of insightful or at least detail oriented, which might just be another way of saying I overthink things, but I like to imagine I’m decent at finding little points of interest to expand upon.

What are your writing weaknesses?

If you’ve read this far I feel like you must know what I’m about to say: I do not know how to be concise.

Usually when I’m writing a fic, I put down the dialogue first on its own, leaving out the action of the scene and whatever plot/context led there, even if I’ve already figured all of that out. But then when I go to add those things in, they’re always longer than I wanted them to be. I don’t mind writing something long, but I don’t want my fics to be a slog to get through either, and there can be a point at which the stuff I’ve added for context overwhelms the stuff that I wanted the fic to be about in the first place, so it becomes a structural/proportion issue too. I haven’t completely given up on any fics because of this yet, but there’s one I’ve been struggling with for a couple months now - probably because I’m even second-guessing myself on which scenes need to be written out and which can just be referenced like a recap. Hopefully I figure that one out soon.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

((this is karma isn’t it? i posted a fic last week with two words of gaelic in it and was worried about that and now this is karma))

In general, I don’t want to do it. I feel like you’ve gotta have a really good grasp of a language to write dialogue & speech patterns for someone who’s a native speaker, and since I’m far from fluent in any language the characters I write for are, I wouldn’t feel confident writing any significant amount of dialogue in, say, Gaelic.

As a sidenote, though, I kinda love it when other people do it, particularly for Jamie. Irish (Gaeilge) and Scottish (Gàidhlig) are both languages I’ve wanted to learn for a long time, because my family’s fresh out of living speakers of either & I think that’s a shame, but I started with Irish and at the moment I’m still very much learning it. As different as they are, it still helps me understand parts of lyrics or texts that I come across in Gàidhlig fairly frequently, so when it comes up in a fic I get to feel like I’m being responsible and practicing, and it’s great when I can actually understand what’s being said.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I’m gonna go with Harry Potter even though that’s probably not a perfectly accurate answer - it’s almost certainly the first thing that has a fandom that I ever wrote for, but it was in a notebook when I was a kid and never something that I even typed on a computer, much less posted online or shared with other members of a fandom. But even then, I’m sure it wasn’t the first pre-existing fictional universe I ever set an original story in, because I did that a lot when I was a kid, it’s just hard to remember those clearly or on any kind of timeline.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

I’m very partial to Across the Gap, so I was pleasantly surprised to see that ranked first on the kudos thing above - but I’ve also got a soft spot for So Merrily We’ll Sing. It’s so self-indulgent it feels silly saying ‘it was so easy to write!’ but I guess having a fic that’s already just 100% headcaonons and fluff tied together by a song you really love does prevent it from being much of a labor (I also managed to refrain from making that one unnecessarily long, so that’s another win there)

tagging @terryfphanatics and anyone else who wants to do it - sorry I’m bad at remembering whose tumblr goes with whose Ao3 account, but I really would be interested to read this if anyone else feels like answering them!

[wouldduskwood]

Descendants of Despair Part 53

As I lay beside Jake, my breathing returned to normal and the crawling feeling had been replaced with the warmth of his touch. I thought about just how much I had changed. Dan had hit a raw spot when he had hinted at my weakness. I had been strong for so long, so long I couldn’t even remember a time where resilience and survival wasn’t a driving force in my life. Jake had helped tame that to an extent. I could rely on him to pick up on the things that I may miss otherwise. I had wondered if it meant I was getting weak. Dan’s words reiterated those concerns. But now I saw my behaviour for what it really was. Allowing someone into my world had not made me weak, instead it had made me stronger. His strength became my strength. Relying on him wasn’t weak, it was right. I didn’t have to manipulate him to get him to do what I needed. I didn’t have to question whether he was manipulating me. He had seen me at my worst and still loved me. I could be my true self, and that was something I don’t think I had ever really seen before. The true self that allowed myself to feel, to trust, to love...to be vulnerable. As I drifted off to sleep, I contented myself with the thought that I had been strong enough to lay Dan on his ass without hesitation. My instincts were still there, as strong as always.

I startled awake relatively early to the light from the dimly lit lamp. The softness of the bed and comfort of the room was unnerving. I felt as though it was lowering my defenses. Jake was already awake as well, holding me lightly but staring at the ceiling in quiet contemplation. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” I asked quietly. Jake nodded thoughtfully. “I guess discomfort has become comfortable to us?” he questioned and sighed. “I should be happy, we had an amazing night...I slept in more comfort than I have in a long time, yet somehow it just doesn’t feel right.” “Check your laptop,” I murmured, sitting myself up on the comfortable bed, noting vaguely that my muscles didn’t hurt as much as they did when I slept on the floor, or the sidewalk, or the riverbank. It should have felt great, instead it just increased my level of unease. I got up with Jake and we got dressed, then I began pacing back and forth. I was hungry, we hadn’t eaten since yesterday before meeting up with Dan. Glancing around the room, I picked up my backpack and looked inside for anything of substance. As I scavenged, Jake appeared beside me and handed me an energy bar. “I grabbed a couple of these from the car last night. Thought we might need something. We can get some proper breakfast after I have checked where we are at,” he said as he opened his own bar and began chewing on it.

I accepted Jake’s offer thankfully, and began eating, sitting close to him, watching what he was doing on the laptop screen. Because his laptop was so limited, he flicked from screen to screen at near lightning speed. I wasn’t sure how he was keeping up with everything that was going on, but he seemed pretty sure of himself so I just sat and watched in admiration, trying to pick up strings of code that I could recognise. “Hm,” I mumbled quietly. “Yes?” Jake asked, pausing briefly in his screen flicking and typing. “Nothing, just...you’re still keeping track of Richy?” I asked. “You saw that, huh?” Jake replied. I was about to apologise for intruding into his private world when he continued speaking. “Well done, I am impressed. You know a fair bit about programming to pick up on that from the small strings you must have seen.” I shrugged in embarrassment. I was hardly a hacker of his calibre. “You don’t mind me watching?” I asked in wonder. Jake’s response shocked me as he began to laugh.

I glared at him as he turned to face me, shaking his head to try and gain control of himself. “Here’s the thing,” he replied soothingly. “I love you and I trust you. Usually my trust in people is based on what I have been able to dig up about them online. Not with you, you are a blank entity online. Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is, my reaction to you hadn’t made sense until I decided that you were made for me, as dumb as that sounds, I think of you as a soulmate...if they were to exist. Because you are truly part of me, I have made everything I do part of you as well. You have full access to my set up remember? You also have full access to my phone through yours. Everything I am, it is you.”

Jake’s response made me happy. I was thinking and feeling along the same lines as him. I still wasn’t as comfortable at admitting it as he was, so turned away from his gaze and then pouted as he giggled at my reaction. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say it, I know how much you love me,” he replied smugly. I growled under my breath then leaped on him, but he was already expecting my response and caught me with a grin. “Okay, maybe we should get you some proper food eh?” he asked, trying to stifle his giggles. “Urgh,” I groaned. Jake closed his laptop and packed it in a bag then motioned for me to gather my gear as well. I knew he was doing this just so that he could save me from further embarrassment, but I appreciated it nonetheless. If we stayed here much longer, I knew the walls would begin to close in around me. This often happened when I was stuck in small spaces for long periods of time. There were very few escape routes from enclosed spaces.

Once we had cleared out the motel room of our personal belongings, we dropped the key on the table then put our hoods up and left. It was too early to head to meet up with Dan, so we had a little time to fill in before we would need to head back to the prison. “Let’s go through a drive thru,” Jake suggested. “Then we can decide on our next steps.” I nodded in relief. The prospect of food, even takeaway food, was appealing and being able to stay with Jake and hash out future moves was even better.

The first drive thru we saw, Jake pulled in and we argued briefly over the least disgusting options from the menu before both deciding on our breakfast. Jake pulled up to the window with his head down, we paid, got our order and left. I picked up my bag and sniffed it in mild disgust. Jake glanced at me and grinned. “Okay, I know, not the best but at least it's something.” I raised an eyebrow as I pulled my breakfast muffin from the bag. “...is it though?...” I asked. Jake laughed as he pulled the car over near a deserted park. “Okay, gross food is still food,” he grinned as he dug into his bag and began to eat. I had to admit, gross take away food certainly was better than no food at all. I had gotten accustomed to healthier eating since leaving the street. I was sick of always getting sick and I wanted to maintain my physical health...it is far easier to run when you aren’t ill or unfit.

“So, the plan?” Jake asked. “I take it there is a bit more to it than the simple stuff you gave the buffoon.” I snickered in response then became angry at myself so nudged Jake with my elbow. “Sorry,” he responded with a sly grin, no doubt relishing in my slip up. “Yeah, you need to have the cameras going, follow everything outside. If something happens, you need to get a signal to me without digital means. I can’t take my phone in with me, they will confiscate it until I leave and I would rather they had no access to it at all. I’m assuming Dan will have his, but again we won’t have access to it while in there.” I paused to take a breath and have a sip of water. Jake was thoughtful for a moment.

“Okay, the programme you installed that gave me access to their system also gave me access to their alarms. If something happens, I will set off some form of alarm, nothing major that would cause a lockdown, but enough of a distraction that you can get out and hopefully it will draw the man without a face away.”

“Wow…” I gasped, suddenly impressed. He had solved the issue so quickly. I guessed when he had seen his chance to take control of their security, he had made sure he had as much control as he could. “Fuck Jake, you’re incredible!” I declared earnestly. “Uh...there is one other thing I want to do before we go. I may not get time after...I want to take down the traps on the roofs, in case an unsuspecting person gets hurt. I also want to look at whether the trap was tampered with on the roof the man without a face was waiting on.” I requested hesitantly. I knew I’d be by myself up there and Jake wouldn’t be thrilled with the idea. “I can’t stop it from happening can I?” Jake asked sadly. “No, not this time. It’s important to me.” I replied bluntly. We didn’t need someone harmed because of us. If the Police found any trace of it, it would just be another reason for them to be chasing us. Not something I was willing to risk. The main drive though was because I was frustrated with not being able to understand how the man without a face had gotten past our defenses. The more I knew about him the better. “Okay, but this time I’m coming too. We will park as far away as we can, where there is access to the roofing around that area. Do you agree?” I thought for a moment, glaring at him intently. “Ugh, fine. But you keep your face hidden the entire time. You dismantle any cameras around the area first and if there is anybody looking at you, you go!” I replied in an attempt at compromise. Jake nodded solemnly and started the car.

Part 54

[everlarkficexchange]

A Simple Choice

Written by: @justajjfan​​

Beta’d by: @sunsetsrmydreams​​

Prompt 83: Katniss is whipped instead of Gale in Catching Fire, Peeta’s the one who’s there to take care of her after. [submitted by anonymous].

Prompt 116: Peeta braids Katniss’ hair to soothe her. [submitted by anonymous] 

Rating: Mature 

Warning: Mention of whipping 

A/N: My plan is to post each chapter (7 in all) daily so thank you @everlarkficexchange​ ; @javistg​ and @xerxia31​ for always being so accommodating and generous with your time. A special thank you to my beta and bestie @sunsetsrmydreams​. 

~~~

Chapter 2

Dad and I make a great team working harmoniously alongside each other and it’s not hard to notice the difference in him in the short space of time. He seems less pressured and the warm smile I remembered as a small boy has returned. Whether in the kitchen or serving customers, I’ve realised just how connected I am to this place.

I delight in friendly conversation but avoid answering any questions relating to The Hunger Games which most of our customers respect. What I enjoy doing the most is preparing for the morning ahead and kneading fresh bread dough in the back room has become a tranquil sort of therapy for me.

In the mindless quiet, I can block everything out giving me time to sort the shiny stuff in my head until I’m left with what’s real. This might not be a proven method of mind-therapy, but it works for me most of the time by sifting through all my cluttered thoughts so I can make better decisions for me and my future.

And I need that now more than ever.

Mother, in her usual meddling ways was quick to invite the Cartwright family to dinner and insisted Delly and I go out for a walk alone to get to know each other. As it turned out, she’s good company and I enjoy having someone to talk to, although she does most of the talking herself.

Now we meet almost every evening.

Delly’s a nice girl, just like mother said and I know I need to start thinking about a lot of things especially my future, but she keeps hinting at speeding up our friendship and I don’t think committing myself to her in that way is something I’m ready for.

In the few weeks Delly and I have been seeing each other, things have moved rather quickly from our casual walks after dinner. She’s pretty and sweet but I’m only fooling myself into thinking I could ever let another claim my heart.

Each time our lips meet, I close my eyes tight and imagine it’s someone else I’m kissing. I feel awful but I just can’t stop imagining grey eyes and a dark braid.

I’ve tried talking to Delly, suggest we slow things down and just get to know each other as friends, but she makes a habit of changing the subject at the slightest hint.

Far from being pure and the shy girl my mother claims her to be, Delly has on more than one occasion, suggested we move up from chaste kisses under the moonlight to something more intimate. Her hands always seem to wander, telling me how good she can make me feel once I let go of my inhibitions. But each time she brushes her fingers against my belt buckle, I quickly step away and end the night abruptly with my ‘it’s getting late’ excuse and walk a very disappointed Delly home.

Any normal hot-blooded male would have easily jumped at the invitation and I can almost hear my brothers smart arse remarks telling me what an idiot I am and saying something crude like ‘try before you buy’ or ‘never look a gift horse in the mouth’, but I can’t bring myself to do that. I always imagined my first time would be meaningful, not just some frivolous teenage romp at the slag heap.

Maybe I am a complete idiot.

***

Hoping to gain some reprieve from the mounting list of questions in my head today, I busy myself by preparing the rest of the dry ingredients for another batch of baking but the unusual noise level coming from outside is becoming a distraction.

When I hear raised and panicked voices, I wipe my hands on my flour-dusted apron before covering everything on the bench with a clean cloth and head towards the shop front.

Walking through the swinging doors, curious to see what all the commotion is about, I see my parents peering out the shop front window speaking in hushed tones and so engrossed with what’s happening outside, they haven’t even noticed me entering the room.

“What’s going on out there?” I ask, and they both startle at my words.

Dad turns to me first, his face noticeably pale and pauses to swallow before speaking, “Jake Blacksmith came by a minute ago and he…umm…said Head Peacekeeper Thread has ordered everyone out to the square,” he answers, taking a quick glance towards my mother who stands stoically and uncharacteristically silent.

“Thread is claiming he caught a traitor trying to sneak back into the district to spy for the rebels. The punishment has been set at fifty lashes,” dad finishes with a harder swallow and a noticeable sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

The image of Thread using his whip to tear into flesh from the back of some poor citizen while everyone in Twelve is expected to bear witness to his cruel and barbaric form of corporal punishment, sends a cold shiver up my spine. 

Since he’s arrival, our new Head Peacekeeper was quick to impose strict laws forbidding practically everything his predecessor Harvey Cray conveniently overlooked…for a price. Now, anyone caught disobeying these laws usually find themselves tied to the newly-erected wooden post in the town square without trial or appeal and the punishment is always the same.

Being flogged within an inch of your life is Thread’s answer to law and order and the brute even insists on inflicting every lash on his unfortunate captives himself.

The first citizen of Twelve to feel the sting from the Head Peacekeeper’s cat o’ nine tails was Zed Palmer, a tailor with no male heirs to take over his business. That, along with severe arthritis in his hands meant he could no longer work to pay the hefty taxes now enforced and those who witnessed the flogging were grateful Zed was dead well before his fifty lashes was reached. Most disturbing was Thread not being satisfied until the last lash was counted.

I hope whoever this unfortunate citizen is, their suffering too will end long before the count to fifty is reached.

I move closer to the door and watch mother step out onto the street to join Delly and her parents who are in deep conversation while more people leave their shops and head towards the town square in hurried steps.

“A traitor?” I huff and shake my head in disbelief as I watch Merchants lock their shop front doors obeying Thread’s authoritarian command. “I doubt anyone in their right mind would want to come back if they had the chance at freedom,” I tell dad. “They should have kept running as far away from here and never looked back,” I add, expecting him to agree with me but he stares into the distance and offers nothing in response.

A moment of awkward silence falls between the two of us and the strange look on dad’s face gives me pause, but I let the weird feeling pass. As I turn to step back into the kitchen and carry on with my work, he speaks in an afterthought manner, “must’ve had a good reason to risk it all,” he says looking at me strangely, but I don’t say anything and give him a nod acknowledging his comment at least. Still, it doesn’t alter my way of thinking. If there was a choice between freedom or here…?

No…nothing would be worth it.

I take another glance outside at the passing townsfolk all walking in the same direction towards the town square like a herd of frightened sheep. But my attention is more centred on mother who stepped outside to speak with the Cartwrights and are conversing in lowered voices, sending the odd stare my way.

That cold shiver I was feeling earlier returns and it runs through me like ice.

I wave politely to the Cartwrights, but they ignore my friendly gesture and after a few brief seconds decide to join the rest of the Merchant population gathering in the town square.

What could be more horrid than being forced to witness a fellow citizen of Twelve…or anyone for that matter, whipped to a pulp?

I try to block the image from my thoughts. I’ve seen enough horrors to last me a lifetime and I’m a little disappointed Delly’s parents seem eager to join the growing crowd.

Delly gives me a half-smile as she continues to speak with my mother and the looks I’m receiving from them both increases my uneasiness.

I can’t shake this feeling of dread and turn back to dad who’s staring out in the distance, his facial expression looking lost. “Something isn’t right,” I mutter under my breath, and even though I spoke in a hushed tone, I know dad heard me.

“What is it you’re not telling me?” I ask, knowing if anyone is going to give me a truthful answer, it will be him. Dad’s straightens his back and shoulders almost immediately and when his eyes meet mine, his chin begins to tremble.

“Dad?” I ask, holding in a shaky breath.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, dad looks away from me and gives my question a moment’s pause before nodding, almost as though he’s giving himself permission to speak.

“Jake said Katniss disappeared with her family and the Hawthorne’s a couple of days ago and everyone thought they’d escaped to the woods to join up with the rebels, but she was caught trying to sneak back in this morning…alone. She’s tied to the whipping post. Fifty lashes.”

I stand dumbstruck. This can’t be true.

“No…Jake’s mistaken! He must’ve heard wrong!”

The curtains in Katniss’s room have been drawn for two days now and I haven’t heard her scream out in the night. I just assumed she and Gale—

I clear that image from my mind as I try to process everything in my head and look out to see my mother shouting at dad to shut up and what a worthless idiot he is while Delly stands in silence, watching me.

Over my mother’s angry and verbal abuse, dad continues to speak, “I wished to God he was wrong but Jake saw Katniss being dragged up on the wooden platform and I have no reason to doubt him. He’s a good, hard-working honest man and wouldn’t make something like this up.”

This I know to be true.

Dad reaches his hand to my shoulder, but I don’t feel the touch as the world around me starts to spin and I feel like I’m about to pass out. I’m so caught in a daze I don’t even know if I’m still breathing or if my heart is beating at this point. How I managed to step outside without tripping over my own feet is beyond me.

I need to get to her.

Delly breaks her silent stare and rushes towards me with a look of determination on her face and reaches her hand out to try and stop me, “she’s not worth risking your own life Peeta…think about us!” she pleads, and her words hit me like a ton of bricks.

Us?

Was it her intention to keep me from knowing what was happening to Katniss until it was all over? Is that what they were all trying to do? I can understand my mother wanting to keep me from rushing to Katniss…but Delly?

I brush past Delly ignoring her pleas to stop. I can’t even bring myself to look at her right now and only get a few steps away before mother is in front of me, grabbing a firm hold of my arm and blocking me from running to the square.

“Let go of me!” I say through gritted teeth, as anger starts to build up inside me.

“You’ll kill us all by drawing attention to yourself and for what? She’s nothing but Seam trash!” My blood boils and just like Delly’s words, I don’t let the venom spilling from mother’s mouth stop me from getting to Katniss.

Mother wouldn’t understand…nobody would. Despite everything, I made a promise to protect Katniss and I know she’d do the same for me.

“I forbid you to go! Your future is with Delly not that dirty whore in the square getting exactly what she deserves!” she yells but I yank my arm away from her tight grip.

“My future is not for you or anyone else to decide…it’s mine!” I shout defiantly.

“You’re a fool! She’s as good as dead already!” I hear mother yell as I run towards the square.

***

I silently curse my legs for failing to get me to the square any faster and when I finally reach the cobble-stoned ground, I’m feeling ragged and short of breath.

Crack!

Don’t let it be her! Don’t let it be her! I repeat those words over in my head as I try to catch my breath and refill my lungs with much needed air.

Crack!

I hurry my steps…breath be damned and as I approach the sea of faceless people both Seam and Merchant standing side by side to watch the sickening spectacle, I begin to push my way through.

Hands reach out to stop me and I hear their gasps and pleading whispers not to venture any further, but I need to see with my own eyes.

Crack!

I feel my blood drain from my body, but I continue to edge my way closer to the wooden platform and as I do, my legs begin to weaken as soon as I reach the first step. Climbing the next two seems like I’m moving in slow-motion and when my eyes lock on the gruesome sight before me, I cry out her name in a pathetic wail.

“Katniss!”

What has he done to you?

My heart plummets at the sight of her limp body, hanging like a piece of butchered meat. Her hands are bound together by a thick piece of rope tied to a large hook above her head. Katniss’ braid is messy and mattered with loose and bloodied strands of hair covering her bruised face and when my eyes look closer to her bare back, rage envelops and I almost lose what little is left of my self-control.

The shirt Katniss wore has been ripped in half exposing the upper part of her petite frame including her breasts for all to see. The raised marks and torn flesh from the countless number of lashes she’s already received, seeps with so much blood I swallow back the bile rising from my throat.

I was too late to save her.

My eyes well up from tears rolling down my cheeks and I gasp for breath between my uncontrollable sobs. I shut my eyes tight praying this is a horrible nightmare and I’ll wake up in my bed, walk the usual steps to my window and see her alive and pacing about in her bedroom. But when I open them again, there’s no mistake.

This nightmare is real.

I feel my legs start to buckle from beneath me and I slowly kneel to the ground to stop myself from falling. I don’t know how to fix this…what can I do? She shouldn’t be here. Dad said she ran away.

Why did she come back?

Endless questions whirl around my head consuming me along with the grief and the realisation I’ll have to live the rest of my worthless life knowing I failed in my promise to keep Katniss safe.

Loud voices bring me back to the now just in time to see Thread’s arm raised, poised and ready to inflict another lash to her lifeless body.

Even in my grief-stricken state, the feeling of deep loss and sorrow is overtaken by a sudden rush of strength and courage from within and it propels my body forward to block Thread and his whip from finding their mark.   

‘No!” I cry out. This Capitol brute will have to go through my dead body first before I let him touch her again.  

“Well, well, well…who do we have here?” Head Peacekeeper Thread remarks loudly and when I look up, I see him grinning with mutt-like eyes staring down at me.

“Looks like this traitor scum has a bedfellow eager to play white knight. She must have some hidden talents worth risking your life for,” he suggests crudely, wiping the sweat and blood from his face with the palm of his hands…Katniss’ blood.

The distinct sound of Peacekeepers heavy tread come barrelling towards me, then hands roughly try to pry me from where I lay clinging to Katniss.

“Can’t you see she’s dead!” I yell, shoving their hands away to stop them from breaking my protective hold over her body. “She’s been punished enough. What more do you want from her?” I shout to the point of hysteria, not caring if my question will be answered with a lash to my back or a bullet to my brain.

“It’s the other Victor, Peeta Mellark, sir,” a voice I recognise answers from behind me. My eyes dart slightly to the left and even through the darkened visor of his white peacekeeper’s helmet, I know it’s Darius Jackson, one of a dozen or so decent soldiers stationed here in Twelve, clearing his throat and standing at attention.

“He’s also the youngest son of the town baker, sir,” he adds.

Head Peacekeeper Thread storms over to Darius and barks out a chilling warning, “you speak one more time without my permission Corporal Jackson, and I will take great pleasure in cutting out your tongue and feeding it to the jabberjays. Do I make myself clear?” Thread emphasises loudly.

“Yessir!” Darius is quick to respond as he stands at attention.

“Now I don’t care who he is, get him off this platform! I’ll deal with the gallant knight once I’m done here,” Thread orders and Darius obeys, saluting him first before stepping towards me with his head lowered.

“He can help you keep count while he waits his turn,” Thread adds coldly, as he inspects the leather handle of is whip.

Keep count?

I have no idea how many lashes Katniss received before I got here and the thought of counting them down much less being forced to watch helplessly as Thread carries on with her punishment is more than I choose to bear.

I jostle with Darius and the other two peacekeepers who stepped forward to help him pull me away from her body. It takes all three peacekeepers to overpower me and pry my hands away forcing me to separate from Katniss.

Weakened by my struggles and overtaken by grief, they drag me away and all I can do is cry out and tell Katniss how sorry I wasn’t here to protect her and that I’ll always love her. Just as those words leave my lips she moves and moans in pain.

She’s alive!

“Stop! Please! I’ll take the rest of her punishment!” I scream, finding a new source of strength and scuffle myself free from the heavy-handed grips of the peacekeepers.

“Whatever you think she did…whatever the count, I volunteer to take them all. Just let her go!” I demand and as my words ring out, loud murmurs coming from the crowd distract Thread for a moment before turning his attention back to me.

“How very noble of you,” Thread snickers. “But your request is denied. This runaway whore was sent here by the rebels and she refuses to disclose her mission and the whereabouts of her leader’s hideout. Now move knight!” he commands, and when I don’t budge he raises his arm and I instinctively throw myself over Katniss to shield her and the pain is instant.

Crack!

The pointed leather straps strike my shoulder blade before I have a chance to brace myself for the blow. Even against the fabric of my shirt, the lash rips through the worn calico barrier as if it were made of paper. My skin underneath feels like I’ve been stung by a nest full of tracker jackers…but I don’t budge.

With clenched fists I try to ignore the painful stinging sensation and the warm, watery feeling that is probably my blood trickling down my shoulder and stay on top of Katniss’ body to block Thread from getting to her.

“She doesn’t know anything! She’s not a rebel spy!” I yell at the top of my voice, pleading with Thread to stop but when I hear the distinctive cocking of his pistol I know my desperate pleas are about to be silenced with a bullet.

“You’ve tried my patience long enough knight. Obstructing a Peacekeeper from carrying out his duty and interfering with a prisoner’s sentence is punishable by death and you are guilty as charged!” Thread bellows and the gasps and murmurs of discontent from the crowd grows louder.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” an all too familiar voice shouts out from amongst the crowd and I’ve never been happier to hear his gruff tone.

Daring to look, I see Haymitch with hands raised, step up to the platform and inch his way closer to me and Katniss. If he is disturbed by what he sees, he doesn’t show it and keeps his eyes pinned on the Head Peacekeeper.

It takes Thread a split second to shift his pistol from the direction of my head, to our mentor’s instead and I’m holding onto my breath in trepidation of what may happen next.

Katniss murmurs something then moans in pain from her bloodied wounds as she tries to move and my attention falls back on her. But all I can do is gently stroke the only place I know Thread’s lashes haven’t ravaged.

With shaking hands, I stroke her hair and push a few loose strands away from her face before bringing my lips to her ears to hush her, “shush…it’s going to be okay. I won’t let him touch you again,” I whisper, hoping she can hear me. My only focus now is calming her as best I can so I start to comb my fingers through her hair while silently praying Haymitch can get us out of this hellish mess.

“I don’t think President Snow is going be too pleased when he hears what you’ve done to one of his newest Victors,” he tells Thread who keeps his pistol aimed at Haymitch’s head.

“Stripping you of your command would be my first guess. I’ll let you do the math as to what my second guess would be?”

Whatever game Haymitch is playing at to set us free better work because right now, I’m not feeling confident as he stares down the barrel of Thread’s pistol.

The Head Peacekeeper lowers his weapon just long enough to grab Haymitch by his jacket, bringing his face so close to Haymitch and of all the things to cross my mind at this crucial point, I’m wondering if he can smell the alcohol on our mentor’s breath.

“My allegiance is to General Maximus Jackson and I answer only to him not that old fool in the Capitol,” Thread informs him, then shoves Haymitch back raising his pistol towards his head again.

Haymitch unperturbed, regains his footing and straightens his jacket, “oh, so Maxy Jackson is your boss? Well, it’s a small world after all,” he remarks flippantly.

“Your General and I are old drinking buddies and we go way…way back. I’m sure he won’t be too thrilled when he finds out you’ve whipped a Victor within an inch of her life,” he quips to Thread who glares at him with displeasure in his eyes.

“Now who do you suppose Maxy reports to…huh?” he pauses just long enough to take a breath and when Thread isn’t forthcoming with the obvious answer, Haymitch supplies it for him.

“I’m gonna take it you’re still working it out in your head but let me help you out here. President Coriolanus Snow…that’s who. He’s probably watching us from the Capitol. Eyes and ears everywhere you know,” he says, waving his hand randomly about the square.

Thread takes a quick look around the square then turns his attention back to our mentor, “my men caught her sneaking under the fence. She’s a rebel spy!” Thread yells but Haymitch is quick to respond to his preposterous accusation.

“Katniss Everdeen may be a lot of things but a rebel spy isn’t one of them! Everyone around here knows she hunts outside the perimeter for wild game…technically illegal yes, but she’s done so out of necessity to help feed her family. She sells whatever’s left at the hob, which you and your peacekeepers seem to have overlooked while enjoying the fruits of her labour with the fresh meat you buy to fill your own stomachs,” Haymitch reminds Thread, and I hear voices from the crowd bravely agreeing with our mentor.

“We all know you’re a smart man, but have you taken a moment to think what the consequences you alone as Head Peacekeeper will be expected to pay if you kill Snow’s Victors, not to mention how all this will impact on our mutual friend, the General? I think the best thing you can do for yourself right now is to let them both go and pray the girl doesn’t die from her injuries,” Haymitch strongly advises.

Silence fills the square as the crowd hold their collective breaths and wait for Thread to react and just when I think all hope is lost, Haymitch gives it one last-ditched effort to free us.

“The President had Cray removed…permanently, what makes you think he won’t do the same to you?”

The colour on Thread’s face turns a scorching red but he tries to remain unaffected by Haymitch’s comment. No matter who gave the order, Cray was relieved of his command the day Thread and the new troop of peacekeepers under his command drove into Twelve in their heavy-armoured combat vehicles.

Cray’s disappearance is a grim reminder of the absolute power President Snow holds over every citizen including his peacekeepers.

No one is safe…not even a Head Peacekeeper.

The silent tension is immediately broken when a peacekeeper rushes up to the platform, panting heavily and carrying a radio transmitter device. He salutes nervously first then informs Thread that General Jackson is on the other end wanting to speak with him without delay.

Thread snatches the device from the out-of-breath peacekeeper’s hand and strides to the corner of the wooden platform. Even from this short distance, his General’s voice can be heard shouting from the other end of the device. After a much one-sided conversation, it ends in less than a minute.

The order for everyone, including us to clear the square, is bellowed out before Thread marches off the platform and into his armoured vehicle where it speeds back towards the peacekeepers barracks.

I untied Katniss’ hands from the large hook the moment Thread finished barking out his order and when she flops into my arms and begins to whimper, my first thought is to cover her half-naked body with my apron which starts to blot with blood. 

There’s no time to waste and with Katniss safely in my arms, I start to make my way off the platform in long even strides. Haymitch is there to guide me carefully down the steps before we make our way through the gathered crowd who strangely offer me sympathetic looks as they move to the side giving me a clear path.

This in itself is a strange occurrence but I don’t have time to analyse. There are some things I want to ask Haymitch but before I get a chance to open my mouth, he’s in my ear.

“That sadistic bastard! Thankfully for us Thread’s not too bright,” Haymitch claims. “Now listen to me very carefully boy and don’t ask questions…there’s not much time,” he begins, looking cautiously over his shoulders.

“I could wring that hot-head Hawthorne’s neck. He knew sweetheart would never leave without—” he stops mid-sentence, clearing his throat. “Nevermind…none of that’s important right now,” he adds and although our mentor is talking in riddles, one thought sticks in the forefront of my mind.

If Gale Hawthorne was responsible for this in anyway and by some slim chance we cross paths in the near future…he’s a dead man.

“Take Katniss back to your house and stay there until I come for you both,” I go to protest, not exactly sure why I think it would be a bad idea, but Haymitch speaks again before I have a chance to utter a word.

“Don’t argue with me! Things are going to move quick from here on end, and I need you both ready and in the one place when all hell breaks loose. Just stay alert!” he emphasises strongly. “Your house is the safest place for both of you…no listening bugs there, I’ve made sure.”

Be ready; stay alert; no bugs; when what happens? I don’t have a clue what any of that means and maybe it’s best I don’t…for now.  

What little he does tell me, I already figured out for myself. Without Katniss’ healer mother and sister Primrose, who escaped along with the Hawthorne family, there’s isn’t anyone in Twelve qualified to attend to her wounds, but when Haymitch mentions sending someone he thinks could help, I’m quick to refuse the offer.

I won’t let a stranger near her.

“No! I’ll take care of Katniss myself,” I interject. “I know you have connections in the black-market, and I don’t mean Ripper. She’ll need the right kind of medicine and I’ll pay double whatever the going rate is…more if need be. Tell them to name their price and I’ll pay it! Just bring me everything you can lay your hands on, anything to fight infection and something strong for the pain,” I instruct with urgency as we make our way out of the square.

I may not be a healer, but I know the basics and keeping wounds clean is the first step to healing. That much I learnt from Katniss.

Haymitch taps me on the shoulder and I wince, my body reminding me of the single lash I received from Thread trying to protect Katniss.

“Keep your money boy. I’ll get you everything sweetheart needs and if she lives through this, it will be a bloody miracle,” he says before hurrying off, and the insides of my stomach twists with his response.

She has to live.

[sword-brainrot]

Oh, um! May I request a matchup? I know these can be draining to do so feel free to skip me if you want!!

So, um hi! Im a 19 yo translation student! Everyone uses she/her when talking to me, but you can use whatever you like, I dont mind pronouns! Im really shy and kinda anxious when talking to people, but I'm completely see-through ;; cant tell a lie to save my life haha Im super curious abt practically anything and I love to learn new things! When I have to get work done, I make sure it looks shiny and perfect! (even tough I procastinate on it until there's almost no time left,,,,) I prefer indoors because loud sounds make me somewhat panicky??;;;; and in my free time I play games, learn useless stuff and sleep... y'know, the usual ^^;

As for what I'd like in a parter.... I want someone who cares about me ;; I know it may be a bit too much but I guess I can dream right? :') As for myself,,,, idk id be a completely mess ;; Im good at listening I think! but when it comes to affection Im at a loss and I just get embarrassed,,,, I blush at everything and when Im put in a spot I try to laugh it off ;;

Um, also... Im sure you already noticed but I have some self issues so you may want to take this into consideration???? maybe???? Im sorry I had to bring this up;;; i tought it could help you get a better picture of myself haha???? uuu;; (um also i apologize for this huge wall of text, i know its all over the place.... dont know how to organize it;;;;)

Oh, and I don't care about sword types nor I have a preference! I love all the slashy boys equally ♡

Thank you for taking the time to read this, I really appreciate it 💖💖

Oh I would never skip your request! If I ever get drained, I would take a small break. I wanna do your requests dear! Feel free to request as much as you want, I have a blast whenever I can write and make someone smile because of it. Don't worry about bothering me or anything, seeing requests always makes me smile and excited to write 💖🌺

I Match You With...

🌸 Ishikirimaru 🌸

♡  Ishikirimaru is a very calm and friendly guy, he would understand very well how scary social interaction can be for some people. He would never push you too far and make sure he knows your limits. He would offer you to have tea with him or help him clean just so you both can bond together and let you know what he does want to be around you. He doesn't mind if you don't talk much because you are shy! Ishikirimaru doesn't talk too much in general but doesn't mind starting the conversation and having a short discussion about things that may interest you or your thoughts on things.

♡  Don't worry about ever making him angry or annoyed, it is very hard to do that. He is very easy going and cares a lot about other people. The only way he would ever get actually angry at you is if you say something insensitive about how people's lives in war don't matter or something along those lines. He was a sword kept in a temple that often got prayed to for healing the warriors who came back from battle with deadly wounds. That is the only thing that would actually get under his skin. He cares a lot about the people around him and even the people he doesn't know, he prays for all of their well beings. Even yours. He cares about you a lot as well and will tell you often that you matter to everyone. He is aware that you would never say something to upset him on purpose. As long as the two of you talk it out and apologize to each other, he will forget it even happened. He wouldn't let one slip of the tongue to ruin the relationship.

♡  He tries hard to make sure he never upsets anyone and thinks over his words carefully, but even he makes mistakes and words don't come out how they planned. He will make the most effort to apologize and make sure his words didn't hurt you badly. If they did, he would spend hours on end talking it out and making sure you know that he would never mean anything that would hurt you. He cares about you a lot and your smile is his favorite.

♡  Ishikirimaru might be a little pushy when you talk badly about yourself. He loves everything about you and it hurts him when you think you are lesser than everyone. He will often try to stop you before you go too far with talking down upon yourself and give you plenty of compliments, even if they embarrass you. He wants you to know that you are deserving of love and that you are much better than you give yourself credit for. You have your own talents and people cherish you for being you. They want you in their life because you are you.

♡  "Aruji, I haven't been human long but I understand that being human is a complicated task. The mind can be a cruel one and the deadliest thing to our souls. My words may not mean much but please trust me when I say that you like you for you. You will see things you do not like about yourself because you are stuck with yourself constantly so you will pick up things that others will not. We are all hard on ourselves. Life is even worse on us. So take a deep breath and let yourself receive a little kindness. You deserve it. You give out so much to everyone so you need to know that it is okay to love things about yourself and be proud of who you are. You will make mistakes and not everyone will be your friend but that is okay, because you are human and you have your own life. Surround yourself with people that will love and appreciate you for who you are now. I love and appreciate you for who you are, aruji. So.. Don't be so hard on yourself, alright? It hurts my fragile heart when I see you beat yourself up for small mistakes. It's okay to stumble at times, just get up again... okay? I'll lend you my hand as well."

♡  As you can tell, Ishikirimaru is a very good listener. His whole life as a sword was to listen to those of the pained and give guidance. Even if he couldn't exactly do that in his sword form, he can do that now! He will listen to everything you have to say. Don't be shy to ramble to him. He will give you a happy smile as he listens. Tell him about the things that make you happy, what make you angry, what makes you laugh, and what makes you sad. Ishikirimaru will be right by your side, offering tea and a shoulder if you need it. You aren't alone and he will make sure you know that you don't have to face these thoughts alone.

♡  Just as how you are see through and can't lie, Ishikirimaru has a similar issue. He has a very hard time ever lying and chooses to never lie. The only time he will lie is if it is to protect others. He will often put himself in the painful position in missions so others don't have to face the hardship. He tries to not do it often because he knows that people care about him and he doesn't have to face things alone, but he would rather not see anyone sad if he can help it!

♡  He finds your embarrassed face the cutest thing in the world. Don't be scared to tell him to stop if the compliments become too much for you to handle! He will laugh it off and apologize for going too far with his comments. As stated above, he doesn't lie. So just know that every compliment he gives you is a very sincere comment that he means with his whole heart. Ishikirimaru doesn't need much affection, as long as you show that you simply care about him, he is happy. He would like to hold your hand from time to time but otherwise, he wouldn't force you to do anything you don't wish to do. Go at your own pace in the relationship, he won't rush you!

♡  Ishikirimaru will tell you anything you wish to learn! He might not have a library of knowledge of the past due to being stuck in a shrine for most of his life but he had also studied and learned about the history he came from. If you take an interest in his prayers and religion, he would gladly tell you all the tales he is aware of and teach you the cleansing sermon he often does to give positive spiritual energy. It is something that brings him peace of mind and makes him happy to talk about, so if you are willing to learn about what makes him who he is today and what makes him happy, he would be overjoyed to share all his knowledge to you.

♡  He understands very well the appeal of getting work done to the best of your ability and making it look the best you can. He wouldn't label himself a perfectionist but he does want to do the best he can. Often with cleaning. You will often see him stuck in a room all day because he wants to make sure it is spotless before he comes out and continues work else where. Though... by the time he is done... It is dinner time. Perhaps the two of you could work together and get work done to the point you are both happy with it.

♡  Ishikirimaru is also someone who happens to stay inside for the most part. The only time he goes outside would be to enjoy tea in the sun or if he has to work the field/horse keeping. Ishikirimaru is a very soft spoken and gentle man so you don't have to worry about him every raising his voice and scaring you. If there is ever a loud noise, whether it is other swords or a storm outside, he will gently hold your hand and try to calm you down. He will assure you that it's okay to not like loud noises but he will make sure that nothing hurts you. He will even try to lead you away to somewhere that may be a little more quiet. Giving you a distraction to get your mind off the noise. He wants nothing more than you to feel comfortable and safe.

♡  Depending on the game, he may want to play with you! He tends to like card games even though he is very easy to read and often loses. He tends to laugh about it after when he realizes that he was accidentally showing his hand every time he set down his cards to get a sip of tea. If it's video games, he would prefer to just watch you play and talk to you while you enjoy the game. He isn't the biggest fan but still enjoys to watch! Ishikirimaru is a pretty good teacher! So if you wish to study with him, he would be flattered that you wished to study with him out of everyone. He is very understanding that some material is hard to memorize out of no where. He would just softly correct you and tell you to work on it a little more. He rewards you with sweets every time you do really well on any test he gives you to test how much you remember.

♡  Ishikirimaru would be the most understanding and gentle partner. He wants nothing more than you being comfortable and happy. He would work hard on you slowly forgiving yourself when you make a mistake and love yourself a little more. He would never give up on you and be there if you ever needed.

[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Oracle Obscured and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for letting us get to know you a little better.

Many readers will know you already and if they don’t I encourage them to look your works up including Teaching Miss Granger and How I learned to love teachers’ meetings

Okay, let’s jump right in.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Hmmm ... that’s kind of a weird answer for me. I wanted to choose a name that didn’t immediately indicate whether I was male or female. I’d noticed a certain freedom afforded to authors of indistinguishable gender. With no societal construct about the “nature” of the creator, the story stood on its own, without prejudice or conditioned expectations.

I brainstormed about six or seven names and then picked the one that appealed to me most. I’ve always felt drawn to the idea of oracles (those who see beyond). And I definitely felt obscured in that department. (Hell, at the time, my whole life felt obscured.)

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

I don’t know if I do. I guess if I had to pick, I’d say Hermione, as I have a tendency to be an obsessive perfectionist when it comes to work/studying. I like to be organized and plan things out. And I can be quite demanding and harsh with myself when I feel like I’m not measuring up to my own insane ideals.

But I took that openpsychometrics.org statistical quiz a while back, where you answer like a bazillion comparison questions (I did the longer version), and my highest HP match was Remus Lupin (83%). Yeah, I can see that.

Luna is my favorite character, but I don’t know if I identify with her more than anyone else.

Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general)

It used to be horror/suspense, but ... I don’t know ... I’m just not as into it anymore. Maybe it’s because the real world is horrifying enough without adding fictional monsters to the mix.

Now I mostly read classics.

Do you have a favourite "classic" novel?

To Kill a Mockingbird.

At what age did you start writing?

Just writing stories in general? Maybe second grade. It wasn’t a passion or anything, just something I was pretty good at. I only really did it at school, though, not so much at home. I read A LOT growing up, so I naturally imagined that I might be an author one day. I tried to write a book when I was about 13 or 14, but less than one chapter in, I decided it was too hard. (I was NOT a Hermione growing up. Planning and perseverance were not my style.)

I took a massive break from thinking after high school (the smorgasbord of medications I was on didn’t like me using my brain too much, and my plans for college went out the window when my depression become unmanageable). I didn’t really start writing again until I was about twenty-seven. That was when I found fanfiction. I consider that when I really started writing.

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I found fanfiction while looking for erotica. Needless to say I discovered the motherlode, and I was hooked. Over the years, I’d written bits and pieces of my own sexy scenarios (which is what you do when you grow up without the internet and you have to depend on your imagination for all your kink requirements), but I’d never really thought about taking someone else’s “story world” and using it as my setting. For a little over a year I read/devoured all the HP fanfiction I could, and then I realized I could take all the fantasies in my head and play them out with my favorite characters.

The first story I wrote was a funny/smutty Ginny/Draco thing, and it was HORRIBLE. The story and the sex were fine, but the writing was a nightmare. I submitted it to The Restricted Section, which was the only site I knew at the time, and they vetted their stories, so I had to get approved. They wrote me back saying it needed work and I should get a beta. So I went on the forum and found one (which was rather brave of me now that I think back). The person who helped me must’ve had the patience of a saint, because he/she(?) never said a damn thing about all the mistakes and shitty-ness. Suggestions and corrections were made, and I changed some of the pronouns to names so it wouldn’t sound so repetitive. The next time I submitted it, they accepted, and I got a decent response for a first-time writer (like three or four nice reviews). No one seemed to hate it, and the reviewers said the sex was hot, so I tried again, hoping to do better.

That’s when I wrote the first chapter of Teaching Miss Granger. It started out as just a oneshot. And it got a much better response. I wanted to write more, but I became extremely depressed and lethargic, and I didn’t really do anything for the next six or seven years. (I mean nothing. Unless you consider watching every episode of Law & Order CI and SVU ten times over to be an accomplishment.)

I came back to it years later, intending to add a few chapters to TMG where they have sex, but ... it just sort of evolved into the monster that it is. I worked on it pretty much every day for about a year. I’d never stuck with ANYTHING that long in my entire life.

What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works?

I would say love or “the power of love” is probably my favorite theme. But that includes synonyms for love as well. (Like wholeness, which is the theme of Quartet.)

What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter?

None. I like other fandoms, but I don’t write for them, and I don’t usually read their fanfiction.

If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon?

I’ve never really thought about changing cannon. I mean, I change it to suit my fictional purposes (like Snape lives etc.), but I wouldn’t want to change canon for real. The deaths in HP serve a purpose, and while I find many of those deaths heartbreaking, that’s kind of the point. Hatred is bleak and destructive, and good people don’t survive wars simply because they’re good; bad things happen to good people all the time. As for changing something about the individual characters, I can’t get behind that either. The reasons people do things are multifaceted and complex and they’re colored by a lifetime of experiences I will never know or understand, so I don’t feel I can really judge. I can’t say I understand all the choices I’ve made in my own life, and there’ve been plenty of times where I had no choice at all. I can’t hold others to more rigorous standards than I myself can meet. We all have our shortcomings. (And that’s cool. Without them, there would be no growth or diversity.)

Do I have a favorite piece of fanon? Hmmm ... probably Head Boy and Head girl rooming together or having private rooms.

Oh! And uniforms.

Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet?

I used to listen to really quiet classical music while wearing headphones. Every little sound in the house distracts me, and I have to block it out. But lately I’ve just been running this old box fan that drowns out the noise.

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

Crap, I don’t know if I can choose. (Plus I feel like I’ve forgotten a lot of what I’ve read.)

My friend Desert Sea is my fav Hermione/Severus writer. Out of her stories, the ones I like best are In Their Hands and At the Headmaster’s Discretion.

After a brief search of my accounts, I’ll go with:

Do Not Go Gentle by senlinyu

Another Dream by dragoon811

The Last Twenty-Four Hours of Severus Snape by CryingCinderella

Pretty much everything by Aurette

Pet Project by Caeria

Post Tenebras, Lux by Loten

All the SS/HG stuff from snapeslittleblackbuttons

There’s a Teddy Radiator story that I like a lot, but I can’t remember the name of it. (Or what it’s about.) (Yes, very helpful, I know.)

And in a category all it’s own is Farmer Granger and the Most Glorious Cock by MyWitch. (Seriously, I read this like once a month and it makes me laugh every time.)

I read a lot of Drarry too. Drarry stories I love:

Everything by bixgrl1, but especially Balance Imperfect and In Evidence of Magical Theory

Everything by lq_traintracks (even the non-Drarry stuff). The writing is amazing.

I love all the advent stories by Saras_girl.

I like all the Drarry stories I’ve read by Faithwood.

I really like RZZMG’s writing. (No particular story or pairing.)

And I just rediscovered a story I found in 2007 (the first m/m fic I ever read). It’s a Snarry, which I know isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it was excellent. Snape: the Home Fries Nazi by pir8fancier

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

I enjoy a bit of both. My oneshots are all pantsed. TMG was totally pantsed. But Getting Personal and Quartet were both plotted and planned. For GP I did sort of a chapter by chapter synopsis before starting my rough draft, and for Q I went into even more detail—EVERYTHING was planned out ahead of time. The only thing that changed during the first draft was I ended up combining some of the chapters.

How does plotting affect my writing process compared to pantsing? It streamlines it. In a oneshot there’s not much to streamline; the basic story (or general idea) is all you really need. There’s not enough story to get muddled. But when I’m writing something longer, with multiple chapters, I find it’s better to know where the story is going. How deeply I go into that planning can vary. Sometimes there’s just a basic outline of the major plot points and then I fly by the seat of my pants from there. Sometimes I write out a very rough synopsis (sort of like a short and loose first draft) and then start writing as if it’s my second draft. Things inevitably get changed once I really start writing, so the planning isn’t set in stone by any means, but when I plan, the story goes in the general direction I intend without veering too far off course and there aren’t any plot holes. After I wrote TMG (with no planning) I saw that there was A LOT I could have cut or combined without affecting anything important. I learned a little more with each story I wrote, and when I got to Q, there was a lot of complicated ideas that I wanted to incorporate, and there were so many characters (and character arcs) going on that I had to plan extensively to make sure everything fit together. If I hadn’t worked it out ahead of time, it would’ve been like throwing a heap of puzzle pieces on the table but not being given a reference picture to know what it was I was working toward.

What is your writing genre of choice?

I have no idea. Plotty sex? Erotic dramady? Some of it is just straight up PWP, but I usually like to have something meaningful in there too.

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

Usually the answer is whatever I’ve most recently written, as it’s the most likely to represent my current “best.” In terms of writing, I’ll go with A Brush with Magic, but Quartet is probably my best storytelling. A lot went into that (symbolism, planning, obsessive re-writes) and it holds a good deal of personal meaning to me. So, I guess I’ll go with Q due to the time and effort involved.

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?

The unexpected always crops up (even with all my planning), and it’s the unexpected that makes the magic.

While I had many insights into my own nature while writing Quartet, in the end I think it taught me to trust/listen to myself more.

Later, however, it brought me a very different message. While writing it, I felt a lot of tension and anxiety; I wanted to “do it right” and present my story in the best light. But after some time away, I realized I’d been so worried because I felt as if that story represented me, as if it defined me. And the pressure of being judged worthy or unworthy had been eating me alive.

But I don’t feel that way anymore. Now it’s like I wrote all my stories in another lifetime. While they all might be a snapshot of a fraction of my mind, nothing I create ever says a damn thing about who or what I truly am. Since letting go of that, I’ve found a sense of freedom around writing. I still like to express things as clearly and beautifully as I can, but it’s more a celebration of words than a search for acceptance.

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

Quartet was extremely personal to me when I wrote it, and in a lot of ways I think that made it easier to write. When I have to go strictly by imagination, I feel as if I’m missing some depth of understanding (like I’m getting the surface-level stuff, but missing the nuance). When I write from experience, it has an entirely different quality. Richer. More intimate. It’s work to write what I don’t know, but it’s easy to write the truth.

Posting, however, is an entirely different story. Other people don’t always want the truth, and if you feel like your story is an extension of you, it can hurt to have any part of it rejected.

What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?

I think everything I’ve ever read or seen has influenced me. In terms of writing, I guess I’d say I’m inspired by beauty in all its forms. When I first started reading fanfiction, I just searched for the kinks I liked; it was all about the sex (with bonus points for having a decent plot). Then one day I read an extremely well-written PWP (I don’t remember what), and the way the author described the sex was so unlike anything I had ever read, it totally blew my mind. It was art. Exquisite art. And before that, I didn’t know sex could be art. That author didn’t just recount the characters’ actions, they painted a word masterpiece—they turned porn into poetry. THAT was what I wanted in my life. And I didn’t know it until that moment.

Books/authors that stick with me:

The Harry Potter series (obviously).

Shel Silverstein (Love the poetry, but The Giving Tree is one of my favorite books of all time.)

Dr. Seuss (Always.)

Judy Blume (I still have my copy of Are You There God it’s Me Margaret from when I was, like, 10. Tiger Eyes is my favorite of hers.)

R.L. Stine (I got hooked prior to the creation of the Goosebumps series, but I had EVERY Fear Street Book he wrote when I was in middle school.)

Weekend by Christopher Pike (This was the first YA thriller I ever read. *Sigh* memories. I still have my original copy, and I still read it every once in a while. The characters and plot are great.)

Stephen King (Carrie is my fav.)

Anne Rice (I’ve read all the vampire and witch books, but The Witching Hour is the only one I’ve read multiple times. Blackwood Farm is my next favorite.)

To Kill a Mockingbird

Charles Dickens (David Copperfield is my fav.)

Jane Austen (I can’t pick between Pride & Prejudice and Sense & Sensibility.)

Thomas Harris (Brilliant writing, and Hannibal might be one of the most intriguing anti-heros ever.)

Stieg Larsson (Another brilliant writer with a brilliant character.)

The Giver by Lois Lowry (I haven’t read the rest of the trilogy. And I haven’t seen the movie. I refuse to besmirch my childhood love with Hollywood’s interpretation.)

Bridge to Terabithia (This book devastated me as a child.)

Gillian Flynn (Sharp Objects is my fav.)

Liane Moriarty (I like all of her books, especially Big Little Lies. The way she plays with the timeline is masterful.)

Frank Herbert’s Dune. (I grew up on this. It’s my dad’s all-time favorite book. And, yes, we’re looking forward to the new movie.)

Margaret Atwood (The Handmaid’s Tale is horrifyingly wonderful. And Atwood herself is fascinating. Watch her Masterclass if you get the chance.)

Steinbeck’s East of Eden (This might be my second favorite book.)

The Lucifer Effect by Phillip Zimbardo (This isn’t fiction, but it was the first book that really affected the way I see the world.)

Eisler’s The Chalice and the Blade (Also not fiction. If you’re interested in the divine feminine and a more egalitarian society, this is the book for you.)

Loving What Is by Byron Katie (The only self-help book that’s ever actually helped me.)

Daphne Du Maurier (I love Rebecca, but she also has a story called “The Blue Lenses” that isn’t really intended to be scary, but it freaked me the fuck out.)

The Secret History by Donna Tartt (Gorgeous writing, and the plot left me seriously disturbed.)

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey (Gah! I love this. The writing and the story and the characters and EVERYTHING!)

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury (I Bradbury’s writing style, but the plot of F451 is pure horror for any book hoarder lover.)

The Lord of the Flies by William Golding (This might be my third favorite book ever. No, wait, I might like it better than East of Eden. I can’t choose!)

The Diary of Anne Frank (How in the hell could anyone read this and not be affected by it?)

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

No. This is my own private world, and I like it that way.

How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"?

Very. I write what I want to read. There are certain adjustments I make when I write for other people as opposed to what I do when writing strictly for myself, but nothing major. I refuse to write things I have no interest in, and I don’t write to make people happy. I write to please myself. (But it’s nice when what pleases me pleases others. It’s wonderful to share that connection.)

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

I like hearing from my readers. I don’t have a lot of time to interact, but I like talking to my audience and listening to their insights. I try to reply to all the comments I get on AO3 (it’s just too hard on FFN). And when I have free time (which isn’t often) I check my FB groups to see what’s going on. To me, the interaction kind of completes the creative cycle; it helps me set the story free and allow it to be. It really belongs to the reader once I’ve published, and it’s nice to see the ripples creativity creates.

What is the best advice you've received about writing?

Unless it’s absolutely necessary, stop using the word “was.” Completely changed my writing.

What do you do when you hit writer's block?

It doesn’t really happen that much, as I usually know where I’m going with my story, but there can be glitches between scenes or times when I can’t find the words for something (like ending a chapter). When that happens, I usually just leave it and come back later—I can’t force it if it won’t come.

If I really need to get it done for some reason, I read what I have over and over, adding a little bit more each time, trying out words that “sound right” and building what I need bit by bit. What I come up with isn’t always right or what I want, but at least I have something to work with. Sometimes seeing what’s wrong makes what you want more obvious.

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Yeah, just about everything Sex, depression, anxiety, personal growth, likes/dislikes, insights, interests, philosophy, all my little neuroses. Every once in a while I’ll even include some dialogue from real life.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?

I’m juggling about five long stories right now (plus a couple oneshots). And I haven’t worked on any of them in ages. I don’t know what’s going on with me; I’m just not in the mood. I don’t want to say what they are, as I might never finish them. (Two are Drarry and three are Sevmione. One is a compilation of oneshots. Four of them are completely planned out and just need to be written. The unplanned Drarry was always just meant to be for myself and I doubt I’ll ever release it.)

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Yes. Enjoy the whole writing/creative process as much as possible. Try not to beat yourself up, and don’t try to force yourself to be better. You will naturally get better the more you write. Change is inevitable; allow it to happen. Read books about writing, and read good writers. Notice what brings you the most pleasure when you read and tap into that same pleasure when you write. Play with words and ideas just for fun. Watch and see what appears. There is no perfect.

If you’re writing about sex (because I get asked about that a lot), write what turns YOU on. Don’t try to be sexy. Don’t try to write what you think other people want to hear. Don’t worry about what other people think (at least in the first draft). If they don’t like it they can go read something else. But if YOU like it, it will shine through in your writing, and that will have a bigger impact on your reader than any activity you describe. Also, the physicality is only a fraction of the sexual experience. Don’t turn your sex scenes into a play-by-play. You’re not really writing about what the characters are doing so much as how what they’re doing affects them. It’s a personal experience, and the more personal you make it (the more honest and vulnerable you are as a writer) the more satisfying the story will be for your reader. Wise words! Thank-you so much for speaking with us today Oracle Obscured.

[mhdiaries]

Freaky Fusions Lagoonafire Diary

After lunch

Today hasn’t exactly been a day at the beach. All of us ghouls got in heaps of hot water when we accidentally went back in time and then got thrashed about like we were in a tidal wave. It’s kind of a scary-long story, but the end result is, well, I’m not quite myself. In fact, I’m more than myself. Thanks to a freaky accident - caused by a certain orange werecat - I got fused together with Jinafire, and now I don’t know where my scales end and hers begin. LB

In the thirteenth hour

I wonder what enigmatic statement Master would say about this situation. Surely, there is a profound lesson to be learned from being fused with another monster, especially a ghoul whose temperament is so much less fiery than my own. A lesson known well by our ancestors and forgotten by all except the wiest among us, those not distracted by the modern way of staring sightlessly into iCoffins. Perhaps, I will make some tea and attempt to read the leaves... oh, is that my ringtone or Lagoona’s? JL

After rehearsal

Well, rehearsal for the Bite-Centennial totally went up in flames. I’m a water ghoul - I’ve never had to control fire before. It was erupting from me like lava, and everyone knows I’m not fond of volcanoes. I think a couple of times I could actually smell my hair burning. And all those props! Hole-y mackerel! Well, at least we can’t be blamed for destroying all of them. Dracubecca had their boots in that heap of destruction too. LB

In the fourteenth hour

My distress has nearly set the MH clawditorium ablaze. How can I have complete dominance over my abilities when I have Lagoona in my head as well? She means well, but it is difficult to concentrate with all that “mate” stuff going on. I feel an inner turmoil. When I try to retrain my inner fire with my thoughts, my heart is not in it. Likewise, when I try to engage my heart to feel the right way, control my fire, I receive conflicting direction from my head - usually in Lagoona’s voice. Master has not prepared me for such a challenge. JL

Snacktime

All this fearsome fusing had me feeling a tadpole peckish, so I went down to the Creepateria. I wanted a bite of sushi, but I ended up with a terror-yaki flambe... thanks to a blast of embarrassment from Jinafire. And I thought her temper was hot! But it seems like the longer we are fused together, the more out of control we feel, and whoosh! We flame out, and I’m left eating my meal well-done. No worries, just douse it in boo-b-q sauce, and the ashiness is almost edible. Almost. LB 

Mid fourteenth hour

I am genuinely in need of some clarity and inner peace. My usual passion and creativity feels kind of soggy. I’ve tried taking a clarifying breath, but I’m finding it difficult to breathe deeply, as though oxygen doesn’t have the same appeal to me it once did. I know Master would say, “with great challenge comes great opportunity,” but as far as I know, his only challenges didn’t include being wrapped inside someone else like a dumpling. I fear even his wisdom cannot possibly hold the key to this puzzle. I feel very alone. And yes, I see the irony in that. JL

After snack

Sirena, a Hybrid monster, wants us to go for a swim to help teach us to work together as one. I can’t think of anything more fintastic! For one thing, my skin is getting frightfully dry, and I’m all out of monsterizer. I like Jinafire as much as any ghoul - I’m down with everybody - but her overheated personality is too close for comfort. I’m really hoping a swim is just what she needs to cool off a bit. I don’t know how anybody can live while being so fired up all the time. It’s firesome. I mean, tiresome. LB

Almost fifteenth hour

I love a relaxing bubble bath occasionally, and even a soak in a hot tub, but a swim? That’s just not the way my tail swishes. For one thing, my makeup isn’t waterproof. And for another, I need to let off steam when I’m under pressure. And I’m feeling a lot of pressure right now to be enlightened about this state of fusion. Lagoona is a fangtastic ghoul, and I’m lucky to be fused with her, because she’s so calm and she doesn’t get burning mad at me when I set something on fire, but how chill will she be if I evaporate all of her precious water out from under her? I think our friendship might be about to boil over. JL

After Hanging with the Hybrids

All of us fused ghouls had lessons from the newest members of the MH student undead-body. They are Hybrids, children of 2 kinds of monsters. Thanks to them, I’m starting to get a handle on this fusion thing. If you fight it too hard, you could find yourself going off the deep end. You’re much better off letting go and just floating along. I think Jinafire is getting the hang of it, too. She’s really starting to go with the flow, and it no longer feels like we’re swimming upstream. And, while she hasn’t exactly cooled, she’s mostly just warm now. Which is a good thing, because when she steams up a pool, it give my ‘do a frightful frizz. Although it was good for my complexion. LB

Like a creepanthemum flower opening in spring, I feel myself open to new adventures and experiences. Master would be proud. Thanks to being freakily fused with Lagoona, I have learned that i can exert total control over my mind and tame the fires within me. As Lagoona’s cool demeanor soothed me, so did I fire-up new passions within her. We are good for one another. Two sides of the same coin. We are one. We are Lagoonafire. JL

(I wrote this entry in case Master reads my diary. He likes writings to sound profound.)

After it’s over! Phew!

Today was bananas! Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the turbulent waves we all had to surf today... up, down, up, down, with the occasional wipe out, but we have all managed to make it back to shore. Now that we are back to normal - whatever normal is - I feel a little like a fish out of water. I really got used to having Jinafire in my head... Everything seemed more poetic and colorful and, well, deep. After a ghoul gets fused with another ghoul, it changes you. I hope we stay GMF. Good Mates Forever. LB

Near the seventeenth hour

I feel like I should write something profound, as Master has taught me. But I’m too relieved to be back to being just myself. Although, I don’t feel entirely like myself. I feel more relaxed. Less ready to set the world on fire, and more ready to chill with my mates - I mean ghoulfriends. I’m really happy I learned to relax, and I think Lagoona’s cool will have a lasting effect on me. Oops, I almost singed this page. JL

Frankie is in scare-able trouble after saving all of us! JL

We need the fire to pool together and SAVE FRANKIE!!!! LB

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

So, It’s been awhile. There’s a reason. The last week or so has been... a week. jesus christ. I shall regale you of my tale, not in chronological order necessarily because that’s how I roll. BUT if you suffer through it, you shall be rewarded with an outdoor plant update post after. Bribery. 

So. Early last week, The Spawn sat down with me and presented a proposal, a well researched proposal, advocating for her starting her own residential cleaning business because she finds it incredibly satisfying and relaxing to clean stuff and she does quite well. So we sat and brainstormed, researched, and talked about how she planned to advertise. She needed a business gmail (and all the tools that come with that), logo, business social media, website, and flyers. 

Being her age, she doesn’t have the skill or knowledge to do these things. So, I volunteered to help with these things so that she didn’t have to spend money hiring someone. I created the email account, put all the brainstorm stuff into a google doc that saved to the biz drive, which included a to do list and the basic info needed. I created a logo. (At which point, she called me a wizard while watching me do so.) I helped her try to create a biz facebook account, but facebook immediately flagged it as breaking the rules. like literally as soon as I created it. So I appealed it & The Spawn wanted to wait to see what came of that before I went further. So she took me with her to shop for the things on her supply list, and we decided to go grab some of the smaller stuff still needed for J’s appt at the same time. This was Friday. 

Saturday, I got a text from J in the early afternoon saying that he needed me. I quickly packed a ‘just in case’ bag, since I didn’t know what to expect or how long I would be there. Now, you have to understand that in the 7 years we’ve been friends, while he has discussed things with me via phone or text, in person he is like me, incredibly stoic. Hell even via text or phone, he always insists that he’s fine and responds to my reminders that i’m here if he needs someone, and to just let me know, he responds “I appreciate it, but I won’t”. So him reaching out like that is a MASSIVE thing. I showed up, let myself in, and he just walked up to me, wrapped his arms around me and started sobbing. I stayed the night, alternating between being comforting and being distracting. It was extremely disarming to see such raw emotion from him repeatedly over the course of the night and to hear him say the things that he is usually uncomfortable articulating. 

The next morning he seemed better, thanked me for coming (to which I responded “Of course I came. I’ve not ever been lying when I’ve said that I’d come if you needed me, day or night, but you have to let me know.”) and apologized for ‘being a mess’. I told him every time he apologized (which happened quite a bit over the course of the night) that there was no need for an apology because this wasn’t something to be sorry for. He was struggling, as people do, and rather than embrace the darkness or fight it alone, he asked for help from someone he trusts and loves that he knows reciprocates. That i know how hard it is for him to do that and that I am proud of him. 

Sunday afternoon the kids (The Spawn and The Bf) picked me up because she needed to take him home but didn’t want to leave the dogs alone. I got in the car after The Bf got into the back, insisting I take the front seat. We hadn’t even gotten out of the parking lot of the apartment complex when The Spawn casually asked “So are ya’ll fucking?” 

that’s how I learned that I was the subject of a bet. Apparently, The Bf asked where I was when he came over and out of convenience, not wanting to really explain the relationship, The Spawn said I was at my boyfriend’s. I guess he went on about how how come I’m never hanging out with him, etc, so The Spawn explained the actual nature of our relationship. At the end The Bf said “Nah, they fuckin’ but your mom isn’t telling you.” The Spawn said, “No, she’d tell me because when I started high school I asked her about her past encounters and asked about what stuff was, if she’d done it, and if she enjoyed it, and she was always honest with me. That’s how I know she likes it up the butt.” He insisted that J and I were banging so The Spawn, knowing the truth, took advantage of this and made a bet. It was an easy win for her. SO...

I get asked this question & I look at her, eyebrows raised because she knows how our relationship is (granted if I were physically able and he was willing, I would definitely jump back up on that horse) and said, “No. Mom is no longer physically capable of fucking without risk of severe injury. Plus, despite having ridden that horse previously, I’m not into endangering our besties status. I would go into further detail and commentary but I don’t want to make The Bf uncomfortable. These are things you know, so why do you ask?” She told me of the bet, Then i promptly text J about it because I knew he’d get a laugh out of it. And I was right. 

By the end of Sunday, she recieved an email stating that facebook was upholding the ban, so she and I talked and decided to make a webpage via WIX and after getting a few clients, she could upgrade her account with them to get extras that are offered, including her own domain (rather than the name.wix address) and a lack of wix ads on her page.  And then it all went downhill from there.

Monday through Wednesday (yesterday) had The Spawn breathing down my neck more than any boss I’ve ever fucking had about when her business shit would be done. On top of what I’d already done, between Monday and Wednesday I:   set up her google voice account for a business number, wrote her a “first time client” script, created a google sheets quick reference client database, created a google forms for detailed client records (all in a folder together that is searchable by client name, which would be the title of the form), set up the calendar, downloaded and edited/collaged her before and after photos she took via cleaning some of our spaces, and built her a 7 page website including the photos, facts, and little blurbs that go along with it. It went live at the end of yesterday. 

Throughout this process, rather than just checking in and thanking me for doing it all to save her money, she asked me every couple hours what still needed to be done. When I was not as far along as she felt I should be, she got progressively more hostile. Yesterday morning she had the balls to text me “What all do we still need to do before I can get rolling?” I responded with “ ‘We’? hahahahaha *I* still need to [list].” 

I’m sure you’re saying to yourself, “Am I missing something? Did you forget to list something in the list of stuff you did between Monday and Wednesday? You mentioned flyers....” You are correct. But yesterday while I was being driven to my 2nd vax appointment by my father, I basically told him that I’m fried. If a flyer just included facts, I’d be fine, but the part where I need the potential customers to be drawn in and want to learn more is not happening. The creative well has run dry to the point that it is reminiscent of the dust bowl. And I reminded him that there is a reason I no longer do this type of shit for a living. I mentioned that thinking about The Spawn’s company is making me stress puke and that any time The Spawn approaches me to talk about anything, I immediately feel incredibly nauseated. 

Now it should be noted that when I mentioned this in a multi paragraph text earlier, he responded with “Just take a step back from it for awhile, then go back to it.”    

and everyone wonders why on earth I don’t speak up when I hit my limits and why I just push onward despite the damage it does to me. THIS. THIS IS WHY. Everyone is all for me not pushing myself too hard... until it is inconvenient for them. So I basically screamed in the car. On the way back he said he’d help. Ok. cool. 

Except that every fucking idea he had legit just tripled the amount of work I was going to have to do. I mentioned being burned enough that I was considering just paying a freelancer to do it. This motherfucker chimes in with “Oh! [Cool Ex Employee Who Left to be a Stay at Home Mom with her First Baby] does stuff like that. Let me reach out to see if she’d be willing to.” BRUH. That should have been the first thing out of your mouth after my original texts! Jesus Christ. I agreed but with the caveat that HE had to tell The Spawn and say it was his idea because he sees me getting overly stressed and has put his foot down. And he had to do it that night because I knew that if he didn’t, the first thing I’d hear today was “So when are my flyers going to be done?” and I am absolutely not dealing with that shit. The only thing I am doing from this point forward is showing her how to use her database/client files/calendar and I will be happy to answer questions or give advice, but that’s it. This isn’t my company and I’m not employed by her, so I’ve already put in far more work than should have been expected of me, with very little thanks outside of after I finished her logo and a couple times she came down and watched, then told me I’m a fucking wizard. 

Really It was good in a way because I had been doing that thing lately where I wonder if I’m just being dramatic because admin type stuff isn’t that hard and if I could do it from home, I should be able to manage... but this put me back down on earth, where I absolutely am not being dramatic and I cannot fucking do that shit 40 hrs a week for some random asshole. Shit, this was for my own child and I was ready to give up, stab her, then tell her to go fuck herself.

so...that’s been my last week and a half for so. Also, my only side effects from Vax 2 (pfizer) is feeling more tired/run down than usual and a bit of extra joint pain... but those might actually be related to the stress and hell I just went through. who knows. 

as always, don’t steal my shitshow. get your own shitshow. suffer through your own crap. 

[quiet-hypnotist]

Of Drinks And Dreams

(Just a quick heads-up:  This story features a fairly conversational induction scene. And given the nature of that style, please have a content warning. All suggestions that the tist in this story mentions are about feeling pleasure from obedience and being taken into hypnosis. At the end there is the mention of a re-induction trigger, yet that along with all suggestions is framed to fade as the story ends, much like waking from a dream. A dream about what exactly? Well, for that much detail you gotta read it yourself. Enjoy!)

“Hey there. I hope you saved a beer for me.” The friendly call turned some heads, but not more than on any other Friday evening in this place. The small hotel bar wasn’t exactly the place where people would go to find isolation.  During the work days that might have meant a bustling bartender and busy waiters all throughout the room. Yet as it so often went the last days of the week flushed only the weary or the troubled through the doors. And whoever didn’t silently cling to their glass eventually let silky dark air outside flush them back out the same way, sending them to bed or back to the grind.

As such the room was already almost deserted, the only one’s who truly took note were the three people who, with beaming faces, turned to face the source of the noise and wave. The two guys sitting across from each other smirked before one of them corrected their glasses for the dramatic effect, donning their best imitation of what might have otherwise been a stern voice: “Get your butt moving and order one then. Ain’t no one saving a drink for the tardy around here.”

“Oh, woe is me! My best friends leave me to just die of thirst.” “Yeah,” the second guy nodded with a smug grin, “and of hunger, too. Don’t think just because you let me copy your notes every week that you’d get even one of these fries from me.” “Oh, guys, c’mon! He was just half an hour late. Why would we possibly have a reason to take that out on him?” The group’s only lady looked no less amused by the exchange than the other two. Though as she shifted in her seat to tug a strand of pink hair behind her ears that expression softened from one of mockery to honest warmth. “Take a seat for now. And here’s your drink.” As he seated himself opposite from her she pushed a filled glass in front of him. “And here I thought I would get to see the day where you finally keep all the good stuff to yourself.” Despite the words he received it with thanks, all the more seeing as both she and the guys still had their own glasses right there. “Already on the second round?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” the first speaker waved it aside, “isn’t it only natural we’d wait for you?” On the other side of the table the smug guy laughed. “Ryan, you do notice how much you’re contradicting yourself, right?” Adjusting his glasses again more out of embarrassment over his act from before than of necessity, Ryan countered: “Not like you or Brielle were any better.” “Oh, I don’t know,” Brielle winked, “I think Jeff here was pretty convincing. Or can you imagine him willingly sharing food with anyone?” “Ah, you have a point.” “Excuse me? What are you implying here?” “Nothing, of course. Could these eyes lie to you?” “Damn, yes, they could.” “Hey now, that’s the privilege of a lady.”  “C’mon, Erik, say something to her, will you?” Instead of saying something he took a sip from the offered beer before chuckling. “Nah, I think I’ll let you folks do the talking tonight.” “See, that is why I don’t share my fries with him.”

“Don’t tell me…” Brielle stopped to take a good look at his face. “Did it happen again?” He nodded. For a moment the group fell silent. “Damn, you really have it figured out, huh?” “I wish.” Ryan shook his head in disbelief. “You need to get a grip, man. There’s no way it works like that.” “You’d really think so.” It was always the same reaction. Not like Erik could blame them. Honestly, he himself often enough doubted what was going on. And he was there when it happened. How would they have an easier time believing it?

“Err, sorry to be the party pooper or something.” Jeff scratched his head in hopes of finding the right tone for the occasion: “But could someone maybe give me a quick rundown here? What are you even saying happened? Traffic jam or some such? We… we are talking about why Erik was late, aren’t we?”

Brielle chuckled with that same helpless eye roll as the day Erik had first told her about it. Ryan meanwhile frowned: “You haven’t heard yet?” “That’s why I’m asking, wouldn’t you say?” “Hey, no need to get snarky. Just… oh, who am I kidding, it’s not like I would have that clear an idea myself.”

To assist him Brielle mentioned: “Erik chatted up a girl.”

And fell silent again. As if that would explain anything. Thousands of people chatted up someone. And just as Erik would have expected, Jeff seemed to be of a similar opinion: “Hey man, good for you! You’ve been single long enough! What’s it been since that cutie from the pool party? Six years? Seven?” “Something like that,” Erik forced himself to smile, “but it’s not what you think.”

“Aww, no need to get shy now! We’ve all flirted with a girl before here. Some of us still are.” Jeff winked at Brielle who just let one of her hands disappear under the table. Seconds later he grimaced but at least today he managed to not make a sound despite the pain where she pinched him.

“You’ll never learn, will you?” Erik sighed. “But be that as it may, really, it is not like that. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I had every intention on maybe getting her number. Ask her out on a date, get to know her. You know the drill. But… well, I kinda… talked to her.”

Still wary and with a grumpy glace at the girl besides him Jeff fired back: “That’s usually how flirting with someone new works, Mr. Smartypants. Though hopefully you didn’t only talk to her. Because if that is how you ended up half an hour late I have an idea why you’re making such a long face now.”

Ryan on the other hand nodded, suddenly a lot milder than a few minutes ago: “I feel you there, buddy, believe me. They wanna hear about your hobbies and before you even get into the third arc of Gundams they mysteriously have a prior engagement to get to.” “No, sorry, that might be just your problem there.”

Brielle shut the guys up with a glare that probably would have managed to freeze lava if she tried. Before directing her attention back to Erik, all concern and worry. “What I don’t understand,” she carefully approached the issue, “is why it keeps happening? It would be odd enough if it happened at all, of course, however sometimes life just plays out that way. But every time?” “Tell me about it,” he grimaced. She didn’t seem to press on after seeing his expression. A gap that Jeff more than eagerly used to get a word in himself: “Or better yet, you tell us! Sure you might not exactly play up there with the big movie stars when it comes to sex appeal, but really I can’t see a single reason why you wouldn’t find a date when you actually make an honest effort. So what are you doing that it ends up like this each time?”

It was obvious that their interest was raised to the point where they would never let him off the hook. Especially Jeff, friendly, supportive, nosey Jeff. If Erik didn’t watch his step the guy might just drag him to five blind dates a week until the matter was solved or something. He sure wouldn’t hesitate all for the sake of helping a friend. Though would it really be considered help given the circumstances? So he cleared his throat, taking another sip of liquid courage and tried to express just how it went.

“Really, I’ve been convinced it had to be just a coincidence for the longest time, much like you guys. I mean, it sounds lunatic no matter how you slice it. Chatting up a hot person is enough of a hurdle as it is. But seeing how odd they behave every time… ”

“So what if they tiptoe around you not being their type?”

“Oh, no. No, I doubt you could call it that. Though granted, that’s what anyone would think the first couple times around. So, you know, that’s a fair point to make. But no. It’s not like they feigned interest until a convenient distraction moves the conversation into safer waters. Or like they mysteriously get phone calls that need them to leave and postpone any meetings with me for the indefinite future. Nothing of the sort.”

It had a soothing effect to watch the golden brown alcohol swirl in the glass when he gently moved it while speaking and he found the motion helped the words flowing.

“If anything it is exactly… well, maybe not exactly but still pretty much the opposite. They don’t lose interest. If I had to say it, they get too interested in what I say. Like this girl today. She actually was the one coming up to me this time.”

“Aren’t you just bragging now?” Jeff’s question was swiftly followed by a painful yelp and a death glare that quickly vanished behind Brielle’s gentle encouragement: “Now I would get why you’re sure she wouldn’t just politely avoid you.”

“Right?” He appreciated how she helped him get back on track after the interruption. “I don’t even really remember what she started off with, but within a couple minutes we found ourselves sitting down at a nearby bench with two cheap paper cups in our hands and letting the heat of the coffee inside just warm our fingers. And I want to claim that we had a really eloquent conversation about this or that, but… well, to be honest I just talked. And I guess it was fine because she didn’t do much else. The words just kept flowing as a welcome reason to sit together, spend the time in each other’s company and  whatever was said didn’t even matter compared to just keep that moment going.”

Jeff seemed to have some words of his own but no sooner had he opened his mouth when with a careful glance at the pink haired girl next to him he fell silent. Erik barely noticed how dumbfounded he looked with his mouth opening and closing like a carp. In his mind he was back there, on the bench, a flimsy cup of coffee in his fingers instead of cold beer, once more seeing the expression of that young woman.

“She didn’t mind just listening. In fact sometimes she would nod along much as if she were feeling every word she heard. Maybe you already know that sort of fugue when it just feels so right to listen that the only important thing becomes to keep hearing that other person’s voice?” “Mhm,” Brielle murmured, all her attention on him. The guys both leaned back, evidently happy to wait their turn with further words.

“And honestly, had anyone been seeing the two of us sit there it likely wouldn’t have seemed like something out of the ordinary. Just imagine it, taking a stroll in the sun and seeing her there, focused on every word she heard and yet not being aware of a single one of them. Because in that moment it was much better to let the warmth from the cup soak into her. Much easier to simply nod and listen. So very comfy to stop thinking about where the conversation flowed. And how could it not? When even I, the one who kept talking, stopped thinking about the words and focused only on how lovely this person looked?”

He took another sip more to wet his throat than because he was thirsty, but neither of them so much as moved.

“And had such an onlooker continued to take in the scene, can we be sure they had noticed the signs? Would they really have become aware of how that woman’s head started drooping a little more with each nod? Would they have realized the way those shoulders slumped a little more with each breath? Would those eyes have seemed glassy and doll-like even from a distance? Or would all of those things simply happen without anyone noticing at all as the body simply responded to impulses beyond control?”

It was a question he still knew no answer to and at this point he began to wonder if it even mattered at all.

“Memory is such a blurry, foggy thing sometimes but perhaps you remember moments like that, caught somewhere in an unexplored haze between waking and dreaming, between listening and blankly absorbing. And I suppose that must have happened to that girl. Because by the time I noticed she was leaning against me, those eyes fluttering as if dancing on the line between watching and dreaming. Who really knows if she even had the ability left to notice her lips being softly parted, a faint trickle of drool escaping her as she slumped that far.”

Somehow the swirling beer inside his jug became a canvas, conjuring up all the impressions from that time anew. The weight of a person leaning on that arm. The warmth of another body right next to his. The slow, steady rhythm of her breath. The subtle moans as he continued to speak: “She was beautiful like that, no doubt. And as such I dared not to disturb the moment. Whether aware or not,  she felt here and now was exactly the right place and exactly the right time to let all worries and cares go. And I cannot put my finger on why, but we both knew that it was perfectly fine because that mind was so good at absorbing the words that continued to flow around it.”

Did the words flow down into the depths between slumbering thoughts like a warm, soothing liquid down a thirsty throat? It was a nice image at the very least. He smiled, appreciating that his friends had fallen still to give him a chance and get it all out.

“Of course, I say that the words don’t matter but that does not mean they were without meaning. It was just that neither of us needed to think about them because conversation took a life of it’s own, flowing on and on in a way we could drift along with. Like when I just began putting into words how attractive she was or how pleasurable it felt to be this close.”

The memory alone stirred up a blissful shiver.

Opposite from him Jeff and Brielle seemed to know exactly what he was talking about, both of them leaning against each other with dopey smiles on their faces and half-closed eyes. Meanwhile Ryan next to him slumped against the wall and seemed close to dozing off. Not like anyone could blame him. It was the middle of the night and by now the three were the only guests left. As the evening progressed it would be a surprise if people didn’t fall asleep.

He considered ushering the group to bed. But… he had never really had someone listen to him about this issue before and to be honest it was cathartic in a way to get it all out.

“Was it maybe the warmth of our drinks that melted one moment into the next? Or maybe the way the wind seemed to carry words and thoughts and anything else away for a while? Whichever it may have been, neither of us noticed how the longer I kept talking, the more pleasurable she found it to listen to me. Which may have been remarkable in hindsight, considering how the more she entrusted that mind to my words the more she began to shiver and moan. It almost seemed like that young woman’s mind felt the sheer sound of my voice with the intensity of soft, intimate touches. And it wasn’t before she was clutching my arm, openly panting in aroused heat that it dawned on me. It had happened again. Somehow it happens all the time. Like there were a pattern in the way I speak that inevitably draws someone in if they are willing to listen and follow the thoughts my voice offers.”

It was nice that his friends restrained their comments to moans under their breath. They clearly had to hold it in a fair bit, the excitement from not talking seemed to nearly overwhelm them as they shuddered and panted the moment he began to speak.

“It is like my words were putting her under a kind of hypnotic spell until all she could think about was whatever I told her. Like she were mesmerized to believe obeying this voice she hears meant pleasure and pleasure meant obedience. She was falling more and more under this spell the longer she kept listening. And kept listening only ever more intently the deeper she fell for me. By the time we realized this she was already so deep that the thought of obeying something I said alone was already sending wave after wave of pulsing arousal through her.”

Goodness, those three really gave it their all to hold back their opinions! They sounded just like that girl had as he wondered if the talk they had was going to turn her into a slave to the sound of his voice.

“In the end, of course, just as Ryan pointed out before, that just isn’t how flirting works. Of course in many ways a good flirt is about honing the art of seduction. Thus I could easily see how someone who enjoys this kind of flirt might get seduced into letting their thoughts fade the more they listen. Or might even get drawn into such a joyful haze that they start to crave doing as they are told when it is a safe time and place for that to happen. But in the end, a fun flirty dream is all it was. Because that is how that works.”

As he watched their faces Erik couldn’t help but wonder if they were already on their own way to dreamland. Ryan looked totally knocked out. Jeff was sprawled all over his seat, his mouth hanging but whatever comment he may have wanted to make long forgotten. And meanwhile Brielle rested on his chest, though her eyes fluttered open every now and again, unfocused and merely vaguely gazing in his direction. While one of her hands rested on a suspicious bulge in Jeff’s pants.

“That’s how it works. And yet, can you imagine why this keeps happening? It’s like this same dream keeps returning every time. During every flirt. As soon as I say something specific. Like, could it be possible that I would only need to say something as unusual as ‘Hibiscus puppets’ for that mind to drop right back into this dream of obedience and mindless submission? If that were so, can you imagine how powerful and intense the pleasure from this dream must be to draw them right back here when they feel it is appropriate and safe?”

The empty jug made a dull sound as it came to rest on the table. From across the room the waiter gave him a warning gesture by pointing at the clock. Sounds didn’t carry across the room as easily, but that wasn’t necessary to realize how late it had gotten. No wonder all three of them fell asleep.

“That woman is on her way home now, and honestly I don’t even know if she remembers the talk we had. That’s the thing about dreams, even if they leave an impression the brain usually remembers exactly as much or as little as it likes. What I do know is that she asked for my number right around the start, so who knows? If she really wants to, perhaps she will chat me up again sometime. After I returned to my senses and found that this weird flow had happened again I certainly did no longer dare ask for hers. Not when there were greater priorities. Like waking her up, for example. Because as comfortable as it may be to rest and dream with a kind voice flowing around those heads, eventually all the dreams will end and dissolve. As each dream gets followed by thoughts and awareness returning. But who am I kidding, of course you would already be so familiar with that. Speaking of which, you three, rise and shine. We gotta get you home safely as well after all. So c’mon, try to hear what I say so the sound can slowly guide you back up and awake!”

“Hmm… What?”

While rubbing the sleep from her eyes Brielle got up first. The guys took longer, but then again maybe they just really needed some shut-eye that bad.

“Sorry, probably bored you to death,” Erik shrugged, “Tell you what, as thanks for listening this round is all on me. Deal?”

“Awesome! Why didn’t you say that first? Feel free to always talk to me about your troubles from now on.” Jeff beamed at the news that he could leave his purse untouched tonight.

“Leech.” Ryan chuckled before turning pale at the sight of his smartphone display. “Shucks, folks, no choice here. I gotta run. Thanks for covering for me tonight. We should do this again sometime. I feel like I missed half of what you said. See you later!” And just like that he was out the door.

“He could at least have taken the time to say some proper goodbyes first if that’s how it was.” Despite her choice of words however Brielle didn’t sound displeased in the slightest. “Are you really gonna just treat us all? It’s perfectly fine for me to…”

“Don’t you worry about that. I was late and on top of that we only talked about my date today. This is the least one can do as thanks.”

“Ah. Maybe you really want to hold your horses then. Because sorry as I am to say after you went through the trouble of explaining it all, but I still feel pretty out of it. Not sure if anything of what we talked about stuck. Even though I finally hoped to understand just how to help you with your problem.”

“Don’t sweat it. Really, you guys were sleeping for most of it anyway. It would have been outstanding if you remembered the conversation in detail despite that.”

Even while responding a buzzing sound distracted him. A mail on his phone. From an unfamiliar number.

“Someone important?” Of course Brielle wouldn’t miss the effect these few digital words had on him. Which given his dumbfounded stare would likely have been hard even for a less attentive person. Like Jeff, who simply grunted: “Probably spam.”

“It’s her. The girl from earlier.  She’s asking if this was my number and if so, if I remember what we  had to drink during our talk. So that I can treat her to a repeat tomorrow evening at my place.”

“Smooth,” Brielle commented with a smirk, “So you can do it after all. Now I better hope your memory is more reliable than mine. I still can’t recall what that word was you mentioned along the way. Even though I really liked the expression. What was it? Did it have something to do with flowers?”

She was darn cute when she scrunched up her face like that. Without thinking he blurted out: “What? Did you mean ‘Hibiscus puppets’ maybe?”

As if struck by lightning both of them dropped whatever they were doing, eyes fluttering shut as they slumped in their seats. The change was far too dramatic so that even Erik could not have missed it.

“Oh fuck me,” he breathed as his eyes drank in the sight of his two hypnotized friends, “I did it again!” ***

Did you like this story? Then there’s good news! You can consider heading over to my Patreon and pledge, which will keep me writing even more smut for you every week! Yes, for you! Since my patrons even get a chance to have me write their favorite things. So head over there and learn how!

[captain-aralias]

Creators: give a “behind the scenes” look at one of your works. This could be things that got removed or changed, the origins of ideas/details, whatever you like!

oh hey - it’s trivia tuesday already (i guess it’s been a long two days back at work this week). i know everyone is still working their way through the remixes that are finished and posted - and i say, do this! some cracking stuff. i’m over half way through now, and i want to write up some thoughts about how these 26 stories approached remix - because it’s super inventive. i think people benefited from not being familiar with the format.

but i also wanted to share my thinking around why i picked the fic to remix that i did - and what else i was considering from @bazzybelle‘s ficlist, because i think the thought process around remix is interesting. AND i wanted to show you the 500 words i wrote almost immediately of a completely different remix that i definitely won’t finish. it would have been... a publishing AU, fake relationship with too-early-in-the-relationship sex. all good things in a fic, right?

so - read on for deleted scenes, and discussion of thought process. and don’t read on, if that’s not your jam. 

(in general remember - i’m keen to leave stuff in the original that’s good, rather than just thieve everything. so that’s my thought process here.) 

first idea: 

I Just Want Your Extra Time And Your .....

(texting, sex chat). i already really liked this fic, and i have IRL experience of working in publishing (which you’ll see to some extent in the fic - i worked very near people who worked on celebrity cookbooks, which is what baz works on in the fic) (the launch party is not revealed to be at the groucho club in the bit i wrote, but would have been - and i’ve been there/i know soho, so ... that was all appealing)

my idea was: the original is a text fic, mine isn’t, although they still only know each other through the sex chat set-up. so instead of simon and baz having text-sex (as in the fic), baz asks simon [who he's never met] to come and be his fake date at a publishing launch party where he sees lamb, his former boyfriend. 

the trigger for simon and baz progressing with their relationship/having sex (Because they were going to have sex but IRL) would be the same - baz seeing lamb and freaking out. and some of the texts would be literally copied and pasted in my fic as backstory. 

here were my original notes:

in the original fic there's a bit where baz sees lamb, his ex boyfriend, and then is like - hey, simon distract me and they have phone sex

my fic will essentially start there - baz is at a launch party for one of his books, lamb is there - dating the author. it is awful. baz wants to leave, but can't. also, it's time for the text slot with simon - he goes and hides in a cloakroom

and is texting simon, it's terrible - i am so drunk and it's still terrible. and i think simon offers (rather than baz asks) to come and pretend to be his boyfriend

for some sort of plausible denial reason like baz will text him a lot over hte next few days so he'll get a lot of extra money or some shit, but also because simon thinks lamb is a dick even through teh messages

simon shows up - they both drink a lot. they like each other, simon punches lamb (probably). baz asks if he can take simon to a restaurant, they talk more - they kiss. they go back to a hotel together. they discuss whether or not this means that simon is a prostitute (no). they have sex IRL

baz wakes up - and leaves immediately, obviously.

they text again the next day - it's awkward. simon thinks about how he could track baz down if he wanted to - but he feels like baz doesn't want him to, so he doesn't

simon gets out of his horrible job - baz probably tries to get in touch with him, but can't because he's gone. simon gets a message from baz ....... this is still to be determined

anyway - i will probably steal the meet cute in the elevator, it's nice.

why i stopped writing it: 

i knew it was going to take ages to write - i didn’t have the time or brainspace to write 20k of fic. i’d assumed going in that i could lean on the original fic to provide the meetcute, but realised that since it was an AU, i still needed to sell the relationship - particularly given that they were meeting in real life for the first time in my fic. 

also, it would have been my first mundane AU for the fandom, and my first thing where they weren’t enemies first. (so i was trying to think about how i could get them not to like each other a bit WHILE STILL doing fake dating - and it was throwing me off). it was all just too much.

everything i’ve written is pasted for you at the bottom.

other ideas: 

a month passed. i didn’t write any more on my original remix, but went back to greener grass instead. i sent out the month warning email to remixees and thought - i am not going to finish this fic. 

so, i went back to the list of bazzybelle’s fic and thought what can i write that i can definitely write in a month? 

1. You're F***in' Perfect to Me - daphne POV

i thought, i could write this from malcolm's POV.  in the fic daphne talks a lot about how she and malcolm are just friends, rather than true love, and it's baz she has real (motherly) feelings for, not malcolm. so i thought i could write 'the courtship of mrs grimm' where malcolm gets a wake-up call from this argument, and thinks, i actually do love daphne but she likes my son more than me. he's been hiding behind not wanting to sully natasha's memory, etc, etc. fiona would probably be in it. 

2. bat baz

i also had a bit of a naff idea where instead of baz turning into a bat, in bat baz, he would turn into bat man... 

(interestingly one of the remixes was about baz turning into a cat) 

3. If I Fell In Love With You - which i eventually chose

i took the dancing and the music, the set up, and the theme of communication - also some dialogue. pushed some of the focus onto baz’s relationship with niall, pushed the action back in time towards wayward son, added a truth spell (based on a spell in the original) to force communication.

i think this is one of the most interesting remixes i’ve ever done, btw. i’m really pleased with my take on it. 

i chose this to remix because i thought - it’s only a few scenes, rather than a whole get-together arc, and it felt achievable in the timespan. i also had a strong idea about what i could do that was different - the relationship with niall and the spell, and what i would leave for people to discover in the original (simon’s POV - including the warmth he feels when baz cooks for him, the two of the resolving the initial fight when simon comes home in a bad mood). 

the title is a combination of - another line from ‘if i fell’ but one that is about not talking to each other/not putting yourself out there... and ‘where words fail’ - which is the spell i used, and also picks up on what baz says to niall - that telling simon wasn’t enough. even if he’d had the right words, they wouldn’t have been believable. but - through the music/magic, they were able to communicate. 

i also considered using a line from ‘into my arms’ instead (I believe in some kind of path), since that was the song that the magic is cast on - but it didn’t work as well thematically. 

here’s the fic i wrote: Don’t Run and Hide (The ‘Where Words Fail’ Remix’)

and here’s the remix i didn’t write. i think i almost wanted to finish it just for the elvis gag. alas, alas.

I Just Want your Extra Time: remix, not written

BAZ

I don’t smoke as much as my father thinks I do. And I don’t drink – not usually. This evening, though, I’ve already had several glasses of champagne and I’m on my fourth cigarette, the second this smoke break. Because it’s that or go back inside. And I definitely don’t want to go back inside.

I should have known he’d be here.

Not that he was invited. Not that he’s on the guest list. Not that there’s any reason at all, in fact, for him to be here, except that my life is an absolute disaster. Today definitely not an exception.

If anything, it’s worse than usual. I thought I’d already hit bottom when Dev told me I had to ring our printers – in China – and get them to promise to ship one of our new titles three weeks early, as some idiot had sent the press release out with the wrong date. That was excruciating, but things seemed to be improving.

It’s a launch party night. I’m not sure why, but I always look forward to them, even though I hate crowds. (Niall would probably say, other people in general. And he wouldn’t be far wrong.)

But I get to wear a suit. (Tonight’s is Spencer Hart. Dark grey. Green tie.) And I know Snow is going to text after the first hour. And even though no one ever remembers to thank the editor – not unprompted, anyway – I do enjoy the satisfaction of knowing that I’m responsible for turning whatever dross we’ve been told to sell into something that could loosely be called a book.

This one is a cookbook by an actor (not a chef, in other words. I had to hire someone else to write the recipes and then we just photographed him next to the result.) It should be a triumph. It is – we’ve already sold several thousand copies. I should be enjoying myself. But then I heard a voice next to my ear.

“Baz.” And someone put a hand on my waist. “Don’t you look rosy?”

Not someone. Lambert. (I never called him Francois, even when we were intimate.) As irritatingly handsome as ever. And just as confident I’ll do whatever he wants.

I haven’t seen him for months. Not since he left me Las Vegas to go off with one of the better-looking Elvis impersonators. (And if that isn’t the most humiliating break-up story you’ve ever heard, then I really don’t want to know what is. Dumped. And for Elvis.) (Not even the real Elvis - not that it makes a difference.)

“I hoped I’d see you here,” he – Lambert – told me. “It’s been far too long.”

“Since you left me.”

He gave me a hurt look. “Baz. We said Auf Wiedersehen, not goodbye.”

“Who are you really here with?”

The author, of course. I watched their eyes meet across the room and Lambert smiling, before he told me it wasn’t serious. And that he’d be interested in taking me to dinner.

“Unless you’re seeing someone?”

I raised an eyebrow – even though I know Lambert knows I only do that when I can’t think of anything to say. Which means he probably knows the truth, which is that there isn’t anyone else. Not anyone else real, anyway.  

Which reminds me …

I check my watch – it’s later than I thought.

[theflashdriver]

Silvaze: Fiction and a First

The atmosphere following Iblis' defeat was strangely comforting to Blaze. She knew the monster would return in a few weeks and its flames still dominated the city but as she lay, sprawled across an old couch with a poetry book in hand, those facts found no quarter in her mind. Instead, she found herself whisked away by the words in front of her; thoroughly capable of indulging herself.

Well, the beast's defeat wasn't the only factor contributing to her comfort. The good health of a certain grey hedgehog, lounging atop a beanbag chair just a little out of reach, relieved her to no end. Silver the Hedgehog, her partner in combat and in life. After the battle with Iblis, they'd had more than a few injuries to tend. Both Blaze's shoulder and knee had been injured during the fight but Silver's wounds had been relatively minor. A grazed elbow where he hadn't fully deflected a hurled boulder and a small burn on the right side of his muzzle were really the only ones of note but, of course, she'd tended his wounds as thoroughly as he'd tended hers; despite his protesting over the difference in scale.

Daring to throw him a glance, Blaze was forced to suppress a giggle. He'd thoroughly sunken into his chair, legs crossed in front of him while the rest of his body arched back. His arms were stretched toward the ceiling as he slowly flicked his way through a book. She had no idea how he could find the position comfortable but, for now, she concluded there was no harm in his silliness. After all, she wasn't sat upright either.

As her eyes returned to her book a yawn managed to slip past her lips. They'd, perhaps, made themselves a little too comfortable in their new home. What'd once been a youth centre, a gathering place for teenagers and young adults, had been converted into a two-floor house. The first floor didn't see much use, the street-level was too susceptible to monster attacks, but the second floor had been thoroughly customised. Powerless computers and televisions had been thrown out, quickly being replaced with books and board games. Posters of bygone football teams had been replaced with maps of the world and star atlases, they'd constructed a bed in a snug room with no windows and brought with various additional comforts. Safe to say, she slept more easily here than she had in their prior, ramshackle, homes.

The fact she was wearing pyjamas likely contributed to her sleepy state. She'd chosen them over her usual garb for the sake of comfort, donning a mauve tank top had allowed Silver to easily tend her shoulder and her black shorts kept her injured knee free from chafing. Still, regardless of intent, the usual purpose of these softer clothes was too heavily ingrained; another yawn broke free and tears filled the corners of her eyes. Deciding she'd won enough fights today, Blaze set the book atop her chest (careful to keep her page) and allowed her eyes to close.

For a while she simply lay there, content to drift asleep, but a voice managed to rouse her, "Blaze?"

"Hmm?" She hummed, managing to half acknowledge her partner.

"How much do you know about kissing?"

Blaze's eyes shot open; she raced to sit up, almost sliding from the couch as she did so. His words had granted her a pulse-pounding second wind, her tiredness was fully transmuted to surprise, "Wh-What?!"

Silver, meanwhile, despite what he'd just asked, was still sprawled atop the beanbag; looking at his book rather than daring to face her, "I was just wondering how much you know about kissing because… I don't really get it?"

"Where did you even learn that word?" That was stupid to ask; of course Silver knew what kissing was. He'd surely read about it at some point, "W-Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, it just came up in this book I'm reading?" Silver replied, "I've known about kissing for a while but this story makes it seem a whole lot more important…?"

He finally shifted to sit upright, his quills briefly cascading into his face before being pushed back by a wave of psychic energy. As Blaze caught sight of the book in his hands she felt her blush grow brighter still; all of a sudden she was on her feet, fists clenched as she struggled to keep herself from snatching it. There was no mistaking the book's title, it stood out so clearly against the book's otherwise featureless navy cover. Emblazoned on the front, written in a cursive font, were the words, 'The Cure for a Petrified Heart.' It was a romance novel aimed at teenage girls. A romance novel a certain, fire manipulating, purple, teenaged feline had read several times.

"Where did you find that?! Th-That's a…" She didn't dare finish her sentence, the words 'Romance Novel' weighed much too heavily on her tongue. "You don't read… those. You read history books and books about nature, n-not young adult fiction about "

Blaze knew she was being more than a little hypocritical; after all, she'd only recently started reading romance novels herself. Her first had been The Cure for a Petrified Heart, the very book he now held. She'd mistaken the tome for a poetry book but, having finished her other tomes, she'd decided to give it a go. Blaze wasn't willing to admit how quickly she'd fallen in love with the story, let alone its characters. She'd become immersed in the tale a teenaged hedgehog named Ivory, a girl who spends most of her time studying to appease her restrictive parents, and her burgeoning affection for her best friend, a feline by the name of Star. Of course, the hedgehog's feelings come into conflict with her need to study and soon she's fighting to choose between stargazing with her beloved and doing advanced trigonometry.

"I know it's not what I usually read but I saw you reading it a while ago. Whenever you did, it looked like it was making you really happy, so I figured it was worth reading myself," He must have caught the shock in her eyes, wincing slightly he asked, "Should I not have? You left it on the shelf ages ago and you hadn't marked a page, so I thought you were done with it. If you're not you can have it back, I'm sorry."

Ignoring his query, she couldn't help but ask a question of her own, "How much have you read?"

"I think I'm about halfway through it? Ivory has been hiding up in her room, pretending to be sick and not even going to school, because Star keeps accidentally distracting her in class and her grades have started to slip. Her parents aren't happy about it and neither is she, but she's sure that if she doesn't study on her own things will get worse," Silver expunged and, as he did, Blaze felt her blush grow brighter still, "Star doesn't seem to understand that he's the problem though, judging by the chapter I've almost finished. He made copies of all his notes to give her but, rather than just give them to her parents; he climbed her wall to knock on her bedroom window."

Of all the scenes in the book, Blaze knew that one the best and that truth embarrassed her most of all. She had read and reread that chapter on no fewer than twenty separate occasions; she could recall it from memory, practically word for word.

"He wanted to give her the notes and leave but she took his hand instead, it was raining so she insisted that he stayed for a while. They talked for a bit, she kept looking at his lips and, well, eventually they just… kissed," He concluded, so very bluntly.

That moment was the reason Blaze was embarrassed that he was reading the book. It was during that chapter that the Blaze couldn't help drawing parallels between the studious, serious, hedgehog and herself. Ivory's feline lover on the other hand, contradictory as it was, matched Silver all too well. The character of Star was painfully honest, overly curious, genuine and very naïve indeed; going out of his way for Ivory far more often than he truly should have. Additionally, although Blaze had never lived as a normal girl in a normal house, the concept of Star scaling Ivory's wall to see her could so easily be swapped with Silver floating his way to Blaze's windowsill to stay for a little while. Just long enough for a kiss of course, long enough to sweep her off her feet but not to carry her away; enough to leave her wanting just a little more.

Blaze would never admit, not even to herself, how many times she'd imagined and reimagined that scene.

The only response she could muster were two, quiet, words, "I-I see."

"I've been enjoying it, it's really nice to see what high school was like way back when it existed, but kissing keeps coming up. Ivory kept thinking about him kissing her, she kept considering kissing him and stuff like that. I thought when they actually did it I'd be able to understand why she thought about it so much, but I still don't?" Silver embarrassingly extrapolated, "They built up kissing as this wonderful thing and that it's really special, but isn't it just two people pushing their mouths together? I've read about kissing in encyclopaedias, and kisses have been mentioned in other stories I've read, but it never seemed all that important to me. Ever since I started this book, I can't stop thinking about it."

Blaze tried her hardest to keep her tail under control as those last words slipped free from his lips. Her arms folded across her chest, her ears pinned back and her eyes found themselves magnetically drawn away from his face and toward by a patch of burnt carpet.

"Well, um," She tried her best to think of some brief, yet thorough, explanation but embarrassment forced the truth from her, "It's rather difficult to describe the appeal of kissing."

"I've reread that passage a ton and I just don't get it…" He nodded in agreement, "Kissing is supposed to feel nice, I can tell that much, but, in the book, it's described as feeling like an explosion in your chest? But Ivory also says that it feels soft and sweet and tender, how can it be so many different things?"

"I'm," She nervously swallowed, now pondering on it herself. Thinking back to how she imagined kissing Silver would feel, "N-Not entirely sure."

"And why didn't people kiss more often? If it feels so amazing, wouldn't you want to do it all the time? Wouldn't lots of people just… kiss each other?" He'd asked yet another question, Blaze felt like she had to give some kind of answer this time.

"W-Well, I always thought that it wasn't kissing itself that feels like that, it's the fact you are kissing the right person; that's what makes it feel so wonderful. It's the fact that you're sharing such an intimate moment with someone you care deeply for; the person you care for the most. You're showing them how much you care about them by drawing them in close and exchanging a touch reserved for them and no other. The two of you get to share a moment born of your intimacy, m-made real by your closeness. You couldn't ask just anyone to kiss you and expect it to be wonderful, it has to be that special person. If it wasn't, then it wouldn't matter so you wouldn't get that feeling," The feline felt herself stumbling over her words. Though her understanding of kissing was clearly more developed than his, she, of course, hadn't actually kissed anyone. "At least, I think that's how it's supposed to be…"

"No, I think you're right. I think that makes way more sense than just touching lips and feeling a magic spark or some kind of nice earthquake. It having to be the right person would explain why everyone wasn't kissing all the time..." Silver seemed to pause for a moment, deep in through, "Can we try it?"

What puzzled her most of all was how nonchalant he was being. Had her explanation been that poor? Did he not understand he'd been reading a romance novel? Did he really think it was some kind of historical document, detailing an actual young girl's time at high school? Even then, the book focused so much on Ivory's crush while her schooling was more of a backdrop that occasionally pushed the narrative in an interesting direction. He had to know kisses occurred between loved ones rather than friends, didn't he? Despite how flustered she felt and how her blush was surely showing, he seemed totally unfazed by their situation; not in the least bit bashful about his proposal! Had she not explained this was one of the most intimate acts a pair could perform, reserved for only-

"I care about you more than I care about anyone or anything else, so if kissing works like you said then you're the person I should be kissing," He explained, entirely serious and more than half confident in his hypothesis, "Right?"

It was as though her brain was misfiring, Blaze was left completely speechless. Here he was, asking if he could kiss her and asking her to kiss him. There was zero hesitation in his voice, not an iota of contemplation or a speck of bashfulness. As was ever so common, the hedgehog's heart was on his sleeve and his intentions were much too easily discerned. They cared a lot about each other, the bandages they wore were more than evidence of that, but for him to so bluntly surmise their mutual care still caught her off guard. Not only that, but he truly wanted to try it; he wasn't joking, he wasn't the type to do that, Silver genuinely wanted to try kissing. He wanted to kiss her.

She must have been staring into space for too long because, when he finally broke the silence, concern hung on his voice; "We don't have to if you don't want to Blaze, it's ok-

"N-No I…" Blaze caught herself before she could finish that sentence; she swallowed her stutter and steeled herself, "Get up! You want to do this so we're doing it!"

"Really?!" The smile on his face was overwhelming, Silver bounded to his feet without hesitation but he paused before he could approach any further, "Are you sure? I don't know much about kissing, but the book made it out to be a big deal. A person's first kiss especially, that one's supposed to be really special. "

"I just agreed, didn't I? I'm more than certain, " A realisation dawned upon Blaze, she posed a similar question, "Are you okay with me being your first kiss?"

"Of course I am Blaze! There's no one else I'd even consider, you're really important to me and this is meant to be really important so it only makes sense," He was beaming at her, clearly overexcited, "As long as you're sure, I'm sure. As long as you're okay, I'm okay."

"Just," She felt a warmth she could only describe as bubbling giddiness; it was growing too powerful, "Give me a moment."

Blaze fully turned away from him in an attempt to compose herself, her eyes shut and arms still tightly folded across her chest. A bizarre shudder raked through her; she imagined it was the combined symptom of anticipation and, admittedly, a little bit of fear. Though she'd thought about it, Blaze hadn't anticipated something like this actually happening for years, if it ever did. She'd assumed, at the very least, neither of them would have the will to broach the subject until after Iblis was defeated for good. Furthermore, she'd imagined it'd be her dropping hints and to struggling to gently show interest. This was all just a little too fast, all just a little too sudden. Blaze felt her tail wriggle and writhe, it was as though her embarrassment was attempting to break free of her body and manifest as its own, awkward, entity. Were it not for today's endeavour, had she not fought and drained herself, Blaze was certain that her flames would have sprung forth long ago.

It was only as she reopened her eyes that she noticed he'd shifted. Not only had Silver drawn a few steps closer but his bright yellow eyes were shining down on her, carrying upon them an innocent worry that pierced her heart.

"I'm fine, I said I was… you're so naïve," Blaze caught herself half growling, reflexively puffing herself up in an attempt to look more confident than she actually was. One of her arms fell to her side, her remaining hand still gripping at her elbow. She sighed, trying to relax just a little, "This is all very new to me too and I want to do it right. I'm trying to think how we should… start."

"We could just do it like they did?" Despite her state, he still seemed oblivious to the connotations of their immanent embrace. She couldn't tell if that was for better or worse, "Like Star and Ivory."

The first kiss between Star the Cat and Ivory the Hedgehog, while not as heated as kisses she'd read about in later books, was a rather intimate affair. As she recalled, it remained surface level (that, or anything beyond the lips was left purely to the imagination) but the position they managed and the time spent in lip-lock was a feat in and of itself. To call that moment between them their first kiss would be to put it too lightly, too simply; it was much more than an awkward peck. But it wasn't too much more, she hoped at least.

"L-Like Star and Ivory," Blaze managed to repeat, half reflecting on what she wanted out of this first kiss and half on what she thought was possible, "I don't think that's beyond being possible?"

Having said that, Blaze did realise (now putting herself in Ivory's shoes) she would have to guide him. Even though he knew the hold, she was going to imitate this. Blaze, struggling not to turn away as her embarrassment maximised, reached across with her left hand; fumbling to find his hand only for him to find hers. Their fingers slowly interlocked and, as they did, she gingerly crossed her thumb across his.

"W-Wrap your arm around my waist," With the embarrassment behind her breath, it sounded almost as though she'd commanded him.

Despite her rashness, his arm immediately coiled around her waist. Blaze stumbled forward slightly; her chin had almost met with his chest fur. The gap between their frames was so very small; as her gaze dropped again she saw that her feet were between his. As she felt his right hand come to rest, only her tank top kept his fingers from her hip and his palm from the small of her back.

It was close, but this wasn't quite the complete hold Star and Ivory had shared. After all, Blaze still had one free hand. She wasn't brave enough to sink her fingers into his quills, not yet at least. For now, the less intimate contact would do; she'd have to build up to it.

Another realisation struck, only furthering Blaze's embarrassment. Despite the fact she was leading, despite her telling him what to do and how to kiss her, she was almost half a head shorter than him. The feline wore her heels so often (and she'd been so distracted by her embarrassment) that she'd completely forgotten the difference between their heights. Getting Silver to bend down and kiss her was, somehow, more embarrassing than the alternative. She would have to rise, climbing to her tiptoes in order to kiss him. It wasn't helping that, with so little distance between them, she was on eye level with the lips she'd soon be kissing. Try as she might, she couldn't stop staring.

"Is this okay Blaze? Am I holding you too tight?" He innocently inquired.

"N-No, that's good, I…" Her mouth felt dry all of a sudden, she assumed it was the heat, "We'll also need to tilt our heads, o-otherwise our lips won't meet properly," He blinked at her. Once again, he hadn't fully understood, "Lets both tilt right?"

"Like this?" Without hesitation, Silver tilted his head too far right. His muzzle was pressing against his shoulder, it seemed she would have to take more initiative than simply rising to her tiptoes.

"A little less, more like…" Blaze, without even thinking, reached up and sunk her hand into his quills, thus completing the hold as described in the book and the position they'd often taken in her mind's eye. Lines she'd read about pairs sharing passionate embraces, fingers running through hair and quills alike, quickly rushed to the forefront of her mind. Despite this, the feline couldn't bring herself to remove her hand from his overgrown spines. As she tilted her head to match his, she convinced herself that her hand should stay there. This way she could course-correct if they made a mistake, "There, th-that's perfect."

Innocent, excited, yellow eyes sparkled, but at this distance Blaze managed to spot something interesting. Now, with that promised kiss no more than a few moments away, a pink tinge had gently spread across his cheeks.

"Are you starting to understand? I've been feeling like this ever since you asked about kissing. Warm and nervous and…" Blaze forced herself to continue the explanation, after all; she was supposed to lead this, "Like my heart is exploding."

"I-I," He very almost forgot her hold as he shot up straight, eyes widening at his own stutter. Suddenly, his eyes darted to part from hers; unfortunately, there weren't many other places to look. He managed to half mumble, "I think I am."

"Do you still want to…" She led, once again finding herself unable to finish her sentence. It wasn't that she wanted to stop, in fact now she'd faintly invigorated, but she had to be sure he was comfortable.

Those bright yellow orbs flickered back to her amber ones as he gave as best a nod as he could, "I'm starting to get it, b-but now I want to know what it's actually like."

Silver's blush was creeping further, threatening to scale his ears with each passing moment. Well, at least they were flustered together; to Blaze, that somehow made this all just a little less embarrassing. She didn't have much time to consider that though, the tension between them seemed to be growing thicker by the second. She felt those often-described butterflies in her stomach but, as long as he did too, she knew that was fine. As long as it was mutual, as long as they were on the same wavelength, she knew everything would be okay.

"Alright, I'll lean in and, once I start kissing you, try to make your lips match mine," She instructed, managing to properly hold eye contact for the first time since he'd asked.

The hedgehog's brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"Just," She had no idea how to elegantly phrase what she wanted to say, "When I push my lips against yours, you're supposed to push back…? You can use your neck a little but I-I think you're supposed to just use your lips," Clearly still befuddled, Silver started to shape his lips into various (likely useless) forms. Not wanting to add humour to the dangerous concoction of emotions she was feeling, she quickly told him, "W-Watch and feel as I lead, I think the best way to learn is by doing it."

A look of realisation overcame his muzzle, fighting against his blush, "Oh, okay. So this is like practice?"

"If that helps then yes, th-think of it like practice," Blaze wasn't sure what she was saying at this point.

Practice for what? Practice for who? The only person she'd ever considered kissing was Silver and he'd only started to question kissing today, he'd even admitted she was the right person for him to kiss. Did he mean practice for the future? When she'd agreed, did she mean practice for the future? Blaze felt her hands grow sweatier as she contemplated that. She knew that even if Silver couldn't feel her sweat, he'd surely feel the heat that accompanied it. Thankfully, he hadn't mentioned it yet.

Swallowing one last time, she felt her grip grow just a little tighter, "Are you ready?"

"I-I think so?" Once again, caught off-guard by his own stutter, the blush on his cheeks grew a shade warmer. He managed to return her query, "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Blaze half-nodded, there was nothing more to do. The moment was finally upon them, "Close your eyes and stick out your lips, I'll…" Synapses failed to fire as she struggled to give her final instruction. Eventually, she decided to draw upon their reference material, "I-I'll be Ivory, I-I'll lead and you … just do what you can."

For a moment he hesitated, perhaps he thought he'd be taking the hedgehog's position, but he quickly complied; closing his eyes and puckering up. He looked more than a little silly, clearly not sure of what to do with his mouth and his brows were strongly furrowed, but it was rather endearing. Just as neither of them knew what this would feel like, neither of them really knew what they were doing. For whatever reason, that thought relaxed Blaze just a little.

Blaze took a deep breath, squinting incredulously at Silver; expecting reality to, somehow, fall away before their lips could meet. She shifted onto to her tiptoes, maintaining her stare as matched the hedgehog's height. His eyes were shut much too tightly and his shoulders looked much too tense; it was as though he was bracing for a literal explosion rather than a figurative one. Deep within her chest, Blaze felt a fluttering warmth. It was soft and yet, somehow, prickly. It was calming yet exhilarating; soothing yet overwhelming. It was as if her blood had been replaced with crackling energy; fuzzy feelings were flowing throughout her body but her heart couldn't handle the strain. As the distance between them shrank her temperature continued to rise, the feeling was just as contradictory as the books made it out to be. It was too strange to verbalise yet unabashedly wonderful.

Her eyelids grew heavy, her head tilted to mirror his alignment and three stuttered words managed to slip from her mouth. It was a phrase she couldn't help but use whenever these feelings grew just a little too palpable, "Y-You're so naïve…"

Eyes fully shut, Blaze pressed her muzzle against his; their lips met for the very first time. Surprised caused his fingers to tense, his grip around her waist tightened so suddenly that Blaze very almost ended their lip lock there and then; but her own hold on his quills kept them connected. Admittedly, however, a muffled, not unlike a squeak, did push past her lips. She kept hold of the back of his head, trying to make sure that he didn't mistake the sound for some kind of regret. Blaze felt herself almost melt into Silver, despite the strength with which they were surely holding each other; three of their four contact points faded into obscurity while the fourth drew all of her attention.

Electrifying was a word Blaze had never truly understood, electricity belonged to a long lost past, but, finally, she could match a sensation to its definition. Despite the heat and her nervousness, or perhaps even due to it, Blaze was thoroughly enjoying this.

It was only as she began to understand this feeling that it metamorphosed into something even greater. Silver had overcome his surprise and was fighting to return her kiss! She felt him shift in her grasp, contrary to what she'd advised he'd shifted his head and leant in closer still; pressing his mouth into hers. Despite the clumsiness behind his effort, it was more than enough to draw muffled purrs from her throat and send what remained of her senses into disarray. She felt her tail whip wildly and her ears press angle down further; as if urging her to somehow close the distance even further.

This was achieved by tugging his quills, she'd tilted his head just a little more and thus allowed their contact to deepen. His lips pushed against hers, he'd overcome his shock and remembered her advice. The warmth of her face now mingled and matched with that in her chest, culminating in a combined heat the likes of which she'd never felt. It was unlike any flame she could conjure and must have been the antithesis of Iblis' lava. It was like a roaring hearth, a heat that comforted despite its ferocity. Blaze found herself sifting through his quills and felt herself unravel just a little more; giving in to feelings she'd previously quarantined. If it was only going to be this once, this one and only test, she wanted to make the very most of it.

When they finally separated the sound of their panting filled the room and Blaze felt more than a little lightheaded. Were it not for their shared grip, one of them would have surely stumbled. Blaze wasn't sure how long that silence lasted but, equally, she didn't care. She was much too distracted by the lingering warmth on her lips.

"That was incredible, Blaze! I-I think I get it now!" Silver, meanwhile, was recovering in his own way. Trying to reassure her thus reassuring himself. Still, he wasn't wrong, "I-It's even better than the book said!"

With her embarrassment returning to its highest point, Blaze's voice was robbed from her and her eyes returned to that patch of burnt carpet. But, regardless of her capacity to speak, the feline's uncontrollable purrs were most certainly conveying mutuality of his statement.

"Can we do it again?"

[cloudbattrolls]

The Mirror Looks Back

Chimer Latrai | Civitrecce | Several Nights Prior

You hesitate before you knock on her door.

The building you’re standing in one of the many identical hallways of is very uniform for Civitrecce. Ask any troll to think of the tech city, and they’d probably imagine a tall gray hivestem just like this one, fifty floors tall with struts on the outside to balance it in the winds and roosts for flying lusii to roost on.

There are gardens around its outside balconies too, strung with netting to keep out the aforementioned flying lusii. Each lowblood is allowed to grow a certain amount of their own food. A lot of places don’t even permit such things (god forbid lowbloods be too self-sufficient) but given Civitrecce’s population and the financial strain of imports from the surrounding valleys, it was finally allowed about seventy sweeps ago.

Still, you saw what must’ve been a highblood’s raptor lusus swoop down on one, tear through its netting with what looked like metal-covered talons and wreck it, not even eating anything it destroyed. You wish you’d been in range to throw your trident, but it was at least ten floors up. Plus an incident is the last thing you need right now, though you grit your fangs at your own helplessness and the far worse loss to whatever poor troll is the victim. Probably just one of way too many this has happened to.

The troll you’re about to visit is a victim in her way, but like no other.

You’ve searched for any mention of someone else hatched like her in your many sweeps - any whisper that she wasn’t an anomaly - but you’ve never found anything definitive.

The door opens before you can knock on it.

Tabula Raisaa is a slight maroon, a foot shorter than you and a bit thinner. Her hair only comes to an inch or so past her ears, and her eyes are psiionic white, but were it not for the luminous glow, one would almost think they belonged to a ghost.

Her face is a copy of yours.

Or really, yours is a copy of hers.

“Heeeeeey...” You say, all your planned starts to the conversation going up in a cloud of smoke.

She raises a finger in a “wait” gesture and walks back inside.

You peer in after her, eyes wide with curiosity.

Her hiveblock is small, but...cozy, you suppose. There are notebooks everywhere, open and closed, old and new. A battered laptop is open on a table with a strong-smelling cup of coffee beside it, steaming gently. Strings of lights are strewn across the ceiling and walls. A white meowbeast - not a lusus, you think - dozes curled up on an old maroon couch with threadbare patches.

“Nice setup you got here. Didn’t know you were one for pets.”

A black dog with orange eyes snapping and snarling, trying to take your place.

You wince at the memory. One upside of dealing with Tabula: at least she has no recall feature.

Though...she seems to recognize you. How is that possible? You were ready to explain everything, now that she doesn’t have Cherie’s power sustaining her memory.

“I could be culled for not having a lusus.” she replies from a room you can’t see, tone sharp. 

Sharp? Tabula’s always dull, emotionless...

The girl who walks back in is anything but, arms crossed as she looks at you with distaste.

“I felt disdain was appropriate for you, so I drank some.” She says, chin up. 

Your fins ripple up and down in confusion.

“You can store emotions now? Also, what’d I do.”

Tactfully you don’t remind her that she once tried to kill you, and also she was on Cherie’s side last time.

At least they don’t seem to have done anything to her. 

She laughs, an eerie enough sound that your skin prickles a little. It’s like she learned how from recordings which...is about right.

“Can I sit down at least?”

“Why not?” She says, shrugging. “You’ve imposed yourself on me in every other way.”

Rolling your eyes, you plunk down near the meowbeast, which opens a sleepy yellow eye at you and then ignores you entirely.

“Look, I’m not expecting you to be jazzed about me, but I came here to make sure you were safe, okay? Cherie has popped up again and they talked about you in their usual creepy way, so I’m trying to be responsible toward you for once. Be a pal and don’t give me shit.”

“You’ve seen me, I’m safe. Since you’re still here, you want something from me, as if you haven’t taken everything I was entitled to already.”

She’s not being fair.

That’s your first thought, yet she’s not wrong. Chimera’s selfishness created you, not that you asked for that. Cherie claims Tabula is hollow, incapable of individuality, but just because she’s different doesn’t mean she’s not a person. 

For over four hundred sweeps she was a voice in your head, watching you live the life she should’ve had.

You exhale deeply. Just because you didn’t mean for her to suffer doesn’t mean you’re not the reason why.

Plus, though it stings, she’s not entirely wrong.

“Yes.” You admit. “But that was a recent thing, like, an hour ago. I originally came here to see if you were safe and ask you some questions. And if you don’t want me to, I won’t bring it up. Plus, it’s for a friend, not me.”

She takes out a vial from her sylladex - you see it flash golden - and drinks it down. 

“For a friend! That makes it better, doesn’t it? How you assume I’d help you. What do I get in return?”

Amusement enters her tone, the hard edge of disdain still pointed beneath it.

“I can pay you, or give you a favor. Also, how are you storing those? How do you even remember me?”

“Magic, Chimer!” She sings, entirely amused now as she twirls in place, her gray skirt swirling. “Magic, psi, and technology combined. Did you think you were the only one with all the tricks? Oh - but you gave it up. Silly girl!”

Disdainful Tabula suddenly seems a lot more appealing.

“Coooool. Okay, so, what do you remember about Cherie’s goals, if anything? Did they ever talk about their past, or how they felt about the spectrum?”

“Why should I care? They weren’t very funny.” she says, yawning, but then a watch on her wrist beeps and she downs another vial, this one gray. She calms, and sits on the floor, cross-legged.

“You haven’t asked me about myself in the whole time you’ve been here. I’m nothing but information to you.”

Her voice is even, non-judgmental. 

Perhaps that’s why your fists clench as you inhale deeply, fins pressed down.

“What should I ask you, Tabula? What could I ask you? I barely understand you, and god, I should, but I don’t. I owe you everything, and you don’t owe me shit. There’s no way I can ever pay you back, and I hate it. I hate that you tried to fucking kill me and I can’t say that makes us square, because I know what you went through. I hate that you stood with the person who imprisoned me and I can’t say that makes us square either, because you literally had no choice, and none of it would’ve happened if you’d gotten my life.”

It’s hard to glean an expression from those white eyes, but she drinks another vial. 

It’s fuchsia.

“Accepting you don’t understand me is something.” She says. “Cherie pretended to. I can’t remember everything, especially after I took the implants they gave me out, but I remember that much.”

You blink.

“Why’d you take them out? Didn’t they...I mean, didn’t you have to find a new way to hold onto stuff? Judging from obvious context clues here, you still can’t sustain an emotional state, no offense.”

“I don’t feel like taking offense.” She says, still calm. “I can’t take amusement again or I’ll get distracted, even though I just made a funny joke. The feelings consume me.”

What do you even say to that? To the girl forced to depend on others to react to the world around her? To know if she’d had your life, she wouldn’t be this way?

“That’s rough, buddy.”

Nailed it.

She gets up and flips through notebooks, doing this for a few minutes until she gets the one she wants and reads aloud.

“The storage and stabilization implants have control units in them. Must take them out so Cherie can’t get to me. Coloth tech, I think.”

Your lip curls in disgust.

“They walked up to me acting like they were all invested in lowblood rights, knowing damn well I was there when they tried their little timeline BS. Now this too?”

An idea hits and you sit up straight.

“Tabula, if I recorded your testimony, I could use it to - ”

“No.”

“Uh?”

“I don’t care about taking down Cherie.”

“Whhhhyyyyy?”

“They’re not my problem.”

“They’re gonna be all of Civitrecce’s problem if they get enough power. Whatever they want, it’s obviously not lowblood rights, and I doubt it’s an ice cream party.”

She looks at you with a gaze you feel scopes all your thoughts out, every plan and idea you’ve ever had.

“I can only hold so much at once, but I know what a maroon’s word is worth against a cobalt. No matter what Cherie does, things are already bad here for lowbloods. I’ve seen suffering tonight. I’m sure I see it every night.”

A sigh, long and drawn out, flows from you as your shoulders slump. She’s right, and it reminds you how removed you are and will always be from the problem. 

No matter how what you change, highbloods can do whatever they want. They won’t respect lowbloods unless it costs them to not. They’ll shove them in helms, tear up their food with lusii, use them for their plans.

Meanwhile you remain as untouchable as when you slammed Cherie into that floor. 

Tabula would die for so much as slapping a blueblood. If she was lucky.

With a brush of your hand you slide your hair out of the way as you lean back on the couch that really isn’t big enough to fit you, your legs sprawled out on her floor.

“Yeah. Thanks for being straight with me, though.”

Her white eyes blink, and her ears flick. 

“I don’t care enough to lie to you.”

“Still.”

In a world of endless politics and the pain in the ass that’s Cherie, it’s nice to have someone be blunt, no matter how frustrating it is at times. 

She downs another vial as her watch beeps again, this one more a bluish gray.

“If you want my help, my price is your happiness. A whole night’s worth of happiness, of everything you have and love. I think it would be especially strong coming from you.”

She walks over and you double take in shock as she sits in your lap.

A slender, warm hand lightly runs a thumb across your right fin, and you shudder slightly.

“Don’t forget; you came from me. You owe me.”

Do you have any right to find her creepy? 

You do anyway, but still, you nod.

As both of you know so well, a deal’s a deal.