#also wanted to give a nod to some of its Blade Forms as well

[raitrolling]

Aren't I hurting anyone? Perhaps it's time for me to tear apart For what it is I've been Denote my place within humanity Projecting by my will I've been amassing solid iron claws Ignore the rottenness My recitals will decay in a flash

Happy birthday @cloudbattrolls! my buddy, my pal, my partner in writing hilarious and occasionally deeply cursed crimes

here's your blender gremlin :]

(full view)

[serendipitous-girl]

𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞

⊱✿⊰ summary: your family wants to protect you but its impossible with the life you all lead

⊱✿⊰ warnings: kidnapping, minor torture, it will be angsty, almost dying, spitting on your face, the joker deserves his own warning tbh

⊱✿⊰ notes: this is for skye because she wanted some angsty batfam stuff and here we are. I am just shitting on the page and hoping words form at this point. I hope you enjoy and feel free to send me requests. Also this is a platonic fic sorry if you were hoping for romance action

⊱✿⊰ tags: @kozumesphone @fizzywashere87 @fashionablysouly @witherwallflower @goldierey

@finleyforevermore @baecakie @gergthecat @mqstermindswift @anyas-shitposting69 (comment on this or send me an ask if you want to be added to my DC taglist)

"Well, well, well. Looks like baby bird got caged." The clown sneered, leaning close to your face. You scrunched your nose and tried to scoot away despite the ropes scratching your wrists raw.

The Joker's finger runs along your cheek, a horrific grin on his face as he stared at you. You tried to keep a brave face, you tried to act like the domino mask over your eyes was really a shield. You tried to act like your dad, Batman.

Maybe it was your fault you got kidnapped. He said you weren't ready to go out and patrol with your family, but you went away. You stole one of Damian's mask and put on the most costume adjacent clothes you owned.

"Where should I start, little one?" Joker asked, breaking your train of thoughts. Placing blame would be set for another time. Not now, its not time yet. "Should I give you a smile that matches mine? Should I turn you into a firey decoration before dear ol' daddy bat gets here?"

You winced, trying to prevent the ice filling your veins and the fear weighing your stomach down. The Joker grabbed a knife from his table that had numerous weapons littered on top. Carefully the cold metal of the blade brushed against your skin, not harsh enough to cut just yet. He wanted to scare you first.

•───────────•°•❀•°•──────────•

"I am going to kill that son of a bitch." Jason growled as soon as he heard the news. Bruce gathered the family in the batcave, and explained the Joker had kidnapped the youngest of the family- you.

"Jason, I understand your frustration but we can't act with haste. I won't let her face the same fate you did. I won't make the same mistake twice." Bruce replied, already dressed as Batman. He was doing his best to stay professional despite his fear being ever present.

"I don't want to wait too long either." Dick added, crossing his arms over his chest. Everybody was tense, wanting their sister to be safe once again.

"I'll find where that stupid clown is keeping [Name]." Tim said, standing up and rushing towards the computer before anybody could even reply. Barbara silently followed, knowing she would be the most help to Tim.

Bruce looked at all of his family and nodded, "We'll find her and get her back."

•───────────•°•❀•°•──────────•

Your throat was hoarse and tears had dried on your face. There was no point to fighting it anymore, you only hoped he would kill you soon.

"Aw but doesn't the bird look good with her wings marked?" The Joker chuckled, slicing yet another line into your arm. The cuts were deep, sure to scar, and they were deliberate. You could only guess what he was spelling on your arms.

With the amount of blood flowing down your arms like a red river, it was to no surprise you were fading in and out of consciousness. That would be nice, at least you wouldn't be awake while he tortured you.

You almost settled into the pain, eyes fluttering close to let yourself rest, when you heard a crash. Glass was broken and there was yelling everywhere.

The Joker grabbed your face with his hand and forced you to look forward, where you saw your family (the only thing disguising their horrified looks were their masks)

"Looks like they showed up in time for you, baby bird." He grinned, spitting on your cheek. You were too tired, too fragile to even bother being disgusted. It was better than the cutting.

"Let her go and I'll think about not crushing your head into the wall." Red Hood barked out, already aiming his gun at The Joker. You tried to pay more attention but you were fading slowly,, ready to force your body to rest.

The Joker dropped your body like it was nothing, your face smashing into the concrete. It hurt, pain forming in your forehead but it was a distraction from the blood oozing out of you.

Despite your best efforts, you finally blacked out. The last thing you saw was your family lunging at the Joker, rage thick in the air.

Light flooded your eyes, fresh air blasting your lungs. You were laying down on something soft and warm, contrasting against the mildly scratchy fabric on your skin. You blinked your eyes a few times, forcing them to focus despite the dull ache pounding in your head.

"You're awake." Damian said, apparently sitting beside you. It took a little while but you realized you were in the personal hospital at the manor. He had a few scratches and bruises but nothing as horrific as the scars on your skin (and in your brain.)

"Wha-what..happened?" You croaked, throat feeling like sandpaper. Like magic, Dick appeared with a glass of water you gratefully took. The liquid in your throat was almost heavenly in the way it made you feel infinitely better.

"The Joker kidnapped you and we rescued you." Your father explained calmly, not bothering to add details. Which was probably good for you, the devil's in details.

"I'm glad your back, sis." Jason said, making you suddenly aware of his presence in the back of the room. Your entire family seemed to be in here, ready to see your betterment. Despite he general aversion to touch, Jason wrapped you into a hug.

Of course, everybody else joined in (forcefully or not) for a big group hug. You laughed, despite the hollow of your heart, watching as Tim was pushed into the hug by Dick.. It was ridiculous having a group hug after a traumatic event...how family sitcom could you get?

But somehow, it felt good to be in the arm's of your family. It felt like home.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[autumnslance]

23: wearing someone's clothes.

(Have 770ish words, I made myself feel things when writing.)

She had to dump her entire pack to find the dress and its accessories. She had packed it near the bottom, wrapped in other clothes to keep it safe. Practically hidden, in case someone came snooping—but also from herself, in some ways, after giving in to the impulse to bring it along.

“Our mother bought this fabric,” her sister had said, as she struggled with the pattern. “She always meant to make it into the traditional dress for me, but…” her sister trailed off, leaving her younger self to nod.

It had not been practical, to grab the sewing bag and cloth among their few possessions as they fled. An impulse, her sister said. A memory of home and family and traditions, as they built a new life so far away. Sewing skills not up to the task, her sister finally admitted defeat, and found a local tailor willing to work with her to create the dress, the pants, the shoes. The blade-bracer their father had already fit to her sister’s arm.

She remembered helping her sister put the dress on, after thoroughly washing her hands and filing her nails, not wanting to snare or mar the fabric, admiring how it felt, how it looked, and how her sister looked wearing it. She remembered watching her sister, beaming and brilliant, flowing like fire through her forms, a deadly dance of their own, the fabric accentuating every move.

She held the bundled fabric to her face, willing herself not to cry, though the warning prickles stung at her eyes. Years of storage preservation had wiped out any lingering traces of her sister’s usual warm, spicy perfume, let alone her natural scent.

She didn’t remember what either smelled like anymore, anyway. Not really; it was just an impression.

“When I grow up, I want to wear it!” she had exclaimed once, watching her sister twirl for her amusement.

“Someday we’ll make you a dress of your own!” her sister had laughed in response, cupping her face and pressing a kiss to her forehead, making her fuss and squirm. She wasn’t a baby, after all!

She wished her sister were here now, to cup her face and kiss her forehead.

What she had was the dress. They had never made her one of her own. They never had the chance.

She shook out the clothes, wrinkling her nose at their state after storage and being folded in her pack for moons, and set to cleaning out the smell and steaming out the wrinkles. She had an appointment of her own making to keep, but she wouldn’t—couldn’t—simply wear her sister’s dress this first time without showing it the proper respect.

Their mother had chosen the fabric for its color and its resilience both. She was grateful for that as she finished her work, looking at it all hanging together. She hurriedly bathed herself next; travel grit and grime, salt and sand, blood and bile seemed to have accumulated even with all her other—oft hurried—washing up. But before she wore her sister’s dress for the first time, she had to be clean.

She remembered the near-ceremony her sister had induced in everyday bathing, when preparing to wear the dress for an important event. As she brushed out her hair and put it back in its tail, she remembered all the times her sister had done so for her, while talking about the styles and fashions of their people.

She put on the dress, pleased that it fit so well. She looked in the stained, cracked glass serving as her mirror, and sucked in a breath.

Everyone always said she looked so much like her sister; if they had been closer in age, they would have been mistaken for twins. Her vision swam and stung again, even as she smiled at herself, and in a way, it was like having her sister smiling back, finally seeing her in a woman’s traditional dress.

A dress worn for special occasions, made strong enough to last through time and rigorous use.

What occasion was more special than winning back one’s homeland?

She hugged herself tight, wrapped in her sister’s dress, made from cloth their mother had chosen and begun to shape, and wearing the blade-bracer their father had forged for her sister’s arm. She had left the mask behind, but still carried her family with her into this final battle that they were not here to see, yet were a part of. Because they were part of her.

Embraced by those memories, the woman in the red dress squared her shoulders and stepped outside to fight through the storm.

[blububblgum]

Arya stark: bloodhunter, order of the ghostslayer.

Once again, reasoning in incredible detail under the cut

Ok for arya, i once again wanted to subvert obvious expectations (and play more in the dnd space) so instead of the rogue subclass (with either thief or assassin as her subclass) i settled on bloodhunter for her class. First, to be clear on why not rogue; its not really that different from how she is in the actual world of asoiaf, and if i'm committing to an au then i might as well branch out (the same reasons stand for why not fighter). Bloodhunter is a class that was created by matthew mercer for campaign 2 of critical role, and it is deeply interesting to me (as well as being suited to arya)

Bloodhunters are a martial class that is based around the use of blood magic in order to destroy evils in the world, while resisting giving into the dangerous magic they work with. The subclass that i chose for arya is Ghostslayer, which is "the oldest of the bloodhunter orders" and they focus on everything around death, with an obsession with ridding the world of the undead. While the House of Black and White is not like, focused on ridding the world of undead, it does align well with how she could have come into these powers/fighting style. Beyond the House of Black and White, arya herself has so many personal vendettas that work with the motivations of ghostslayers (especially when you think of the white walkers, though i know she doesn't know about them).

Though ghostslayer (and bloodhunter really) have some magic, it doesn't really give the specific power of changing appearance, and that is kinda crucial to what arya learns in the House of Black and White. So!! In order to make this work, i think dnd arya is not a human (or at least, not a human anymore). Instead she is a shifter, which is descended from a were-creature. The shifter option that suits arya best is swiftstride (which isn't the one that is recommended for werewolves but whatever), since it gives extra movement/increased speed, and matches how arya fights. However, arya still can't change her faces, so this is where feats come in. The Eldritch initiate feat allows one invocation (something that warlocks get as part of their deal) and though arya is definitely not a warlock (though i did think about hexblade for her, i just couldn't figure out what her patron would be), the Mask of many faces invocation allows the character to cast disguise self at will, which works as a dnd take on changing faces. If she were higher level then Master of myriad forms makes more sense (it gives the spell alter self at will, which actually changes the form of the caster, whereas disguise self   is an illusion spell) but i decided to plan her at about 8th level, so whatever lol.

Some bonus thoughts (i know i have already rambled a lot oopsies); her fighting style is either duelling or two-weapon fighting, depending on whether she uses exclusively needle or if she also fights with a dagger. Her crimson rite damage would be cold, as a little nod to her stark side. For her blood maledicts (bonuses that are useful in fighting) i decided on the Blood curse of the Eyeless which lets her temp blind people (fun!) and Blood curse of Binding which reduces peoples speed to zero for a bit (good for just fucking sprinting away). Since i'm thinking of her as 8th level, she can have another feat (which is more interesting than an ability score improvement) and i decided on magic initiate (wizard, since its intelligence based), which gives 2 cantrips (spells that don't require spell slots) and 1 first level spell. For the two cantrips, mage hand and booming blade would give some helpful bonuses to her both in and out of combat. For the one spell, i thought find familiar would be fun! Find familiar doesn't have wolf, but if you just  use cat stats for wolf then that's fine, find familiar is cool cause the caster can look through the eyes of the familiar when they are in range, and they can be summoned in a different form when it is recast. Lastly, i think her stats (highest to lowest) are: dexterity, intelligence, constitution, wisdom, strength, charisma.

Again, if you read all this, thank you!!!! I hope it made sense and lmk ur thoughts.

[skylarkking]

"One In The Same"

A TFA Blitzwing x Mech!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Chapter 3: Speedway

"Optimus! Decepticons are on my tail!" I called over the comlink as both Blitzwing and Lugnut chased after me. "I'm trying to lead them away!"

"Y/D, get your tailpipe out of there! Now!" Ratchet barked over the comlink. "We're closing in on your position, Prime and the others will handle the Decepticons!"

"But -"

"NO BUTS YOUNG BOT!" There was an uncharacteristic panic to his tone, a tone Ratchet only used when he genuinely thought I was in danger.

And I would be a fool to ignore his words.

I skidded into a drift, locking on the Autobots signal and making a beeline for them. I spotted the group and shifted forms, back flipping with blades ejecting out from between my knuckle joints like the human superhero Wolverine.

"ZERE! MORE AUTOBOTS!" Blitzwing yelled as both Decepticons shifted forms.

"Ratchet, Sari, Y/D! Fall back to the ship!" Optimus ordered.

"Yes, sir." I said.

"THE TRIPLE CHANGER STAYS!" Lugnut barked as he fired his missiles. I shoved Ratchet and Sari out of harms way and barely managed to dodge the missiles. The missiles impacted the ground and exploded in a ball of fire, cutting me off from the others by a billow of dense smoke.

"GO GO GO!" I yelled through the smoke.

"KID!" Ratchet called.

"DONT WORRY ABOUT ME! GET SARI TO SAFETY AND GET THE ALLSPARK OUT OF HERE!" I was tackled by Lugnut and pinned to the ground, my blades slashing at his side and leaving trails of energon in its wake. Lugnut let out a bellow and backed off, Prowl and Bulkhead jumping into the fight along with Bumblebee and Optimus.

As I was about to go help them, Blitzwing cut me off, his arms and wings spreading to shield me from the fight.

"Go." He said.

"What?" I questioned.

"Go with your medic. Before zat oaf notices." I hesitated a moment but nodded and took off after Ratchet and into the water. I quickly found the ship along with the medic and human.

"Y/D? How'd you escape?" Sari asked as I entered the ship and shook off the water.

"It's... complicated." I said. "Have you been able to get the ship online?"

"Not yet because SOMEONE," Ratchet said while shooting Sari a scolding glare. "Doesn't want us to leave and won't listen."

"Sari," I said ever so gently as I knelt down next to her. "Why don't you want us to leave?"

"Because you're my friends... and I don't want to be alone!" She sobbed.

"Sari, I don't think any of us want to leave." I said as I picked her up and gently held her against my chassis. "Primus knows i certainly don't. But if we stay, the Decepticons will destroy this planet and everything on it. Including you."

"But... they can't be that bad?" She sniffled.

"Some might not be." I said as I thought about Blitzwing. "But just like humans, you don't know how dangerous someone can be until they show you their true colors. Ratchet and I have both experienced firsthand the horrors of Megatron and his loyalists. They will stop at nothing to get the Allspark." I gently released Sari from the sort of hug and wiped a tear delicately from her face. "We don't want you or this planet to face the same horrors our world has. Do you understand?"

"I... it's not fair." She sniffled.

"I know, Sari. But when it comes to war well, nothing is fair." My expression softened, and a small smile crept on my dermas. "But you can help make it a fair fight." I hooked my digit under her key and lightly lifted it off of her chest. "The Allspark has given you this gift for a reason, one beyond our understanding. It depends on your just as much as it depends on us. It isn't just the lives that currently exist that are at stake but also those yet to come."

Sari paused a long while as she pondered my words before a smile crept on her face.

"How can I help?"

----

"Ratchet, do you think we can get the weapons system online?" I asked the medic as he rummaged around the command bridge.

"With Sari's key, we can give the ship enough juice to launch something." Ratchet said.

"Then you two should get ready, I'll see if I can -" I suddenly froze up, and my optics went white in color, my expression frozen and distant.

"Y/D?" Sari said as she climbed up a nearby stack of crates and waved her hand in front of my face. "Y/D? Yoohoo?"

No response.

"Ratchet, something is wrong with Y/D!" Sari called to the medic. Ratchet turned around and saw my frozen state, his spark dropping to his tanks at the sight.

"Oh scrap, not now!" Ratchet exclaimed.

"What's happening to him?" Sari asked.

"I don't know, it's happened before."

"What do we do?"

"We can worry about Y/D later. Right now, the others need our help."

While the pair were scrambling about trying to get the weapons system back online, I found myself trapped in my own mind, remembering things that never happened.

Or at least I thought so.

"The Enigma is ready to be transported." I heard a voice say.

"And how many were forged?" Another I recognized as Starscream's said

"Only this one. The Autobots attacked the lab before another could be produced."

"Does it have a spark?"

"It does, and it should be entirely loyal to Megatron as he sees fit."

"Excellent." I then heard a set of pedes walk away, and something touched my face, although I couldn't see anything. "I think I'll make some... alterations to you, hm? Make you serve your true Master."

The white light faded from my optics, and I collapsed onto the ground with a crash at the exact same time Sari inserted her key to power the weapons system.

I heard the firing of the weapons followed by a watery explosion. Then I remembered nothing more.

----

"Kid? Kid!" Ratchet called through the black. "Cmon, I know you hear me!"

"Nnng, why are you shouting?" I grumbled as I opened my optics and found I was back in the Autobot base. I groaned and gripped my helm as a throbbing pain ran through it, my optics sceunching tight and my jaws locking up.

"What happened?" I asked.

"We were getting the weapons charged to help Optimus and the others fight off the Decepticons," Sari said. "And you just... stopped working."

"Yeah, that happens sometimes." I chuckled. "Are the others okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine." Optimus said, pulling my attention to him. "But maybe it's time you took that break Ratchet suggested you'd take."

"I'm fine, Optimus." I said sternly. "Freeze ups happen sometimes. But thanks for your concern." I rose from the medical berth and headed to my quarters where I laid down and stared up at the ceiling with a blank expression.

I thought about the other times I had a freeze up and realized that out of all of them, this was the only time I had something other than a forced shutdown happen.

"What in Primus is happening to me?"

-------

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[lwjsbedtime]

Bajirao Mastani/Padmaavat AU Part II

| PREV |

This post started throwing errors as well. I could only finish proofreading it on the app, which for some reason won't let me backspace paragraphs so 🤷 formatting. 😭

There may also be some weird word choices/spelling errors. I accidentally posted my draft, but the story is complete. 😅

----

The next time WWX met with the omega, it was in the wilderness surrounding the palace. WWX had slipped away to hunt pheasants, hoping to find some meat to enjoy amongst all the weeds the Lan fed their disciples. His mouth watered at the thought of proper food. If there was one thing about CR he couldn't stand, it was the tasteless tripe they served during mealtimes.

Luckily, the past few times he'd felt the urge to complain, his omega friend had been there to distract from the abysmal taste with that sweet, sumptuous scent of his. It had almost tricked him into thinking he was eating something good, instead of the bitter roots of medicinal plants. But he couldn't go on relying on the omega forever, and he was so hungry.

WWX truly couldn't recall a time in his life when he'd more wanted to sink his teeth into something - anything - just to find relief. Yesterday, he'd almost bared fangs at JC, which would have only served to see him punished upon the Jiangs' return to Yunmeng. It was as if the soil in Gusu was driving him mad.

Distracted by the thought of roasted meat as he was, he felt the sting of the sword against his neck before even glimpsing the face of the person wielding it.

Before WWX could so much as yelp in protest as the blade kissed his skin, the weapon was withdrawn.

"You..."

WWX whipped around at the familiar, startled tone, only to come face to face with his omega friend.

"It's you!" he cried, inexplicably no longer concerned for his life, despite the sword still held level with his chest. "What's my gege doing all the way out here, alone?"

The omega's brow furrowed in response. "I live here."

WWX gaped playfully. "You live in the woods? My, my, gege. Surely someone such as yourself could work their way into a proper bed. You could even trick the emperor into giving his up for you, I'll bet!"

WWX chuckled at the image of the Lan emperor tripping over his feet at the sight of such a beauty claiming his bedchamber for their own. He'd be so stunned and impressed that he would lose sense of all propriety and simply acquiesce to the omega's demands.

WWX was so amused by this thought, he almost missed as the omega flinched away from him, his expression pinched and a tad offended. For a moment, it rather seemed to the alpha as though his friend would like to hit him over the head with the pommel of his sword.

"Don't be ridiculous," he hissed, expression queasy, as if holding the emperor's favour was a truly horrifying notion.

WWX cackled, a sudden, unfamiliar itch pricking along his skin at the thought of one of the emperor's harem despising his liege so. "Why? Even if you dislike him so much, it's better than sleeping on the forest floor, isn't it?"

At long last the omega sheathed his sword, breathing out a low, long suffering sigh as the hilt of his blade hit into its bronze-coated sheath.

"You ought to mind your tongue," he chastised. "Neither the emperor nor myself would..." He recoiled, face twitching downward in disgust. "...be like that with one another."

WWX blinked. "Like what? Doesn't he like you?"

The omega's glare turned frustrated. "He likes me. But not..." He trailed off, clearly flustered by what he was trying to convey.

WWX thought it was strange, how his usually stoic companion had stumbled over his own words, his ears flushing crimson. Suddenly, he realised what the omega had been about to admit.

"He's not intimate with you?!"

He couldn't help how the words escaped him in a startled burst, causing the omega to glance at him warningly. Still, he nodded in response, causing

a storm of indignation to form in WWX's chest. "What? Does he think he's too good for you or something? Gege, how could he? You're so lovely, and nice, and smart!"

"You're ridiculous," his friend replied.

"I am not! If the emperor's ignoring you, I'll just have to go give him a piece of my mind on your behalf!"

He turned to stalk back to CR's main compound, but a hand on his arm halted him. He glanced over his shoulder to find serious, amber eyes boring into his own.

"You will not bother the emperor," the omega said, tone brooking no room for dissent. "Neither the emperor or myself have any interest in each other."

Though the omega admonished him for his behaviour, a sweet scent had filled the air at his words, ripe with pleasure at being defended. WWX couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. Lans abhorred lying, to the point those that resided in the palace were forbidden even from wearing scent-distorting perfumes. The pretty omega liked him, and to WWX, that meant something. He just wasn't sure what.

"If you say so." He shrugged. "But gege, why are you out here with a sword?"

The omega blinked up at him placidly.

"To practise," he intoned lowly, as though WWX were truly a fool.

The alpha frowned in response. "By yourself? But what if you get hurt? A blade isn't a toy."

In response, the omega merely sighed and headed back towards the main path, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Foolish alphas..."

Realising he was being left behind, WWX hurried to catch up.

"Gege!" he whined. "Don't leave me! I can teach you some footwork of you'd like? Come on, it'll be fun."

Without pausing, the omega carried on, barely deigning to reply with a sharp, "Ridiculous."

WWX guffawed at the sullen look that had taken over his companion's face, as though he doubted the alpha's ability to teach him anything.

"Suit yourself," he sang. "I may not look it, but I'm actually quite skilled with the blade. I could really help you out."

His friend only hummed dubiously in response, and continued on his way, not bothering to check if WWX still followed behind. WWX, of course, trailed him as he left the forest, too content with his company to really care where he was being led.

----

"There's a celebration tonight."

WWX blinked over at the omega. He had his nose practically buried in a book of poetry, refusing to meet WWX's eyes.

The alpha nodded. "I heard. It's for the guest disciples, right?"

The omega hummed in response, still without looking his way. WWX couldn't help but crook a brow. If he didn't know any better, he'd say his friend looked almost shy, with his nose scrunched ever so slightly, and lips pressed so firmly together they turned white.

Abruptly, the omega put the book down, instead turning his fierce gaze upon WWX - the intensity of which burnt into WWX's soul.

"Do not be late for it."

"Uh���"

Before he could even nod in response, the omega was off across the pavilion, leaving WWX to stand rooted to the spot, his eyes trailing after white robes that flowed gracefully in the breeze. In the light of the setting sun, the alpha suddenly found himself thoughtless.

----

WWX thought this might be the first time he'd arrived early to something in his entire life - of his own volition, at least. In LP, there had been the odd occasion where he'd ended up thrown into a lecture on time courtesy of Zidian, but secretly he thought that hardly counted. There was a difference between doing something under duress with a whip snaring your waist, and choosing it for yourself.

His heart thudded loudly as he entered the banquet hall, his nerves set on edge for a reason he dared not examine too closely.

Almost an entire shichen later, with the banquet in full swing, his earlier excitement had all but dispersed. He stared forlornly into the empty cup in his hand and sighed. It'd already been so long, and his pretty omega friend was still nowhere to be found. 

Once the main meal - a bitter assortment of vegetables and fruits, left to stew - had been brought out, his hope of meeting with the omega that night had all but withered into the dull corpse of despair. He was just knocking back his tenth - non-alcoholic - drink of the night, when the young emperor of Gusu rose to his feet, a bright smile taking pride of place across his jovial face. He raised his hands into the air, clapping them only once, and with that small action all of the attention in the room fell to him. 

Once the last murmurs broke off, he took another step forward, coming to a halt in the middle of his dais.

"My fellows," he called, his voice resounding regally off the surrounding walls. "It is so good to see you all here tonight, scions of each kingdom and empire come together for the mutual pursuit of learning." The emperor's grin widened, his eyes filling with a pleased glimmer. "In honour of your steadfast dedication to your studies, I've arranged for a special type of entertainment to be viewed tonight!" 

Murmurs once more rippled through the crowd as Emperor Xichen clapped his hands together a second time. In response, the entrance into the hall - once closed against the chill air of a Gusu night - swung open, as if coaxed by the man's qi. A mass of white figures flurried in through it, flitting into the hall on silent feet. 

The whispers around WWX increased as the fluttering creatures fell into place in the centre of the room, as everyone realised that they were…the emperor's omegas? WWX's eyes widened comically as his gaze fell upon a familiar figure standing in front of the rest, leading them. It was his friend, the omega who sneaked into the library pavilion to study, and wielded his sword like the most unrestrained of alphas.

Seeing him, WWX almost vaulted over the table he was seated at, itching to greet and be greeted. He restrained himself at the last moment, but only barely. It would be unthinkable for an alpha to run at a mob of imperial omegas like some sort of rut-crazed beast. If he did, it would become obvious he'd grown close to one of the emperor's own, and that could only spell trouble. At the least, he would be punished for going behind the emperor's back. At worst, his friend might lose favour for daring to consort with him without his alpha lord's permission. The sort of things that could happen to a spurned omega made his skin chill under the heavy coat he wore.

WWX settled back in his seat, gazing instead at the back of the omega's head with all the intensity available in his being. Like this, he was finally able to take in what his friend wore, though was not entirely able to grasp why.

Standing in perfectly arranged lines, the emperor's omegas each held an instrument in their hands - presumably their primary cultivation tool, if those belonging to the imperial harem were even allowed to practise such a thing. Considering his omega's ease with a blade, he assumed they would, but then Lanling didn't allow omegas to cultivate at all, unless they were trading yin for the yang of their masters'. Secretly, he thought the Jin restricted their mates so thoroughly as to avoid dealing with wives who could put a stop to their lecherous ways.

The omegas wore gauzy blue and white layered dresses, all far more ostentatious and feminine than anything he'd seen his friend wear so far. As they moved into position, the trail of their skirts billowed out around them, giving the impression they were petals floating upon a lake's still surface.

In the lead, his omega companion wore the most resplendent robes of all, a set of several tiered skirts cascaded over his legs, each dyed cerulean as the morning sky, almost double the circumference of the other omegas. Upon his brow was a bejewelled circlet that glittered in the lamplight; upon his feet, dainty silk slippers meant for leisure, and nothing else. He looked truly ethereal dressed like this, as though he was a fairy lost amongst mortal-kind.

WWX was brought out of his musing by the emperor's voice booming throughout the hall once more.

"Enjoy!"

Slowly, gradually, the lights in the hall dimmed, leaving only a golden ring of flame to encircle the omegas perched in the centre of the floor. Just as gradually, the air surrounding them filled with the low thrum of music, ebbing and flowing in intervals until it rose into an enticing, distinctive beat. The harem members were singing, he realised. After a moment, some began playing on their flutes and qins.

With a swirl of sheer fabric, the leading omega - his omega - swung to the side, his honeyed eyes making contact with WWX's for but a moment. In that instant the alpha felt his heart skip a beat. Under the yellow light of the remaining lanterns, his friend's irises shimmered golden, his voice rising clear and sharp above all the others, a jiaoren's call at sea. 

Without missing a beat, the other omegas fell into sync behind him, their shawls and gowns flurrying out in a storm of silver and blue behind their leader. Soon, they'd fanned out in a crescent around him, swaying and playing on the instruments in their hands. WWX sat, eyes transfixed upon his nameless friend. He'd retreated to the middle of the group now, his graceful, deliberate movements commanding the attention of all those gathered 'round, as if daring them to look away.

If WWX had more of a sense of awareness about him in that moment, he might have noticed the greedy, lustful stares of the other nobles seated by him, directed at his omega. Such a sight, although he did not know it, would have no doubt unleashed a beast from within him. As it was, he only had eyes for the boy sweeping around the middle of the room below.

Unexpectedly, the music crescendoed, and the omega swayed back, his body bending backwards over itself in a tempting display of flexibility and grace. Once more, his gaze alighted upon WWX. WWX, in turn, felt a growl rumble through him. To his surprise, the veil the omega usually wore had disappeared between the beginning of the dance and this moment, leaving his pert, peach-kissed mouth on full display for all to see.

He'd been wearing it when he entered the room - all of the omegas were shrouded, as was only proper for a group of the emperor's spouses - which meant it must have been torn off by the vigorousness of the dance he performed. That knowledge left WWX feeling somewhat conflicted. The idea of the omega being too engrossed in movement to notice or care about his virtue being sullied made the strong, violent urge to chew well up inside him. On the other hand, the scions of other kingdoms and empires had seen what belonged to hi-to the emperor on full display. It was something they had no right to observe, and he was filled with the wish to pluck out their eyes for their offenses.

Before he could be fully incited into a rage, his omega locked eyes with him across the room. Unexpectedly, the corners of that tempting mouth ticked up slightly upon noticing where the alpha's attention lay.

Carefully, so that WWX could not miss it, he ghosted a hand along his arm, drawing it up across his chest, until the back of his palm skirted past his cheekbone. WWX inhaled sharply, feeling a strange warmth stirring within his loins. The great heat spread up into his stomach as a fire consumes fertile land, leaving only hunger in its wake.

Rooted in place by desire, he could only gasp as the omega slid away, gracefully turning into another series of twirls. His momentum built up with shocking speed, until he was spinning around the room with skirts flared out like a spring blossom upon the wind. WWX clenched his teeth together against the strange, overwhelming urge to bite into his innermost bud. 

For the rest of the omegas' performance, the alpha remained in somewhat of a thrall, so thoroughly discombobulated by the urges battling inside him at the sight of his friend's elegant footwork, that he could only watch on in tense silence.

So distracted was he that even the sound of raucous applause ringing throughout the room could not draw his attention away from the one who'd enticed him, now bowing towards the emperor's throne with a respect that WWX overwhelmingly thought was unearned. Why should his omega be deferential toward that man? He was WWX's friend, not LXC's! LXC wouldn't even knot him!

WWX was only vaguely aware of praises being offered to the performers; of someone - another omega, thankfully - returning his mate's missing veil. The boy took the proffered cloth with deft, fine-fingered hands, and not a moment later were his features once more shrouded from view. A small part of WWX felt bereft with the disappearance of such a lovely face, but quickly became viciously glad of it when the disappointed murmurs of his peers rose up around him.

At the head of the room, the emperor stood to address his guests once more.

"Splendid, everyone!" He raised his arms, and the lanterns placed throughout the room bloomed back into life. "Once again, the omega quarters have produced a masterpiece."

His omega stepped forward to accept the emperor's praise, his head lowered demurely toward the throne. "Your majesty is too kind to these humble servants."

At that, he emperor laughed, his eyes crinkling fondly at the corners.

"Wangji, you've done well," he chastised. "Is this brother no longer allowed to commend your efforts?"

WWX's eyes widened upon finally hearing his little omega's name. Around the room, the chatter increased, each young scion shocked and excited to have finally glimpsed the rumoured Lan prince.

"Of course, that is not what I meant," Lan Wangji replied to his brother, sounding deferential to all but the trained ears of the imperial family, and WWX.

Emperor Xichen laughed. "Good, good. Because it would be truly remiss of me to let such a performance pass by unpraised. You were all truly wonderful."

He inclined his head slightly to the omegas assembled behind the young prince, and they bowed low in return.

A resounding cry of, "These humble servants are thankful for his majesty's favour," rang throughout the room.

The emperor grinned in reply. "It is no more than you deserve. Please ask the chamberlain to give you all a reward on behalf of the crown. Perhaps a day off from your studies?"

The scent of the omegas in the middle of the floor spiked in merriment, though the group remained collected as they thanked the emperor for his generosity once more, and were then dismissed from the hall.

In contrast to their entrance, Lan Wangji now took up the rear of the pack, shepherding his fellows out without even sparing a glance for the other occupants of the room. His gait was proper as always, though oddly slowed as he drew level with WWX's table. He eyed WWX meaningfully as he passed him by, brushing too close to the alpha's table to be considered proper, though with a blase attitude that made it all appear to be an accident.

As his skirts swept along the wooden surface of the table, a lone square of fabric fell from seemingly nowhere, landing on top of WWX's hands. The alpha thought he might have heard a choked gasp coming from the head of the room, but was too focused on observing LWJ's figure as he exited the banquet hall to investigate.

WWX watched his omega leave silently, struck by the awful sensation of his heart sinking low in his chest, even as his pulse continued to thunder. He brought the cloth close to his breast, his white-knuckled fingers twisting the fabric till it wrinkled. The omega - his omega; his friend - was Lan Wangji, the fabled second prince of the Lan empire. A beauty so rare entire kingdoms could be torn down in the pursuit of it.

WWX's eyes fell to the pitiful remainder of his drink. At last, he knew he'd never even had a chance of claiming the omega as his own. Until that moment, he hadn't known that was something he wanted - yet he did, and desperately.

But it could never come to be. The son of a lowborn, foreign general had no hopes of mating the jewel of the Lan emperor's heart.

Outside in the night air, one other heart beat wildly, with thoughts far less tragic in mind. His chosen mate had taken his gift - the token that offered him entrance to LWJ's chambers during his next heat. While it was traditional to wait until marriage to exchange such tokens, he knew he did not have that long before his cycle reached its zenith. He could not bear the thought of spending another heat alone - not now that he'd met WY.

Surely Brother wouldn't protest his choice too much, once he realised how badly LWJ needed the alpha - needed his mate. A hand slid up to rest upon his stomach. The emperor might even gain an heir from their union; something his beta brother sorely lacked. LWJ wouldn't mind carrying the empire's future within him. One could argue it was even his duty, as second born heir to the throne. If anyone protested his decision to be with his alpha unwed, he would remind them of this obligation.

----

For reference, a link to the inspiration for LWJ's dance.

And GIF highlights for those who'd rather not go to youtube:

I never thought the most labour intensive part of writing this would be compressing the gifs to under 10mb each, but there you go.

----

LWJ: I am not dating my brother.

WWX: Sounds fake, but okay.

LXC: 🤢

LQR: Again, XC? What's wrong with the cooks lately?

----

LWJ: I will simply ~lose~ my veil by ~accident~ and WY will ravish fall for me.

WWX: 😳😳😳😳

----

I am so not normal about this idea, I feel like WWX when he saw LWJ's dance. Just...completely unhinged. The angst potential of this bad boy. The simmering romance. The drama. Like, what if the omega quarters of Gusu (what WWX assumed was LXC's harem) is actually where the Lan train their healers and assassins.

Obviously, they don't want to put omegas on the front lines of a war, but it's always good to be prepared, and if CR was ever, y'know....attacked *cough cough* it would certainly be handy if the delicate, birth-giving omegas could maybe poison and shank their way out of compromising situations.

| NEXT |

[duskaris]

OC-tober Day 10: Mercy

I actually finished this yesterday but never got around to posting it since I had an assignment to do plus it was my brother's birthday. Anyways, more Jay backstory time!

Prompts: @oc-tober2023

CW: Dehumanization (Usage of it/its for someone who does not use those pronouns), mentions of mass murder

Aeryn was sitting in her office, finishing up her day's work when a light knock caught her attention as a familiar face peeked around the open door. 

“Hello Lyra, you got something for me?” Aeryn smiled at her friend.

“Captain Jymes and his crew are back, they’ll be at the entrance in the next few minutes,” Lyra reported. Good news, Aeryn guessed from Lyra’s energy. The watchers would’ve done a count and been the first to know if someone wasn’t coming home. If the threat Jymes had been sent to deal with was true, it was an unfortunate possibility. 

“Thanks, I’ll be right up,” Aeryn replied, already gathering some papers together, a haphazard attempt to make the desk look tidy before she left. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Lyra nod and bounce off.

By the time she made it to the entrance the group was already inside, milling about and chatting while they shrugged off their gear and luggage. “Welcome back, I assume the threat was dealt with?” Aeryn asked, the room quieting as she announced her presence. They looked between each other, no one willing to meet her eyes. Her eyes narrowed in on Jymes. “Well?”

“We would’ve dealt with the threat, Commander, but someone-” He turned his head to glare vaguely behind him. A few Blades scattered out of the way to reveal Wren with her arm wrapped tightly around a small child. “-disobeyed my direct orders.” 

“What exactly am I looking at?” she asked, her mind racing with possibilities.

“That’s the obski, there” the captain explained, pointing at the child with a look of disgust. “It’s a shifter.”  Confused, Aeryn studied the boy closer, he had jet black hair but eyes of light brown. He was clean, but his clothes were worn and too small, despite also being unhealthily thin. Most strikingly were the Solium cuffs around his wrists, the signature red glint visible in the light of the entryway. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed them until now. “We chased the obski away from a village, following a trail of blood.” Jymes explained further. “The trail ended where we found him. He admits it too, if you ask him.”

“Is this true?” Aeryn directed to the boy. His eyes never left the floor as he hesitantly nodded. A flash of anger and fear flooded through her, but she quickly stifled it. The solium cuffs should negate any risk to the present company. Jymes took her silence as an invitation to continue.

“I gave my archer the order to shoot but she refused, and has since disrupted any attempts to get rid of it by putting herself in the way. You need to tell her to get away from him so I can finish my job.” Aeryn seriously considered it. If the boy were a Magi shifter with an Obski form, he was dangerous. He had already destroyed several villages that left  few survivors, and in an enclosed space like this, who knew the damage he could cause before someone could stop him. Still, dangerous could be useful. Obski’s were notoriously hard to kill and thought to be extinct. It was not a threat enemies of Elkai would be prepared for.

“Wren,” she started and Jymes puffed up his chest like he’d won, “I’ve known you a while now and I trust you and your judgement.” She ignored Jymes indignant huff. “That does not give you the luxury to do whatever you want, but I would at least like to hear your reasoning.” That seemed to be good enough to placate Jymes, who obviously wasn’t happy, but at least was not openly protesting.

“I couldn’t shoot a child, Aeryn,” Wren began softly. “Especially when we didn’t know for sure yet what was going on. I decided to talk to him first, and the captain was right,” her friend admitted. “He is the obski we were chasing. He’s a Magi, but he’s not like Mikel. He is completely out of control of what the obski form does, they’re more, uh, distinct, than the other shifter Magi.” That somehow both complicated and simplified everything. A lack of control made him a sword with a blade on both ends, more likely to cut you then your foe. Yet it also gave him innocence. Looking at him, the way he was pressed into Wren’s side, clinging to her like a lifeboat. She saw him for what he was, a terrified child listening to adults discuss if he should live or die. 

“So what are we doing with it, it’s clearly a threat-” Jymes started and an argument broke out.

“He’s a child!”

“It’s a monster who’s killed people.”

“He had no control over it,”

“That’s the problem.”

“Enough, both of you,” Aeryn barked, and two faces snapped towards her. “I am the commander, I will make the decision here, and neither of you will argue it. Do you understand?” They both nodded wordlessly, and Aeryn felt a tinge of satisfaction in the way Jymes’ mouth hung open. “He’s hurt and killed many people with a power he can’t control. That’s a problem and a potential threat to the Blades safety. At present he cannot be allowed to freely move among us.” Jymes smirked at Wren like he’d just won, but Aeryn wasn’t finished. “Yet Wren is also correct. We can’t kill a child for something out of his control and besides, the Blades have taken in many people who have knowingly done wrong.” She paused for emphasis and looked between the captain and Wren, daring either of them to interrupt her. 

“What I propose is this: we put him in one of the holding rooms. The door and adjacent wall can be lined in solium to prevent damage should he lose control again. If he can learn control of his powers then after some time he can join the Blades proper.” Aeryn could feel her heart beating in her chest, adrenaline pumping through her like a drug.

“And if he can’t?” Jymes asked. It was a reasonable question, but Aeryn hesitated to put anything into specifics. At least not before she consulted someone with more knowledge on this.

“We’ll deal with that if the time comes.” It was weak but it was the best she could do for now. “Is this acceptable to both of you?” Wren immediately nodded, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. Jymes was another matter.

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we be asking the council for their recommendation?” Jymes pushed.

“Are you questioning the commander?” Aeryn asked pointedly, voice cold and laced with venom.

“Well, no-” Jymes stuttered.

“The council’s recommendation is just that, a recommendation. I am the commander. Whatever I decide to do is the final decision. Do I make myself clear?” Aeryn held eye contact, focused on keeping her face calm and authoritative until the captain looked mildly uncomfortable.

“Yes Commander, very clear,” Jymes finally relented, and Aeryn let out a breath of relief. Still, never one to surrender, Jymes continued down a different avenue. “There’s still the matter of Wren going against orders. She needs to be punished for that.” Luckily, Aeryn already had a plan for this.

“I absolutely agree,” Aeryn replied, barely managing to contain a mischievous smile. Wren watched Aeryn carefully, alarmed but trusting the process. “I think it is only fitting that since she’s the reason the boy was brought here, she should also be responsible for attending to his needs. He won’t be able to go to the mean hall so she will be responsible for bringing him food and whatever else he requires.” Aeryn watched as Wren’s shoulder’s lost their tension. Both of them knew that Wren would’ve done that regardless, but making it official would get the captain off their backs.

“Good. It wouldn’t be fair for anyone else to risk their lives for her impudence,” the captain replied, unable to resist throwing in a snide remark.

“Enough, Jymes,” Aeryn reprimanded, a hint of warning in her voice. “The matter is settled and I’m sure everybody is tired from travelling. Go get some food and some rest. Jymes, I expect a full report on my desk in the next few days. You’re dismissed.”

[eternal-dragon-of-time]

I've edited it into its definitive form!!

PLUS THE BONUS ENDING. This joke is what inspired me to write the fic in the first place lmao.

“Your blades handle.” He choked out. “That's nonstandard.”

Magius’ eyes widened in delight.

“You noticed? Not many people do!” Leaning back to sit up straight on top of him Magius brought the dagger away from his throat and elegantly flipped it in their hand to display its handle to him. “I had this one custom made by Cysero. I thought I was going to have to pay a fortune for it but apparently the challenge of making it was enough for him. Crazy guy, I don’t know how he runs a business.” Drakath’s amazement at how easy it was get them off of him was followed by a feeling of dread as Magius continued. “So many weapons are imbued with elements, but every enemy has unique and different weaknesses that if I wanted to use that to my advantage I was having to take upwards of eight different daggers on quests. Thats a lot to carry! And its difficult to swap weapons that quickly mid fight.”

“I figured that there had to be a better way to go about it, so I did some research into how weapons can get their various enchantments and blessings and found out that some metals are actually very receptive to mana! That’s why you’re always hearing stories of ancient swords that took on the qualities of the dragons they slew, the pure magic contained in the dragon’s blood was infused into the metal! After I learned that I knew that that metal was the ticket to my multi-element weapon. My first attempt was really clumsy, I tried to do it by myself assuming that just knowing a lot about bladed weapons would be enough to make one. The metal I found wasn’t actually pure enough and Fiamme knows that my forging attempt probably added who knows how many impurities. The way I added elements was pretty short sighted as well, I had these grease cloths I repurposed from my old weapons kit- and uh, never dissemble a kit because you’re under the assumption your first attempts perfect by the way, really bad plan. Anyways I just rubbed various mana residues into the cloth and then wiped it along the blade to get the element infused because I thought it would work the same way poisons do. It sort of worked? But only for a minute, and I had to really scrub to get the element to take. Also the knife itself is really lopsided and small, thats the one I stuck you with to turn the tides.” Drakath took a breath to interrupt, but Magius forged on without noticing.

“Then I wasted more time trying out some rituals and arcana because I threw out the original plan after it didn’t work, Warlic found my notes, gave me a dressing down on giving up on the first attempt and told me to try it again from a different angle. Thats when I realized that if the handle had a small hollow in it, you could get constant exposure from element to metal by stuffing the handle with whatever magic material could fit.” Magius flipped open a discrete hatch on the back end of the handle to illustrate the concept. Drakath, now committed to this ride, nodded so they would get to the point. “I had to ask Cysero to make the handle bigger to compensate for the tubing inside, he also made it so whatever process happens in there can draw mana from almost any magical item, so if I’m low on elemental residue I can just grab whatever I need from the environment to get an infusion!” The mask did nothing to hide how proud they were of themself, Drakath could easily imagine the beaming smile underneath it as they held the blade out to him. “Try it out! Easily the best weapon I’ve used, and I’ve handled a lot.”

Unable to believe his luck, Drakath took the proffered weapon and examined it for a moment. He had to admit that it was pretty ingenious, the design easily walking the tightrope between elegant and practical, fitting for Magius. knives and daggers weren’t really his style, but he could see himself having one just for the fancy element switching alone.

Then knowing that Magius’ secondary weapon was thrown to the side he pointed the edge at Magius and watched as realization spread to their eyes.

“Oh, I sort of did that to myself huh?”

Sweet Talk

Dragonfable fic this time!!!!! DF!Magius kind of drives me insane I love them.

Enemies to lovers, Herokath, Violence, and the realization that this fight is foreplay about halfway through.

Before he could even register that they were still armed, Magius threw the knife in their left hand. It was a blur in the air for a split second, just long enough for him to mark this fight down as a loss and prepare for the sharp pain that spiked up his leg as the blade lodged itself into his thigh. Falling backwards Drakath could see the smug glint in Magius’ eyes as their gambit paid off.

He landed square on his back, the impact forcing the air out of his lungs. He wasn’t able to move for a moment, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the shock or from some weak paralysis agent that Magius may have gotten their hands on. Either option was equally likely, and the end result was the same, he remained stunned as Magius scrambled back up to their feet. They fumbled to grab the dagger he had worked so hard to disarm and hurried over to him to take advantage of his paralysis. Straddling him to keep him pinned down they yanked the little throwing knife out and threw it to the side, all with the eery silence Drakath had grown accustomed to them using when they were ‘working’.

“Finally.” They hissed, leaning in to keep the edge of their blade close to his neck. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

He did actually, given that if the two swapped places he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands from trembling from the sheer excitement of the situation. Even underneath them it was overwhelming, a shudder fluttering up his spine as Magius’ thighs tensed against him, adrenaline making his heart pound out of his chest from how quickly they had flipped the situation. Being this close was electrifying, as if all the energy that invigorated him when they struck at each other in combat had nowhere to go. The physical contact, where their legs, their hands, touched him was almost too much sensation to handle. As they shifted on top of him to position themself closer he found himself focusing on their face to avoid thinking of what was happening elsewhere.

At least Magius didn’t seem unaffected either, what he had assumed was an impenetrable ‘working’ air was wavering. Their eyes, normally slits set in gold against black sclera, were blown wide as they continued to lean further forward. They could barely keep eye contact with Drakath, continuously breaking off to either stare at their weapon or where their free hand clutched at his shoulder to keep him pushed to the ground. A light dusting of pink flush was visible just around the edges of where their cloth mask covered their cheeks and nose. It would be a satisfying view if it weren’t for the knife still pressed against his throat, now shaking in their hands.

“It’ll be easy, a clean cut.” He didn’t doubt that they were capable, every aspect of Magius was honed and sharp. They hadn’t yet though, had never been in a position to finish him off before, and it didn’t seem as though they were in a hurry now. It had been almost four months of dancing, battering his pride, brawling in the dirt for this, he couldn’t tell if the hesitation was nerves or from the… intimacy of the moment. Drakath clenched his fist, if they were stalling, he needed to stop getting distracted and take advantage of this. He couldn’t move until the knife was away from his throat, but he just needed to say something, anything to throw them off.

“You’re not awful looking. From this angle.”

Magius startled, sitting up with a strangled noise and causing Drakath to wince as the knife bobbed closer to his windpipe. Maybe that should’ve been a last last resort, it was definitely more humiliating if Magius killed him by accident then by choice. Although in fairness, he currently had a lot of reasons for it to be at the forefront of his mind. Reasons that had just suddenly dragged against his hips, the sensation almost drawing an indecent sound out of him that he barely choked down.

With the knife still wavering at his throat he couldn’t afford to give them time to recover, swallowing his mixed feelings he forged on. “Cute even. From a certain perspective.” A messed up one, he reminded himself. Sane, stable minds could see that even as the pink on Magius’ cheeks rose higher above their mask and they leaned back harder against him, knife dropping just slightly away from his throat.

“What?” Magius asked.

Drakath blinked, he was expecting a little bit more of a response than that. “I’m not going to repeat it, you have ears.”

“No I heard just- what?” Magius shook their head. “You aren’t supposed to say that when I’m about to kill you. People usually start begging by now they don’t… imply something about my face.” Finally progress, the blade moving a safe distance away from him as Magius reached up to tap their mask. “You can’t even see it.”

Drakath was too distracted by the rebuke to remember why he was complimenting them in the first place “Well- I don’t need to see it to make a guess, and it’s not like your eyes are covered. The way you look at me is… nice.” The knife was away, Magius’ grip on his shoulder was weakening, why did he say that?! Magius seemed equally bewildered.

“That’s what I look like when I win, dumbass, when I kill people. You think that looks nice?” Drakath thought about mentioning that if Magius jittered and looked aside every time they went for a killing blow they should probably work on that, then considered the position he was still in and realized that for once in his life he should save it. Instead he slowly began to put his arms back and prop himself up into more of a sitting position as Magius began to ramble. “I mean, I can take ‘not awful’- terrible line by the way, but I’m not cute. Especially in this position, and why were you thinking about it at all? I wasn’t! Not even when I felt how warm you were or how comfortable this feels-” If they noticed that he wasn’t really pinned anymore they weren’t showing it, instead easily transitioning to straddling his lap as they continued to lecture and oh, this angle was worse for him actually. Nice.

“And maybe I did want to touch you really badly but I’m not going to! Just winning felt amazing enough!” Drakath froze, could feel how his face flushed with heat as Magius realized what they said and shut their eyes in embarrassment. “Avatar’s above. Just- Just forget everything I just said, this whole day actually!” They couldn’t be serious, not that he didn’t preen and pride himself on his appearance, but there was no world where Magius would think about it. How did this wind up happening? He was just saying nonsense to distract Magius long enough to get out alive. Why was he still here? He needed to push them off of him and flee, then he could come back and kill this idiot the next time they fought. That’s all he had to do, so why wasn’t he?!

“You can. Touch me I mean, if you still want to.” The speed at which Magius’ eyes snapped open to meet his instantly killed the voice in his head telling him this was a terrible idea. It was, he knew it, but as much as Magius remained a thorn in his pride, as much as he wanted to, hopefully, eventually, someday actually beat them, well. Since that fight by the wind orb he couldn’t exactly say he hadn’t thought about it.

“I’m not going to fall for that.” Magius’ harsh words were betrayed by the way one of their hands was already moving to his side, the other still clutching their dagger like a lifeline. “This isn’t how any of this is supposed to work, we can’t just stop.” Even as they said that they were tracing a circle on his side with a finger, Drakath let out a shuddering sigh as their light touch left more of that almost painful feeling along his flesh.

“We aren’t stopping.” He said, only half thinking, bracing himself back on one arm as the other drifted towards Magius’ hip. He felt them stiffen as he thumbed at where the top of their rogue's leathers met the belt around their waist, causing him to pause for a moment. Magius stared at him for a long moment before nodding ever so slightly “It’s just uh, preparing for another day.” Preparing for the next time they fought was definitely all Drakath was thinking about as he pushed his hand underneath their shirt to feel the firm flesh of their abs.

Drakath had to shut his eyes as Magius writhed for a second, adjusting to the sensation, he could just about figure the overstimulation they were experiencing so long as it was comparable to the way it felt as they pressed against him. The dagger dropped out of their hand, forgotten for the moment on the ground.

“It’s a lot more than I thought it would feel.” They said quietly, Drakath wondered for a moment, at what kind of weird pathetic life they were living that this was surprising for them, that made them start this whole situation from being caught up by how close they were while about to kill him. Then Magius’ thighs clenched tighter around him again and his vision got fuzzy from the sensation before he could say anything about it.

The two paused for a moment, and Drakath pretended he was at the precipice of a decision instead of knee deep into it with Magius. Despite Magius being the instigator he had, naturally, taken the lead here. The only problem with that being…

“I thought you were going to touch me.” He mumbled, looking to the side as he found himself feeling Magius’ chest. His pride twinged as he heard Magius let out a strange sort of breathy yet smug huff.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Their response was enough to make him regret mentioning it, but as much as they were going to lord this over him at least it was undercut when he traced a shape along their skin to make them pause. Gritting his teeth he raised his voice a little louder.

“You said you wanted to touch me, I want you-” This sucked, he didn’t even have to look at them to know that their eyes had that stupid shine to them. “I want to know what you meant by that.” It can’t just have been the light touches they had been doing so far, for as long as he fought them he had never known Magius to want something in halves.

To his surprise Magius didn’t make some pithy remark about him being desperate, in fact they were eerily quiet as they shifted their weight in his lap. Curiosity overrode his need to avoid their judgement and he looked back at them. Magius, dirty underhanded assassin who had the least shame he had ever known a person to have was wringing their hands as they shuffled uncomfortably. His look of shock must’ve spooked them as Magius' next words were so soft he had to strain to hear them.

“I’m not very good at not hurting people.” They looked… so afraid like that. Was that all? Drakath was almost offended that Magius thought they could do significant damage without trying. Before he could stop himself, what he was thinking slipped out.

“You can do your worst, I don’t mind.”

Ignoring how monumentally stupid that statement was to admit he slipped his hand out from Magius’ shirt and began fiddling with his armour straps. Magius just sat there, stunned while he furiously removed his various equipment while thinking of how convenient Magius’ was to maneuver around. He wasn’t, couldn’t admit to what was happening, not when Magius and him would have to go back to killing each other the next time they met, not when everything that Magius was fighting for was so antithetical to his very being, but he also couldn’t stop. Magius’ eyes shimmered with something unknowable as he met their gaze, the last of his common sense begging for something to stop them.

“So are you uh, game?” He hated how nervous he was, like this was a monumental decision that could change everything. It wasn’t. There was only one way their ‘relationship’ was going to end, he knew it as much as they did.

“Winning was really good, but being here? That was almost better.” Magius said, reaching to undo the belts of their gear. “Let's play this out.”

[genshinarchives]

The part where they confess towards their Tsukumogami is soooo cute 🥺 feel free to delete this, but is it ok for you to make a part 2 where its kazuha,itto and possibly yoimiya?

Arataki Itto, Kaedehara Kazuha, Naganohara Yoimiya / gender-neutral reader.

Synopsis: How does their tsukumogami react to being confessed to by them?

— ( In Japanese folklore, tsukumogami are tools that have acquired a kami or spirit, and are also considered a type of youkai. Here, the reader is a weapon tsukumogami that has manifested in the form of a human, and has gained the power to fight on their own and to wield themselves. )

Ayaka, Gorou, Kokomi & Thoma ver.

#ARATAKI ITTO

Itto burst into your room while you were busy repairing yourself; he had left you quite beaten up after using your claymore to play whack-a-mole with some whopperflowers earlier.

“(Y/n), I have something very important to tell you!” he exclaimed, making you look up from the blade you were polishing, “Listen well, and I want you to give me an answer right away.” When you nodded to wordlessly tell your master that you understood, he went down on one knee in front of you and took a deep breath. “I love you! Will you go out with me?”

Your expression immediately melted into a soft smile as your cheeks turned rosy. “I’m so happy to hear that.” Carefully laying your weapon on the floor, you then held his right hand gently. “Yes, I'll go out with you. Will we get our own little ones afterwards, aruji?”

Steam blew out of Itto’s ears as he fell backwards in both happiness and shock.

#KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

Kazuha watched you get wasted again as many cups of sake surrounded you. Letting out a muted sigh, the rounin carefully propped you up on his lap with an arm supporting your back, and he proceeded to rock you back and forth to soothe your drunken sobs.

"Honestly... I sometimes wonder to myself why I've fallen in love with a hopeless tsukumogami like you," he said, chuckling when you sat upright in surprise.

"Please stop lying to yourself," you drawled, hiccuping mid-sentence, "No one can love a useless sword like me. I was so useless that I broke when Tomoaki-sama died, and you just had to get me repaired..." You went slack in his arms again and downed another cup of sake before bursting into tears. "Why did you have make me manifest with your grief?!"

"You're not useless," Kazuha insisted as he hugged you, "I love you, (y/n)." Your cheeks flushed, and he noticed immediately. "Hehe, you're blushing."

"Sh-shut up-" You cut yourself off with another hiccup; "-I'm not blushing!" Biting your bottom lip, you looked away from his teasing eyes. "It's the sake... Really."

#NAGANOHARA YOIMIYA

Yoimiya has never met anyone so innocent and oblivious in her life before, and she never expected it to be you, a tsukumogami. While you were training outside with your bow, she approached you with some sparklers in her hands.

"(Y/n)!" she nervously called your name, making you pause and look at her curiously, "You have a smile that shines like the light of dawn, and being with you fills me with the same joy I get when making fireworks." Your eyes widened, and she took this as her cue to continue. "I love you, so please accept my feelings!"

There was an awkward moment of silence as you stared at her cluelessly, and she could almost see the question marks floating above your head.

"Yeah~!" you exclaimed, raising your arms excitedly, "So would you continue to play with me from now on? I love your fireworks, aruji!"

Your words caused an imaginary arrow to pierce Yoimiya's body, making her cough up blood.

Taglist: @coco-goat-milk @m3gitsune @love-letters-4-u @melkxsh @thomathehousekeeper

[vrishchikawrites]

You know what would be interesting?

JC never lost his golden Core.

And Wei Wuxian did not lose his.

But he still gets dropped into the Burial Mounds. And like I dunno how, but he comes out of there having mastered the new form of cultivation.

Jiang Cheng acts like a dick that's par for cannon. And this Wei Wuxian who has survived the burial Mounds with his golden core intact has no time for his drama.

He definitely confesses to Lan Wangji o ce he is out of the burial mounds.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji in the Sunshot campain would be brilliant. Cultivating and * *wink wink nudge nudge* * dual cultivating.

JC is seething with jelousy. He has everything. The gentry name, the money and sect leadership but the whole world is only speaking about Wei Wuxian and his like awesome cultivation. Both the sword style and with his flute.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning- Wen Ning convinces his sister to join the war. Wen Ning wants to be on Wei Wuxian's side.

What would JC throw a tantrum over if he doesn't have anything to throw a tantrum over??

Like for example he blames Wei Wuxian for Lotus Pier burning. Obviously it's not his mistake. But one day he is yelling at Wei Wuxian about it and sect leader someone maybe XiChen, maybe Sect leader Nie. Whoever. Comes and like defends Wei Wuxian.

What would he do then faced with the facts? Cling all the more to his warped world view? Or apologize?

It will be interesting to see.

You don't have to take this prompt if it's too messy or whatever. I love you and your writing.

Also, thank you for choosing to write my previous prompt.

XOXO.

(this is a little similar to trapped and patient but also quite different. Hope you like it! The format is a bit different because this is a lot of time to cover in a short prompt)

When he stumbles out of the Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian is stunned. He can't believe he made it, that he was able to survive it, without his sword.

Wei Wuxian walks forward shakily, one unsteady step at a time, putting distance between him and that wretched place.

He feels weak, drained, devastated in small ways.

But he is free.

---

Yiling offers shelter in unexpected ways. He's able to hide in a temple to recover. His condition is wretched enough that he's mistaken for a beggar. A few people take pity on him and offer fruits and buns.

It takes him a week.

That's all it takes for him to recover.

Wei Wuxian washes all traces of Burial Mounds off him, soaks in icy river water for hours on end until he feels purified and reforged.

Now, he's ready for revenge.

---

Wei Wuxian has only tried his cultivation method on the dead. He has used it to repel the fierce corpses, fierce ghosts, and spirits soaked in resentment.

When he tests the method on the Wens, it proves to be even more effective. They scramble like mindless beasts, driven by fear and confusion. The sounds of his Dizi pierce the air and induce madness.

He watches from a distance, indifferent as the Wens turn on each other, swinging their swords, shouting at phantoms, all sense and intellect gone.

He turns away.

---

Jiang Cheng's arms wrap around him and the fog around his mind starts to slowly recede. He stands stiffly, blinking a little before looking beyond his martial brother.

Lan Zhan is there, staring at him with wide eyes. There's so much open concern on his usually stoic face that Wei Wuxian wants to turn away.

"Wei Ying,"

It is only then, under the power of that golden gaze, that his fugue state dissipates. He sees Lan Zhan step forward, almost reaching out only to pull back at the last moment.

Jiang Cheng pushes him away and punches his shoulder, "Where have you been? How dare you abandon us and just frolic off somewhere?"

Wei Wuxian swalllows with difficulty and answers their questions with his habitual dismissive charm.

But that honest expression of open concern on Lan Zhan's beautiful face doesn't leave.

He meets those golden eyes and feels something shift within him.

Shaking his head, he dismisses the feeling. There's no time for sentimental reunions. He turns his attention towards Wen Chao, unsheathes his sword, and kills him in one clean strike.

There. Done.

---

The war is already in full swing by the time he joins it. His martial brother and Lan Zhan are quick to take him to Qinghe, not even letting him ride his own sword.

"Wei-gongzi, I'm happy to see you safe," Lan Xichen greets, running a discreet eye over him. The older Lan brother's concern is well hidden but Wei Wuxian senses it nevertheless.

The man looks like he's just about ready to banish him to the healing halls.

He opens his mouth to reassure Lan Xichen but Nie Mingjue intervenes, slapping his back solidly, "I hear you're responsible for the devastation at Yiling. Good work!"

Wei Wuxian smiles brightly, hoping to banish that increasingly familiar look from Lan Zhan's face. "Thank you, Nie-zongzhu." He smiles up at the man, "I can give you a full report of what happened if you wish it."

The Chifeng-zun's expression shifts into one of approval and he nods, "I do wish it."

"I would like to know as well, if you don't mind," Lan Xichen says and Nie Mingjue nods before he glances at Lan Zhan.

He chuckles, "Lan er-gonzi can join us as well."

---

Wei Wuxian doesn't realize he's been spending more time with the Lan brothers and Nie Mingjue until Jiang Cheng angrily points it out.

"You're too good for us, are you?" He demands, "Abandoning us in favor of your new friends! Even in the battlefield, you and Lan Wangji are inseparable! Have some shame! How dare you abandon your responsibilities and mess around with that man?"

"a-Cheng," Shijie reprimands gently but her voice is weak.

"Aiya, Jiang Cheng, who keeps track of such things amidst a war? They're all our allies. It's not like I have abandoned everyone." He still trains with the Jiang disciples and leads them in battle after all.

"Wei Wuxian!"

"Jiang Cheng," His voice makes his irritation clear, "Is this really the right time to worry about such trivial matters? Who cares about appearances during war? Are were not all one when on the battlefield?" He asks, narrowing his eyes on the furious Jiang, "We don't know whether we'll live or die when we ride out and you're concerned about who fights alongside me? Just who are you speaking of?"

"Who I am speaking of?" Jiang Cheng snaps in return, "Your obsession with that man is unseemly and reflects poorly on the sect! You know it and yet you carry on shamelessly-"

"My obsession?" He demands, "Just what are you trying to imply, Jiang Cheng? You're going to be a brat just because Lan Zhan happens to be the only one able to keep up with me?" It is no secret that his three month stint sharpened his cultivation in ways people find hard to fathom. He didn’t just develop a new cultivation method, he grew. Surviving the Burial Mounds is a feet beyond the skill and endurance of most cultivators. 

Wei Wuxian has earned his already formidable reputation.

Jiang Cheng reels back at the reminder, his face twisting with rage.

Never let it be said that Wei Wuxian takes things lying down. He has spent a lifetime appeasing Jiang Cheng and dealing with his insecurities.

He no longer has the patience.

---

He reaches out instinctively, pulling Lan Zhan out of a blade's path, spinning around to block the strike with his bare arm.

His thick leather brace manages to minimize the damage and he doesn't lose his arm but it is a near thing.

With a hiss, he crowds against Lan Zhan and brings Suibian down in a sharp slash, cutting the Wen before him from left shoulder to right hip.

"Reckless." Lan Zhan says later as he carefully stitches the cut.

"I couldn't let you get hurt." Wei Wuxian says softly, peering down at the kneeling figure before him. He has seen Lan Zhan in various states of indignity, covered in blood, robes soaked in the disgusting sludge of a war-torn field.

Nothing diminishes his beauty.

Wei Wuxian's heart races, his head spinning as he smells the scent of sandalwood. He swallows as Lan Zhan shifts closer, carefully snipping the excess thread and studying his neat stitches.

This close, he feels overwhelmed and realization dawns.

"I love you," He breathes, stunned.

He loves Lan Zhan. The knowledge strikes him now, suddenly, without warning. "How did I not know?" Wei Wuxian feels strangely dazed. How could he not know? It is so obvious to him, his constant need for Lan Zhan's attention, "I hate it when you ignore me." The feeling of those snapping golden eyes on him when he finally manages to gain Lan Zhan's attention, "It's thrilling when you don't."

He has never met anyone more beautiful, "I find you better looking than any maiden." Lan Zhan's proximity now makes him feel-, "Breathless," He says, "When I'm close to you I feel- how did I miss-"

Lan Zhan grip is like vice around his wrist.

Wei Wuxian stops, going pale as he realizes how brazenly he had just confessed love to a man. If Jiang Cheng were here, he'd definitely gut him with Sandu, "Lan Zhan, I-"

Lan Zhan surges forward, eyes blazing and expression dark.

Warm lips slide over his and his mind goes silent.

He doesn't think a single thought that night.

---

War doesn't wait for anyone and Wei Wuxian doesn't say anything in protest when Lan Zhan pulls away from him. He watches with heavy eyes as Lan Zhan shrugs on his discarded outer robes and glances at him.

"Is your body alright?" He asks and Wei Wuxian feels a blush crawl up his neck.

“No! Of course it isn’t,“ He complains even though his body is buzzing with lingering pleasure. He pouts up at Lan Zhan, who studies him with careful golden eyes, “Really, going on and on, taking your pleasure without any care for my virgin body.“ Lan Zhan’s ears are delightfully red, “Who knew er-gege could be so bold?“

“Wei Ying,“ Lan Zhan’s expression is flat but his voice carries a hint of a waver. Wei Wuxian just grins in response, “Be serious.“

In all honesty, his body is already back to its regular state of being. His Golden Core is still spinning furiously and the lingering energy from Dual Cultivation has healed any aches and pains he might have. 

“Fine,“ He says in a petulant tune, inwardly delighted that Lan Zhan is now his, “But er-gege must kiss me to make me feel better.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t hesitate, leaning over him and gently tipping his chin up for the demanded kiss. 

Wei Wuxian sighs, sinking into it as a curtain of silken black hair forms a private cocoon around him. 

---

The war ends but Wei Wuxian’s problems don’t end with it. Three issues stand before him; helping the Wen remnants, helping rebuild YunmengJiang, and figuring out how to marry Lan Zhan. 

One obstacle stands in the way of two of these three goals. Jiang Cheng absolutely refuses to lift a finger to help the Wen remnants, even though Wen Qing’s assistance helped them win the war. Jin Guangyao may have killed Wen Ruohan but Wen Qing prevented thousands of casualties.

Wen Ning was also responsible for rescuing Jiang Cheng from the Wen capture before he lost his Golden Core. It was fortunate that Wen Zhuliu had been called to visit Wen Ruohan and Wen Chao had to wait to enact that punishment. 

Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian managed to steal Jiang Cheng away just hours before Wen Zhuliu returned.

And yet, Jiang Cheng chooses to side with the Jins on the matter instead of listening to Lan Xichen or Nie Mingjue. Wei Wuxian knows it is partly because their sister is marrying into the Jin clan and they can’t afford to make things difficult for her, but still.

Jin Zixuan will obviously protect shijie. There’s no need to be so cautious, especially if three out of four sects oppose imposing any sort of punishment on innocent people. 

On a personal front, Jiang Cheng’s disapproval of his relationship with Lan Zhan is blatant.

Jiang Cheng can’t really stop Wei Wuxian from marrying whoever he wishes. He doens’t need the sect leader’s permission as he’s not really the member of the family. But his shidi is making things difficult with his sneering disapproval and contemptuous comments in public.  

He has already alienated Lan Xichen completely by calling Lan Zhan’s honor in question (boy did he earn the punch Wei Wuxian had leveled at him - sect leader or no). Nie Mingjue will never side with some upstart over Lan Xichen. 

Lan Zhan himself doesn’t care. He has never liked Jiang Cheng and he never will. He only retaliates when Jiang Cheng tries to attack Wei Wuxian. 

His protective er-gege as no tolerance for anyone trying to harm him.

Which is what, ultimately, breaks Wei Wuxian’s ties with YunmengJiang. 

The confrontation is embarrassingly public. He doesn’t mind Lan Xichen or Nie Mingjue being present but feels upset about Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao being there as well. 

“Twin Prides of Yungmeng, isn’t that what you promised me?“ Jiang Cheng demands, “Where will your pride be if you break all of your promises and get into...” He waves his hand at Lan Zhan in disgust, “Is this how you intend to repay us? My father raised you to be the Head Disciple of the Jiang Sect and you would rather be some sort of deviant?“

“Jiang Cheng-“

“And you would side with the Wen dogs too! Was this always your intention? Did you always want to bring down my sect and support its enemies?” 

“The Wen remnants have helped us. They’re not our enemies.“

“They’re not our enemies now,“ Jin Guanyao interjects calmly, his voice soothing and patient, “But surely you see that it may not remain so? We cannot risk another war.”

“They’re barely a few hundred people and we have already taken most of their resources. They’ll live as poor peasants. How can they be a threat to us?“ Wei Wuxian asks. 

“You’re indeed naïve, Wei-gongzi,“ Jin Guangshan says in a gentle, placating tone, “Perhaps your fondness for Wen-guniang is making you turn a blind eye. Beautiful women have a tendency to do that.“ He chuckles indulgently.

The sly implication in his tone isn’t lost on anyone. Lan Zhan’s expression turns frosty and Wei Wuxian feels a surge of fury strong enough to make his blood boil. There are so many things wrong with that statement that Wei Wuxian, for once, is rendered speechless.

“You question the honor of Wei Wuxian of all people?“ Nie Mingjue demands, taking a step forward, “I have stayed silent because Jiang Sect business isn’t my business but I will not have you slander and belittle a proven warrior in my presence!“

“Indeed,“ Lan Xichen says calmly but there’s no mistaking the sharp look in his eyes. Lan Xichen rarely reacts to provocations or interferes in sect matters that don’t concern him. But he’s not going to let anyone upset his younger brother carelessly, “The matter of the Wens is easy to resolve. Let us give them a small piece of land, let them set up a village, and forbid cultivation among them.“

“Er-ge,“ Jin Guangyao begins but Lan Zhan is out of patience. 

He steps back and bows to all assembled before placing a hand on Wei Wuxian’s back, “Wei Ying will choose his own path. Wens will remain free. Wei Ying and I will marry.“ He meets Jiang Cheng’s furious gaze, “Jiang-zongzhu must decide whether his brother’s happiness matters to him.“

Wei Wuxian winces. 

“My brother’s happiness?“ Jiang Cheng demands, “All everyone has ever cared about is his happiness! What about me? What about our Sect? A sect he nearly destroyed because of his loyalty towards you.“ Jiang Cheng looks at him, “Did you forget my mother? My father? How do you intend to repay the enormous debt you carry, Wei Wuxian?“

Wei Wuxian stares back at him, “What is my repayment, Jiang Cheng?” He asks softly, “What will it take for you to consider that debt repaid?” It has been over five years since the fall of Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian has bled and slogged through war to restore that place to its former glory. He has kept Jiang Cheng safe, helped renegotiate shijie’s marriage, and used his name to draw skilled cultivators to YungmengJiang. 

What more can he give? 

“Loyalty.“ He stills, “You devote your life to YungmengJiang and nothing else.“

Lan Xichen makes a faint, alarmed noise while Nie Mingjue huffs in disapproval. 

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, feeling Lan Zhan’s fingers flex on his back. He levels a flat look at Jiang Cheng and thinks on the matter of debts. He thinks about Madam Yu’s refusal to bend, of Jiang-zongzhu’s passivity and lack of planning. He thinks about the Wen’s unprovoked attack on Cloud Recesses and the inevitability of war. 

He thinks of his Lan Zhan and shijie’s Jin Zixuan, without swords and facing an armed group of Wens under Wen Chao’s orders. 

He thinks of love. Of what it means to be truly, unconditionally loved. 

No sorrys and no thank yous. No debt owed for simply being a part of someone’s life. 

He thinks of acceptance that comes with an older brother’s amused smile. He thinks of an uncle’s gruff admonishment to behave followed by a stiff reminder to eat, you’re skin and bones already. 

He takes a deep breath and decides. 

“No.“

[spookysquish13]

First time knife play with JJ Maybank

First time knife play with JJ Maybank

*Author note: I got locked out of my old account (spookysquishsworld) and am reposting all of my old writings

This morning there was a tiktok video going around where Rudy was playing with a knife. It brought something out of me, and i know everyone wants more JJ smut. So here yall go. I hope you like it.

ALSO if anyone has tips on how to format more easily, i write on a different app and then paste it into the text box… ??

TRIGGER WARNING HARD CORE. KNIFE PLAY. THIS COULD BE TRIGGERING TO SOME. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED BY BLADES OR KNIVES. WARNING: Knife, blood, blindfold, choking, fingering,

JJ was sitting in the little cabin of the steering wheel of the boat, groaning that he was bored, leaning his head back against the wall. He takes out one of the fishing blades packed on the boat. He takes the blade out of its canvas sleeve, in a place that you could have sworn was slow motion. You are watching him through the back window of the cabin. Watching him take out the knife, you feel your eyes grow in size. Gulping quietly so you could continue enjoing the show started feeling your core grow hotter. JJ starts tossing the blade up into the air trying to catch it. The danger of him potentially getting hurt grew an excitement deep inside of you. You didnt know what this was. Why the sight of the blade excited you to your core. What would it feel like? Would it be cold? What would it feel like to give JJ all of that control. You knew he would never do a thing to hurt someone else unless provoked. You swallow hard trying to keep your hand out of your shorts. The others close by. Now JJ is starting to twirl the blade between his fingers. His face twisting with concentration, making his dimples come out. You could see one of his brows furrow. With the rings on his fingers, and the knife moving swiftly could have made you cum from the sight. JJ felt someone watching. He looked over his shoulder, still twisting the blade. You both made eye contact. JJ giving you a sexy smirk, his eyes growing a deep blue. You moved away quickly from the window and plastered your back to the wall aside the window. Trying to catch your breath from the sight of the sun kissed blonde with a shiny knife. —————– All of you have now returned from the boating adventure and you excused yourself into the bathroom of John Bs house. You splash cold water onto your face trying to collect yourself. You all were still hanging out but your heat never faded. As you unlock the door, you find JJ standing in the doorway across from the bathroom, his arms crossed. You started getting worked up again just from the sight of his muscles. “Hey, y/n, can I talk with you?” JJ asks. Motioning to his bedroom. “Where are the others? ” you ask JJ, your heart beat raises, feeling like you just ran. “I shooed them off” JJ says giving you a wink as he looks back behind him to make sure you are still following. As soon as both of you enter into his bedroom he closes the gap between you and backs you into the door, closing it behind you with a force that made you stop breathing. This is it, this could be the moment you were waiting for. JJ kisses you with such a force you could not keep the moan down that was escaping your mouth. His hands were on your hips, pulling you closer. Your head was spinning from his touch, you waited all day for this. JJ kisses from your mouth down your jaw, hitting all the right spots. Against your neck he says “Y/N, we need to talk about something.” You take a deep breath trying to focus on what he was saying. You try to untangle both of you, so you weren’t distracted. “Ok” you say sighing that he broke up something you were waiting for. “ I saw you watching me playing with the knife….” He trails off, you nodding you head, hoping that he could put two and two together. He was a smart boy. “…. I think I want to try something with you.” You heart jumps and your eyes fill with the same lust that he looked at you with multiple times before. “Im not sure how or why but watching you play with that knife did something in me that I didn’t know could happen….” You confess, letting all guard down, looking at your hands because you didn’t want to look him in the eye, you would have just died from embarrassment. JJ comes swiftly to your side and gently puts his hands on both sides of your face, bringing you to look at him.“Baby, there is nothing to be ashamed of, I know these thoughts can be scary and intimidating, but as long as we are honest with each other and talk about things before And after, we can do this. Honestly, it what I was thinking about while playing with it.” He kisses your nose, resting his forehead against yours. “I

was curious how you would take it, we already have been dabbling into some kinky things in the bedroom…” he continues talking as he wraps his hands around your waist. Closing your eyes with the feeling of him wrapping you into him, you laid your head against his chest. You were trying to memorize his smell around you. How his arms felt wrapped around you. “You know my rule, you can tell me anything and I wont judge. As long as you are honest and remember the safe word, we are golden. You remember the word right, babygirl?” How could you have forgotten, you sat in bed with him late at night, laughing and forgetting the world around you. You were trying to come up with a word that would completely pull both of you out of anything you were doing. Toilet. Toilet was the word you settled on. You talked about golden showers and both of you agreed that, that wasn’t something you’d be into. JJ spoke up, pulling you out of your memory. “Do you want to try? The gang wont be back for hours. The house is ours. We can be as loud as we want….” He kisses you hard and chokes you a little, the coldness of his rings makes you gasp against his mouth. “we all know you have trouble being quiet, princess” JJ says against your mouth smugly, knowing full well the power he has over you, to make you into a crumbling screaming soaking mess. He picks you up and tosses you onto the bed. He makes contact with your mouth and you moaned at the touch, kissing you so you wouldn’t notice, he blind folds you with the bandana from his back pocket. Kissing down your neck, sucking hickies into your collarbone, he slowly pulls out the knife from his pocket, the one you saw earlier, he lifted from the boat. The first contact was your shoulder, you gasped shockingly from how cold the metal was. Colder than you imagined, ice like.JJ drags the knife softly against your delicate skin, never picking up the blade off of you. He cuts one of your straps from your shirt, which makes you scream quietly from excitement. He continues to drag the blade up against your neck, against the sweet spot near your ear, and down your cheek. Your heart is racing and you are practically panting, drool tipping out of the corner of your mouth. JJ sees you drooling under him, a soaking and panting mess. He becomes hard and grinds his hips into you so you could feel what you do to him. “Open your mouth stick your tongue out.” JJ orders with a deep sexiness to his voice. This tone of his is one you love, one where he is taken over by lust and cant get enough of you. You close your mouth tight, being the brat you are, knowing there would be a fun punishment for this act of disobedience. JJ stopped grinding into you and lifted himself up off of you. He turned your hip to the side, your back still on the bed but your left hip in the air. He dragged his hand across your underwear, making brief contact with where you wanted him the most. All of the sudden you feel a smack and a sting. He spanked you, leaving a red hand print on your bare ass. The noise that escaped your mouth earned a growl from him. Your chest raising and falling rapidly from all of your excitement. “Open your mouth. Stick your tongue out. I will not repeat myself.” JJ says as you feel his hand around your throat. You stick your tongue out, letting all juices free flow. You feel the cold metal pressed flat against your tongue. You couldn’t stop drooling. You only ever could drool that much while you were sucking him off. When you feel the cold leave your mouth you start begging. “JJ please, I need you. Now, please.”“Tell me what you want, brat” He spat back at you, tightening his grip around your neck. Your head falls back and you beg him “Please touch my pussy, I want your fingers, your tongue, the knife, your dick. Please anything. I just need something. Please” The need you had for him almost brought you to tears. JJ drags the knife down your bare stomach, your shirt was long gone. You arch your back and JJ could see all the goosebumps forming. He starts biting your hips, sometimes too hard and there was blood popping out

of some of the teeth marks. He dragged the knife down to your panties and with one quick motion he cut off both sides around your hips. Tugging on the cloth he ripped them from the front so there was friction against your clit. You gasped so loud and was so shocked you gripped the sheets around you. Knowing if you reached for him there could be bad consequences. Biting and sucking at your hips again, he pushes your legs aside and finally gives you what you begged for With out any warning he pushes two fingers into you. Still feeling the blade, over a hip and down one leg tracing your ankle and then coming back up. “Baby, you are a dripping mess. I never knew you could get so wet and wanting. All for me.” JJ practically growled against you “Yes baby you are doing so well. I love seeing you like this.” You bucked your hips against his fingers, still inside of you. This Was all you needed to just about cum. He immediately removed his fingers and you whined so loudly you startled yourself. Edging you once before letting you get any closer. “OPEN"He demanded once again and you obliged you needing him more then a punishment He stuck his fingers in your mouth "Taste yourself, baby girl taste how wet you are for me.” You start sucking on the fingers in your mouth, tongue dancing around them like you were sucking them off. This earned a deep growl from JJ in your ear. A “please” escaped your mouth without even thinking. He starts to drag his fingers, softly barely touching your skin, down to your wet hot core he pushes you back over so you are laying flat on your back, legs wide open his for the taking. He flicks your clit just to tease a little bit more before giving you what you want. You were now open mouth panting and whining, some noises you didn’t even recognize. He put two fingers into you going at a pace you didn’t think was humanly possible, again things were slow motion you didn’t think he could go any slower. “Stay very still, do not move a muscle or I will stop he orders” JJ places the cold blade onto your clit and you move your hands deeper into the blankets bracing yourself so you didn’t move. He curled his fingers to hit your g spot and you almost cried. You needed him more than you ever needed him before. “p…..please JJ… please make me cum….. please baby….. I’ll do anything just make me cum……” you plead knowing you couldn’t stay still for much longer he removes the blade and you start to protest “Please…” as quickly as he removes the blade he replaces it with his mouth sucking and twirling his tongue so skillfully he starts pumping his fingers rough and hard, a pinky grazing your other hole his hand is now dripping from your juices “baby cum for me you are doing so well, you are almost there….” pounding your g spot over and over with his hand you feel the rings slipping close and close to your entrance, his fingers deep inside of you. your back raises from the bed as you feel the knife flat against your belly just enough to feel the coldness you release and scream like you were on a rollercoaster you were on one of your own high JJ had to use his arm to keep your legs open, holding you down still pounding you with his fingers making sure he gets everything out of you as you let go of the sheets coming down from your high he moves to place the knife on the bed and to slip the bandana off of your face kissing you everywhere on your face and finally your lips you lay there limp tears escaping your eyes you breathing so heavy you weren’t sure if you’d ever catch your breath He lays down next to you in awe and kisses you gently against the mouth you laugh against his lips unbelieving that you just came that hard “wow” escapes your lips as you run your hands through his hair his hand laying lazily on your hip “I didn’t know you could scream that loud Y/N” still laying there euphoric blinking to try to make sure this was reality, nodding slowly “you really liked that didn’t you y/n”“yes I had no idea…. i .. it… wow…. more ….” JJ giggled that he had you speechless “ I will be right back baby okay? Just stay here, Im so

proud of you” he put away the knife and brought you some water and covered you up with your favorite blanket you could make sense of words now…. “Wow JJ fuck, that was awesome. I had no idea” He came up behind you cuddling into you under the blanket kissing the side of your face “Im glad you liked it I can say its one of my favorite things now.” “Me too, i thought it would be different” “how so” JJ looks down at you making sure you were okay “that it would be more dangerous i guess” he feels you shrug against his arms around you “as long as you don’t jerk and move too much i have all of the control. I wont ever hurt you baby, I’m so proud of you. you did so well” “ JJ I’m glad we can trust each-other this much. I wouldn’t be able to do any of this if it wasn’t with you.” He kissed you softly against the mouth and your hunger reappeared How could it not with a sun kissed blonde god next to you “Your turn for me to make you cum JJ” You say climbing on top of him feeling his dick hard against your bare clit. Shuddering at the feeling since you were still sensitive, smiling. you both melted into the blanket, not coming up for air until the sun rose again

[bookishdream]

can you do a one shot where kaz keeps saying he doesnt like nor does he care for the reader; she overhears him, and goes out into ketterdam but ends up getting seriously injured; also if it too much to ask, can i also add that he does end up giving her a hug but he hesitates at first —this corresponds with the fluff (angst and fluff at the end please ?)

thank you for a request! i hope you're okay with my slight change, enjoy xx

TW: blood, death, disgusting men.

kaz brekker x fem!reader

You were standing, leaning harder against the door of Kaz’s office. You wanted to talk to him about your next job, since you had to buy some bullets and a new knife for Nina and yourself. But what you overheard made your heart shatter into little pieces.

“I don’t care what happens to y/n, she’s another member of the Dregs. I can easily replace her if something happened to her,” bastard’s words were like daggers, cutting your skin and making their way into your heart. You were so stupid falling for him. “Now, Wylan, go and build a bomb or should I replace you as well?”

You heard Wylan’s huff and his steps. When he got out of Kaz’s room and noticed you, his eyes got wide. You sent him a crooked smile and made your way into Brekker’s room.

“I need a list of what you want for the job.” You said, voice steady even though you wanted to fall apart.

“On my desk.”

He wasn’t looking at you, busy with counting his money, you rolled your eyes and took a piece of paper from a wooden desk. You made your way out, not saying another word. Your heart clenched, you wanted to punch yourself for feeling even the slightest emotion for him. You should’ve known better than that, you should’ve known he wouldn’t feel nor show you any kind of emotion except hatred or disgust.

You got out of the club onto Ketterdam’s streets. You loved the city, even though it was dark and dangerous, you felt this was your home. You came here from northern Ravka, before your parents made you to join the First Army. You ran away from them and from the responsibility to protect your country, but you hadn’t felt bad about that, those two years ago and certainly you didn’t feel bad then.

You walked to the best shop with knives you’d known. You bought your first dagger there and you were sure about the quality of blades that were sold in the shop. The old Fabrikator was working there and when he learnt you were from Ravka, he started treating you as his daughter, selling you everything you need with lower prices.

“Hi, Milosh how are you feeling today?” you asked, entering the small shop, the older man smiled seeing you.

“Hello darling, I’m doing great,” he replied, eyeing you and noticing your dark circles underneath your eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

You only nodded, didn’t answer his question further. You gave him the list and when he was looking for the items, you looked out of the window. You noticed three Black Tips but you didn’t pay them more attention. You looked away and focused on Milosh. He had fair hair, probably after his father who were Fjerdan. Few months ago, when he’d found you wandering around Ketterdam, he’d asked for you to come with him to this shop. He’d given you hot cocoa and had told you some stories and myths from both Ravka and Fjerda. He’d told you about his father who once had come with a wolf and the wolf had stayed, about his mother who had been the warmest woman alive, especially when she’d made him a warm bread slice with butter and then read him stories. He was your spirit connection to your mother country, so you knew every legend, every myth and even the story about the Fold.

You heard a door bell ring and you looked behind you only to see those three guys from Geels’ gang. Your spine straightened, your palm subtly went to your belt in order to take out the knife if needed. You looked at them, but they were already looking at you with smirks on their face. You cursed under your breath, knowing it’d be troubles and you didn’t know how it’d come out.

“Who we have here boys? Brekker’s girl.” One of them said, making his way towards you, eyeing you up and down.

“I’m wondering if he got some, she’s even pretty.” The other one came behind you, grabbing you roughly by your arm. You tried to free yourself, but his second hand quickly found its way to yours, cutting your only way to defend yourself.

“I have what you needed, darling,” Milosh came out from the small room, closing the door behind him, when he noticed your position he closed his mouth, forming a thin line. “I think you should leave her.” He said to the guy who was holding you. You clenched your teeth, praying for Milosh to back out. You knew Black Tips, they weren’t the smartest, but they were first to kill and you wanted your friend safe.

“Milosh, get away from here.” You ordered, trying to shake off the hands holding you, the Black Tip only hardened his hold and pressing you to his body.

“And leave you? They should leave, not me.”

“Listen, grandpa, the girl’s right. You leave and we’re going to have some quality time with her,” disgust twisted your face, you wanted to kick him, but you knew they would outnumber you.

Milosh only looked at him and from behind him, the knives started to levitating, he used his powers to push them forward, targeting an opponent’s chest. One of the knives hit him in his neck, killing him. The guy behind you let you go and you quickly turned around, placing your dagger in his crotch. He screamed making you cringe.

“This is why you shouldn’t touch a girl without her permission.”

You looked at the third Black Tip, but he took out a gun, targeting Milosh. You threw a dagger at the same time he pulled the trigger. Knife stuck at his neck, making the pistol fall out of his hands. You looked at Milosh to check on him, but you saw a pool of blood and the man laying on his side.

“No,” you whispered, stumbling against your own legs. You fall on your knees, seeing the shot wound was on his chest, that still was slowly rising. “Milosh, please, stay with me.”

“Y/n, my dear, Saints are going to keep me safe,” he said, making your eyes water. “But you have to let me go.”

You shook your head, placing your hand on his chest, trying to stop the blood from leaking. You felt the hot tears streaming down your face. He was like your father, he couldn’t leave you. “Please.”

But his eyelids closed, making your heart break into pieces. You hugged Milosh, messing your shirt with his blood, but you didn’t care. After what felt like hours, you stood up and went for items you had come here. You felt guilty, you should’ve gone to a different store, you put Milosh in danger.

You walked out of his shop, closing the door gently. The Stadwacht would be there the next day, perhaps someone would four dead bodies, laying on the floor. Your hold on the bag with bullets and a dagger, grew tighter. You tried to calm yourself, but tears still were threatening to pour out of your red eyes. You didn’t want to show how miserable you were, you tried to wipe them off, but you didn’t notice the blood on your sleeve. Now, with blood both on your shirt and face, you looked like a psycho.

You entered the Club with the back door and you go to Kaz’s room, hoping he’d be there. You knocked and instantly after, you let yourself in. He was sitting in his chair, but when you came in, he looked up, his eyes widened at the blood which was everywhere.

“What happened to you?” he asked, getting up and making a step towards you. But like he thought better of it, he stopped, placing one of his hands on his desk. “Are you injured?”

You wanted to say something, but when you opened your mouth, only a sob came out. Kaz seeing how you barely could stand on your legs, took your arm and gently led you to the chair next to his desk.

“Y/n, I need to know if you’re wounded.” He said, looking at you, his eyes soft.

“It’s not my blood,” you whispered, making him let out the breath. He felt better knowing you were not bleeding. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Kaz’s head snapped, he tried to understand who you were talking about, but you only looked dead into his eyes. “I killed him, Kaz.”

You were never a person who cried after killing someone from another gang, he knew it had been hard for you since the beginning, but he had never seen you crying. He felt his heart clenched at that sight. “What happened?”

You started playing with your fingers, trying to avoid this conversation, but you knew he had to know. “Do you know who Milosh is?”

Kaz frowned, trying to put a face into the name, he nodded his head when he recalled the old man working in the store, where you bought your weapons. “He was like a father to me,” you wiped off the tears from your cheeks. “Even though I still have one, he acted more like my dad than my real one,” you laughed, but the sound was dry and humourless. You told him everything that happened. About the Black Tips, how Milosh wanted to keep you safe but he failed. How that one Black Tip was still lying unconscious on the shop’s floor. Kaz’s jaw clenched, he wanted to kill this man. You looked up at him and slowly got up. He made a step back, letting you.

You walked to the door, eyes dry and you placed your hand on the door knob.

“Wait.”

You turned around, facing Kaz who was slowly walking towards you. One minute he was beside the chair and the second one his arms were around your back, gently hugging you. You were shocked, but after a second, you hugged him back, tightening your arms around his waist. You heard him taking a breath, and you wanted to let go, but he only held you closer.

“Are you okay with that?”

“I’m great.”

[luvyanfei]

anon said. how about fluffy hcs with xiao, zhongli and xingqui taking their s/o out on a first date?

XIAO.

he already finds it difficult just to ask you to hold him without losing his cool, so how can he possibly bring up the idea of inviting you on a date? actually, he probably never knew the word ‘date’ even existed until he heard a passing couple staying over at wangshu inn dreamily talking about how they wish they could go to see the lantern rite festival in liyue harbor together for their first date. a first date, huh? now that he thinks about it, xiao never did properly try to court you, did he? it was always you who approached him first, who held your hand out to him, who confessed that you love him. you’re already giving so much dedication in this relationship. it’s the least he can do to return your affections, not just because he’s feeling a bit indebted, but because he’s your lover. unfortunately, being the awkward yaksha that he is, xiao overthinks the situation and complicates it more than he should.

every chance he gets is blown up by his anxiousness. whenever you come and visit him at the inn, you almost think that he’s angry with you from the way he throws you vicious glares. unbeknownst to you, xiao is actually making that tense face because he’s trying very hard, too hard in fact, to think of the best way to ask you out on a date and seeing you just makes him all the more nervous. he regrets it every time you step into the elevator while giving him a goodbye wave and saying you’ll come visit again. sure, he gets another chance to try and ask you out again, but he also has another chance to fail as well.

when you visit him for lunch, xiao quickly rehearses the words he wants to say to you in the back of his head before coming to greet you. ‘i overheard from a guest in the inn talking about a lantern rite festival. if you mortal, no, [name], desires to go, i can possibly set aside time to accompany you.’ keep it cool, yet short. taking a deep breath to compose himself, xiao walks over to greet you, er, well actually, you’re the one doing the greeting instead, and you settle down to eat. the sweet taste of the almond tofu that you generously bought for him blossoms in his mouth and he loses track of time till your departure. before you leave once more to allow the poor yaksha to wallow in his self-regret again, you stop yourself and turn around to face xiao. tucking your hair behind your ear and giving your best, most radiant smile you can offer to him, you shyly ask if he’d like to tag along with you to the lantern rite festival. “we’ve never been on a date before and i’d love to go to the festival with you and release xiao lanterns together.”

... what? how? his mouth almost opens up in disbelief, as he struggles to keep a stoic expression. ex-excuse him?! that’s supposed to be his line! he’s in shock at how easily you were able to say something that he’s been having trouble sputtering out. you mortals never fail to surprise him. he shakes his head and bitterly scowls, that you almost step back in fright. almost, until he starts speaking, that is. “why is it you? i should have been the one to ask you on a date first, not you!” he’s almost on the brink of tears from the frustration he currently holds on himself. 

a relationship is always about give and take, no? it’s like when zhongli has so kindly decided to save him from the clutches of the cruel abuse he endured endlessly, of course he was forever in debt to rex lapis. surely, it’s the same with you, isn’t it? when xiao tells you this, you immediately start laughing. you calmly explain to him that your relationship isn’t like a form of contract where he’s expected to always repay you back for every gift you give to him. as long as he’s there for you, that’s more than enough of a reward, you say, before plopping a chaste kiss to his cheek.  

“finally, you’re here. what took you so long?” xiao speaks to you with indifference concealing the relief that you actually came. he trails his sharp eyes to inspect your dressed up form and blushes slightly. “you look nice.”

immediately, your eyes widen at his underhanded compliment. did- did you hear that right? biting his lower lip gently, xiao clasps your hand in his, ignoring your astounded reaction, as he squeezes it reassuringly while watching the colourful fireworks light up the murky night.

without thinking, he turns to you when you’re focused on the display of bursting lights reflecting in your eyes, and murmurs to himself softly, “i hope you’ll spend the rest of your time with me, for however long it’ll last.”

XINGQIU.

of course, a date with xingqiu has to be extravagant and sophisticated to the last touch, right? guess again. he may come from a wealthy family, but that doesn’t mean he shares the same interest a selfish, pampered noble may have. he prefers something more simple, yet sentimental. confined in his household with nothing to do but bury his head in a book, he’s picked up some ideas for your date from the romance stories he’s read. surprisingly, they’re all rather cliché.  

the first thing he makes you guys do is go out in the blazing summer day to get yourselves a cool beverage. he explicitly asks the cashier to give him one straw [do they even exist in the game?] and smiles slyly as he thanks them and brings the drinks to you. when you ask about it, thinking that maybe he forgot, all he does is smirk before saying, “there’s no need, my liege. we can share, unless you’d rather melt in the sweltering sun, that is.” he winks teasingly. you... don’t really have much of a choice in the matter. as you stroll around the harbor together, you take turns drinking from the only straw and a wave of consciousness washes over you gradually. wait, isn’t this like an indirect kiss? you place a hand to your gaping mouth after sucking on the straw that xingqiu pressed his lips on merely seconds ago. you should know by now, how bold he is underneath his polite façade. 

after you finish sipping your drink - tediously at that, you both agree on going to the library to read books together since the heat is pretty unbearable to do anything enjoyable. xingqiu recommends you to try reading some of his personal favorites and you do the same as well. he’s thrilled to have a reading buddy now since it’s boring being here by himself. 

while you’re immersed in the novel that you randomly picked from the bookshelf, every now and then, xingqiu will look up from the pages of his book and faintly smile to himself, glad that you’re enjoying yourself.

the sun was setting and the stars started to appear in the pastel pink and orange of the evening sky. you place back the last book and stretch your arms, before turning to xingqiu. sighing, you give him a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek and softly say your farewell.

as you’re about to make your leave for the day, xingqiu halts you with his words, “wait. there’s something i need to do before we can end this date.” nonchalantly, he plucks a book from its shelf, opens its pages, and uses it to block the sunlight drifting through the transparent window glass, effectively shielding his vision from the public eye as he pulls you in for a passionate kiss.

his free hand finds its way combing through the back of your head to deepen the kiss. when he’s satisfied enough, the boy detaches his lips from yours and lightly rubs the flesh of your cheek with a finger, while placing the book down on a nearby table. you keep your eyes fixated on him as he licks the edges of his lips.

“that felt nice,” xingqiu murmurs, “you’re so sweet, i’d hate for anyone else to savor in this pleasant moment with you other than i. shall we continue this again on our next date too?”

ZHONGLI.

the first thing he does is make sure to bring mora, this time. it would be highly inconsiderate of mr. zhongli to have you pay for the expenses of this fine date. he’s one to take things nice and slow. sure, time is unfortunately measured and limited, but he wants to make the most of it with you, a mortal who, just like any other being, has a beginning and end to your life. zhongli wants to shower you in all the beauty and joy this world has to offer while you’re still here with him.

he may be a gentle-spoken and polite individual, but please don’t mistaken him as being shy in any way. he shows up to your residence one afternoon and presents you a bouquet of your preferred flowers while he asks if you would consider accompanying him on a date. you take the bundled up flowers, carefully stroking a petal as if it’s made of fragile glass and accepts his proposal with open arms. 

he takes you out to an expensive restaurant in the night of liyue and helps you select the best dishes. after you’re finished with your lavish and sophisticated meals, zhongli ushers you outside where you’re greeted with fresh air, a contrast to the suffocation you felt back at the restaurant. sure, the place is grand and your hunger is well-satiated, yet despite wearing your best clothing, you felt out of place there, like a commoner surrounded by nobles. 

when you express your earlier discomfort to zhongli, his eyes are filled with shame and he’s already apologizing like the gentleman he is. guiltily, you tell him it’s fine and you ask if you can show him something before you have to head on home. he ponders in thought before agreeing, walking hand in hand with you to your unknown destination. 

the chilling night breeze bites at your bare skin as you instantly shiver. this doesn’t go unnoticed in zhongli’s sharp eyes and he’s already unbuttoning his jacket. he drapes the coat over your shoulder blades and rubs his gloved hands on your cold fingertips to preserve warmth. “are you feeling cold perhaps? maybe we should head back?” you stop him before he can guide you back to the harbor. 

“i’m okay now. thank you for your concern.” you say to ease his poor mind. he nods and you both continue on. the walk uphill takes a while, but it’s worth it when you finally reach the top. your eyes widen in amazement as you witness the glimmering stars splayed across the pitch darkness of the sky. “zhongli, look. do you like it?” he simply nods, but all of his attention is focused on you.

zhongli grins down at your childishly excited face, pausing for a hesitant minute before he carefully places his hands on top of your shoulders. you look up at him in confusion and is about to question him, but any sound that comes out is cut off by his lips ensnaring yours in a kiss. you’re astounded by his intimate move, but you revel in his touch in a matter of seconds. 

he hopes, as he tightens his hold, that you’ll stay with him always, till your last breath. 

tagging. @scarymoosh

[goblinshork]

Ok so what abaut Bodyguard and Agony whith a a naga prince that just hates the royal life and dreams of just having a simple life living in a cottage and selling homemade jewelry, so Reader his childhood best friend, personal bodyguard and person who he feel in love whith decides to make his dream come true (bonus if the prince has a sister so the kingdown whont stay whiout a ruler and she helps Reader whith the plan, bonus+ if the prince is kinda huge and scary to other people but he is just a chill dude that likes to make rings and necklaces)

Short scenario please! (Also sorry if its too long, feel free to just ignore this if you whant)

Not too long at all and I think it's an extremely charming idea! Thank you for sharing; big gruff, undercover sweeties are one of the most Choice(tm) archetypes.

This also got super long, but the vibes were singing to me.

Features: Slight angst, happy ending, kissing

Bodyguard + Agony (Monster Ask Meme)

Hands, Touching Hands (m!Naga x gn!Reader) [3.7k]

“Don’t lie, how many names do you remember?”

Alok yawned, curved fangs peaking out from almost-lips.

“None, thankfully,” he said, scratching at his curls, cut short enough that they barely formed.

“Impressive.”

“Oh—no, you won’t distract me. You agree with me don’t you?”

The book Alok had toyed the entire briefing slammed shut, the many bracelets at his wrist clinking for emphasis when you did not answer.

Watching him unfurl his tense length of tail, broad shoulders rising far above you as he 'stood', there was little to say but, "It’s not my place."

"Then it’s not mine, either."

He slunk toward the door and you picked up the book--the monstrous thing--with your arms rather than your hands before following him.

"Just give it time," you said in a reassurance that was too shallow to drown his mood.

Every move forward looked painful as he slithered forward like a child first learning to move against stone rather than soft grass. Unlike when he was a child, he was stilted by frustration rather than inexperience.

The conversation was left dropped, burning like the weight of the tome in your arms. If you were alone, you'd tell him to carry it. But servants, nobles, and royals passed frequently, all low bows and murmurs, moving on a touch quicker than polite.

When you first arrived to the kingdom, a slave dressed sweetly and presented as a gift, you'd marveled at how anyone could find the royal family intimidating when removed from their wealth and status.

Baby yellow skin and soft pink dapples painted everyone of them. Alok, himself, was more pink than yellow, and it reminded you of those delicate, painted dolls you'd press your face against glass to get a closer look at before being shooed away by the shop-keep.

You supposed little had changed since then, except now you were simply stared at, expected to keep your fingers off the pretty pink glass always, always in front of you.

The hallway Alok stopped moving forward in was empty, private; his. Without a word, you tossed the horrible book toward his crossed arms and swept the windows, floors, and ceiling for anything strange. His fumbling for the book, fingers audibly skimming against pages, made you smile.

"It's clear," you nodded. "Workshop, right?"

Alok deflated a bit, too caught between the mention of his workshop and pretending to have perfectly caught the book to keep his anger stoked.

"You're asking now," he said flat, looking from the book to you.

Putting up your hands in mock defeat, you turned, alert enough.

@

"I'm not angry at you.” The slits that served for his pupils, deep red and small in their focus on the gem he was cutting, turned to you when you said nothing in response.

“Sorry, I--” was dazzled by your eyes? Was enamored by how passionate you are for perfecting that sparkling little gem? “I know.”

“I just wanted to say it.”

You stretched from your place beside the door, perched on one of the few chairs at your disposal in the entire castle, “Thank you.”

“Don’t be patronizing,” Alok grumbled, pausing in his work. “I know...I know very well you must be tired of this, even if you won’t say it.”

The window was suddenly so interesting, your throat burning as you swallowed down the feeling kindling there.

“This is my home,” you said after hearing the scales of his tail shift closer. “There’s nothing to be tired of.”

Slowly, his hand rose to hover over yours, where it lay on your lap, “But you should be. I’d give you anything you needed. They couldn’t stop me.”

Everything you wanted to say was tucked in the patch of air that separated his touch from yours.

Any person, bought and raised to be singularly loyal would hesitate at the offer of freedom, wouldn’t they?

They’d want to grab his hand, wouldn’t they?

You could only guess as a love for a prince was not something to be said aloud unless you were allowed.

And you, a slave turned body guard, were not.

Standing, you scattered the almost-moment with a shake of your head, “I don’t care about freedom half as much as you think I do.”

His hand fell limp to his side, the slits that served as his nose flaring wide, as you continued.

“I’m your bodyguard and I’ll be your children’s bodyguard and I’ll be the same to whoever you choose from that book,” you finished, thoroughly shooing yourself away, wanting so much to run out the door.

Alok said your name quietly, but you remained silent.

And everything was still until it wasn’t.

In one smooth motion propelled by his sheer size, Alok stretched to the book and hurled it out the open window.

“No, you won’t. I’ll be their prince,” he said low, body suddenly too large for the room. “But I won’t be their king.”

You did run, then.

@

Perhaps the only place off-limits for a would-be king allergic to potential suitors was his sister’s drawing room.

Adur payed you no attention as she demanded entertainment from the brightly colored darlings and dark patterned beauties of the upper echelon.

“Did you know, I simply adore the pattern of your bangles lately,” she cooed, pointing to a decorated tail. “So perfectly in style.”

She continued on, picking this and that to sigh over, as you stood against the corner that provided the best view of the room, next to the door. 

You recognized each piece she fawned over as being similar to something Alok had on display or nearly-done in his workshop. Ah, to know a magician’s tricks.

Melting into a squat, you let their voices wash over you. No heart could hurt for long listening to women enjoy court gossip as much as this bunch did...from a distance.

When you, Alok, and Adur were younger, the rules seemed less stone and more like blades of grass, flexible and beneath you. Adur set you in front of her always revolving group of friends and tried to fit tail bangles around your thighs and waist. Alok insisted you sit side-by-side while studying geography, arithmetic, and etiquette. You lay between them on sunny afternoons, napping, legs touching tails.

But everything golden goes grey eventually.

“Well, do tell me. Did he throw it in the fire?”

You turned from the window, swapping red, setting sun for sharp, red eyes, “Out of the window.”

The room was empty but for you and her now. Adur pacing around, tail making quick work of circling the room as she read from her collection of letters.

“Still the amount of melodrama I expected so,” she shrugged, raising shoulders toward her pleased mouth as a silent finish to her sentence. “I, on the other hand, did pick.”

You rose, legs tingling from the sudden change. “Who?”

“Prince Talsa,” she said after cutting open a letter with her claw, “I’ve already decided on a short engagement and a respectable wedding down south. Perhaps closer to his kingdom than ours.”

“Talsa? Not rare one who everyone’s after?”

Adur looked at you as though you should know better before deigning to explain, “Prince Talsa is rather plain looking for a naga, yes, but that’s just the point.”

“Go on,” you said, wanting so much to be distracted.

“Think about it,” Adur scoffed. “Rare, beautiful babies create wonder amongst people, but children who look as though they could be born anywhere....don’t you see the appeal?”

She leaned against the window, long black hair obscuring her pink and yellow face, “They would be royalty that even the most common of folk could feel familiar to--feel endeared to. Even someone as devoid of charm or pretense as Alok could gain some favor. From their birth, I’ll have them attend every little festival and celebration. Their bond with the people will be unshakable.”

“You’ll make the best queen,” you said, unthinking to the implication.

“Has something happened to Alok?”

“No, you ju--”

Adur turned to you, delicate face empty, “It doesn’t matter what we know. He’s the eldest and alive and destroying a book won’t change that.”

Your hands shook as you laced them together, risking at least your life, by asking:

“What if we could change it?”

@

Everything in the little room lacked splendor, save the jewelry that her brother displayed to no one but himself, built only to separate Alok from his mentor. A failed attempt to elevate a man too gargantuan to grow further.

Even the flooring was rough on the tail, not smooth stone but brick for retaining heat. Only care for function within these four walls.

Adur noted her brother’s tail was bare as she swept over the lacking room, only his leather work belt draped over the apex where tail met torso. Every bit of jewelry he wore crowded his wrists and fingers, noisy as he worked on some large bangle unfamiliar to her.

He looked haggard, frown too ugly and deep to be a mere product of concentration. Grey tickled the roots of his bangs, pronounced enough to shine in the lamplight. Alok was getting too old to be a prince with only time for his hobby.

“Sometimes I think it would be kinder to simply put you out of your misery,” Adur said, closing the door behind her.

Alok’s back tensed, but he did not pause his work, “I’m surprised you said it out loud, but don’t say it like a joke.”

“Don’t be so serious,” Adur sighed, “of course it was a joke.”

“Where is--”

“Your human delight? Running errands for me.”

Alok did turn then, face flickering through emotions too fast to name, “They’re just as much your dear friend as mine, you little viper.”

“Forgive my callousness, but I find you respond to little else,” Adur said, picking at the sheer fabric of her top so it draped correctly against her arm again. “And perhaps they are my friend. But they are not just yours.”

“I won’t be king...even if they weren’t here.”

Adur laughed in a sizzling tone, forked tongue dancing with humor, “Oh? And I suppose your little fantasies of running away involve you doing so alone?”

Only the flames licking back and forth in the small forge answered her.

“You’re too old to be deluding yourself like this,” she went on, dropping a bottle and a sheer robe on Alok’s work desk. “It’s time to make choices once and for all, brother.”

“I’m not--”

“I’m not asking you to rule. You’d be pathetic at it, yes, I know. If not for our dear human friend, you’d have flunked every tutor save for your precious jewelry maker.”

Alok curled back over his tail, fingers picking at the fabric of the robe his sister had dropped. “Then what are you asking?”

Hand on the doorknob, Adur smiled, “if you had your way and left to live like a common man with your human, would you really never come back?”

“Never.”

Adur opened the door. “Good.”

@

The drider--Woodnet? Woodne? Wodner?--stayed near the the door as you did, but unlike you his sleek, black legs rested on a few thin lines of webbing where wall met ceiling.

Slowly, Alok raised his face to address the bodyguard, entirely unused to being the short one. Worse still was the struggle to match sights with the correct pair of the drider’s many blinking eyes. If you were here, you’d have nudged him to follow your lead already.

If you were here...this wouldn’t be happening in the first place. Just another wishful thought to swallow down as Alok struggled to stay polite in the face of his father’s prime bodyguard.

“Outside the room is fine,” Alok said in a clipped tone, turning as he did to avoid dealing with anymore niceties.

“Forgive me for questioning, Prince Alok,” the drider said, voice drifting down like floating silk. “But bathing is when you are most vulnerable. I can not help but object to the risk.”

The drider polished each word, in no hurry to finish his sentence and Alok’s eyes rolled once--twice--thrice by the time there was silence. If only this were any guard other than his father’s favorite.

“I understand,” Alok said. “But, the windows are trapped and you will be guarding the only entrance.”

The sound of burdened legs skittering down stone, followed by the opening and closing of the lone, stone door was his answer.

Driders were generally no longer friends of Alok’s kingdom. Wodnel....no, Wodni perhaps, was a relic of a time long gone, when his father was just proving himself a leader of a nation. That Wodnir--that was it, Wodnir--was so protective of Alok, having sparsely been involved with him and having been enslaved through ruthless, warmongering means made Alok’s shoulders bunch, the muscles between protruding over scales.

Is that how it was between you and he? Did you feign fondness and care or was it true? Was it true but maligned of him to hope for it due to how you came to be near him? Because of he was?

Alok disrobed and slunk into the hot water, hoping to drown his pithy doubts that crowded so large in his mind.

Flakes of shed rose to the top the longer he soaked, proof of a difficult shed. There was sure to be more bits to come as he scrubbed himself with the, apparently, ‘to die for’ body scrub his sister had left last week.

You were usually the one to soothe his bubbling stress in a life of constant politics and decorum, but the bits of dead skin were proof enough that Alok truly was getting too old for delusions. You’d only been away for a week and a spare number of days and here he was, so tense that not even a hot bath could unfurl him.

Ugh.

Politics and decorum. How would he survive tonight without you? Adur was announcing her engagement tonight, in tandem with the nobles emerging from their collective sheds at the tail end of the Harvest Festival.

Alok scrubbed himself raw, hoping to emerge a new man who could weather life half as well as everyone around him. But the harder he lathed himself in soap, the clearer the truth rang.

If only he could have you.

@

You had relieved Wodnier of his duties, thanking him with a bow, and standing stiff beside the door for precious minutes, waiting for his delicate range of hearing to wane.

As an apprentice, you had met Wodnier often enough to know he wished you well as much as any spider did a fly.

Hammering against your chest, you feared the vibration of your heart was loud enough for him to hear. And there was always a chance the door shutting at the end of the curved hallway was a trap; that Wodnier still stood in Alok’s quarters and was not making his way back to the King.

But you didn’t have time to be safe, only quick.

Jittered by adrenaline, you sprinted to Alok’s room---toe first, heel last--and back, holding your breath once you made it back to the door of the bath.

Sweat pooled against your forehead, but nothing sprang toward you sans the faint sounds of Alok bathing.

You slipped past the door, the pack in your hands bulky enough that the door opened wider than you’d wanted, the hinge creaking.

“Alok?”

The figure behind the curtain froze before calling back your name.

“We don’t have much time, Alok,” you pressed in a sure voice, but your legs wobbled as you neared the curtain. “I’m....I’m running away and I’m taking you with me.”

“What?”

Coming past the curtain, your chest could barely contain your quick breathing. His hair was devoid of any gray, blacker than pitch as it fell just above his ear holes and forehead. Muddy brown and maroon scales were sleek and wet, droplets rolling down his body, even near his---

You looked back up quickly, away from where his belt always covered. “I mean, I want us to run away and we need to go now.”

Having followed your wandering gaze toward the apex of his stomach and tail, Alok frantically looked toward his arms, the muddy water, “What in the fuck is this?”

“Adur is helping us,” is all you said and it was all Alok seemed to need as he picked up the bottle the dye had been in, nodding. “She said it’ll only last until your next shed but, by then, hopefully....”

“She wants to be queen very much,” he murmured.

You tore open the pack, reminding yourself that time was short, and held them out. “Yes. So, we need to go.”

“You have no idea--,” Alok started, before interrupting himself. “I need something from the workshop.”

“We don’t have time.”

He shook his head as he took what you offered, dressing himself in plain leather and thick, scratchy wool. “It will be quick.”

You opened your mouth--- “Please.” --but couldn’t keep firm in the face of his pleading.

“Okay.”

@

Alok threw a few rings, bangles, and tools into the bag.

“Only enough to sell and get started again,” he assured.

But as you turned to leave the room, his hand was on your arm, pulling you back.

“We--”

“I love you,” he breathed, holding two thick, ornate bangles in his free hand. Both were decorated, from the side you could see, with marigolds, jewels gleaming in the center of their petals. You recognized each one.

One was the size to fit a large tail while the other...

“Alok.”

“I want us to leave belonging to one another.”

Your shaking hands dropped the large bag and his slid to hold both yours in his large one. “If we leave together, we’ll live together too won’t we?”

Even your head shook now, from side to side, hoping to discern the moment as waking or dreaming. “Alok. Of course, because...Of course we will.”

“Oh, please say it,” he said, tugging you nearer still.

He repeated your name and like a spell, you found your words, “We’ll live together because I love you, too.”

His thin mouth, soft and bloodless, fell to yours from his full height, his body curling over you as he pressed against your lips again.

“Let me put it on you,” he whispered, mouth moving against yours as you clung to him.

“Hurry and then we can....Just the bangles and then we must go before it’s too late.”

Careful of his claws, he lifted you to sit on his work table before slipping his own bangle over the small tip of his tail and up further, until it stuck in place under his belt.

There was no time to remove your pants, to mold the bangle against your bare thigh as was intended, but Alok’s thick hands skimming around the metal the entire way up burned as though he were doing just that.

You slid off the table, when the bangle was snug, to melt against him for one brief moment of loving calm, your face rubbing against his neck.

You didn’t have time for more.

After disentangling from his tight hold, you threw the bag at him, near tears as he scrambled to catch it. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m so glad you’re going to be mine instead of a king.”

And then you ran, hand in hand.

@

“Hey! Heeeeey,” one of the children yelled as the whole group of five ran toward you, kicking up dust on the dirt-packed road. “My momma said that snake man eats kids who don’t do chores!”

“My papa said he can’t help with the festival because he’s growing more arms!”

“That’s dumb, Brittany. My papa is smarter and he said the same thing as Corey’s momma. He’s a kid eater!”

The group shrieked in delighted horror as they squabbled on the specifics of what was really, truly going on in their village.

You hiked the basket in your arms higher after several attempts to respond, loudly telling them to pay attention or you’d leave.

As though pulled forward by strings, they straightened as still as a child could, a few even holding their hands over their mouths to keep silent.

“All of your parents are right,” you nodded, “Every two months he must curb his huge appetite and force back his new, child-grabbing arms so he doesn’t hurt the very naughty children of this village.”

They all clamored to stress their innocence in a cacophony of babbling that soon grew into questions.

“Is that why you live with him? ‘Cause you protect the village?”

“And him,” you said.

“At the same time?!”

“Of course, it’s my job. Now go back toward the smithy before you find out just how many arms he has.”

Lunging forward in jest was enough to urge the children away, all of them teasing the other that they would be last to get there and a snake man’s lunch.

@

“You’re horrible,” Alok groaned, scales pale pink and yellow from a successful shed. “Soon, they’ll be grown-ups, running us off.”

Hefting the basket onto the dining table, you laughed, “they adore you in secret.”

The cottages here were baked of mud, hay, and a few supportive beams of wood and yours was no different. There was no splendor in the room-less house, but it was truly yours and his. And that was luxury enough.

“They had enough this time?”

You shook the canteen of dye, moving to stand next to him on the low hammock that served as bed, “And the next shipment of birch will contain enough to last us three months or more.”

Alok smoothed his claw down your face, his own expression wistful, “I feel too content to explain.”

You pressed your nose against the pink of his jaw, letting him raise you to straddle him.

“Then show me.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Out With the Old. Yan Childe x Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Brief mentions of injury and blood, typical yandere undertones. Word count: 3.2k. Notes: i absolutely loved writing this!! i never realized how badly i needed a yandere childe that’s so obviously whipped for his darling. :’))

i.

“Dearest [First],

I can only imagine the look that must be on your face as you read this. Don’t be too harsh on me for saying so, but I promise not a day goes by where I haven’t thought of you. Now stop scowling at the letter, it won’t do any good, after all; it’s just a piece of paper. I’d hate to come back home to see that you’ve aged from all that frowning at parchment.

Somedays I wake and fail to notice I’m in Inazuma instead of Snezhnaya. The scenery has its differences, of course, but it’s only when I realize I can’t see you that it truly sinks in. Writing this, I realize your judgment about my honesty only appearing in written form rather than in person is true. You’ve always had a penchant for keeping me in line, haven’t you?

Not that I can blame you.

You’ll be relieved to hear that the reason for my being here turned out to be a simple misunderstanding. There’s no grand coup d'état waiting to unfold amongst the lower ranks, so, unfortunately for me, it turned out to be a waste of time. On the bright side, that means I’ll get to come back home all the faster.

Tonia tells me that you’re doing well and I’m glad to hear it. I know your parents aren’t that fond of me, which is a smart call all things considered, but I hope they’re both in good health. Let me know if they need any help with their shop and I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t let them know it was from me, or they might blow a gasket.

When I come home, I wonder if I’ll see your face among the crowd on the pier this time.

At the very least… consider not discarding this letter like the others. Really, I can’t tell who is more stubborn, me or you.

-Yours eternally, Tartaglia”

This is the first letter of his that you’ve bothered reading in some time, as he made a point of mentioning. It’s difficult to identify the exact feelings his handwriting and characteristic word choice inflicts upon you, ranging from relief to exasperation. He has some audacity, refusing to see you in person for months on end, only to carry on as if nothing happened between you.

With the letter in hand, your mind wanders back, hoping to find some hints of where it all went wrong.

You remember the words said to you on that late, fateful winter evening. The confident timbre of his voice then still resonates in your head at random, never muffling despite the years that have passed, ringing as clearly as a bell. Does he ever think about it? It’s hard to say.

“One day,” Ajax, or Tartaglia as he claimed his new identity to be, had told you, “I’m going to conquer this world.”

His breath materialized in front of him as white, vaporous wisps. There’s something about that particularly frigid season that felt like magic, more so than the Cryo Vision wrapped snug around your neck. You bit back a scathing remark and instead focused your energy elsewhere. Your gloved hand raised and hovered just above his split lip, a prominent frown etched onto your face at the fresh wound. Likely the first of many to come, you lamented.

Your Vision pulsated with life and light blue shone through at your command. The tender, bruised flesh on his lip began to close, before it faded away altogether. Tartaglia raised his hand to gently touch where it had been, now nothing but a faint memory.

With that out of the way, you placed your hands onto your hips and gave him a stern look. “I wish you’d stop saying things like that. It’s going to get you into trouble one day.”

He laughed and waved off your concern.

“If only. Things have been so dull lately, I wouldn’t mind stirring up a little trouble.” Tartaglia hummed, much to your displeasure. It was no secret in your quaint hometown of Morepesok that this boy had been spiraling down a dangerous path. Your parents said as much and even encouraged you to break off ties with him. This just won’t do, you thought.

“Ouch!”

You flicked his forehead and offered up your most intimidating glare. “So you are capable of feeling pain, huh? Good. If it keeps you out of fights, then I won’t heal you anymore.”

Tartaglia rubbed the spot and smiled sheepishly.

“You say that, but I’m sure you’d change your mind if I came to you all bloodied and battered. You’re just that kind of person.” When he paused to reflect, you raised an eyebrow and challenged him.

“Now what’s this? I’m what kind of person, Ajax?” You pinched his cheek, much to his vocal displeasure, mischief gleaming in your eyes. “Say it loud and clear this time.”

“The kind that always looks out for others, even those who don’t deserve it.”

Your arms fell limp by your side. At that moment, your heart twisted in a way it never had before. It could only compare to how it felt when Ajax had stumbled back home after missing for three, long days. You weren’t sure if you had heard him right — his eyes widened as did yours like he felt equally surprised — and he rushed to save himself. The flush that dusted over his face was most certainly not from the cold weather.

Tartaglia shot up and made way for the door at a record speed. “I told my old man that I’d be home before dark. He already worries about me enough as is, so... I’ll be on my way. See ya around.”

Your rebuttal was slow as your tongue felt frozen. Tartaglia waved to you over his shoulder and took off, leaving you to wallow in your muddled thoughts. What exactly had he meant by that? Why did his gaze soften and his usually boisterous voice drop in volume?

Questions flooded your mind, questions that wouldn’t be answered for years to come.

ii.

You’ve always found this area of Morepesok to be serene. There’s no buzz of the community gathering, chattering about the latest gossip and notable news, no vendors vying for people passing by to purchase their fresh early morning catch. The surroundings are nothing but peaceful, and most importantly, silent. In the summer, there’d only have been the sound of the rushing rivers that are now frozen over and humming insects.

Twigs and dry leaves crunch behind the tree stump you’re hanging out at, signaling an approaching figure.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Tartaglia sits down next to you, blades of grass rustling against him as he did so. You don’t bother to look up, instead feigning interest in your fingernails, staring at them intently. Anywhere other than his face, which most likely than not would be boasting his trademark grin. Seeing the fake expression that he plasters on daily would only add fuel to the fire that rages inside.

Your lips part after an uncomfortable silence settles in, the atmosphere growing tenser by the second. “So you’re a Harbinger now, huh?”

“You don’t look impressed like everyone else,” He notes, his language notably more tentative than usual. It strikes through your heart, piercing flesh and blood, your fingers curling painfully tight. If he notices, he decides not to comment. Tartaglia gives you the time to process your overwhelming thoughts as if it’d make any of this easier on you.

“How could I possibly be happy about that?” You snap your head, catching how he’s momentarily caught off guard before it’s covered up just as fast. “This… this is going to be the death of you, Ajax. And Archons, the worst part is, I know me saying that won’t matter in the slightest. That death would just be the result of a fulfilling fight to you.”

Your breathing grows erratic, to the point you’re forced to stop speaking to regain yourself. He doesn’t dare utter a single word — uncharacteristically silent — watching your every movement with calculating precision. It’s taking all your strength to keep yourself together, not wanting to come undone in front of him, feeling weak just for showing this much. This is why you were hoping to avoid him, but figures he’d go out of to seek you out.

“And if I don’t die? Would that make a difference in how you feel?” He challenges, tilting his head, voice dipping in volume. “You can be honest with me, [First]. It’s not just that you’re upset about. No, there’s something else.”

He knows you too well and it’s beyond frustrating. Your body language might be difficult for others to read, but not Tartaglia, who picks up on every little nuance with ease.

Your lower lip trembles. “I hate that this is what you’ve become.”

“So that’s it then,” Tartaglia nods his head, once, coming to terms with it as soon as the words left your lips; like he already knew it all along. “I figured as much, but to hear you say it… haven’t you heard of mincing your words before?”

Hugging your knees to your chest, you internally plead with yourself not to let the nonchalant words get to you. It’s his way of dealing with strife to act unbothered, you know this, and still, it strikes deep. What if this isn’t a façade, but who he really is now? That boy you knew and grew up with — Ajax, your dearest friend — he may be physically sitting next to you, but his soul is gone. Whatever happened in those hellish three days changed him forever. Now his flesh and bones are nothing but a vessel urged on by bloodlust.

How ironic, you think. That your Vision lets you heal physical wounds, but not the unseen kind, which runs deeper than any gash could hope to. Maybe you were a fool for thinking you could fix him, revert him to how he used to be like nothing ever happened. Or maybe he let you try just to earn more time together for whatever twisted reason. Knowing that once reality settles in, you’ll go someplace far out of his reach, where he can never get you back. Sitting here, you realize that it won’t just be you losing him. He’ll also be losing you.

Is that why he is sticking around? To prolong the inevitable?

“When I look into your eyes,” you clear your tightening throat, not willing to let yourself cry. “There’s… there’s no light, no humanity, and you know it. That has to be why you chase all those stupid fights, all so that you can feel alive again.”

Tartaglia allows you the room to ramble without interruption, your venomous feelings that have long festered gushing out. When you work up the courage to look up, you find Tartaglia frowning, staring far off but at nothing in particular. So even he can sometimes be rendered to a loss for words, huh?

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, the chilly air invading his lungs. “You’re wrong about one thing.”

Another cautious pause. He’s giving this a lot of thought.

“My fighting is not for the sole sake of the adrenaline rush, as enjoyable as that is,” he scratches the back of his neck and forces a laugh. “It’s so that I can get stronger. I told you, didn’t I? That I intend on conquering the world. To do that, I need to be the strongest, or else I can’t fulfill my promise.”

Your lips part, eyebrows furrowing together in irritation, but he places a finger to your lips before you can tear into him. The leather feels cool against your skin, and it’s just now that you realize how close he is to you. Having been so absorbed in your emotions, you failed to notice his stealthy movements, the two of you now shoulder to shoulder. Your heart thrums, reminiscent of that day ages ago.

“When the entire world lays defeated at my feet, what I want is to have you by my side. Until that dream of mine comes true, I’m afraid I’ll have to continue making you sad, but know that it’s for a reason.”

Tartaglia pulls his hand back, his finger lingering just a second over your bottom lip, finally allowing you to speak your piece.

You’re drawn like a moth to a flame to his lifeless eyes, which have seen more bloodshed in the past few months than you could ever fathom. Murmuring, you find it within yourself to respond, albeit so quietly he has to cant forward to hear. “If you accomplish just that… who’s to say I’d want to be by your side? The side of a killer?”

“Hm? Did I ever say you had a choice in the matter?” Tartaglia returns your inquiry with a bold one of his own, one that sends you recoiling in astonishment. He lets the words settle like fresh snow on the ground before laughing them off. You cross your arms over your chest, making your displeasure over his comment evident.

“Please, I’m kidding! Don’t look at me like that,” he puts his hands up in mock defense. “Ah, it’s suddenly feeling colder than usual. You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you? I never thought that humble [First], the child of the town’s apothecary at that, would be so bold as to freeze me to death.”

Your nose wrinkles up and you hold back a laugh, swatting at his shoulder. “Yeah, right. Like I could ever stand a chance against you in battle.”

“You might be surprised! I could make a warrior out of you yet. Think about it, Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa saw fit to bestow a Vision upon you, didn’t she?” He accents his words by pointing to your neck, where you prefer to keep your Vision. Subconsciously, your hand raises, delicately touching the icy gem.

“I’m not like you,” you shake your head at his jest. “Hurting others is the last thing I’d ever want to do, trust me.”

He hums, your words taking him back, memories flashing in his mind. “I know, that’s why I’ve always done it in your stead.”

“Whoever would’ve thought fending off bored kids with a wooden sword would escalate into you climbing the ranks of the Fatui.” Had it not been for the final part of the sentence, you would’ve found it endearing to reminiscence back to your early childhood together. Still, the frost around your heart melts at the sweet memory, despite your attempts to keep it hardened. This goes to show how much I cherished it, you muse.

Lips curling into a smile, you take him by surprise and lay your head onto his shoulder. His muscles go tense, body unresponsive to the affection you used to bestow upon him in heaps. It’d been so long that he forgot the warmth you radiate like you were the sun incarnate. He had once commented that he expected a Cryo user to be cold, only to be delightfully surprised by how warm you were.

“Maybe I was always terrible, and you just didn’t notice?” He proposes, to which you snort.

“That most certainly is not the case. I’m a better judge of character than that.” You scoff at the mere idea. No, little Ajax had been nothing but a darling, there’s no doubting it. Wherever you’d go, he’d follow as if his life depended on it. There was hardly ever a time where the two of you wouldn’t be seen paired together.

“You’ll get no argument out of me there,” Tartaglia rests his head on top of yours like he used to. The circumstances have undoubtedly changed, but it’s nice to feign ignorance for a few minutes. “Say, you remember when we used to sneak off and meet here, right?”

“How could I forget?”

Tartaglia nods his head in agreement. “I was always dragging you into trouble, even then. I’m not one to dwell on the past, but I guess it’s hard not to when we’re here.”

Now that he mentions it, it wasn’t an immediate shift into his now unhinged personality; like all things, it began as a gradual descent. You should’ve noticed something was awry with how frequently he’d come to you, boasting injuries of all sorts. Each was accompanied by a rehearsed explanation as not to alarm you. Unfortunately for him, in a small town such as this, word travels quickly. It was inevitable that you’d find out the bitter truth behind his wounds.

Maybe you always knew but didn’t want to face reality.

“There was this one time in particular that always stuck out to me,” he closes his eyes, reflecting. “When I said I intended to marry you when we got older, or whenever you’d have me.”

You’re amazed at how Tartaglia recounts it without so much as stuttering, the humiliating memory sending your head spinning. There were so many memories he could’ve mentioned and that’s the one he decides to go with? You’re certain he’s messing with you at this point.

“I-I thought we swore never to mention that again!” You exclaim, blood rushing to your cheeks.

He blinks when you abruptly lift your head and shrugs off your concern. “I don’t remember ever agreeing to that. It was you who kept insisting to take a vow of silence on it, for whatever reason. Personally, I find it cute, you were so eager to accept my proposal then.” 

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This irksome teasing quality had reared its head alongside his other new shortcomings. The best way to deal with it, you’ve learned, is to keep the conversation going. Dwelling on it for too long never ends well.

“So, Liyue, huh?” You recall the gossip from the marketplace earlier. Some locals were fussing over the news that the Fatui’s latest Harbinger, Tartaglia, would be sent abroad for more work. There were murmurs of excitement over how a child from this seaside town managed to make it so far up the ranks. And to think they used to bemoan Ajax’s violent streak, you remember. Now that it’s beneficial to them, they sure have changed their tune.

“I wonder what it’ll be like,” he muses. “Anthon seems to think the people there eat rocks, for whatever reason.”

“Kids always say the craziest things unprompted.”

He seems agreeable to that statement. Neither of you utters another word for some time, instead thinking of both the past and the future. It’s not a comfortable position to remain seated in, yet neither you nor he complains about it. For a few brief, glorious seconds, everything almost seems normal again.

“Hey, [First].”

You hum in response. Tartaglia’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, his eyebrows knitting together in contemplation. In the silence that follows, you swear you hear a sound akin to electricity crackling, the hairs on the back of your neck standing from the drastic shift in atmosphere.

“I meant what I said. Someday, you will be by my side. I don’t care what it takes, I’ll make it happen; even if you come to hate me.”

“Because once you make a promise… you keep it.”

And he intended to do just that.

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Part Nine (Mycroft Holmes x Reader) SMUT

I am SO sorry for such a big delay between chapters! I’ve just had terrible writer’s block and my mental health has been.. challenging, to say the least! But here’s chapter nine! Sorry if Myc is a little out of character, I didn’t really know how else to write it! This is a shorter chapter but the next few should be longer! And expect some more emotional chapters coming up for when Mycroft finally talks to his parents about Eurus!

Word Count-  3766

Mycroft wasn't entirely sure how long after you had fallen asleep that he had followed suit. He hadn't been planning on falling asleep at all, really; he was rather content simply laying there and thinking over in his mind how he had ended up in this position at all. It was a strange feeling still, feeling the weight of you in his arms, the feeling of your hands bunching in his jumper as though he were your lifeline, the light feeling of your breath skimming the skin of his neck. Strange, and yet welcoming. He was beginning to question why he had never tried harder in seeking this kind of thing out before, but he knew the thought was futile. He wasn't entirely sure he'd have ever wanted to be in this position with anybody else, as cheesy and cliché as he had sounded. He had a reputation to upkeep, an entire persona behind his Iceman nickname, and yet he felt entirely at ease, thawed, if you will, with you.

He had opened his eyes to find his head resting slightly atop yours, facing towards the television that had long since surpassed standby mode and instead remained a dark black. Mycroft couldn't help but focus on the reflection that he could see in its screen, the image of the pair of you laying embraced on the sofa, his hand resting so casually at your back that it could be mistaken for a position that had been practiced for years rather than only a few days. It was nice, he had decided. Nice that things had ended up this way, even if it had taken so many years to get this far. In both his mind and your own, it had honestly felt as though you had been together for far longer; as though it was some unspoken decision between the pair of you that neither of you would take the step to start the relationship, and yet made yourself unavailable for anybody else, cancelled plans to be with the other, enjoyed more meals together than apart. Though of course this was far easier on Mycroft's end, not exactly having many other social dependencies, and a lack of opportunities for such things with other people. Still, he had remained inwardly thankful that you had adhered to the same ideas.

In his own way, he was glad that it had taken as long as it did. It allowed for him to truly know you, far more than any information on a file could give. It let him introduce himself to you properly, allowed for you to truly get to know him, for him to feel comfortable enough around you to lower his walls and drop his public, heartless politician façade. Not that he had much choice in the latter part. You knew from day dot that it was, as you delightfully put, "a load of old bollocks." Though you never once taunted him for it, not really, at least not in a bad way. You just enjoyed teasing from time to time. Mycroft Holmes had always been the kind of man to laugh at the idea of things as trivial as fate, the whole 'being at the right place at the right time', or even luck, always claiming that every event was purely cause and effect. And yet, he found his ever so brilliant mind allowing himself to, for once, divulge into the prospects of it, liking the idea that perhaps the Universe wasn't always so cruel. And with this rarely optimistic thought in mind, Mycroft once again found his arm tightening slightly around you and allowed his eyes to close- not to sleep, but to take up the rare opportunity in his usually hectic life to just relax.

---

Only 15 or so minutes had passed since Mycroft had woken up before you began to stir slightly, the hand that was fisted into his jumper moved and instead wound beneath his arm, holding at his shoulder blade and pulling yourself impossibly closer to him, your leg twisting slightly and angling your hip to brush against Mycroft's crotch with just enough pressure to make him gasp. Mycroft had blinked slowly, trying to register the sensation while simultaneously trying to ignore it. He had felt his body stiffen, which had clearly been unwelcome to your sleeping form. You had turned once again, other hand circling his neck and tugging closer, pressing against him once more and humming at the warmth. Mycroft coughed rather loudly, face burning, eyes wide, utterly mortified and, quite frankly, half hard.

He was truly embarrassed, his body reacting in such a juvenile way from the slightest of touch. He cursed himself for his lack of control and placed his atheism aside to pray to God that it would just go away. It's not that Mycroft had never paid that part of his body any attention- he was human after all- but with his usually busy work schedule, and then the Eurus mishap, and of course having you in his home, he hadn't allowed himself to.. indulge.. so to speak. So clearly the smallest hint of friction was enough to turn him into a teenager again. He had also noticed that in your movements the hem of your shirt had lifted just enough that Mycroft's hand was now resting against bare skin and he swallowed thickly.

Mycroft had, of course, contemplated the idea of sex- in any form- in his past. It was in college that he had noticed his peers coming into school with hickeys on their necks, conversed between each other of their sexual encounters, parading body counts, and in University where he had found himself accidentally walking in on far too many students going at it in various cupboards and empty classrooms. He had taken a brief interest but soon let it die down when he had never found anybody interested in him, nor anybody he was interested in. Of course with his occupation and links there had always been the option to fulfil such desires with the security of utmost privacy, but Mycroft had never been keen on the idea of paying for sex. So that, of course, left him in the position of being completely sexually inexperienced, which had never bothered him or caused him any embarrassment until this very moment.

When allowing himself to enter the relationship with you, Mycroft of course suspected that sex would be on the cards at some point, but he had hoped it wouldn't be the result of basic instinct like this. Previously, the idea of being that intimate with you had been an exciting prospect, but now all that was left was embarrassment of his history, and insecurity of his body.

"God, how long have we been out? I feel incredible." You muttered against his skin, not making any effort to move away from the cocoon of warmth that Mycroft was providing. You hummed appreciatively at the feeling of the elder Holmes' hand on your back and the heartbeat that you felt under the fingers on his chest. Only the heartbeat was significantly increased since before you had fallen asleep. "Myc? You okay?" Now you did move, angling your neck to look at the flushed features of the man you were lying next to. Mycroft coughed and nodded weakly, making any slight attempt to angle his pelvis away from you. "If you're sure..? Was I being too clingy? Honestly, you can tell me and I'll stop hanging on you like a baby monkey." You heard a quiet 'no' and smiled. "Okay good, because I REALLY like the cuddling." You shuffled in a little closer and continued. "And, please don't shove me off, I think you like it too because you didn't let me fall and yo- Oh!" Your fidgeting had allowed your thigh to once again rub against Mycroft's erection and he hissed slightly.

"Y/N I can only offer my utmost apologies for reacting in such a callow manner." He stuttered out, making every attempt to wriggle his way from your grip with the idea of making a beeline for the door.

"You don't need to apologise, Mycroft. If anything, I should apologise for uh.. friction? Or perhaps Da Vinci should apologise for discovering friction in the first place?" You breathed a small laugh but Mycroft only remained stiff and uncomfortable. You manoeuvred yourself until you'd both sat up, you sideways slightly with your legs resting across Mycroft's lap and covering him. "Sorry, I tried to make a sciency joke to make you laugh. It was just my way of saying that you're okay and that you shouldn't be embarrassed. If anything, I'm flattered." You laughed slightly again and Mycroft's shoulders slightly relaxed. "Christ, I could, that's if you want to and please do not feel pressured, I could.. help. If you wanted to?" His eyes widened dramatically, brows raising to his hairline while his jaw comically opened slightly in shock.

"I don't.. that is.. you don't have..I-" In a rare moment of time, Mycroft found himself lost for words and an appropriate reaction.

"Don't worry, just forget about it. We don't have to do anything like that until you're ready.. If you're ever ready, that is.. If you don't.. do that.. kinda stuff, that's fine too." And now you were propositioning that you were willing to forego any kind of sexual activity should Mycroft never want it? Why? You answered his unspoken question with a chuckle. "I mean, I've gone 5 years without it, what's the rest of our lives?" Mycroft closed his eyes and took a breath.

"No. It's not that I don't.. want to.. I just.. I, well.. I'm a very busy man and I always have been so.."

"Mycroft, quite frankly I couldn't care less whether you've done anything with a hundred women or none at all. If anything, I find it kinda hot that you haven't. And even more hot if I were the one to change that." He nodded slowly and you smiled back at him. "Is that a yes? Because it doesn't have to be if you don't want it to be. We have all the time in the world."

"Yes."

"Okay. Just promise me you'll tell me if you want to stop." He nodded again. "Promise me, Myc."

"I.. I promise."

--------- sexy times warning ---------

You raised your hand slowly to brush against his face before leaning in and pressing your lips against his. Mycroft sighed in content as you let your thumb graze his cheekbone. Shifting position, you moved your knees to either side of his thighs, straddling him slightly but with your weight resting above his knees, your other hand circling to hold the back of his neck.

"This okay?"

"Mmm." You let your lips travel along his jawbone, nipping slightly at skin and smirking in triumph at the tiny gasps leaving the politician's mouth. Running your hands from his neck down his chest, tugging slightly at the thick jumper in silent plea. Mycroft raised his arms slightly, giving you the access to lift it and chuck it at the side. Wincing, you watched as it knocked the half cup of cold coffee you left on the side, the brown liquid splashing from its porcelain confinements onto the burgundy cotton.

"Please don't tell me that jumper's some four-figured item hand crafted by only the finest of maids in a remote Peruvian town.." Mycroft took his focus back and grimaced.

"Five, and Venezuelan." You stiffened and gulped slightly. "I'm kidding, it's only from M&S." A dazed grin on his face, hands squeezing ever so slightly at your hips. The back of your hand slapped his chest as you relaxed again, breathing out a laugh.

"You are a very cruel man, Mr Holmes." Head lowering to kiss at his neck once more. "You're bloody lucky that you're pretty." His low chuckle was cut off with a deep hum as you bit softly at his collarbone. You dragged your hands down again, fingering at the top buttons on Mycroft's shirt, and not missing how his body became tight. "We don't have to take it off if you don't want to." Relaxed once more. "Can I just undo a few? You'll be more comfortable I reckon without being strangled by a shirt collar." He nodded once. And then again when you double checked. And once more with a small 'yes' when you really wanted to make sure. Taking it slowly, you opened the top three buttons; two to give Mycroft's neck more breathing space, and the other to give your hand enough space to explore the new area of skin- fingers brushing over the top of his chest, auburn chest hair tickling between your digits. You kissed him again, tongue running ever so slightly across his bottom lip; relishing at the small whimper as you pulled away. Myc let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding when your palm dragged down from his chest and to the front of his trousers, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you rubbed slowly. You looked up once more to make sure you weren't taking things too quickly, E/C meeting the tiniest speck of blue that hadn't been hidden from his blown pupils.

"Please?" His voice was barely a whisper, and you were sure you wouldn't have heard it if you hadn't been as close to him as you are now. You tugged at his belt and threw it with the caffeine infused sweatshirt, popping the button of his trousers open and lowering the zip. Mycroft threw his head back against the sofa cushions as you reached in and began to stroke him slowly, your lips latching onto the much better exposed neck. You experimentally gave a twist of your hand each time you reached the head, thumb brushing over the pre-cum that had formed at the tip and using it to slick up your hand- the elder Holmes let out a low moan from his throat, fingers digging into your hips so tightly that you wouldn't be surprised if they left small bruises. Not that you minded, anyway. Hearing Mycroft make those noises under your touch was exhilarating, and knowing you were the first to do such a thing only spurred the excitement on more. You could feel his thighs tighten beneath you, his breathing become slightly more ragged. You hadn't expected him to have lasted long, and you began to recognise the warning signs. Removing your hand completely, you couldn't help but send Mycroft an apologetic smile at the look of disappointment in his face.

"Look, I've already ruined a jumper and I'll be damned if I'm the cause of ruining your trousers too- which are certainly not from Marks and Sparks." You shimmied yourself back until you could feel the plush rug beneath your feet, dropping yourself until you were on your knees between his open legs. You could see in his eyes how he wanted to protest, or make some explanation on how it's unsanitary, but Mycroft's sheer need fed by his curiosity won over and he closed his eyes in waiting, regaining slight control over his breath before choking on it as you slowly ran your tongue from the base of his shaft to the head. "Unless you want me to stop?"

"Good God, no." His voice raised, making you grin as you took him into your mouth completely, head bobbing in a steady rhythm with your hand that pumped what you couldn't reach. Mycroft was certainly larger than any man you had been with before; his long slender cock suiting his form perfectly. You hummed as you imagined later sexual encounters with him- him filling you completely at last- and he writhed as the vibrations ran straight through him. Without a warning, you removed your hand and took him into your mouth completely, sucking and licking against the long vein that ran on the underside of his erection. Myc's hands instinctively shot to your hair as he felt the warmth build in his stomach, quickly cumming with a shout as you hummed around him once more. You pulled off him slowly with an audible 'pop', trying not to overstimulate while he was still sensitive, and tucked him back into his trousers. He tried to balance his breathing, removing his hands from your hair and running them through his own. Standing back up, you glanced over his form- his hair absolutely wild, shirt unbuttoned sligthly, red hairs poking between the fabric from a heaving chest, mouth still slightly open as he breathed, cheeks flushed immensely. God he looked gorgeous.

"Was that.. uh. Good?" You inwardly cringed at your words. Christ woman, you just blew him, not given him a cake. Uncharacteristically for Mycroft, his pale hand reached over to cup your cheek, bringing your lips to his in a sweet kiss; his tongue experimentally running across your bottom lip before pulling away. "Right, okay. That answered my question on where you stand on kissing after. With you sat there looking all messed up and sexy I was about ready to run and brush my teeth to kiss you again."

"Apologies.. I found myself.. curious."

"You bloody pervert." You winked, leaning to kiss him again. "So you'll kiss me after.. after.." You tried to think of a word that wouldn't sound overly vulgar to the man who had swallowed several dictionaries in several different languages.

"Fellatio?"

"Christ on a bike, Mycroft if you call it that I'll never do it again." The pair of you laughed like a pair of idiots for a moment before you continued on. "Anyway.. You'll kiss me after I do that and deem it 'curiosity', but I dip my chip in a milkshake and that's considered 'improper'? I'm starting to think you make up these rules to best suit you."

"Well, one should indulge in the odd act of impropriety sometimes, else I fear we'd go insane."

"So you WILL dip a chip in the milkshake next time?"

"Oh God, no. I'd rather snack on one of Sherlock's experiments." You both laughed again before silence took over, Mycroft's brain whirring as he tried to both comprehend what had happened, and work out the appropriate way to go on.

"You know, there isn't any written etiquette on how to behave after your partner blows you on the sofa." A raised eyebrow in response. "I am not calling it fellatio.." You reached over and grabbed the tv remote, flicking it back on.

"And you said you couldn't read minds.." As the screen began to power on, you heard a small chuckle from beside you.

"What?"

"No it's nothing. Just ignore me." He bit down onto two fingers slightly to compose himself; the composure being short-lived as he started off again. You tilted your head at him, urging him to speak about what had suddenly crossed his mind.

"Sorry I was just thinking about this morning."

"Bernice? Bit of a weird thing for your mind to flitter to right now, isn't it? Maybe I should be concerned you'll sack me off for her; one bit of action and you're planning to wed the nympho." You teased, loading britbox back up with the intention of continuing your filmathon- a word you used and Myc hated.. so you used it more.

"Before that. What you said this morning, after I heard you wince and ask-"

"Head.. And I said 'who knows what the day will bring'." You snickered into your hand and slouched back, resting slightly aside Mycroft's shoulder. "Speaking of that.. I do hope you're aware that I don't typically do that after only dating somebody for little less than a week."

"Usually wait two, do you?" You slapped his arm.

"Cheeky prick, I'm being serious! I don't want to make it all mushy and awkward so I'll say it, you don't respond and then we'll start up Carry On Camping. Deal?" He nodded his head slightly, bowing it towards you in gesture to continue. "Doing.. that.. and you letting me, it meant a lot. Which probably sounds weird for what it was but, and don't let this over stroke your ego, I don't feel like we've only been together a week. It just feels like we've been together for years with a random rule of celibacy that an innocent nap on the sofa broke. So.. there. I dunno.. I'm just.. proud of you? For taking that step with me.. and I'm massively looking forward to a few steps time when I can get your kit off." You coughed the last sentence with a laugh. True to his agreement, Mycroft didn't say a word. You played the next film and grinned when you felt a long arm wrap behind your back, tugging you to his form gently before warm lips pressed against your temple.

From an outside perspective, your little speech would likely seem a tad bizarre but you knew it probably meant a lot to Mycroft- the kiss on your head solidifying that fact. So you were more than willing to spurt a few awkward sentences for the sake of his reassurance; pleased that it was received well and not like some 'well done for trying' certificate you'd get in primary school for coming 6th in the sack race.

"Ooh this one has Babs in it, doesn't it? God I loved Barbara Windsor."

"Mmm. I met Dame Barbara once, a fair few years ago now. She truly was wonderful." Mycroft praised.

"Of course you met her, her last name's Windsor. You'd do anything to get to anything related to The Queen."

"Dame Barbara's surname was actually Deeks. She changed it to Windsor, inspired by Her Majesty, in 1954 following her role in 'The Belles of St Trinian's."

"Mycroft, sweetheart, I was joking. You told me you'd met her when she was given her title. I was a Barbara fangirl, I know." You twisted and pecked him on the cheek, not even noticing the petname that certainly didn't fall on deaf ears from Myc. The side of his mouth flicked up in a small smile; his hand squeezing slightly on your hip before he leaned over and spoke quietly.

"Thank you."

"What fo-"

"Shhh, film's starting." And with that, the pair of you settled into a comfortable silence, being broken only every now and then with your laughter as you watched the telly. Mycroft's smiles and light hearted reactions came from watching you much more than the film, but he didn't think you noticed. Or if you did, you didn't say a word.

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