#always a delight to see her art though! so that's nice

[jademonument]

always sad going to look for someone you haven't talked to in years, not even to talk to them but just to look back on the things that lead you to meet and talk at the time. and finding something! a lead! and then discovering that all of that is just, gone. evaporated. finding more leads on that person and everything has been scrubbed

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

I can only share my interest in Aegon to you, so I’ll just drop this here. (Dw, contrary to what I say next, this is not a request. Just desperation.)

Broski, I NEED reader wife who’s scared of heights and dragons but Aegon gets her to ride with him just cuz he feels like it. (My hand is probably 1/3 smaller than one of their teeth. I believe Anyone sane should be scared sh’tless while seeing a dragon. 💀)

I ONLY READ ONE FIC WHERE THEY FLY ON A DRAGON! WHY ARE THERE SO MANY AEMOND FICS OF THISS??? HELP ME FIND MORE CUZ I NEED TO HAVE A RIDE ON A DRAGONNNNN. Imagine the refreshing air and scenery. (I personally imagine the beautiful pink/orange clouds from Httyd when Hiccup and Astrid fly together for the first time)😭⚰️

.

.

Also, about the death threats, you handled it well. Really, when everyone finds out you like a hated character, it’s like they are trying to get you to sign your own death sentence. Anyway, keep doing you. You write exceptionally 🤭🫶 ily

PROMISE NOT TO DROP ME? ONLY A FOOL WOULD DROP YOU. ( HOTD x Reader )

pairing: Prince Aegon ii Targaryen x Lady-in-waiting! Reader prompt: Aegon kidnaps you to ride on dragonback, it does not go well. word count: 1, 000+ words

You had been very very firm when it came to dragon's. You were no Targaryen nor held a drop of Valyrian blood in your veins. Sure, you like to gawk at them in art. The dozen paintings, stained glass windows, and books that filled the Red Keep were enough. You would never dare to go near one in real life. Dragon’s were not natural. To ride one, to tame one, it was not natural. A lot of the things that the Targaryen’s did were not natural. 

So when you started as Helaena's Lady-in-waiting, you did everything you could to politely refuse to be near them. Need to go to the Dragonpits? The carriage was nice and comfy, no need to leave it. When Helaena offered to fly with her? Suddenly you grew ill with a cough. Helaena accepted, understanding your fears. She offered kind words and an open invitation should you ever change your mind on the matter.

Aegon was, as always, different. The word 'no'  just could not connect in that tiny little brain of his. He took it as a challenge. He would jest about kidnapping you and taking you flying. You laughed and told him you'd push him out of a window if he dared to do it. 

Of course, he had tried once with a look a little too serious on his face. After waddling away, clutching his groin from your hard kick, he learned that it would not be easy to get you on dragonback. You’d fight back. You would be a challenge, he liked that a lot.

Kicking and screaming at the top of your lungs, you did everything you could think of to get free of Aegon's hold. Clawing at his arms wrapped around your waist, he dragged you along to the Dragonpits, the dragon keeper's onlooking in confusion and mild horror. You could give less of a shit if they thought you mad. There was no way in the Seven Hells that you were going on a flight with Aegon. You'd rather kiss the King's rotten lips than to go flying.

"No! Put me down, you drunken oaf!" You shout, thrashing against him.

"No."

"I am going to kick you so hard you'd never be able to get it up again, Aegon! Put me down!" You bellow, yanking at his hair.

"Not a chance, we are going flying." Aegon brushes off your threats, "You will enjoy it. Tis' delightful."

Letting out a loud scream into his ear, he did not falter, running off of pure spite and stubbornness. It would have been admirable, if it was not for the fact he was dragging you along to go flying. Yanking hard on his hair, he yelps loudly, though his grip does not falter. Gods damn it, why did he have to be strong? Sensing that fighting would not help you, you tried another way.

"Please, please, Aegon." You beg, "I'll give up my desserts for a whole moon. Just let me go."

"Tempting." He chuckles, a smirk on his face.

"Please, Aegon. I do not wish to fly." You beg, on the verge of tears.

"I fly all the time. Once I even did it drunk, tis' nothing dangerous." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

Shaking your head frantically as his grip tightens, he drags you into the dark cave, the stench of dragon thick in the air. The few torchlights in the cave illuminated enough to see his dragon, Sunfyre, burrowing into his rocky nest. Feeling tears of fear bubbling up, you go deadly silent, losing your voice. This was your worst dream come true. Face to face with a dragon. Holding back the whimper in your throat, Aegon presses a kiss onto your temple, refusing to let you go.

“He won’t harm you. He’s used to your scent.” Aegon whispers into your ear, “I brought him one of your dresses to smell.”

“Let me go.” You whimper out, voice full of pure terror. 

“Come on, you’re already here. Let’s just go for a quick flight.” Aegon argues, shaking his head dismissively. 

“Aegon..”

Slowly letting go of your waist, you go to bolt for the cave exit, only to be swept back up into Aegon’s arms. He carried you like a toddler who had a habit of running away. Letting out a loud cry as he refused to put you back down, he wags his finger mockingly, a half amused look on his face. Hearing Sunfyre stir in his nest, you try more desperately to get away, the rumbling of the dragon echoing loudly in the cave. 

“No, no, no.” He scolds, “Bad Y/n. No running away.”

“Put me down! I want to go back to the Red Keep!” 

“No, if I have to attend Court, then you cannot escape this.” He suggests, “Consider this your duty.”

“Fuck duty. Put me down, Aegon!” You sob, bottom lip wobbling. 

“Ooh, so now we do not care about duty, hm?” He mocks, shaking his head with a smirk.

Pressing a gentle kiss onto your temple, he carried you closer and closer to Sunfyre, until the two of you were right in the dragon’s face. Feeling your grip tighten on him, he slowly smiles at the feeling, like see you so unlike yourself. This had to be the first time he had seen you act so improper and anxious. It was refreshing, amazing, and amusing all at the same time. 

Smiling bright as Sunfyre stirs away, the golden dragon huffs at the two of you, his two large green eyes staring back. Puffing his chest out in pride, he hoped the sight of his dragon would impress you and make you swoon. His dragon always got compliments. Looking down at your face, there was not an ounce of admiration or awe or anything positive, only terror. 

“He’s pretty is he not?” He gloats proudly, “You know, they say he is the prettiest dragon to have ever been hatched.”

“If I survive this, I am going to kill you.” You whisper out, face pale.

“Stop speaking as if you are going to die. Sunfyre would not dare to attack, not whilst I am here.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I’ve seen your dragon, can we leave now. I want to go back to the Red Keep, Aegon.” You whimper, tears bubbling up in your eyes.

"No. Don't you dare." He argues, "Don't you dare do the whole crying trick on me. I am not foolish like Helaena and can be swayed."

Watching as you sniffle and whimper, his grip tightens on you, not wanting to give up just yet. Seeing the big puppy dog eyes you give him, he grits his teeth, tensing up. He falter's for a moment. He was always sucker for those big puppy dog eyes of yours. You knew how to make him crumble.

"No, no, no, don't give me that look." He tries to resist.

"Please, Aegon."

"No. Stop that." He shakes his head, "Stop that right now. I demand you stop that."

"I..I want to go home, Aegon. Please, take me home." You beg, sniffling.

Letting out an exasperated groan at you begging and pleading to go home, he begrudgingly agrees to it, knowing that it would be no fun if you cried the entire time. Scowling like a child who had its toy taken away, he loosens his grip on you, putting you back down onto your feet. One day he’d get you on dragonback. Sadly, just not today.

"Aegon, please, I want to go home." You whimper, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“Fine, fine, stop crying.” He grumbles, “But next time, we are going to actually get on the dragon.”

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

[thankskenpenders]

IDW's Knuckles 30th Anniversary special

I'm still working on finishing Shadow Generations and writing up a big thing about it (yes, yes, it's taken me a month to finish a four hour game, I know), but in the meantime we've got another new Classic era comic out from IDW! Let's talk about that.

The last Classic era release we got was the Fang miniseries earlier this year, which I mostly enjoyed but also found a bit underwhelming. It felt like we were getting diminishing returns with the Classic comics. Ian seemed to be struggling to make the Classic era feel fresh within Sega's current restrictions for that branch of the brand, a branch that by its very nature discourages experimentation and new ideas in a way that the ever-evolving Modern era doesn't. He was mostly just playing the hits, sticking the currently permitted Classic era characters next to each other in straightforward one-off adventures and letting the art team do their thing. We were getting the Ian who was happy to simply be able to take these toys out of the toy box. Again, these comics have been fine, and the art's always a treat, but the novelty of simply seeing a comic with the old character designs was wearing off for me when the stories didn't have as much meat as Ian's (or Evan's) excellent Modern era work.

And then along comes this Knuckles 30th Anniversary special, which is by far my favorite Classic Sonic comic Ian's written for IDW.

...I can't really talk about why it's so good without getting into spoilers, though. The short version is that it's a really nice little story about Knuckles and another character from the games, who's used as a great foil for him... except the solicit didn't even say which character it is, so I'm hesitant to say here. But if you're a fan of Knuckles, you should definitely just go read this. It's great. This one's mandatory reading to me.

And with that out of the way, let's dig deeper and get into the spoilers.

The spoiler zone

After an opening that very blatantly homages Tyson Hesse's old Knuckles comic (yes, the very same one that helped inspire the name of this blog), Knuckles realizes that Angel Island has drifted near the Northstar Islands from Sonic Superstars, and decides that the Master Emerald must be giving him a mission to train the archipelago's own resident guardian.

Yes, this isn't just a Knuckles comic. It's a Knuckles and Trip comic!

I was really delighted by this. I like Trip a lot, and it's nice to get this chance to expand upon her as a character. I think this is her first speaking role, even? I'm glad to see her stick around, and I'm glad to see her appear in the comics so soon, especially since we're still waiting for the mainline comics to incorporate Sage. She's still clumsy and fairly timid, like in the game, but without the looming thread of Eggman she gets to let loose a little. She's very exuberant and expressive and playful, especially thanks to Aaron Hammerstrom's fantastic art throughout the issue (complemented with inks by Rik Mack and colors by Valentina Pinto). It makes sense why she gets along so well with Amy. I hope we get to see those two interact more in the future!

Anyway, so Knuckles shows up on the Northstar Islands after contemplating his lot in life, and realizes that he and Trip have a lot in common. She's not as strong or confident as him, but they're both the last of their kind, these lone guardians of these ancient magical gemstones. He's showing up under the pretense of training her, but you can tell it's nice for him to have a kindred spirit, someone who might be able to really get him.

And then Trip's like... wait, you think I'm the last of my kind?

Yes, the Northstar Islands have actually been inhabited by a whole civilization of sungazers like Trip the whole time! We just didn't see them in the game because, y'know. Eggman was attacking. So Trip told everyone to find shelter and hide from the Badniks. (This actually makes a lot of sense, since you pass by this very village in Speed Jungle Zone. Somebody's gotta maintain those straw roofs and light those torches, and I can't imagine Trip managing all that upkeep herself.)

This also includes a grandfather for Trip, who's been training her as the archipelago's new guardian. Naturally, this has led to some speculation from fans about the old "mandates." In the wake of the Penders lawsuits and Archie's reboot, Sega declared that the comics could no longer create comic-original relatives for the game characters. Has that changed now?

Well, I'm hesitant to read too much into this. For one, as Ian has tried to drill into peoples' heads for years now, the so-called "mandates" aren't a set of concrete commandments from Sega, they just have some general guidelines for the brand, some of which have more wiggle room than others and some of which have changed over time. There's also the simple fact that Sega is working way more closely with the team at IDW, and that people like Ian and Evan are literally on the official Sonic lore team now. Ian can presumably work with the lore team and Sega to figure out Trip's family, and then go and work what they've decided on into a comic, so it's entirely possible Trip's grandpa isn't considered a comic-original character so much as he's a character conceptualized at Sega who just happens to have appeared in an IDW comic before anything else. The lines are a lot blurrier now with all this cross-pollination, compared to the Archie days when it was a separate creative team and a separate canon.

But, again, I don't want to speculate too heavily about what goes on behind the scenes. Regardless, Ian was able to use this comic to expand upon the world of the games and the characters that inhabit it, and I love it for that. It's the first of these Classic comics that feels like truly mandatory reading for the way it builds upon the games. These days we so rarely get to see communities like this in the Sonic world with their own cultures. It's not like we know anything about "hedgehog culture" or whatever. So this is a nice change of pace. The Northstar Islands feel totally different now that I know they've actually been inhabited the whole time, and knowing that Trip is part of an active community with their own history and customs puts a whole new spin on her as a character.

It also makes her a great foil for Knuckles here. He showed up on the island thinking he'd have a lot to teach Trip as someone who's got more life experience as a lone guardian, only to realize his assumptions about her life were completely wrong. Trip brags to her grandpa that Knuckles is gonna train her, but he quickly realizes he doesn't have much to teach her. She may be kind of cowardly, but she knows her way around the island, she can think on her feet, and she can handle herself well enough in a fight, in her own slapstick way.

He doesn't say as much, but you can tell Knuckles is embarrassed about all this. This clumsy kid is showing him up, even though she won't even really listen to his advice! He's also, perhaps, a bit jealous. It's not like he had a grandfather to train him in the ways of being a guardian. (Not in this continuity, anyway.) He doesn't get a whole village of echidnas to teach him about his heritage. He doesn't get fancy ceremonial armor. It's just him, a big green rock, and his two fists. He thought he had this whole guardian thing figured out, and he'd be able to give a kindred spirit like Trip some advice, but it turns out she's lived a whole different life, making him question if he even knows what he's doing. He quickly gets fed up with both Trip and himself, blowing up at her a little.

After reflecting a bit, Knuckles goes back to Trip and comes clean. He doesn't really know how to train her, because no one ever trained him. He figured things out on his own. If he had anyone there to raise him, they've been gone since he was too young to remember. He just knows he has to protect the Master Emerald. That's it. It's a pretty vulnerable moment for Knuckles, one where his dissatisfaction with his life comes to the surface.

Still, Trip sees things differently. He may be used to the fact that he lives on a giant floating island powered by a giant magic emerald, but she thinks that's, like, the coolest thing in the world. HER islands don't fly! And while Knuckles might wish he had someone to train him, Trip thinks that Knuckles becoming such a fearsome fighter all on his own, without even armor to protect him, makes him super awesome and admirable. With both of them feeling better, Trip takes Knuckles to Golden Capital to talk about her heritage as a guardian of the Northstar Islands a bit more, and Knuckles tells her that he thinks she'll be a great guardian before he heads home, once again feeling pretty good about himself.

While this is a pretty straightforward little story about how the grass is always greener on the other side, it's a very effective and sweet one that I enjoyed reading a ton. Aside from the fun of learning more about Trip and the Northstar Islands, it's just a great showcase for Knuckles. (It's definitely a way better showcase for him than his Paramount+ show, as much as I took sick pleasure in that show's baffling creative decisions.) There are also some fun details about his life in here, such as the fact that Sonic, Tails, and Amy have taken camping trips to hang out with him on Angel Island, and the fact that he trained Amy in using her hammer better.

It's just real good, and it feels like the most meaningful addition to The Canon out of any of these Classic era comics Ian's written. We're still gonna be getting more in the future, so hopefully this is a sign that Ian and the lore team have found that happy middle ground where they can keep the Classic comics familiar and nostalgic while also being able to branch out and expand upon things.

Speaking of future comics!

Coming attractions

The end of this issue confirms some things that are in the works for IDW Sonic. For one, we're getting a Chaotix 30th Anniversary special next year. Neat! They also mention some kind of Shadow one-shot dropping following the movie, however fans seem split on whether this is referring to a new story or just the "Best of Shadow" compilation one-shot that's coming out next month. So don't get your hopes up about that in case it's the latter, I guess.

And while we're still waiting for issue #75 of the main series, the IDW team is already thinking all the way ahead to #100, which should drop sometime during the 35th anniversary of the franchise in 2026. Clearly the team's still confident about the longevity of IDW Sonic and excited for the future. And I am, too! Bring on #75!

[whisperingthorns]

(Yandere Ticci Toby x Reader) Charmed by Shadows

Chapter 1: A Glimpse in the Shadows

__________________

Silence. Toby walked through the woods leaves crunching under his feet. He was looking at the floor, looking at the little bugs scuttle through the leaves. Tobias Roger’s was a quiet man. At least today he was. He paused watching a bug crawl under a leaf. It had been a couple weeks since he arrived in the town of Ravenwood in Maine.

Masky and Hoodie were not to come to this mission. So it was just Tobias by himself today…and everyday for the year he supposed. This mission should take some time. A whole year old solitude? Slender should know better then to leave the unstable Proxy alone. He didn’t wanna seem like pussy though. He took it. The job that is.

Though for the past couple weeks he’s been plagued by this dream. Sometimes it was a nice dream, other times he woke up crying. The dream is stupid. Too stupid to even write in his journal. It’s about a princess who sits and talks with him. Sometimes he pushes her on a swing, sometimes he eats her cooking for a picnic, it’s always in the woods though. He’s heard tales of the fae and such, maybe that’s what she is? It just feels so real. He just sits there and talks, even about problems he has in his waking life and she always manages to make him feel better. He wonders if maybe he’s developing a new disorder and she’s a figment that will manifest herself eventually.

Toby’s face snaps to the side when he hears a noise, much like singing. Singing? In the woods? What is this? A Disney movie? Toby shuffles to the tree line. Toby’s face scrunches up when he sees her, the girl practically skipping through the path in the woods, ignoring how it pretty much ending a couple yards back. She had to know that right. She was wearing and dress, once he recognized but couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Having nothing better to do, Toby took a seat and watched her pass, fingers pulling up the grass as he fiddled with it.

Her dress flowed around her perfectly. Her black shoes kicking up dirt. She had to be around the same age as him, but the way she was acting was a bit childish to say the least. Toby thought about running from the brush and burying a hatchet in his skull, hearing her scream, and look up at him in her final moments, the dark red ruining her dress forever. ‘Pretty girl.’ He thought giving a grin. ‘Wonder how long it takes for anyone to notice she’s missing. Will anyone come looking for her? Prince Charming perhaps?’ If this was a fairytale, he wondered what role that would make him. Certainly not the hero.

Tobias wasn’t the hero in anyone’s story. Not even his own. Especially not hers. However Tobias didn’t kill for no reason. He’s seen the stories online. The fanfiction they write, but he also sees what some of the public thinks of him. He wasn’t any hero. Though sometimes he liked to google his own name he found interesting things. From old articles to art, to fanfiction of him rescuing forgotten and abused like him. Bring them with him. Toby wondered if he would have felt that way if he wasn’t involved in the debacle. Would he wish the slenderman take him too? Would he leave his window open and still draw the proxy symbol on his wrists in hopes he would be rescued?

Must be horrible to realize that the faceless man wouldn’t ever show up. He was picky. The girl was looking at something on a tree now, some sort of bird. She was delighted when it came closer. “Bitch has never se-seen a bird b-before” No but seriously what was her deal? She’s in the woods…alone…in a dress…playing with birds. How does she know someone like him won’t come up and…lift that pretty dress? Toby thought about shoving her up against the tree, teasing her a bit. He shook the thought away. Gross. You shouldn’t think that way about random girls in the woods. Wow that’s a sentence. Random girl in the woods…he looked her over again. He really could kill her here.

Toby got up, gripping his hatchet. She was so unsuspecting. He was literally feet from her. Him! A killer! A proxy! She wasn’t even sensing his presence. It was like watching a suspecting deer through a sniper scope.

Suddenly Toby threw the hatchet, and it catch the girl in the throat, her eyes widened, blood pouring from her neck as the bird flew from her finger, and she collapsed to the ground. Jerking as her eyes wildly searched the sky. As if asking why this had happened? Why her? Who would come to look for her rotting corpse?

Toby blinked, coming back to reality, the girl was throwing bird feed on the ground so they would gather around her. It was a boring scene really. Except for her. How can someone be so dumb? In the woods all alone…feeding the birds…it was kinda…it was kinda cute. Toby stopped picking the grass and watched. How sweet. He wanted to go up and say something. Something mean for some reason.

‘Those birds don’t even like you. They just like that you’re giving them food’ He wanted to say. Yeah. What did she think she was special? That she was some sort of princess of the forest? Who the fuck did she think she was? Waltzing in her all happy, feeding he birds. After this she’s probably gonna go home and eat a hot dinner…with family that probably actually likes her and doesn’t kill people for a living. Probably go and do whatever she wants tomorrow too because she doesn’t have a faceless man pulling her along like a puppet.

If only those kids who left their windows open and drew things on their hands knew what it was like: The life of a proxy. Sure he saved Toby but if Toby could just do it again he wouldn’t go with him. Toby would just burn and die. End of story. The girl seemed to finish. She stood. She left.

Only cause Toby let her.

‘Yeah.’ He told himself. ‘Only cause I let her!’ He started picking at his nails, feeling a little frustrated. Ignored even. How could she not know he was right here? Whatever. He started to bite his nails, and knew he went too far when he tasted blood. Oops. He wiped it on his dirty jeans.

…

Toby quickly made his way through the trees silently, wondering if he could catch up with her, and he did! She had stopped to feed a bunny. Who weirdly enough didn’t seem that scared of her. The bunny nuzzled her hand and she laughed. Her laughter, soft and sweet like birdsong, drifted through the air, making his heart pound in a way that felt almost… painful. Toby didn’t deserve to hear it, but he stayed hidden among the trees, selfishly drinking it in.

He knew he recognized the sound from somewhere, and now that he was getting a good look at her (e/c) eyes and sweet smile everything clicked.

The princess! From his dreams! The one he saves all the time and talks to. He actually almost stood to call out to her before he realized that he was being unreasonable. They probably just looked similar! That girl was just a figment of his mind he can’t just talk to every girl that looks like her.

⦻

After the next few weeks Toby watched. When he finished the mission he needed for that day, he would quickly dash to her house. She was a simple girl with a simple routine. Tobias loved simple really. His life was anything but. She walks the same path everyday it turns out, just to sit at that rickety old bench. He also picked up on some of her mannerisms. Like how when she’s happy she tends to skip and lean on the balls of her feet, almost like a bird about to take flight, but hesitant to do so? If that makes sense. When she’s stressed or frustrated she walks flat but not just flat it’s almost like slap to the floor. When she sad she tends to mess with her hair a lot. A nervous habit he supposed. She also hums or sings to herself a lot. It sounds…wonderful.

Toby has heard plenty of nice voices before but her voice…it wasn’t just nice or beautiful it was almost…haunting. Like it was something he wasn’t even supposed to be hearing in the first place. As if she was calling to creatures that didn’t exist in this worldly plane. It made his head buzz. In a weird way.

Anyway, he was happy for her carefree nature because it made it incredibly easy to follow from day to day. She never saw him, not really. Sometimes, she’d pause, her head tilting as if she sensed something—or someone—just out of view. But Toby was good at hiding, blending into the shadows like smoke, his eyes never leaving her.

Sometimes, when he was feeling brave, he’d clean himself up, and slap a bandage over the gaping hole in face, he’d even run an old brush through his hair, and wash it, he’d wash his clothes, and head out into town where she was. He would walk past where she was, his head down, their arms just barely brushing, it made Toby’s skin tingle with excitement. Sometimes when she was with her friends, he’d stand nearby and stare if they were distracted enough.

One time, he slipped up. He was doing his usual routine. She was at the arcade with her friend. A male friend but from observation Tobias knew they were nothing more than that. Toby loved the arcade…used to go all the time before the incident.

…

Toby watched as she encouraged her friend ‘Moon’ to win her a prize at the claw game. (Who names their fucking kid that by the way? ‘Moon’ it’s gotta be a nickname right?) That’s when it happened…right there.

Through the glass, through the moving claw, through the people passing through, she looked up once, then a second..very briefly, she locked eyes with him. For the briefest of moments, her gaze brushed his, a spark of recognition flaring in her eyes before it faded. She didn’t know him, not yet—but he could feel the connection, thrumming beneath his skin like a secret waiting to be told. Toby felt his face burn. ‘Moon’ cheered and held up a stuffed animal. “I GOT ONE! (Y/N), I GOT ONE!” (Y/n)….Tobys eyes glazed over.

That was the first time she had even actually seen him. He was watching her again the next day in the forest, she made her way back to that bench she liked so much…he was thinking about cleaning it for her. It was sunny day today, hot one would say. Tobias couldn’t tell. He can’t feel pain, he also can’t feel temperature. Seeing her in the sundress not only made his heart pound, but reminded him to remove his jacket. Masky wasn’t here to rudely yank it off in reminder so he had to be careful not to overheat. Someone would have called the scene beautiful. Sunlight peeking through the trees, leaves fluttered in the wind, bird sung at the new day.

Tobias, hidden away, felt detached from it all. Like all the dark spots of the forest floor were only meant for him. While she deserved to stay in the sunshine…The forest was alive with warmth and light, but all Toby could focus on was her—how she glided through the golden beams, her hands brushing the leaves like they belonged to her. His world had shrunk to the size of her silhouette.

His fingers curled, digging into the bark of the tree as she tilted her head back to laugh at something he couldn’t hear. He wanted to be closer—to hear it, to see her smile up close—but he stayed rooted in place, afraid of what might happen if he dared to step into the light.

He stood, like a frozen statue, waiting, watching…longing…needing. It felt like a need. Like when he needed to drink or eat. When was the last time he ate again? He remembered (Y/n) had french toast for breakfast and spaghetti for dinner last night while she watched her shows and played…sims? (Honestly the things she was doing in that game would be considered questionable but he wasn’t too worried about that while he watched her giggle….and trap random men in her basement it seems.) Just as he came to the conclusion that his last meal was two days ago he saw her stand to leave, slipping away as the wind picked up, slipping the the ribbon out of her hair without realizing it.

As soon as you were out of sight Toby dashed into the clearing, tripping over a root as he did and taking a tumble and grabbing the ribbon into his fist. He laid in the leaves as he looked at it, clutched in his fist, the sun shining down on him as he grinned widely. The fresh baby blue contrasting against his pale gray skin. It’s a sign. A sign of the secret bond between she doesn’t realize they share. Yeah…maybe she dropped it on purpose. Or maybe whatever fucked up force that ruined Toby’s life was trying to gift him something.

Either way it was his now.

And so were you.

(If you guys could comment or just interact that be great I’d love to hear feedback or just parts you liked 🩷🎀 Helps me keep writing if you want another chapter Thank you darlings)

Edit: New chapter coming out Friday, September 27th for those who are interested.

[cringefaecompilation]

okay since i have felt i've been really negative i am going to be positive and talk about something near and dear to my heart. fanart redesigns!

this design of braius by @phi-guy is delightful, including the mustache variant. i'm not a big fan of him as a character, but this is a great compromise with the holstein patterns on his humanoid face that previously left a few furries disappointed.

fcg is a very tough character to stylize, given the whole... aeormaton of it all and that they're so intricately designed that any attempts to move any part of their body around tend to make things they do in-game not make sense. the blades of grass emblem being revealed as bloody fingerstreaks, for one. but this design by hugo cardenas strikes a good balance between canon and fanon where you don't have to sacrifice accuracy for imagination or vice versa

imogen sadly doesn't receive a lot of redesigns in fandom and even got hate (?!) for people putting glasses on her. but for the people that do a little more than that, i would have to give my favorite design to @rokiie! it's subtle, but i love that she's musclechubby and mixed, and her curly hair and ponytail is adorable. @jadequarze also has a nice looking mog, though theirs is more angular than bulky.

ashton is another character hard to redesign... because his original design is so damned complex it feels like a downgrade to change it. so not a lot of people do and focus more on his outfit and body type. so that's why these two, by @magscherer and @ladysantos are so great! little tweaks that make him fat or simplify him are so nice

@lyadrielle has the most complex chet redesign i've ever seen. i love how in-depth it is, and even if full head of hair chet isn't canon, i still adore the fluffiness of it. also quick shout out to @colealexart giving chetney a mustache because i love it.

conversely from her girlfriend, people love to redesign laudna, if not just to pump up her creepy factor over her "bizzarely beautiful" factor. @astoriacolumnstaircase and @paragonraptors do this in a fun-scary way! i love how spindly they make her, like a praying mantis. for a more scary-scary way, @cpprcoyote's laudnas are stunningly creepy and lovely. @galacticjonah's take on her is also very cute with her billowing fabrics surrounding her like a security blanket. good stuff!

being the mixed orym truther guy, naturally i love art that makes him a man of color, and this art by @therosecleric hits the mark for how i see him in my head. i love his curls, his jaw, and his strong nose, and it's always good to give him muscles in a way that don't make him look like a tween who powerlifts. the previously mentioned @magscherer's art of him is a bit more hobbit-y but still scratches the same itch. love me a brown eyed orym. @jennydolfen also gets points for her terrific hobbit/halfling proportions

@jam-etc's critical role redesigns might not be for everyone, but i love 'em all. dorian here looks so friendly and seeing his native culture depicted so overtly in his outfit is awesome! no whitewashed dorians allowed. on the same token, here's a repeat of @therosecleric's dorian art because it also is great to see him with curly hair and a wide nose. this design by @caitmayart with dark cloudy speckles on his body is incredibly nice as well.

and of goddamn course fearne gets the most art. it's fearne! there are so many good pieces of her i could not choose one. i love ones that play up her goat-y nature, like @willowbirds, @rainbow-roll-art, and @phi-guy again. and i love fat fearnes, like these two by @marmadelin and @countslimeula. this one by @maluspumilaa is so beautiful, making her a little more fey and extremely animalistic. all fearnes is good fearnes

[tobiasdrake]

Hi! Absolutely adore your DBZ analyses, thank you so much - just spent a delightful time reading them all. I was wondering, since you've commented on Chi-Chi and Goku's marriage, what do you have to say about Vegeta and Bulma's relationship? (I've always been entranced by it - mostly because as with all his romances, Toriyama had the wisdom not to show any of it onscreen. But I'd love to know your thoughts about it.)

Bulma and Vegeta are a match made in Hell, and they deserve each other. (Which is to say yes, I love this ship.)

Hooking Bulma up with Vegeta was a hell of a narrative swerve. Generally speaking, stories rarely do this; They rarely let characters break up once they're already invested in a romance, unless it's supposed to be like a love triangle thing.

And Bulma? Bulma was invested. At least, to a degree.

This was the birth of the original Bulma romance that ran through about half of the manga. Two teens interesting in the opposite sex suddenly realize the availability of the other and a relationship is born.

Toriyama says he's bad at writing romance but to be honest, this has always hit me as more believable than your typical drawn-out five-seasons-of-pining Will They/Won't They affair. I'm a girl. You're a boy. Wanna go out and see what clicks?

And these two... these two do not click. We only really see their relationship from Bulma's perspective but it's clear that these two are miserable together.

The manga sorta takes Bulma's side, in that we never really get to hear Yamcha's opinion about their relationship one way or another. When he's around, all he wants to do is talk shop about martial arts. Since Toriyama doesn't like to write romance, we simply don't see much of it from them. What little we do hear about it comes from Bulma complaining about how miserable she is.

Bulma is pretty much always pissed off whenever the relationship is in focus at all.

Anime filler tends to take Yamcha's side instead, portraying him as a put-upon victim of Bulma's jealousy and abuse. A nice guy who doesn't deserve the way she treats him.

It's not hard to buy into this interpretation of their relationship since, as noted, we rarely get anything from Yamcha with regard to his relationship to women or Bulma specifically but we know Bulma's a lot. It's easy to accept Bulma as the "bad guy" of this relationship because. Like. Remember that time she enslaved a sentient being? Good times.

Though one particular moment from Yamcha later on kinda stands out as a bit of a retroactive Yikes.

Yeah. Uh. Threatening violence against a woman for rejecting his bro is a bit of a Yikes. Is this who we were supposed to see Yamcha as all this time? Because, if so, it might have helped to let him opine about the relationship more. Just saiyan.

According to Toriyama in interview, Yamcha and Bulma ultimately broke up because she caught Yamcha cheating on her. I guess that's what him being "popular with girls" was supposed to mean: Once he got over his gynophobia and found confidence with the opposite sex, Yamcha became a player.

But that doesn't necessarily come across from the statement, "Bulma can't stand that Yamcha's popular with girls." A lot of fans took that to mean girls just like him for no reason, and Bulma's unreasonably jealous about it. The anime took that position too.

Note that the "Yamcha is popular with girls" thing isn't helped by the fact that we never see it on-panel because he's only ever talking shop when he's around. But we do see a wandering eye from Bulma often enough.

There's nothing wrong with enjoying the aesthetic appeal of another party even when you're in a monogamous relationship, but it doesn't really present the "Other party is a womanizer and cheater" case when you're the only one ever seen doing this.

So it feels like there's a lot about Yamcha and Bulma's relationship that never made it to print yet influenced later decisions. Those decisions ended up being controversial because the foundation for those decisions was never laid. Here, Toriyama's disdain for writing romance worked against him.

But ultimately, regardless of whose side you take, it doesn't really matter. It doesn't matter who the "bad guy" is. A healthy relationship does not have a "bad guy" in it.

Whether or not Yamcha cheated, whether or not Bulma's just an unreasonably jealous hell-beast, it doesn't actually matter. What matters is that once you reach the point where you're taking sides over which party is the most obnoxious asshole and I hate you and I wish we never met... this relationship is not working for anybody.

It doesn't matter who the bad guy is. It doesn't matter who deserves the blame for this relationship being a toxic shithole. That there is blame to throw around in the first place is the problem. Every relationship has its ups and downs but if one party is constantly miserable for years and has possibly been looking for an escape hatch since year 1, that's not a little tiff.

What matters is that these two are not working out. Any time we see their relationship in focus, they are miserable together. The anime tried to do some patchwork on that with audience reception by giving them some cute moments as well, but because those moments aren't canon the pair remained miserable.

And then this happened.

Despite everything, I think we all assumed that Bulma and Yamcha were going to work it out. Fictional relationships are often portrayed as tumultuous. To a writer, nothing says true love like being constantly miserable and despising every waking moment you spend with your awful, nagging ball-and-chain of a spouse. That's just. Like. What the straights think romance is. It's weird.

I think we all thought that was going to be the deal here too. And then Trunks came along and said, "Nope, actually, they finally severed the cord."

Again, Toriyama says he's bad at writing romance but holy shit, the toxic and miserable relationship actually ended. The two characters involved who only got together out of loneliness and desperation later found they were incompatible with each other. That's so real. Much moreso than a lot of fictional romances.

Instead, we got the absolute crack ship that is Vegeta and Bulma. What a wild-ass revelation for Trunks to drop.

Like. Until the end of the Namek arc, this was the only time these two characters even met.

She also saw Vegeta for like two seconds here.

That was it. That was their entire history together until Goku defeated Frieza while Kaio sent everyone to Earth. But that's when everything changed for Vegeta.

Stranded on Earth with no ship, no affiliations, no ability to leave the planet and nowhere to go or be and no obligations to anyone but himself, Vegeta's circumstances were wildly different than they'd ever been before. He had become one of the Namekian refugees.

And Bulma was offering refuge.

Hard to resist, indeed. That moment is absolutely hilarious in retrospect. Bulma rolled a Nat 20 on that charisma check. It's pretty clear who the instigator of this relationship was.

Like. It needs to be stated that at this point, the only thing Bulma knew about Vegeta was that he tried to kill them all multiple times, and also he's kinda hot. But. Like.

It's Bulma. Anyone who doesn't expect this from her by now either hasn't been paying attention or started watching the English dub of the anime when they did Z first.

So, naturally, Vegeta is a kind and loving man and became a phenomenal husband and fa--

Wait. No. I got my notes mixed up. It says here Vegeta's a rotten dirty bastard. Like. Chronically. He has Supreme Dickshit Syndrome. It's genetic.

Most of Bulma and Vegeta's developing relationship happens offscreen. From what snippets we get, Vegeta has a tendency to vanish during the day, but he still lives at Capsule Corp so Bulma sees him around.

By the end of the three-year timeskip, it's official. Or semi-official. Yamcha and Bulma broke up at some point during that timeskip and Bulma's given birth to Trunks.

As for Vegeta, he's evidently moved out of Capsule Corp and into his own place.

I guess he's still keeping contact with Bulma since she knows what his intentions are. Not to mention he found his tranquility during these three years, though it's somewhat ambiguous as to what exactly brought that peace to his heart.

But the relationship is off to a rocky start nonetheless. Clearly something went down between Vegeta and Bulma that drove Vegeta out of Capsule Corp. To. Uh. Somewhere.

I like to imagine Vegeta living in some shitty West City apartment he rents off a stipend Bulma's sending him that he refuses to openly acknowledge. Like, room 101 is a down-on-his-luck tax accountant, room 102 is a couple with a kid trying to make ends meet off two retail workers' salaries, and then room 103 is Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans. Sometimes he goes to community events and pretends he isn't having fun.

No lie, I would absolutely watch that as a sitcom.

As for Vegeta himself, he's still a rotten dirty bastard.

Worth noting that Vegeta's saying this as a Super Saiyan which means he's drunk on the form's enhanced aggression. But. Still. Vegeta is an absolute monster being dragged kicking and screaming into a pleasant life that he'll one day resent himself for enjoying. This is his arc moving forward.

It's not so much a redemption arc as it is a domestication arc. The uniquely evil even by Saiyan standards Vegeta is gradually being changed by his new terrestrial life. He doesn't want to own up to how much he enjoys it here. Seven years later, he's still desperate to avoid owning up to it.

He doesn't want to be happy here. He doesn't want a loving wife and a son who looks up to him and the most lavish home wealth can afford him and easy, comfortable days spent with friends and loved ones by his side. He doesn't want a happy ending.

But it's like Bulma warned him: Dragon Ball's queen bee is hard to resist.

Welcome back to Capsule Corp, Vegeta. We hardly even noticed you were gone. Honestly, Future Trunks deserves a lot of the credit for this; Watching him die at the Cell Games was what flipped the switch in Vegeta's head that he wants the family he and Bulma have spawned together.

Sure is a good thing we have Dragon Balls because this is a hell of a time to suddenly decide you love your son. But we see the consequences of that seven years later, since Vegeta moved back into Capsule Corp from... I don't know, wherever he went. They're gonna miss him at the next community poolside summer BBQ event for all tenants.

Part of what makes Vegeta and Bulma work, I think, is that they're on the same page about one crucial point. For Bulma, there is one person who will always take precedent in her life above all others. Romance comes and romance goes, but this is the relationship that matters most to her.

Especially when it comes to martial arts and fighting. Bulma doesn't know a lot about the subject, but she knows that Son Goku is her #1. She has no reservations about saying that to her lover's face either.

When fists start flying, Bulma knows who she's rooting for. If Goku's involved, then it's not her guy. That's. Just. Something that anyone who wants to be with her has to be willing to understand. The single most important relationship in Bulma's life will always be her friendship with Goku.

And the thing about Vegeta is... He kind of agrees? Like. See above, re: I wanted Babidi to destroy my feelings for Bulma so that I could become the warrior that can fight with you, Kakarot.

As much as Goku will always be Bulma's #1, he'll also always be Vegeta's #1. He even gets included into Vegeta's fond farewell to the family he loves.

Goku is basically the platonic third in a two-person polycule. This is the second marriage that this poor ace plays a vital role in despite having no real interest in romance whatsoever.

Bulma is selfish, spiteful, petty, and vain. At one point, DBS: Broly directly compares her to Frieza; A comparison that manages to be unbelievably unflattering to both participants.

They're the same picture. A revelation that would probably be horrifying to both.

And Vegeta. Especially Vegeta. But. Like. She warned you she was irresistible. You didn't take her seriously and now look where you are. Married to the She-Frieza. Maybe you should think about your life choices.

This is just. So much fun. As I said at the outset, Bulma and Vegeta are a match made in Hell who make it work because they're both similar brands of awful.

As for Yamcha, it's a little known fact but Yamcha rebounded and moved on with his life. He stops having much story relevancy after he leaves Capsule Corporation so we see very little of his private life from there. After retiring from martial arts and splitting up with Bulma, Yamcha's left without any story hooks to keep him involved.

But there was this interesting moment, when he realized they had a Shenron wish to spare.

After Krillin comes up with something better to use the wish on, he takes it back and claims it was a joke.

This is, surprisingly, a point of contention in the fandom as some of Yamcha's fans prefer the idea that he died miserable and alone after Bulma ruined his life by leaving him. This takeback gets pointed to as proof that he made up his girlfriend entirely. However, in context, it's clear that a) he's trying to brush off his earlier attempt at making a petty wish and b) the thing he's transparently pretending was a joke is the necklace wish, not the existence of his new girlfriend.

Like Bulma, Yamcha moved on with his life after the break up of their miserable relationship. And that was the final word that was ever uttered on Yamcha's romantic prospects, because this was the last time he was ever meaningfully involved with anything at all.

[multistanisms]

Save a Horse || Ateez

FANDOM: Ateez

PAIRING: Hongjoong x fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5407

RATING: M

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: Biting, degradation [honestly, I'm not sure, so if anyone finds one, please let me know?]

SUMMARY: The staff of KQ know full well about the nonhumans who have taken the world by storm with their music. The last to reveal their nature is Hongjoong, a demon-siren hybrid. Despite staff worrying for his girlfriend, what only the members know is that the little witch is a delight that's not afraid of Hongjoong's darkness.

TAGLIST: @daceydeath, @justaaveragereader, @no1likemybbgcharlie, @spookidema

AUTHOR NOTES: Y'all please be nice, I haven't written smut in literal years. I saw the outfit Joong wears in this fic when I got to see Ateez back in July, and it has just sat and rotted my brain to mush, so here we are. Not beta'd this time around, but I did reread three times to try and catch everything. Much thanks to Dacey and Syd especially, because sometimes my depresso bean self needs some encouragement to share my weird joys. Enjoy, my dearies. <3

☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑

One of the perks of your audio production degree was a free seat at the mixing booth during shows when you don't want to stay at the hotel waiting on Hongjoong to get back. Tonight was one such night, but the staff kept looking at you in a way that confused you. While the other members had been open with the company about their races from debut - from Seonghwa’s selkie blood to San’s Cheshire form, Hongjoong had only recently revealed to staff that despite masquerading as a regular human, his heritage ran closer to the other members of Ateez - as he was a demon/siren hybrid. Perhaps they were concerned for you, though they were unaware you yourself were a witch. Sitting at the booth as you watched the crowd pour in from the rain outside, you pulled your phone out to text your boyfriend. 

⇐: Hey gorgeous. How's it going?

My Captain: There's my beautiful girl. We were just talking about you.

⇐: Who's we, Joong?

My Captain: Hwa, Mingi and I. I was asking for opinions on what I should wear during the last set.

⇐: And you didn't ask me? 

My Captain: I want it to be a surprise, precious. It is our anniversary, after all.

The text stops you and you have to swipe down to check the date. Sure enough, it's the one year date since Hongjoong asked you to officially be his mate. Neither of you counted the two years of fuck buddy/situationship before that.

⇐: It really doesn't feel like it's already been a year already, holy shit. I didn't get you anything, baby. 😭

My Captain: Don't worry, after the flight to the next city, we have two days before we even have to do anything big. I'm sure we'll think of something.

⇐: How about we start with me making dinner?

My Captain: The show lets out late, beautiful. We have to do the send off tonight, which takes longer. But don't worry, I've got it handled.

⇐: Should I be concerned?

My Captain: Hardly. Just have fun. I'll listen for your screams in the crowd. 😉

⇐: Like you'll hear me with the sold out stadium of Atiny, baby. The seats are already almost full.

My Captain: Come now, you think I can't find your voice even with a full house? I know it so well, after all.

The blush that heated from your neck up into your face made you lower your head. You waved a hand dismissively when one of the nearby staff asked if you were okay, diverting by asking for some water. Once the member had wandered off, you took a breath to settle yourself before responding.

⇐: You have a show, Hongjoong. Focus on that instead of my screaming, yeah?

My Captain: Oh, I know there’s a show. Don’t worry, I’ll get the screams later. 😚

Your eyes roll at his antics, slipping your phone back into your jacket pocket and settling into the rolling chair as you move to watch the stage and willing the blush on her face to fade. The show is always a work of art, the energy Hongjoong and his team gave never failing to amaze you; though with none of them being human, it makes sense their energy is slow to fade. You loved watching the group perform, but sometimes it was hard not to focus on just Hongjoong. You enjoyed the concert in its entirety, but as the boys came back for the final encore set, you couldn't help the sharp intake of breath as you saw the outfit your boyfriend was wearing. Dark blue jeans clad his legs, covering the black boots he wore. His shirt was a black button up that hugged against his body, perfectly showing off his torso while simultaneously still leaving room for the imagination - though you didn't need to use it. The bolo tie was a good accent of silver against the shirt, but the obvious piece de resistance was the dark colored leather cowboy hat he wore atop his head. The sight alone stole your breath, unable to even glance at any of the other members for the duration of the encore. “You fucking menace.” Your tone is a quiet, breathy growl as the boys all line up on the lift to be dropped down and you move to stand, bidding the staff goodnight and making your way to the dressing rooms. 

Hongjoong is still wearing the hat as he laughs with Wooyoung and Mingi, but the moment he lays his eyes on you and all out smirks, you know he chose the outfit on purpose. He steps to one side so he can pull you to him, dipping his head to kiss you while his hands slid to rest at the small of your back. He's extra warm from performing, but you settle into him with ease. “There's my girl.” he teased when he pulled away, smiling down at you.

“What are you trying to do in this, huh? Drive me absolutely insane?”

“Partly. I do have a few better ideas, though.” He grinned, one hand moving to tuck his fingers under your chin and bring your lips back to his. “But those have to wait until we're back at the hotel.” He laughs quietly when your response is a quiet whine as you pout. “Don't worry, baby. All that's left is send off, you don't have to wait much longer.”

“But you look so good.” you counter, arms moving from his waist to snake at his neck and let your fingers play with the hair at the back of his head. 

“I know, Y/N. Tell you what. You take my card, get us something for dinner and I'll meet you at the hotel, okay? I'll come straight to you as soon as we're done.”

“Promise?”

“Swear it.” Hongjoong replies, stealing another kiss. 

“Fine.” You reluctantly pull away, immediately missing his warmth as he enters the dressing room. As the door closes, you catch the familiar sound of San’s naturally pouty voice as he teased his leader. You laugh a little, aware of the muffled noises inside as you lean against the wall by the door to wait. The chatter inside bursts louder as Hongjoong reappears, hat no longer resting atop his head. “Awh, where'd my cowboy go?” You tease as your lips pout playfully, which grants you another kiss. 

“Don't worry, baby girl, I'm still your cowboy,” he assures, hand slipping his card into the back pocket of your jeans. “And only your cowboy.” He laughs as you hide your face in your hands at the growl in his voice, his own coming to wrap at your wrists and gently urge them away from their position as he changes to a softer, playful tone. “Come now, don't hide from me, Y/N. You know I love it when you blush for me.” 

“Oh hush, you. You shouldn’t be fucking growling at me in public when you look like this.” You huff playfully, but you're powerless to the soft tone he uses, looking up at him just so you can see him smile at you as if you'd hung the moon itself. “Just come home quick, yeah?”

“As soon as I can slip away, I will be there.” 

You go to step back so you can leave, but as he opens the door to leave you, you reach for his wrist, tugging him back to you to steal one last kiss, smirking as you nip your teeth over his lower lip and he groans loudly. His eyes flash crimson, and you know you’ve tempted him in return. Satisfied you've returned the favor when he's already tempted you, you ruffle your fingers through his hair and quickly step out of reach. “I love you.” You laugh as you slip out of view. You can just barely catch the familiar ring of his darker laughter, knowing that you were in for at least a little bit of trouble when he got back to the hotel. It was worth it, though, seeing as he'd sauntered around on stage in the outfit just to rile you up. 

All’s fair in love and war, right? 

You pass through familiar faces of staff, congratulating them as you find your way out to the underground garage where your rental is parked near the bus. Traffic is still going to be a mess, but not as insane with the show having a send off, so you have time to think of what to get for dinner. You settle on fried chicken, looking up the nearest place that serves it because you don't think you have time to finish cooking before your boyfriend joins you. Once you find a place, you order food for the two of you and head towards the restaurant. As you pull into the shopping center and get out, you spot another shop nearby that catches your eye, and you go there first before grabbing dinner and stopping to get some ice cream for dessert. The drive from the shopping center to the hotel isn't long, thankfully, and you find yourself sliding the key card through the door in no time at all compared to leaving the arena. The company always makes sure there's decent accommodations for everyone, and you set the bag of food in the kitchenette counter so you can put the ice cream away. You then go to change into more comfortable clothes - a pair of pajama pants and a tank top you'd stolen from Hongjoong (who had purposely gotten it too big so you would steal it). You turned your little speaker on to play music, going about moving the desk chairs closer together and setting out the boxes of food. You're singing as you go about the process, lost in the sheer domestication, and don't register the sound of the door unlocking. Hongjoong’s voice harmonizing with your own as his arms wrap around you from behind startles you from your mind and you laugh a little. “Hey there, gorgeous.” You greet, adjusting so you can tilt your head back and let him kiss you. “How was send off?”

“It was fun, but honestly, I was also a little out of it.” Hongjoong admitted. “I’m pretty sure I missed interacting with a few fans.”

“I'm sure they'll forgive you.” You playfully banter back. “You deserved to be distracted after what you did to me.”

“Oh, I plan on doing a lot more than distracting you, princess.” Hongjoong's voice pitches into a growl, head dipping to bite at where your pulse beats just under your jaw. He holds you securely even as your legs threaten to give out. 

“Fuck, Joong.” You breathe, one hand moving to slide into his hair. You can feel the laugh even as he continues to bite and suck at your skin, intent on making sure a possessive mark is left behind when he's done. 

“I know all your sweet spots after three years, baby. You should have known I'd use them after that tease.” The smirk in his voice is evident as one hand snakes lower so he can slip it beneath the fabric of your pajama pants, but stops just beneath the hem to simply brush his fingers over your hip gently.

“Kim Hongjoong, we've been over this. It isn't a tease if you have every intention of following through.” Your words are breathless even as you correct him, barely keeping yourself up because true to his word, Hongjoong knows every spot that drives you wild. “And if you thought for a moment I wouldn't follow through when you look this delicious, well, that's just sad.” You're very aware of the heat pooling in your body, turning into putty with every touch and kiss Hongjoong places on your body. 

“Did you think I wouldn't follow through?” He smirks, stepping away to pull you towards the bed. “Did it not occur to you that I picked this exact outfit specifically for you?”

“Oh yeah, just for me? Why, so I could jump your bones, handsome?” You tease back, your voice shaky from desire as he brings you to the bed. 

“Maybe. Would that make it better, princess?” Hongjoong cooed, moving to make you sit on the foot of the bed so he can settle on his knees between your legs. Dark eyes looked up at you, the sheer lustful adoration in them making you bite your lip and moan. 

“How are you so fucking gorgeous on your knees? It's not fair.” You pout, moving to tilt the hat back so you can see his face better. He smirks up at you, reaching up to remove the hat and set it aside, hands moving to the waistband of your pants to tug them down, his eyes watching you as you adjust to help him remove the fabric easier. When his eyes lower, he groans, eyes closing briefly. 

“What are these?” He coos breathily, fingers trailing up your thighs to tease over the navy colored lace of the underwear you have on. 

“I figured since I didn't have a gift, I could find something else to give you.” Your voice is smug even as he brushes his thumb over the fabric covering your core, biting your lip. “Happened to find a shop that was still open and I know how much you like me in lace.”

“I do love you in lace, baby, but you've never made a special trip like this just for me.”

You pout at his response despite the desire burning through your veins. “Do you not-”

“I love it, princess, please don't doubt that. You're fucking spoiling me with this. I couldn't ask for a more perfect anniversary gift. I simply can't decide if I want to ruin these panties while you're wearing them or take them off and just devour you.” One hand is pressed at the crotch of his jeans where his length is already visible through the denim, and you almost feel sorry for his indecision. Almost. 

He started it by wearing the damn cowboy outfit he's in, after all.

“Would seeing the set help you decide?” you ask, and the feral heat in his eyes as they swirl crimson in desire when he looks up at you makes you giggle, crossing your arms over your body to grab the hem of the shirt and pull it off, revealing the matching lace bra underneath the tank top. There's a pride that swells when he moans loudly at the sight of you in nothing but the lingerie set. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he lurches up at you, sealing his lips over yours as his hands move to cup at your chest, massaging your breasts as he moans into your mouth. You can't help but laugh out a soft moan as he trails his lips further down your neck, leaving open mouth kisses and a faint touch of saliva on your skin. “So beautiful, so soft…can't believe you're really mine.”

One hand moves to play in his hair, gripping at the brown tresses gently. “I'm only yours, Joong, my delicious cowboy. You claimed me a long time ago.” You shiver as his laugh vibrates through you, his hands moving to unclasp the bra before nudging at you to lay down so he can hover over you, your arms above your head as you look at each other longingly. “Our food will get cold, baby.”

“There's only one thing I'm hungry for right now.” Hongjoong breathes, holding himself up with one hand as he dips his head, taking one nipple in his mouth while his fingers scratch gently and pinch at the other. The ministration makes your back arch, one hand returning to his hair to tug at the strands. It earns you a pretty little moan, Hongjoong switching his mouth to the opposite nipple. Teeth graze over the sensitive bud and you gasp, hips bucking up suddenly and letting you feel just how hard your boyfriend already is for you. Hongjoong laughs, pulling away to kiss you. “I love how responsive you are to my mouth, princess.”

“I'm responsive to you, Hongjoong, not just your mouth.” You manage to breathe back, tongue wetting your lips when he pulls away. 

“Well, I plan on using my mouth thoroughly first.” Hongjoong grins down at you, starting to trail bites and kisses down your body. When he gets low enough, his teeth clasp onto the fabric of the panties and tug. Unable to help yourself you prop up on your elbows to watch him, hips lifting just enough to aid his task. His eyes stay locked on you as he works the fabric down. Once it's low enough, he uses his hands to finish removing it, kissing up the inside of your thigh. “Mhmm, how many times should I drive you over that edge, hmm? My precious girl.”

You can't help but reach out to card your hand through his hair again, licking your lips. “As long as I get a chance to reciprocate in between. It's not just about me, baby.” 

“I could get off just listening to your noises, Y/N. You know that.”

“Mm, but I like getting you off in other ways.” You fire back. “My cowboy needs some physical touch, too.” You're more than aware of the shiver than runs through his body, picking up the hat to put it back on his head. “Let me ride you like a good girl, yeah? What is it they say? Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” The words seem to break his will to debate, arms wrapping around your thighs and tugging you towards his face.

“Let me taste you first. I want you to fall apart on my tongue before you go on your ride. Be a good girl and speak up for me.” He doesn't give you a chance to respond, mouth enveloping your folds and swirling his tongue around your clit. Having him between your legs like this is nothing new, he loves getting to please you in this way, but the hat sits just so that he can look up at you and yet you couldn't see him, which somehow added to your arousal. One hand moves up to lace his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand as he moans. The sound vibrates into your body, making you wetter as your eyes close and you moan in return.

“Fuck, Joong, baby,” you know you can't last long after the build up, and it doesn't bother Hongjoong at all, he sucks harder at your clit, sliding two fingers between your folds as he continues. The sensations are too much and not enough, your body unable to decide if it wants to pull away or press closer. Hongjoong obviously senses it, adjusting so he's hovering better over your core, slowly adding a third finger before scissoring them. Your back comes off the bed as you cry out, eyes closing as you grip at the sheets and your head slams back onto the bed. You're right on the edge, feeling your body quake from how tight the coil of your pleasure is. “Joong, mm, Hongjoong, fuck, don't stop, please baby, don't stop.” It’s obvious he has every intention of having you hit that first orgasm quickly, his mouth sucking harder as his hand speeds up at your pleas. It doesn't take much longer before your legs fight against his hold, your release spilling on his fingers and tongue while you half scream his name. He doesn't stop though, making sure you ride out the high as he takes every bit you give him, moaning like he's just had his favorite meal. When you whine, he pulls away, knowing it means you've become too sensitive.

“Did your cowboy do good?”

“So good.” You pant, watching him with half-lidded eyes. “But it's my turn now, Joong.” He smirks up at you, moving onto the bed so he can kiss you deeply, swiping his tongue over your lower lip to ask for entrance. You open your mouth eagerly, letting him make you taste yourself as you moan into the kiss, pulling at his shirt to hold him close. His hands lift to start unbuttoning his shirt but you smack at his hand. “No.” you whine. “Let me taste you while you're still like this, please? You can take it off when you fuck me, I just want to see you fall apart like this.” You beg, fingers already working open his jeans as you start to slide off the bed and try to tug him over. His hands catch your wrists, however, a stern command escaping his lips as your knees touch the floor. 

“No, baby girl, get up from there.”

“But-”

“Y/N, I didn’t say no. I just don’t want you on the hotel floor like a common whore.”

“But I’m your whore, Captain.” you counter, grinning when the name makes his gaze darken. “I don’t mind being on my knees for you like a good girl.”

“Princess, we’ve already been over this.” His grip at your wrists tightens and he tugs you up to standing, getting off the bed himself to look down at you from your height difference. He leans in, swiping his tongue up your neck and grazing his teeth over your pulse before growling quietly in your ear, the sound alone making you shiver. “You may be my whore, but you will not sully yourself on the floor of hotel rooms. So if you’re so intent on sliding my cock down that pretty little throat of yours,” he pauses to dip his head to the other side, biting hard at where your neck and shoulder meet, smirking at the moan you make and the way your body quivers before he lifts his lips to your ear again. “Get your ass back on the bed like a good girl.” 

The obedience is immediate, you crawling onto the bed the moment he releases the hold on your wrists, tongue wetting your lips as you wait patiently for him to join you. You sit back with your legs tucked underneath, hands clenching as you lower your gaze for a moment. When he moves to join you on the bed, he slides his jeans down just enough to reveal the boxers underneath, leaving the clothing on per your request as he settles on the bed and leans back against the headboard. You can feel his gaze on you, a shiver of pleasure down your spine as he hums appreciatively at your nude form before opening his arms. 

“Come here, darling girl. Let me kiss you.”

You move closer to him, scooting up the bed and letting him guide you between his legs so he can lean into him, sealing your lips together. You moan as his fingers wind their way into your hair, his nails becoming claws to faintly scratch over your scalp. This kiss is heated, Hongjoong dominating the contact with ease as he holds you to him. Your hands move lower, fingers brushing over the outline of his cock through the boxers he wears. “Please, Joong,” you beg between kisses, voice little more than a whine. “My Captain, my soulmate, please.”

Hongjoong hums, the sound vibrating in his chest as he swipes his tongue over your lips again. “What is it, my precious? What do you want from Captain, hmm?” He’s mocking you, and you know it, but it’s so undeniably sexy because he saves the sexual torment specifically for you. “Use your words, be a good girl for me, yeah?”

One hand moves shamelessly over his erection, whining helplessly as you press just faintly against the bulge. “Let me taste you, please. I need it.”

“Mm, look at you, begging so pretty for me.” he smirks as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth, and you’re very aware of the way he’s completely dropped his human facade, fangs catching your skin as he tugs your lip teasingly. “So good and obedient. I haven’t even given you my cock but you’re already drunk on it.”

“Drunk on you, Hongjoong.” you weakly correct, whimpering as one hand reaches up to wrap around your throat for a moment. 

“Yeah, it’s just my presence making you so wet and needy?” he tilts his head, crimson eyes glowing and he smirks at you, and you’re very aware of the way you can feel the emotions between each other.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand covering the one he has at your throat. “Please, Joong. Please let me have you in my mouth. I can be such a good girl, please.”

“Oh, I know you can be. You’re always so good, even when you’re getting punished.” Hongjoong growls, leaning to kiss you roughly. “Have your fill, my princess. I’ll let you enjoy my cock.”

You almost collapse into his lap, thanking him wildly as your hands move to slide the boxers down and let his shaft free. There’s already precum glistening on the tip and you lean to swipe your tongue over it, proud when you hear Hongjoong moan and his length twitches under your touch. You start slowly, lowering your mouth over him through a few breaths through your nose, waiting until his shaft grazes the back of your throat before moaning. Hongjoong has one hand gripping the sheets, claws tugging at the fabric as the other moves to pull your hair from your face. 

“Look at you, knowing how to use your mouth like a good little slut.” Hongjoong both praises and degrades, fully aware of the way you squirm at the words. “You like making me writhe for you, don’t you? Like watching me while you fuck me with your mouth?” The hand in the sheets moves as the other tugs at your hair, pulling you from his length enough to brush his fingers over your lips while one of your hands wraps around him to stroke him while he holds you away from the length. “I showed you how good it feels, and now you love to do it, huh?” He watches as you nod. 

“I like seeing how good it makes you feel,” your voice is rough, but you hold his eyes, smirking at him. “I love the way you moan and hiss, the way you praise me for pleasing you right.”

“You do love to be praised, huh?” Hongjoong mocks, hips rocking up into your hand as he speaks. “You get so wet and needy when I tell you you’re doing a good job. My perfect mate, my good girl, always being so attentive to my reactions. I taught you so well, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Captain.” you reply.

“I should reward you, princess.”

You shake your head a little. “Not yet, please. Let me be a good girl and please you first.”

“You’re already being such a good girl, though, Y/N.” He teases, but when you once more shake your head, he smirks at you. “Ahhh, I know what it is you want. You want us even before I fill you with my cock, don’t you? You want me to cum all over your tits so I can clean up my mess, yeah?” When you moan with a near-frantic nod, legs squeezing together as you lick your lips, he hums thoughtfully.

“Yes,” you beg, eyes closing. “Yes, please, Hongjoong. My soul, my captain, my love.” Your hand still works over him, and you know he’s aware of the way he’s leaking precum, his eyes never leaving yours. He then nods, relaxing the hold on your hair so you can once more dive onto him, hollowing your cheeks every few bobs of your head to further spur him to his first end. You recognize the way his head tilts back, the way his legs fall open even more, how his hips roll erratically up into your mouth. Suddenly, his hand tightens and pulls you up, a string of saliva connecting your now swollen lips to his throbbing member. Your hand returns to stroking him, adjust so your chest hovers near his shaft. His free hand moves to join your own at his length, applying just a little more pressure as he watches you.

“Can’t wait to see you painted in my cum, to clean up your tits while you ride my cock.” he pants, body quaking as he gets closer. A few more pumps from your hands and his release hits him, coating your breasts in his seed as his head falls back and whacks the headboard, his eyes closed as he breathes. “Fuck, princess,” he huffs, opening his eyes to smirk down at you. “Such a good job. Couldn’t have asked for a better mate than my magic girl.”

You giggle breathlessly, moving to close his legs so you can tug at his pants, smirking up at him as he comes down from his high, watching you as he catches his breath. “I love when I get to see you like this.”

“Drained of every fluid and aching for more of you?” Hongjoong jokes, his eyes still glowing even in the light of the hotel room. 

You shake your head, letting the denim and the boxers fall to the side of the bed, scooting up to straddle him while your fingers begin unbuttoning the shirt. “Your true form, Hongjoong. The demon I fell in love with.”

“I fell in love with you first, you know.” Hongjoong sits up to help you slide the shirt off, hands then roaming over your body. “The first time you asked to see this form, I knew I was lost on you. You stole my heart when I didn’t even think I had one to steal.” he tilted his head to kiss at your shoulder and up to your neck, his claws teasing over your skin. “That’s why I can never get enough of you, my princess.”

“Is that why I have a mating scar and a ring?” you teased, sliding up to drag the pads of your fingers over his shaft, the contact easily stirring it back to life, hardening under your knowledgeable touch.

“You have both because you said yes,” Hongjoong countered with a moan as his arousal spiked again, biting at your pulse as your fingers caressed over his length. “You have them because I love you and my soul is yours. The sex is just a bonus.” You can’t help but laugh, adjusting so you can ease his semi-hard (and getting harder) length into your folds, both of you moaning as you became one. The moment he bottomed out, Hongjoong was pulling you into a deep kiss, hands on your hips as he devoured your mouth before dipping his head to swipe his tongue through the sticky mess still coating your breasts. “I could go so many rounds and not need a break. You feel and sound so good.”

“We still need sleep, my beloved demon.” you breathed, tilting your head to kiss at his neck. “We have a flight in the morning.”

“Then let’s make sure your ride lasts.” Hongjoong smirks as he looks at you, leaning to to swipe another bit of his own release from your chest. “Because I am so far from done with you.”

“All this from some lace lingerie? Maybe I should buy more.”

“You started this, my precious girl.”

You make a point to lift your hips and drop without warning, smirking as Hongjoong almost screams out a moan. “Don’t get it twisted, Hongjoong. You started this when you decided to flaunt around in a full cowboy outfit like I wasn’t going to devoid you over it.” 

He responds by picking his hat up from the bed where it had fallen, placing it on your head with a smirk. “I’ll wear it anytime you want me to, gorgeous.”

“What if I just want you in the hat, hmm?” you ask, laughing out a moan as he begins to guide you on him, the two of you falling into a rhythm as he watches you. 

“I’m your cowboy, remember?”

“Yeah? Let me save a few horses, huh?”

Hongjoong smirks, fangs showing as he tugs you against him into a kiss, which allows him to change the angle of his hips as he picks up the pace to hear you moan more. “You can ride me anytime, Y/N. Day or night.”

[maximwtf]

“Fret not, all will be well.”

Xianyun x Reader

Words: 2k

Google Docs Pages: 3

Warnings: chronic (joint) pain but I guess the mentions are very brief, could just go as a sickfic, hurt/comfort angst you know the usual. Mother is mothering

Opening: Having been Xianyun’s disciple for years, you finally move to the harbour. Though, trips to Mt. Aocang to see your master started to feel like a chore after your body started to ache. Word of this pain spread to her unknownst to you. This making the adeptus seek you out. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! Oh no, is that another very self indulgent fanfic I see?! Yes. But these help with the bane of my existence so I might as well keep making them. This also gives me a chance to learn how to write for her, because I’m a firm believer that more content of her is needed :”D. I found her way of speaking hard to follow up on without hearing her talk constantly, so I apologise if any of her lines seem off. 

I proof read this fairly quickly, so any mistakes are on that.

“Fret not, all will be well.”

After years of studying the adeptus arts with Cloud Retainer, you moved back to Liyue Harbour. Got yourself a comfortable house to live in, and built your new life around there. From time to time you would still visit the all too familiar mountain that your master ruled. You’d sometimes bring in notes and greetings from Shenhe and Ganyu whenever they couldn’t find the time in their busy lives to visit the crane. An overall nice set up you’d gotten yourself into. 

You couldn’t deny that the scenery along the way to Mt. Aocang was also beautiful, bringing you joy as you made your way each time. As rough as the trip from time to time was, it was always worth it in the end. You could tell the visits delighted the adeptus living alone, bringing her peace of mind to hear that her disciples were doing alright. 

Though as of recent, you had found it hard to make it all the way to her. Body aching badly enough to not even make you dare to try. You began giving your regards to Cloud Retainer through Ganyu or Shenhe instead, staying home and working as you’d usually. Though, as much as you had hoped otherwise, the condition seemed to worsen over time. 

But even with life getting harder due to the aches, you couldn’t find it in you to complain. After all, you lived comfortably and didn’t feel the need to bother anyone with this. Maybe even still hoping that this would eventually pass. That having been one of the main reasons why you hadn’t told Cloud Retainer why you stopped visiting her like you’d done in the past. 

But even with the hopeful mindset, you had to admit to yourself that doing daily tasks had become more challenging. You'd already taken a few days off work to rest, but that hadn’t helped as much as you had hoped. Your form ached just as much each morning, having to find the extra courage to get up and prepare breakfast. 

So in hindsight, the fact that the news of your worsening condition had spread shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise as you’d taken it as. Especially with how close you were with the people around you. Them figuring out something was wrong was no surprise. 

Though, you didn’t notice any of that happening. Being busy enough with keeping your daily routines together. 

And that was exactly what you were doing this morning. Sitting up from your bed with muffled groans, eyes tired from the lack of sleep. With a yawn you attempted to gently stretch, wiping your eyes to maybe rub away the exhaustion behind them. You didn’t know if it ever actually went away at this point, but you stayed hopeful. 

As normal as this morning had been so far, it was going to turn upside down soon enough. And that happened as soon as a knock echoed from your front door. It alerted you, chasing away the last bits of sleep from your mind as you took a hold of your nightstand to stand up. 

You stumbled with the first few steps, cursing to yourself silently before shaking the nagging attitude off for whoever was at your door. With a deep breath you tried to pull something that resembled a smile on your face before opening the door to see who was on the other side. But that facade of a smile soon fell when you saw your master standing outside, patiently waiting for you. 

Your eyes widened for a brief moment, trying to quickly collect yourself as to not embarrass yourself in front of her. “Good morning, master.” You began, watching as her keen eyes looked around your house quickly before landing on you. “May one come in? Perhaps join you for breakfast?” She asked, a polite invitation with a clear hidden meaning. But who were you to decline her offer, after not being able to go and see her yourself for such a long time. “Ah, of course. Come in.” You mentally sighed, stepping out of her way as she walked through the threshold. 

Her feather-like clothing swayed smoothly as she made her way to your kitchen, seeing how messy it looked. You cringed at seeing the dishes you’d avoided cleaning, knowing it would put a strain on your body and even the thought of that felt unwelcoming. But it most certainly was not a good look for you in her eyes. But she was kind enough not to mention it, hiding the scowl mixed frown from her face before turning to you. 

“Word of you got to one, making one wish to come and see you.” Xianyun said, seating herself on one of the chairs gracefully. You didn't know what she was talking about. Not having any memory of talking to Ganyu or Shenhe about yourself, you weren’t so sure what she’d heard and from who. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, master,” you replied before turning your back to her in an attempt to prepare tea for the both of you. Still fully listening to what she had to say. “One heard you had fallen ill, thus making you unable to visit.” She said, voice observant as she watched you gently. You cringed at the explanation, assuming the people around you must have spread the word around. “Ah, I see. Well, worry not for I am perfectly fine.” You hummed, taking a hold of the cups with a low hiss. You hadn’t had the time in the morning to mend yourself into a better shape before making something to eat. So these tasks hurt to do, but there was no way to explain this to Cloud Retainer in simple means. 

But perhaps you didn’t have to explain. The hiss and careful movements must have been enough for her to form a deeper frown on her face once more. “One does not recall teaching one’s disciples to lie, hm.” She said with a huff, some offence in her tone but you knew it wasn’t serious. You were more worried when you heard her stand up. You swallowed hard, turning to see her after placing down the cups. “One may not know every mortal illness, but that does not mean one is blind.” She continued, placing her hands to her hips. You weren’t sure what she was looking to gain from this, drawing in a deep breath. There was no way out of this with her. You’d have to explain what had been going on. 

You leaned on the kitchen counter, looking away from her as you collected your thoughts. “Well, I wasn’t necessarily lying when I said I was fine. It’s merely some joint pain.” Cloud Retainer gave you a look, tilting her head a little as if to point to the mess in your kitchen. Not to even mention the rest of the house. “Well- It may or may not stop me from doing certain tasks sometimes, but it honestly is nothing to worry yourself over.” You sighed, not sure if you were trying to defend yourself or make her worry less. “One does not worry themselves, one merely came to see where you had been,” she huffed but after reading her expression it wasn’t hard to tell that she was only keeping up appearances with the comment. She had come here for exactly what you accused her of, worry. 

There was no getting through to her. You sighed, shaking your head gently before giving in. “Very well. It hurts enough to have stopped me from climbing the mountain to come and see you. And maybe it also affected the appearance of my living space.” You huffed, turning your eyes to her form, giving her a strong ‘you happy now?’ look. And in return she gave you a moment of deep silence before crossing her arms over her chest. “Words of comfort are not one’s strong suit, but allow one to prepare the tea for you. We shall sit and talk after.” She said, and without another word you understood the look she was giving you as ‘go sit down’. And that you did with no further complaints. 

You abandoned the kitchen, not wanting to sit in silence in the same space as her as the water slowly boiled. So you retreated to the nearest couch, huddling up on it to the best of your ability. You’d figured a while back that sitting with your legs criss crossed or straight were the only two pain free ways of sitting. So, choosing to cross your legs, you waited for your master to come back. And whatever entailed when she did.

In no time the sound of her heels alerted you, the sound getting closer and soon a warm mug was placed on the table in front of you. Xianyun herself sat on a stool you kept under the table, crossing her legs. 

Taking a hold of the mug, it warmed up your hands. Not even having noticed how cold your hands  had gotten, it felt nice. Bringing it up made the steam hit your face, but it wasn’t too hot, making you confirm that the tea probably wasn’t too hot not to drink. So you took a sip, holding back a wider smile at the taste. It reminded you of the tea you used to have with her back when you’d just started as her disciple. The teas she made had a specific taste that you couldn’t chase whenever you made it. At some point having started to believe that perhaps it was the effect that happened when you ate any food someone else had made. It just tasted better. And so did the tea she prepared, bringing back pleasant memories. 

But that train of thought was interrupted as she spoke up, placing her mug down gently. “One had time to ponder on your condition. One believes there may be a stronger medicine one could prepare for you in order to relieve the pain. One also feels the need to remind you, that one is always here for you. You need not but reach out.” She spoke, a sense of comfort in her words which somehow managed to embarrass you. 

You gulp down the rest of the tea, placing down the mug to reply to her properly. “You need not do that for me, if it’s any trouble-” You started, but she raised her hand slightly, shaking her head. “Nonsense. One wishes to help, it is no trouble. So fret not, all will be well.” And the way she managed to word everything out brought a sense of comfort that overpowered the embarrassment. Perhaps she was correct, all would be well if you had someone helping you. So you agreed with a nod. “Alright. Thank you, Cloud Retainer,” you added, a tired yet grateful expression on your face. 

A short, rather awkward silence fell upon the two of you. As if she wanted to say something but wasn’t so sure how. “Hm, as eloquent as one may be, there is not much more I can say. So allow one to tidy up here and you take a rest. One will wake you up in due time.” She requested but truly there was nothing you could say to protest against her. She was going to do it regardless. “You really do not have to,” you mumbled while laying down carefully, reaching down for a felt. You groaned lowly at the action, shoulder not giving out enough to unravel it. “One does not feel obligated to, fret not.” She replied, even as rhetorical as your silent comment had been. But almost as if automatically while speaking, she’d gotten up enough to unravel the felt for you before turning towards the kitchen. You blinked a couple of times at her action, not mentioning anything of it as you huddled to a more comfortable position. You’d thank her once you woke up again, was the last thought you had before the sleep you’d been losing recently caught up with you. 

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Lights Go Out I Wake Up

König is my sweet little baby and I love him dearly. Enjoy some more Phantom of the Opera!König as he watches reader. He's a bit creepy, but he's also my little creepy baby. Also, this story has a very different interpretation of Carlotta. I thought it might be nice to have women supporting women this time. Or well, one woman being a support. Anna, who you have yet to meet, is not so nice at all.

Also, König learns he has competition! He's not too happy about that.

Anyways,

No Content Warnings

Wordcount: 2.4k

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

Lights Go Out I Wake Up

You looked up in the balconies of the opera house expectantly. You tried to see if he was there. Maybe, if you were lucky, you might see a flap of his cape or a glimpse of the crimson ribbons of his mask. You desperately searched but, as always, it was to no avail.

You turned back to the stage where the primadonna was on center stage. She flicked her long blond tresses over her shoulder as she reached out to the audience, serenading them with her warbling soprano voice. You were drawn into the siren’s song, listening to each staccato note followed by a sweeping drop, each rise and fall of her tone as she sang out the tune to The Magic Flute. She attacked, she defended, she swooped and she swelled with the song as she traversed across the stage.

You smiled softly. You would never be like Carlotta, not in a thousand years. She was leagues above anyone in the house, hands down. Men traveled halfway across the world to bear witness to her voice and her visage. By the final notes of the song, the stage had been outlined with a row of roses, each bouquet from a different suitor fighting for her hand. Carlotta’s voice masterfully lulled each one of them into an enchanted hypnotic state. You followed her movements, trying your best to memorize each and every single flick of her fingers or swoop of her wine red dress as she sang out to the crowds. In that moment, Carlotta had placed the dagger in your hands and sang to you of rage, hatred, scorn. You, Pamina, watched as your mother told you her plans and urged you to slay the sorcerer. You watched her, her passion and beauty overwhelming as she came to a crescendo of the song, the make-or-break of the piece, the part that broke many a singer’s voice before.

Carlotta’s face was clear and relaxed as she hit the high notes, a beautiful crystal clear attack, receding briefly only to sharply hit it again and again before swaying onwards. One of the most brilliantly technical pieces of opera written for a soprano, and yet Carlotta seemed to be floating as she swept across the stage. She was above it all as she magically twisted the song to her delight.

As always, you were floored.

Carlotta was the greatest opera singer to ever come from the British Isles. At least, that was your opinion. The true beauty of Carlotta though was not her voice, nor was it her impeccable diamond-cut beauty. The beauty of Carlotta was her loving eye. She looked into the crowd and you could see her love for them in every smile she gave them. She was the queen of the stage and you would never dare to steal her title. As always, she looked at home here, presented for thousands to admire. She was the songbird of the Vienna State Opera, but this building was her cage.

When she had finished, she left the stage with tears in her eyes. You immediately took her in her arms and hushed her.

“I don’t want it to be over,” she sniffed as she held you tight.

“We’ll still keep in touch,” you assorted her.

“We both know it’s not the same,” she held you tightly, then released you back to the darkness of the workshop.

“We can message each other online,” you tried to explain but she wasn’t having it.

“I won’t be able to teach you anymore,” she bemoaned, “and then you won’t have anyone to help you with Anna.”

“I don’t need help with Anna,” you huffed.

Carlotta gave you a look, “Darling, we both know that’s a lie.”

You frowned, but followed her back to the dressing rooms. You flipped on a single light, keeping the room only barely lit enough to be able to see yourself in the mirror. Meanwhile, Carlotta sat at her vanity and flicked on the lights to get a better look at her own beauty. You watched her slowly wipe off the theater makeup while she sat at her vanity. She drummed her fingers on her cheeks in a light massage as she cooled down from the performance.

“So, do you know what you’ll do when you get home?” you leaned on the wall beside the vanity.

“Go to my parents probably,” Carlotta said as she put a dab of skin lotion on her fingers, “they’ve missed me. I’ve missed this little cafe in London that makes the best butter tarts. I hope they’re still open…”

“If they make the best butter tarts, why wouldn’t they be?” you asked.

“Everything goes too fast in London. One day you see a new hat shop, the next day it’s a tourist trap. There’s never a dry day in London!” Carlotta gave you a quick grin before dabbing at her temples again, “and I miss it. Vienna is nice, but it’s not home.”

“I thought you said Madrid was your home,” you pointed out.

“I was born in Madrid but I was raised in London,” Carlotta explained, “I moved there when I was eight. I only visited Spain when going to see my family, but other than that I was at home in London.”

“You know, you’re the only english woman I’ve ever heard be nostalgic about London,” you mused, “everybody else calls it a tar pit.”

“Oh it’s a tar pit alright,” Carlotta laughed, “but it’s my tar pit.”

You smiled as she went through the rest of her routine, unwinding her hair from its high knot and gently sloughing the great billowing red dress to change into a sleek pair of leggings and a turtleneck. She tossed her blond hair over her shoulders, casting you a sad look as she watched you take off your own clothes.

“I don’t have much longer to teach you,” she sighed.

“Well, it’s not like I need the teaching,” you pointed out, “I’m not your protege. I’m just a backup singer.”

“But you have the voice for a lead,” Carlotta countered, “you have it! Oh stop laughing, I’m serious! You can do it! Anna can do it, but she’s not a natural. You are.”

“I can’t handle that much pressure,” you sighed.

“But you can!” Carlotta sighed, “I just… I wish I could take you home with me. I could train you, give you a position at the RBO, we could do it! You could be a star!”

You shook your head sadly, “I’m not a star though. I’m lucky I even got my parts here.”

Carlotta clenched her lily-white fists in her lap. Her big wide eyes narrowed into feline slits. She looked angry, frustrated, but most of all, disappointed as she whispered, “You don’t know what you’re throwing away, do you?”

“I just know that it's best if I stick to my own lanes,” you grumbled.

Carlotta’s eyes never left you as she pursed her cherry red lips. In the dim light, she looked like a perfect angel, much like the ones painted above. She clenched her hands together, then let them relax with a sigh.

“You’ll keep up your lessons with me?” she asked hopefully.

You nodded and sat on a nearby stool, “Of course. I love your lessons.”

Carlotta smiled thinly, “I love them too.”

You watched as she slipped her necklace back over her swan neck. The bright glint of ruby reminded you of the stage curtains she wrapped herself in. You couldn’t imagine Carlotta as anything other than a singer. She was born for the stage, after all. Her entire childhood had been preparing her for the opera house, following in the footsteps of her mother and her mother before her.

How you wished you could follow in her footsteps.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know,” you sighed.

“I’m going to miss my best student,” Carlotta gave you a somber smile.

“We’ll keep in touch, right?”

Carlotta flashed her award-winning smile, “I have all your socials; I’m not letting you get away from me that easily!”

You chuckled as you walked around the room, searching for a small brown box.

Carlotta got up to peek over your shoulder to admire the empty wrappers tucked under your shawl.

“Well,” she crowed, “looks like tubby got his treat after all!”

“Tubby?” you scoffed, “the phantom isn’t fat!”

“Well that’s what everybody else says,” Carlotta pointed out,” and if he’s eating candies and chocolates all day long then he’s bound to be… Well, you know… Tubby.”

“I’m telling you,” you rolled your eyes, “when I saw him he was skinny as a rake.”

“As a rake?” Carlotta raised a perfect eyebrow, “not a tractor mower?”

“No he’s skinny! Honestly, I should probably put out something a bit more substantial for him…” you muttered.

“Oh you’re going to go and make the phantom home cooked meals now, are you?” Carlotta smirked.

You huffed as a blush crossed your cheeks, “Well, maybe it would be nice.”

Carlotta hummed as she watched you go dispose of the wrappers. When you sat back down, Carlotta gave you a sagely nod.

“Well, if you get this phantom on a diet maybe he won’t be so afraid to show himself,” Carlotta shrugged, “who knows, maybe you could introduce us. You do seem to be his favorite.”

“Me?” you twittered awkwardly, “I don’t know about that…”

“Oh I know!” Carlotta laughed, “whenever you’re on stage the reviews are all five stars! I think the reason you’re being cast so often is that the managers are noticing how well we do when you’re on stage!”

You huffed, “You’re saying it’s not my skills as a performer drawing in the reviews?”

Carlotta bristled, “No I’m not saying that!” she relaxed as she took your hand in hers, “I’m saying that the phantom has a liking for you. I love you, but one particularly good background singer isn’t going to turn the tides of an entire production. You don’t ensure that lights magically keep working. Hell, one lead girl, Hannah I think but you’d have to check with her, her mic went out halfway through a performance. Not a single person noticed until they were doing audio checks after the performance! It was incredible!”

“Wait, you’re talking about the time we did Faust, right?” you asked.

“Yes that’s the one!” Carlotta grinned, “I’m telling you that something’s special about you when you’re on stage. Everybody else says you’re a lucky charm, but I think that a certain someone is watching over you.”

You looked away to try and hide your flushed face, “Well, maybe. But if he really liked me, wouldn’t he maybe introduce himself? I only saw him once…”

“I’m telling you,” Carlotta said primly, “he’s afraid you’ll think he’s fat! Either that or he’s an actual ghost, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I thought Henry was the ghost hunter around here?” you elbowed her lightly.

“What I said stays between us!” Carlotta warned you.

“Sure,” you smirked, “whatever you say.”

“You know, you should show more respect for your teacher,” Carlotta sniffed.

“I thought you were Anna’s teacher?” you pointed out.

Carlotta groaned and rubbed her temples irritably, “Well she’s no star either. If it weren’t part of my contract here I would’ve dropped her ages ago. She’s…”

“She’s something else,” you supplied.

“Oh she sure is…” Carlotta grumbled as she leaned her elbows onto the vanity, “at least I get one decent student out of this contract.”

You smiled, “I try to be.”

Carlotta turned to face you again with a ghost of a smile, “You are.”

You chatted easily in the dressing room, swapping stories of theater hijinks and arguing over the stature of the phantom of the opera late into the night. As you left for the night, you wondered once again if you had actually seen the phantom so long ago. Was it really true? Did you actually see the phantom, or was that just another performer? You suspected you’d never know for sure. You just hoped that you’d actually seen the whole event. You’d started to wonder if you were hallucinating the entire time.

You shut the door and locked it as you left.

Inside the room, König drifted from the corner of the dark room to your vanity. He heard voices coming from the alley behind him. Carefully, he used a nail he’d stolen earlier to tack a small letter to the corner of your mirror before ducking behind a panel in the wall. He noted that the gap was terribly small, far too small for a ‘tubby’ man to fit through. If that Carlotta wasn’t such a good teacher, well… König shook his head of the thoughts. As long as Carlotta was good to you, he’d be sure to watch over her too. His personal offense could wait another day if it meant ensuring you’d be safe in the opera house. He could be the ‘enormously fat rat’ as long as he could continue to watch your performances.

He hid behind the wall as the next group of singers swanned through the door. He listened to them titter about, laughing and giggling after such a successful showing. He heard a small gasp, and listened close.

“Look at that!” a girl said aloud.

“Look at what?” another asked.

“On the Songbird’s vanity! There’s a note!”

“Should we take a look?”

König bristled.

“No, no we shouldn’t. Let’s just ask her about it later.”

“Do you think it’s a lover?”

A scoff.

“I don’t think so. She’s not exactly a lovable sort.”

König rolled his eyes.

“Well, maybe. There’s that one guy who’s always asking about her.”

“Oh, that Makarov guy?”

That got König’s attention.

“Yeah, the russian guy. He’s always watching Songbird, you know? I’ve heard he only gets tickets when Songbird’ll be on stage.”

“You think he got backstage to pin a note for her?”

“Maybe, or he might’ve given it to a stagehand to do it for him. Either way, it’s so romantic!”

“Well, if it’s really Makarov behind that, Songbird’s got another thing coming for her.”

“You think so?”

“Oh I know so! Makarov… Well, he’s not a good man. Let’s just hope it’s anybody but Makarov.”

König glanced around in the dark. Makarov? Who was this Makarov? Why was he interested in his little Songbird?

He didn’t bother to hide his footsteps as he crawled away, too focussed on the new man to notice how the girls went silent as he left.

“Was that the phantom?” someone asked.

“Maybe. What’re your thoughts he wrote the letter?”

“A ghost writing a letter? Now I know you’re making things up.”

“Who knows, maybe he did. Can you imagine it? A phantom falling in love with our little Songbird?”

Someone hummed carefully, “Something tells me that’s not too far off the truth.”

König dump

Alternate Universes

[aziraphales-library]

Hi,

Could I ask for some roommate fics? A little pining is great but I'm not a huge fan of too much angst.

There is one roommate fic I remember that I'd love to find again, it was set during lockdown, and azirphale was a virgin but was talking to Agnes on zoom with plans to date. Crowley offers to teach him about sex, and it gets physical, even though they're straight buddies ..of course. 😏

Thankyou

We have a #roommates tag. Here's the one you're looking for and a few more to add...

Not a Mounted Dildo but a Fuck Machine by NaroMoreau, summerofspock (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley have lived together for three years when lockdown goes into effect. When Aziraphale meets a nice girl on Tinder who he thinks is his perfect match, he's delighted. There's just one hurdle: that pesky virginity thing. Lucky for him, Crowley has always been there for him. He's helped Aziraphale with every other problem through the years, why not this one?

Tinder Dates Gone Wrong by OceanLace (E)

Aziraphale decides to take a risk and brings a man home but doesn't realize that his roommate and best friend had the same idea. Things don't turn out the way either of them were expecting but end up exactly how they wanted.

Principles of Proximity by Cannebady (E)

Crowley's plan is to get through grad school in one piece and then live his bachelor dream life. With a less-than-wholesome upbringing and no real human ties to speak of, he's made a life for himself. It's just fine, actually. And he's fine too, while you're at it. Enter new roommate, Aziraphale, who just might teach him the benefits of putting down roots.

…And They Were Roommates by Mimsynims (E)

“You know… I just remembered that Richard and I were going away for a few days next month.” Something devious came over him. “Richard paid for it, but the booking is in my name.” Crowley quickly caught on to what he was getting at. “Ooh, I see. That’s convenient.” He grinned. “For us." When Aziraphale's boyfriend Richard (Dick) breaks up with him, he and his roommate Crowley hijacks an intended couples' vacation and uses it for themselves. Lines that had started to blur even before their trip gets even more blurry - which perhaps isn't the best thing when both are hiding a crush on the other (and communication isn't their strong suit).

make it with you by NaroMoreau (E)

PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY: A romantic couples study!! ------ Aziraphale and Crowley are broke roommates who are struggling to keep up with rent and a harsh landlord. After Crowley loses his job and Aziraphale's bookshop hasn't managed to make enough profit, they'll resort to anything to save what they love, and when they come across with the idea of a paid study for couples... Because some ideas are good until they aren't.

You Can Stay At My Place (And We Can Fall in Love) by IneffableToreshi (E)

Anthony Crowley is an art student with a heart of gold and a broad assumption about himself and his own (apparent lack-of) sexuality. When he meets literary student Aziraphale, he thinks he's found a great friend and possibly the perfect roommate. But when an exceptionally idiotic idea turns into Aziraphale reluctantly agreeing to pretend to be Crowley's boyfriend, Crowley rapidly realizes that he may not have been nearly so asexual as he originally thought...

10,000 Hours by AnnaTheHank (E)

Rich playboy Anthony Crowley has finally broken the last straw. He's been disowned by his grandmother, and turned away by his family. With no money and no where to go, he heads to the old family cabin to lay low until it all blows over. Romance writer A.Z. Fell has been given use of her publisher's cabin to get away from the city and work on her newest book-her first erotica. Neither expected the other to be there, but there they both were. And AZ finds that Crowley's vast knowledge of sex may just make up for her own lacking knowledge when it comes to writing her book.

- Mod D

[goddessofpredators]

"In this unboxing video, I'm going to open up my Library Doll!"

"Miss Gigi is, of course, a limited edition Dolly, because there's only one. It's 5'8" tall, and the packaging is very nice. Collector's edition. It's in a nice little boxed case with this Magnificent artwork of a gorgeous Dolly on the front. She's a Beautiful, Porcelain Doll, with a fat build, a cute little cock, purple hair, and glasses. She does have a ton of outfits available, which are sold separately. The overall shape of the box is designed to look like a book, complete with little indents on the side resembling pages. and the flap is the cover."

"Now, the cover latches tight with velcro, and if you open it, you see, instead of the pages of the book, here It is. She's packaged very neatly, behind a plastic mirror, and her entire body is intact, no assembly required accept for the accessories. You can already see how well-sculpted she is, from the contours of porcelain flesh to all the lovely points of articulation. You can Its accessories in there too, a collar and a pair of bunny ears, like It's wearing on the cover art."

"Now, I'm just gonna carefully slice open the little stickers keeping It shut with my claws, like so, I don't want to damage this box, since it's so nice, but thankfully it's not hard to get in."

"And I'm just gonna slide It out..."

"Behind her packaging, we've got her instruction manual, that's super hefty, so many mantras and forms… I'm excited to play around with all of them. And awww, that's cute! Certificate of Ownership, one Magnificent Miss Gigi! Yay!!! Just gonna write my name there real quick…"

"Done! Property of the Goddess of Predators! Hee hee hee..."

"She's tied into the plastic packing material with a bunch of twist ties, these things are always so annoying, and I right? But thankfully there's not too many, or many rubber bands, I honestly think those are worse. I'm just gonna pop out her accessories real quick.. I've got her collar, it clicks like a real collar, and it looks like there's a hook for a leash to attach. There's her ears, those are too cute for words. Oh, and I didn't see this, there's a little baggy with her glasses! Nice!"

"So, now I've just gotta pop It out…"

(I press against the back of the plastic…)

Pop!!!

"It comes out Perfectly!"

"That's always so satisfying, isn't it? And look, It stands so well! Its joints aren't too loose, though apparently there is a limp mode…"

"Fuck, It's Gorgeous, isn't it? All those wonderful forms and modes and functions, but even the base is just, stunning! From her Sweet Scampish grinning face, to its soft porcelain belly, cute tits, and delightful little clitty… ooh, dripping already! And so warm to the touch, I could just bask on It forever…"

"Let me just put on Its collar and Its Glasses and her ears and…"

"Ta da!!!!"

"Oh, and It smells so good too…"

"Isn't it Perfect? The Ultimate Toy!"

"My Treasure. My Grail. My Toybox, all in one."

"My Magnificent Miss Gigi Doll…"

"I'm in… Love!"

"I think, I need a minute, girls."

"My patrons will get to see the aftermath of this video…"

"And trust me, you won't want to miss it!!!"

"Miss Gigi, the Library Doll!!!!!"

@gothgengargirl

[oonajaeadira]

I'll Leave a Light On For You

Fandom: Bloodsucking Bastards / Max Phillips

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n. (There is a little description, but it’s still you. Believe me, it will make sense. We’re dealing with the supernatural here.)

Rating: T. 

Warnings: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s.

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons.

A/N: This is my entry for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event. While I played one selfish card in my hand and wrote something of a companion to Light Only Shows You Where the Shadows Are, this can still be read as a standalone.

To my giftee, the amazing and wonderful @artemiseamoon : First of all, I admire you so much and I was really nervous to write for you. But I looked among your generous prompt choices (omgs thank you for so many good choices) and was surprised to find Max as an option. I wasn’t going to choose him at first but then my eye caught “past lives” and something in me zinged. Soul mates, angsty romance, second chance at love… and I’ve been itching to write an angsty Max. I know you are a fan of soft and whump, so all those elements had a party in my heart and here we are. I really hope you’re having a nice holiday and a good time off. Happy Secret Santa, Arte. <3

What we’ve been told is that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.

That’s almost correct.

The truth is…it’s not just your current life.

It’s all of them.

Max hardly remembers the fear, the pain, the cold of his draining. Even though he knew what was coming, bought into the cult, the human instinct of fight or flight is hard to dismiss no matter how well they’ve been prepped and it was to be expected. But it was a flash in the pan and once he came around to the undead side of things, those pesky human responses were all quickly forgotten.

For a time. Until he saw your light and–

Anyway. Human instincts. Pffft. Adorable. Trading the constant possibility of fear for that of glee, of rapture, of delight? Human instincts are trash. Not to mention their senses, poor suckers. The things they can’t see can’t hear can’t smell can’t taste? Tragic.

If only the feelings weren’t heightened too. It makes some things–some people–hard to ignore–

Feelings were something he could also have done without in his human life–the latest one anyway–and did whatever he could do to avoid.

It wasn’t until he died that he understood why.

As the life drained out of him and the delirium set in, there was a rushing sound, a pull through his soul like the drag of blood from his body, and he was laying, feeble, wailing, bloody and naked among the limbs of his mother.

But not the mother he so recently remembered, the one that showed her approval only when he provided her with some accomplishment worthy of crowing about to her society friends. No, this one was gentle, kind, held him and sang to him, lived her life for him until she died of fever when he was only five years old.

Max saw it all, from within himself and without, remembered the pull of his heart and watched the tears fall down his little face as they nailed his mother’s body in a pine box and put it in a hole at the top of a hill under a tree.

He always imagined he heard her singing to him in the grasses after that.

The world welcomed a new century, and not long afterward, he was a young man, looking to take over his father’s wine fields. But the chance was stolen when an archduke was shot. Max–Pierre, as he was called then–and all of the close friends and cousins he had were thrust into a great war. 

He was the only one to walk out of the fray. And when he came home, he found his father’s fields had been burned and that nothing remained.

That was a dark time. Ten years of looking back rather than looking forward. Ten years–it went by so fast–while he watched the world around him try to repair itself and find its footing again, not realizing that the roots of evil still grew beneath the soil.

He kept his head down and his hands working wherever he could.

But then he met a woman.

And she was Pierre’s life. Max’s life. Before he was Max.

It happened in the winter, just before Noël. And her name was Yaëlle.

Max remembered that before she even told him as he watched the story of this strange old life.

Yaëlle. It means “beautiful one.”

“It also means ‘goat,’” she’d said. “That seems more fitting.” She never thought of herself pretty, and perhaps she wasn’t fashionable and maybe she was stronger than she was dainty, with a weak chin and curly dark hair she couldn’t control. But the light in her eyes when she laughed–and what a laugh, like a little bird–the sway of her hips and the confidence in her carriage, her air of easy care and comfort caught his heart like a surly bear in the prettiest trap.

She’d simply been passing through the marché de Noēl, looking but not stopping, taking the kerchief off her head so the snow could land in her curls, when a child approached her selling buns in the shape of a cross and she gave the child a franc before sitting down at the statue of some cardinal or other in the center of the square.

She could have sat on any of the other benches, but she chose to plonk down next to Max. Next to Pierre.

“You want this?” she asked, offering the bun. “Not really my thing.”

How could she have known he was hungry? That he was lonely? That he was facing the market rather than the river because he was trying not to succumb to his inclinations, a pull to walk out onto the thin ice and let himself be taken by the stream?

He was instantly entranced by her. He felt himself smiling. Something shifted within. A destiny.

“You sure?” he asked.

She peered at him, scrutinized his whole self like she could see a glow around him and was looking for its source.

She found it in his eyes.

“Absolutely. I already ate three hand pies today. The last thing I need is more bread.”

He laughed for the first time in a long while. They talked. He ate.

On Christmas Eve when everyone was at the evening’s mass, she was there again, sitting alone, and this time it was he who had hot food and came to join her on the bench while the night was silent and cold and the stars were twinkling.

It was then that he learned why she was not in church–her folk did not observe Noēl. And she learned why he was not in church–he had lost his faith, that everyone he had ever loved was taken and there were not enough candles in the sanctuary to light for all of them.

“What if I lit one?” she’d asked.

“Who would you light it for?”

“For you. So you don’t have to sit in the dark.” When he was only silent, she said, “You fought in the Great War, didn’t you.” And when he looked away–when he shut her out–she continued. “My husband fought in that war. And he never could find his heart again. He said he loved me, but I don’t think he ever really did, not all the way. But I loved him all the way and when he put an end to his own life I thought I would have to do it too. Instead, I sat in the dark for a long time. It’s something I can see in a person. I can see you’re sitting in the dark.”

They stayed quiet for a time on the bench under the statue of the cardinal and when the church bells started to toll–signaling the magic of the empty square would soon be disrupted by the mass emptying into its streets–she stood and pulled her coat around her.

“My home is down that street, a little one with a red roof. It’s warm and I’ve plenty of hand pies--I made too many. I’ll leave a candle in the window until I’m asleep. You’re always welcome there, Max.”

And then she smiled and turned down the avenue where she’d pointed.

He blinked. Just before she reached the edge of the square he called out, “My name isn’t Max. It’s Pierre.”

She turned and gave a sly wink. “Good to know. I think once you get a belly full of my pies, you’ll let me call you whatever I want.”

He only sat long enough to watch the churchgoers file out of the holy service, many of them with people they loved, humming, happy, cheeks glowing in that way when one steps into a fresh cold world after being an hour or two soaking in the warmth. And once the square was empty again, he stood, gave only a fleeting look to the river, and then walked resolutely down Yaëlle’s street.

A little house with a red roof and a candle in the window.

He stayed for supper and came back many nights after.

And then one night he never left.

Max recalled the rest of that life with a lurking despair. While he couldn’t quite remember how it went, something in him carried it through to the life he’d just left…and he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was yet.

A few years of joy, of the greatest love he’d felt since his childhood. Like the mother he’d lost, another woman who was gentle, kind, held him and sang to him, lived her life for him until she couldn’t anymore.

They never celebrated Noël as the others did, but in their own way. For a handful of years they would go sit on the bench in the square and hand out pies to their neighbors and anyone who came to join them where they sat. They would listen to the singing in the church and watch the stars scintillate overhead. They would leave their shoes by the fireplace and wake up to find gifts they’d bought for each other with the little francs that they had. And they would never talk about what they would do in the future, because they knew it would be this and that’s all they aspired to and it would be a happy life.

And Max watched Pierre forget about the rot that still ran its roots through the soil.

And one day soldiers came to town when he was out in the fields and they took Yaëlle and some of the other dark-haired, joyful, bird-laughing folk about town and murdered them. By the time he returned for the evening, the soldiers had gone and left him nothing but a ravaged house and a body to bury.

There’s nothing he could have done, the mourning neighbors told him, the tide was rising. If he had fought them, they would have shot him too.

Pierre said that it would have been better that way.

Pierre stopped working in the fields when he started to hear his mother’s voice singing among the grasses again…now joined by Yaëlle’s sweet alto.

He had one more Noël in that life. He drank as much as he could take without falling over and stumbled out to sit on the bench in the square, weeping once the churchgoers had gone. He didn’t say a word, but Max remembered what Pierre was thinking then.

Love hurts too much. It is always taken. It’s not worth the trouble.

And then Pierre fell asleep on that bench and never woke up again.

There wasn’t much time between that first life and this one, maybe a few decades in the dark. Just long enough for a voice to reach him in the void–a voice he knew well and loved with his whole heart for only a short time–to say,

“That was a good first try, Max. Let’s give it another go, okay? Another place, another time, when it’s not so hard. I’ll leave a light on for you.”

____

Max’s life had been shorter this time. But he’d learned a thing or two and kept love at arm’s length. Sex was good and companionship was fine, but he wouldn’t invest in anything that could drain him in an instant and leave him destitute. 

Now power, that could fill the void. 

So when fortune smiled and he was given the choice, he swallowed hard and put his neck to the teeth, traded in his humanity for power that nobody could take away from him…and a heart that had no need for warmth.

He was wrong about that last point though.

And he didn’t even know it until he saw something that humans couldn’t see.

Heard something they couldn’t hear, a long ago and far away voice singing.

Smelled you on the wind.

Followed it to you–a woman, just another human woman–walking out of a bar along some street in the city.

And he saw a light glowing from within you.

You wore another face, another body, but all he saw was you.

Yaëlle.

Beautiful one.

He followed you that night, and several nights after. He was the reason that car swerved before it hit you, the reason you weren’t approached by that seedy guy at the club. He was the reason you kept looking behind you now and then and when you finally saw him–having dinner at the same restaurant, totally by coincidence, you on a friendly outing, him trying to charm a client into a contract–it broke his heart that you did not know him instantly.

He found he was surprised that he still had a heart to break. He’d been so fucking careful.

Max almost gave into the anger, the disappointment. Replayed the pathetic way Pierre let himself be brought down and tried to remind himself not to let himself be broken again.

But then he heard your voice in a way only those who walk in death can.

Let’s give it another go. I’ll leave a light on for you.

____

Heightened feeling is the one drawback of all this power. It’s one thing to latch onto a target, to fixate on some middle manager or accountant or IT specialist until there’s a good time to finally strike. That is an itch that can be satisfied with a well-timed, fear-seasoned, adrenaline-soaked kill.

But love sinks its fangs in and doesn’t let go. It sucks at something that can’t be drained, has no end, can never get enough. It can drive an immortal--a never-ending being of heightened existence--to madness.

There will come a day in the future when you’ll trust him for no good reason, when you’ll understand the monster he is and whisper under your breath against your better judgment, when you’ll invite him in. For dinner.

And he’ll come around again and again.

And then one day, he’ll stay.

And you’ll yawn ask him on the edge of sleep, “Why me? Of all these humans that you could easily enthrall and have without question, why choose this?”

Max will look at you in the darkness and see nothing but your light.

You won’t understand when he puts on a show of an irritated sigh and tells you, “You gave me another chance, sweetmeats,” but you’ll doze in his cold arms, absolutely confident as he is that nothing will ever hurt you again. Including himself.

And that night he’ll stay until you wake.

He won’t have you sit in the darkness alone.

_____

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

[fictitiousmagines]

You've Already Got Me Wrapped Around Your Finger Part 4

You couldn't imagine my delight, when you invited me to a mid-day picnic after you poured your heart out to me in the stacks at Mooney's. I'd wanted to kiss you, so desperately, but heroes wait for their moment.

And you are a vision here in this bustling park, the pale blue sun dress and the same ole tote that you sling over your shoulder. You are a vision. You're effortless, in a way that people try to emulate but never quite measure up to.

You blush and babble as you unpack a spread of cheese, crackers and fruit. As you unpack, your most prized possession tumbles from the depths of your tote: your journal. You've mentioned in passing, that you draw and write in there and its the only time you feel like you can be yourself. I am Captain Ahab and your journal is my white whale.

"Oops," Y/N says while quickly stuffing it back in. Its a deep green with tattered corners but she touches it with such tenderness.

I hope you can be yourself with me, Y/N. I hope you can tell that I'm here to save you. I'm here to take care of you.

It was an absolutely perfect day: the picnic, the train back to our little part of New York City, the leisurely ride home, kissing you on your porch.

Your lips were so soft, Y/N. They're almost a drug. The way I got lost in the moment and buried my hands into your soft hair. Pulling away, you looked up at me with a look that only can be described as vulnerable. Beautiful. I wanted to take you right there. But instead I stroked your cheek with my thumb and reassured you that I had a wonderful time. That I couldn't wait to see you again.

When you texted me later that night, you pulled me out of my reading. But you are always a welcome distraction.

"Thanks again for the beautiful day together. Wanna grab a drink later this week? PS. I lost my journal, maybe on the train? I'm bummed! Does Mooney's sell blank journals?"

I don't answer because I immediately plan on buying you one and bringing it to you in the morning. A nice one. And each time you pour your soul into its pages, you'll think of me.

It was irresistible grabbing it out of your bag on the train. Your attention was on the loud commotion to your right. In an instant, it went from your bag, to my backpack. Hidden under the picnic blanket.

Maybe I'll buy you a new bag, one with a zipper. I don't want anyone pickpocketing you. Anyone could grab your wallet and get your personal information. I just wanna keep you safe. Not everyone is going to have your best intentions at heart. But I do.

I've been worried about you, Y/N. This is just my way of checking on you. I'm sure you're worried about overloading me. About having too much baggage, but you could never be too much for me. The more I read, the more fascinated I became.

I learned from your journal, new things but also things I only suspected. Like, that your dads care overwhelms you sometimes. Even though you love your dad dearly. That you worry that it might be time to put him in a home, even though your heart couldn't bear it. That your brother resists helping you, even though you work round the clock. That you miss your mother. And rereading The Outsiders makes you feel more connected to her.

Your art is always so gestural. So much feeling.

My heart stopped when I saw that you even wrote about me.

You wrote about meeting me at the shop. Our coffee together. And even about eating bodega sandwiches in the stacks of Mooney's. How I made you feel safe at that moment.

"I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I think I like this guy Joe."

[nichuuu]

Beats Me - 1: Squeaker

Shin Ryujin

Tags: Smut, Subby Ryujin, Teasing, Foreplay, Really shitty story

Words: 5k+

You weren’t afraid to admit that you’ve never felt so lost in all your life. 

The university campus was sprawling as it was, but in the midst of trying to find the recording studio, you’ve somehow found that this place seemed to be bigger than it was. The halls seemed to constantly shift themselves, twisting and warping the layout of the campus as you struggled to locate that damn Arts block.

After about 20 minutes of sheepishly asking for directions, craning your head to look at signs that always seemed to be pointing in the wrong way and lots of cussing, you finally managed to locate the studio—15 minutes later than you were supposed to reach—and frantically knocked on the door. The muffled music coming from inside stopped.

The heavy looking oak door swung open. 

“The fuck do you want?” The girl at the door crudely asked. 

“H-Hi… I’m uh… I’m here to try out for the band?” You meekly replied. 

She scanned you up and down. 

“You’re the squeaker drummer?” She questioned. You didn’t exactly know what the word squeaker meant, but you nodded nonetheless. 

“Y-Yeah…” You said. She checked her watch.

“You’re fifteen minutes late,” she remarked. 

“S-Sorry… Got lost…” You apologised. She shot you a glare. 

“Getting lost isn’t an excuse, you should’ve—”

“God dammit Yeji! Just let the damn boy inside!” A voice came from within. The lady in front of you—who you assumed was Yeji—shut her mouth, her lips forming a thin line. 

You were scared of her already. 

“Get in and get your ass on the drum kit,” the scary woman barked, stepping aside to let you in. 

You’ve never run into a room so quickly in your life. 

You stepped in, quickly noting that the entire room was full of girls. They all stared at you, and you gave a shy bow before haul assing towards the vacant drum set and setting your bag down. You contemplated on adjusting the height of your seat, but the fact that you could still feel that lady glaring at you made you think otherwise. 

You unzipped your bag and pulled out your drumsticks. 

“Do you have an iPad or anything we can use to give you your charts?” The scary lady asked, shutting the door.

“Uh… No,” You replied. She sighed and shook her head.

“Hopeless” She muttered. 

Not the best first impression. You thought to yourself.

“Yeji, Don’t you feel like you’re scaring him a little?”  The woman behind the microphone voiced her opinion. 

“I would treat him better if he was on time,” Yeji hissed. 

“You and your ‘Professionalism’,” The lady behind the microphone sighed. She turned to you. 

“Hello! Sorry for the… Harsh welcome,” She said. “What’s your name?” 

“O-Oh uh… M-Myeong-seok,” you stammered. 

“Nice to meet you Myeong-seok,” She smiled. “Just do your best today, we’ll see how you fair.” 

You nodded and picked up your sticks. The lady behind the microphone turned back to the front.

“It’s Not Living If It’s Not With You, from the top!” She announced. 

Having played that song before, you found yourself with new found confidence as you sat up straight in your stool.

You said a silent prayer before the guitar riff came, launching you into the first song.

~

The session went better than expected. Even though you felt like a toddler lost in a supermarket half the time, you managed to grasp a basic beat through most of the songs they played. They did some Rock, some pop, did some jazz and a few other funky genres you weren’t too familiar with, but you never stopped to ask questions, fearing another tongue lashing from Yeji. 

To your delight, you managed to secure your spot as their new drummer. The news came like a spark of joy, but the spark was instantly extinguished by Yeji, who informed you that the band was to do a gig at a nearby bar in a week's time. You had exactly one week to get your shit together, learn the pieces and memorise your charts. 

“No stress,” The Bassist unhelpfully added. She looked scary too.

You’d gotten a grasp of their names. Guitarist 1 was a girl they called “Kkura”, the pianist’s name was Ji-min, or “Karina” as they called her at times. Guitarist 2 was scary lady Yeji, the Bassist Ryujin and the vocalist Eunbi. You prayed you got their names right.

The band practised on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, each practice starting at 4pm sharp. You took note of that, noting from your earlier interaction with Yeji that she despised tardiness.

“Be punctual or I’ll have your head on a pike,” Yeji snarled before leaving the room with her guitar strapped to her back. 

“Don’t mind her, she’s a little moody today,” Eunbi assured you. You could only nod, the fear leaving your body as soon as Yeji walked out the door. Eunbi proceeded to toss you a set of keys. 

“Keys to the studio, everyone gets one set.” She explained. “Come in whenever you want to practise. Just don’t break anything in here or the school will have us knee deep in debt.”

You stared at the keys in your hand, processing the fact that you were now a part of a legitimate… Well… Somewhat legitimate band. 

“See you this Friday Myeong-seok,” Eunbi waved.

“S-See you!” You waved back. She left the room together with Ji-min, leaving you alone with Ryujin who was still busy winding up her wire. You decided to leave her to it, pocketing the keys to the studio and slipping your sticks back into your bag. Being as silent as you could, you shouldered your backpack and got up to leave. 

“Yo squeaker.”

She was staring right at you. You could feel it.

As mentioned before, she struck you as a scary person, with her bob cut and leather jacket giving you the vibe of an 80s gang member. She looked ike the type of girl who would beat you up for staring for too long. You slowly turned to face the bassist, and you were pleasantly surprised to find a smile on her face. 

“Good stuff  today… You were pretty sick on the kit,” She complimented. 

“O-Oh… T-Thanks?” You replied, failing to hide the fear in your voice. 

“Chill man, I won’t eat you,” She assured you, sensing your tension. “Do I really look that scary? Is it the jacket?” 

You hesitated before nodding a little. She smirked and shrugged it off her shoulders. 

“I wear it cause I’m cold. But if it makes you afraid of me, I’ll take it off,” She mused, the black leather slipping off her shoulders to reveal the crop top beneath it. “Name’s Ryujin by the way.”

“I uh… I kinda know….” You told her nervously. She raised her eyebrows.

“You are one sharp feller,” She remarked. 

“Well… I… I just… Listen,” You explained. The short-haired girl scoffed. 

“Don’t we all?”

You managed a chuckle, finding yourself easing up a little. 

Maybe she wasn’t so scary…

“You free tomorrow Squeaker?” She asked, zipping the bag containing her bass guitar shut. 

“W-Why?” You couldn’t help but inquire. 

“I wanna practise with you. Bassists and Drummers go hand in hand, I need your cues and your beat to help me,” She explained, slinging her bass over her shoulder. “Think you can come in at around 2:30pm?” 

You quickly ran through tomorrow's schedule in your head. Lectures ended by 2pm tomorrow, leaving you ample time to get to the studio.

“S-Sure… I can make it,” You agreed. Ryujin flashed you a smile.

“Coolsies. See you tomorrow then,” she said, giving you finger guns. You weren’t quite sure what to do, so you replied with a nervous thumbs up. She laughed and punched your shoulder lightly. 

“Ease up bucko, we don’t bite,” She winked. “Lock up, for me okay Squeaker?” 

You nodded. Ryujin waved before swaggering out of the room, helping you switch off the lights on the way out. 

She seems chill. You thought to yourself, fishing the keys out of your pocket. You exited the room and locked the door, marking the end of your day as you headed off towards the exit. The sun had begun to set on the campus by the time you walked out of the gates.

“2:30pm… 2:30pm…” You muttered to yourself over and over as you set off. You vowed not to be late.

~

The next day rolled around. You sat through lectures as usual, listening to your Prof drone on and on about something related to ethics, or maybe it was morals… 

Hell, it was so convoluted you didn’t know anymore. 

As soon as 2pm struck, you were up and out of your seat, heading towards the exit. The beauty of not having a good professor was the fact that they couldn’t care less about when you left their lectures. 

You made your way to the recording studio with much less difficulty this time. Unlocking the door, you stepped in and turned on the lights and air conditioning, the practice space whirring to life as you shut the door—which was as heavy as it looked—behind you. You beelined it for the kit and fished your sticks out of your bag. You got out your tuning key, which you brought today since the kit sounded like shit the day before, and got to work on adjusting the kit. Yes… You have to tune drum sets too, you know?

When you finished, there was still 20 minutes till Ryujin was due to arrive, so you settled on getting some practice in. Luckily for you, you happened to bring your charts that you painstakingly printed last night (that hole in your wallet will never be patched) and set the folder containing the sheets down on the score stand. 

You quickly got to work, doing your thing on the kit as you waited patiently for Ryujin to arrive. She came in 10 minutes later than she should have, something that Yeji would’ve definitely killed her over, but thank god she wasn’t here. 

“My bad Squeaker. Prof decided to go on a tangent about his divorce,” She apologised, setting her Bass Guitar down on the couch and unzipping the bag containing it. 

“And how are we today?” She asked, pulling her instrument out its bag.

“Good… I guess,” You replied. 

“Splendid,” She answered in English with a British accent. You chuckled at the randomness of the girl. 

You waited patiently for her to hook her instrument up, fiddling with your drumsticks as she slug her Bass over her shoulder and plucked a string, a deep note filtering out of the amp behind her. 

“That is sexy,” She mused, nodding her head in approval. “Alright Squeaker, let’s get to work.”

She made herself comfortable on the couch, kicking the excess wire off her foot before signaling that she was ready to begin. 

The session went as you expected, the two of you going through each piece and taking notes on your respective scores. At some point, Ryujin stopped to get a sandwich from downstairs, but she was kind enough to get you an iced Americano. 

“This is on me,” She said, tossing you the bottle that contained your beverage. You set your sticks down just in time to catch the bottle before it could hit you square  in the face. Ryujin cackled at her bad throw before getting back to her instrument.  

You went on afterwards, rejuvenated by the coffee bought by Ryujin as the two of you continued with practice. As goofy as she could be, Ryujin was surprisingly skilled with her instrument, hitting catchy fills and a few high-skill licks that left you wide eyed. You got the chance to mess around for a bit, pulling some shenanigans of your own on the kit that got nods of approval from your practice buddy. 

“Good shit today,” She sighed with satisfaction as the two of you packed up for the day. It was somehow already late in the evening. 

You hummed in agreement, neatly getting your scores back in order and getting them back inside your bag. 

“Let’s get dinner, my treat,” Ryujin suggested. 

“It’s okay. I don’t wanna waste your money,” you politely declined.

“Wasn’t an offer. We’re getting dinner Squeaker,” She grinned. She never seemed to run out of surprises…

You locked the room up and set off with Ryujin, settling on a tonkatsu place near campus. She ordered a round of alcohol for the two of you.

“So… How long have you been drumming for Squeaker?” Ryujin asked, sipping her glass of beer. 

“For a few years now… Started when I was eight,” You answered. “Took some classes for a while then stopped because of money issues, but I joined Concert Band in middle school and highschool. They had kits there so I just practised.”

Ryujin raised her eyebrows, nodding in approval. You decided to try your hand at carrying a conversation, something you were never really good at.

“W-What about you? H-How long have you been playing Bass?” You asked. Ryujin took another sip of beer.

“Me? Not too long… Started a few years back after graduating from College. Wanted to do something with my life, you know?” She replied, wiping the foam off her mouth.

You nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of your beer. You understood what she meant. 

“Besides, playing Bass was a good substitute for sleeping with guys,” She added out of nowhere. The TMI statement almost made you choke on your beer. 

“W-What?” You coughed, flabbergasted. Ryujin shrugged. 

“I was fresh out of high school and lonely as fuck okay?” She defended herself. “I slept with a couple of guys… And maybe one or two girls… But I needed something to do didn’t I?”

You didn’t know how to respond, and you preferred to keep it that way. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She interrogated you. “It wasn’t even my fault half the time! I just had a few drinks with the guy, and the next thing you know it I’m being railed on my hands and knees. I don’t even know how I got there, honest.”

No words could describe how you felt about the sharp turn this conversation had taken. 

“Come on Squeaker, stop giving me that look,” She sighed, picking up her beer cup and swirling the liquid gently. “For all you know, what I described might just happen tonight…”

“MOVING ON!” You exclaimed, almost in a scream. Your attempt to change the subject of the conversation earned you a few nasty glares from members of the public, but you’d rather be shamed than talking about sex with a girl you just met yesterday. You had done the deed once with your ex, but you didn’t particularly derive any sort of pleasure from speaking about the subject.

Ryujin giggled to herself and sat back in her seat. 

“Alright alright… You’re uncomfortable, I get it,” Ryujin teased in a sing-song voice. The blush on your face was un-concealable as you kept your eyes glued to the beer in front of you. 

“How did you find out about us Squeaker?” Ryujin asked, deciding to drive the conversation back towards music. You inwardly heaved a sigh of relief, finding the courage to look Ryujin in the eye again.

“W-Well uh… Someone handed me a flyer for your band during orientation and—”

“Hold the fucking phone,” Ryujin stopped you. “Orientation? You’re a freshie?” 

“U-Uh… Yea… Military Service,” You explained. 

“God damn! That means you’re older than me!” She mused. 

“W-What? H-How does this affect anything?” You inquired. 

She raised an eyebrow.

“Who said anything about affecting shit?” She asked. “I’m just making an observation Squeaker.”

Your hopes of her ceasing to call you “Squeaker” were dashed. You’d have to live with the nickname from now on. 

“Sorry for interrupting, you were talking about flyers?” Ryujin urged you to continue. 

“R-Right,” You continued, getting back on track from where you left off. “I saw the flyer, saw that you guys needed a drummer, so I contacted… Eunbi I think… Who’s phone number was on the flyer?”

“Eunbi’s” Ryujin confirmed.

“Right, yea… So… That’s how I got the try out I guess…” You said. Ryujin looked unimpressed.

“Wow… That was far from what I expected,” She told you flatly. “I was thinking that you had some moral conflict or something, but no. You just saw the flyer and decided to go for it?”

“U-Uh… Yea…” You answered, unsure how you’d disappointed her. 

“Ew, boring,” She said rather bluntly. “What took you so long to come in then? We’re in the middle of the first semester.”

“Uh… Eunbi… Eunbi didn’t reply to me till last week…” You explained. 

“That’s pretty fucking hilarious,” Ryujin sniggered. You shrugged.

“It is what it is,” You said frankly. 

At that juncture, the waiter came with your food. Two plates of freshly fried Tonkatsu, paired with a bowl of steamed rice, was laid on the table. 

“Oh damn… This looks good,” Ryujin remarked, a hint of glee in her voice. You agreed with her, but you just didn’t vocalise the opinion. Ryujin handed you a set of cutlery from the drawer on her end.

“Dig in Squeaker,” She told you as you took the cutlery from her. You didn’t need to be told twice.

The food was as delicious as it looked, and it went perfectly with the icy beer that you sipped intermittently.  

The breaded cutlet disappeared from both your plates almost as quickly as it came. The speed at which you both wolfed down that meal was a little worrying for you, but the satisfaction derived from that meal somehow seemed to neutralise all that. Satisfied with the food, Ryujin called for the bill. 

“Hey… Let me pay for a little bit of it at least,” You offered. 

“Nope, my treat,” She declined. 

True to her word, Ryujin made the waiter stay far away from you as she handed over her card. As much as your morals gnawed at your conscience to pay Ryujin for the cost of your meal, a small voice in your head knew that she’d just reject it. 

The bill came back, and the waiter returned Ryujin her credit card. With a smile, she thanked the staff and kept her card. 

“Thanks Ryujin,” You said. She waved it off.

“No worries Squeaker,” She grinned, standing up from her seat. “If you don’t mind, could you help me with my Bass? Might need you to carry it home for me.”

You quickly got up and helped her carry her Bass guitar. It was the least you could do to repay her for her generosity. 

“Thanks Squeaker. My apartment isn't too far from here, just help me carry it till we get there,” She said, gathering her things. 

“Damn… You have an apartment?” You asked. 

“Parents wanted me out of the house so badly that they bought me one,” She explained, a proud smirk on her face. 

“W-What? Why?” 

She looked you in the eye.

“I brought home too many boys for their liking,” She simply said, adding a wink at the end of her sentence. “Come on, Squeaker! Help me carry this damn guitar back so you can get home before midnight!”

You travelled a few streets down, Ryujin’s Bass slung over your shoulder as you followed her back to her apartment complex. The weight of the guitar made you understand the pain of actually needing to bring your own instrument from home. 

You made it back to her apartment. You knew her remark of getting you home by midnight was a lie when she pulled you in together with her.

“You can leave your shoes here,” She instructed, shutting her apartment door behind her. 

“I really don’t think I should be here…” You began. 

“Oh for fucks sake Squeaker. Stop being so nervous about everything!” She teased. 

You could only sigh and slide off your sneakers. Ryujin’s apartment was small but cosy, and surprisingly neat as well. She had all sorts of vintage posters decorating her walls, a couple of fairy lights adorning the window sill and a few photos on her shelves and cabinets. You spotted an amp in the corner of the room, and you figured that you should place the Bass Guitar down. 

“What can I fix you up with? Booze? Juice? Tea?” Ryujin asked, walking over to her fridge and opening it up. You headed over to the amp to set down her guitar.

“Tea sounds nice,” You said.

“Booze it is!” Ryujin called back.

“I said—Ah never mind…” You sighed, a gut feeling telling you that there was no point in arguing. 

After placing down her Bass, she invited you to have a seat on her couch. She had a few cans of beer in her arms that she set down on the coffee table. 

She cracked open two cans, handing one to you and taking one for herself before relaxing on her couch. You sat there rigidly, both hands on the cold can.

“Why are you so tense?” Ryujin questioned. “Am I making you nervous?” 

“N-No… I’m just… Jittery when it comes to new things and new people… It’s in my blood,” You explained. She smirked. 

“That’s why we have alcohol dude,” She reasoned, tapping the beer can in your hand. “Drink up, loosen up!” 

She clinked cans with you and guzzled down the entire can, shooting you a look that pressure you to do the same. You hesitantly raised the lip of the can to your mouth and tipped it back. The cold, icy and bitter beverage flowed into your mouth, burning your throat on its way down. 

“There you go, that’s the spirit!” Ryujin encouraged you as you gulped down what was left of the first can. Your outings with your platoon had built up your alcohol tolerance, but you still weren’t exactly the best when it came to alcohol. 

“Good job. Now have another can,” Ryujin said, cracking open two more cans and handing one to you. 

“I don’t think I should—”

“Just fucking fucking drink it.”

The second can turned into a third, and the third can into a fourth. By the fifth can, you were starting to get a little woozy, and you knew that you should stop. Ryujin however, seemed to be very against that. 

The sixth can went down easily, and the seventh even easier.

You didn’t know how it happened, but you somehow found yourself stripped down to your undies in Ryujin’s bedroom, furiously making out with her. Her tongue explored the insides of your mouth hungrily, the taste of beer still in her mouth. This entire day had been a trap, but you just didn’t know it. 

Her mouth left yours, a thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you as she gazed into your eyes. A smirk tugged up the corner of her lip as she slowly got down on her knees. Her sports bra supporting her bust gave you an excellent view of her plunging cleavage as she tugged down your boxers. Your cock sprung out from its restraints, twitching out in the open as Ryujin grasped a hold of it, slender fingers wrapping around your length as she pumped your cock. She licked her lips in delight. 

She wasted no time in wrapping her lips around your cock and taking you straight into the depths of her mouth. The eye contact she maintained with you almost drove you over the edge as she rocked back and forth, building a steady pace as she slurped on your dick. Her hands supported themselves on your thighs as she drove you deeper and deeper, the head of your cock poking the entrance to her throat. You couldn’t bear to keep watching her bob up and down your cock for too long, and you forced yourself to look up. The moans leaving your mouth kept coming in a steady stream, your hands finding themselves entangled in locks of Ryujin’s hair as the woman you just met yesterday devoured your shaft. Her tongue busied itself, swirling around your sensitive head and delivering occasional flicks to the underside of your member. She was clearly experienced in giving head. 

“Jesus Ryujin…” You managed to moan through the haze of your tipsiness and pleasure. Ryujin lets your cock pop out of her mouth, stroking your shaft—now slick with her saliva—with a corkscrew motion. 

“My mouth is good… But playing Bass over the years has made my hands even better,” She giggles. Her fingers grip your throbbing shaft tighter, her palm pressing into the underside as she forces you to watch her stroke you. She shifts the pressure to her pointer finger and thumb, squeezing the tip of your sensitive head. Your head whips back, your mouth opening wide to let out a soft sigh. 

“That’s it squeaker… Moan for me…” Ryujin encouraged, increasing the intensity of her hand’s assault on your penis. “Tell me how good my hand feels…”

“Fuck… It’s so damn good,” You hiss through your teeth. That smirk crosses her face again. 

“That’s what I thought…” She whispers. “But enough of this foreplay… I want this inside me.”

She lets go of your cock, a move that was both disappointing yet somehow relieving to you as she gets up on her feet. Ryujin makes quick work of her sports bra, tossing it into the growing pile of clothes before quickly pulling down her panties and kicking them away. You now knew what was hiding below that leather jacket…

It was safe to say that Ryujin could easily make a man throb just by looking at her body. Her curves were in all the right places, her snatched waist accentuating her figure and that round, plump ass looking ever so delectable. Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Are you gonna keep fucking me with your eyes? Or are you gonna get over here and fuck me for real?” She asked. You didn’t need a second invitation to walk over and grip her waist firmly. Your cock pressed against her defined abs, the skin in contact with your slick dick glistening as traces of her own saliva are left on her. She gripped you by your cock and pulled you over to the bed, where she laid down on her back and spread her legs wide. The pink flesh of her glistening pussy was a sight to behold, her folds slick with her fluids and the insides of her thighs flushed with arousal. 

“You can eat me out another day,” She hissed, reading your thoughts. “Just put your cock in me and fuck me like an animal.”

While the former statement made you slightly disappointed, the latter was too appealing to be turned down. 

You were above Ryujin in a matter of seconds. Her hand held onto the base of your shaft, lining your head up with her entrance. Giving you the slightest of nods, you popped your hips and buried yourself inside her tight body, entering the Bassist for the first time. 

A sharp gasp left her lips, her legs wrapping around your waist. Her heels pushed you deeper into her tight little cunt, her slick warm walls gripping you firmly as she whispered into your ear.

“Fuck me.”

You weren’t sure where you found the strength in you, maybe it was the alcohol messing with you. You pounded Ryujin mercilessly, her body rocking violently with each thrust as her cute tits jiggled deliciously. The cries that left her mouth mixed well together with the background of skin slapping against skin. The squelch that came from your cock entering her over and over again was one of pure lewdness, akin to music in your ears. 

You found a steady pace, fucking Ryujin with long hard strokes. Her eyes widened with each entrance, a sigh and the occasional cuss leaving her mouth every time you drove yourself into her wet little pussy relentlessly. Ryujin was a beautiful mess beneath you, and she also seemed to be very vocal when she wasn’t mewling into your shoulder.  

“Oh fuck fuck fuck… That’s it… Squeaker… Fuck my little pussy…”

Her body bounced deliciously, her eyes rolling up into the back of her head as her moans began increasing in intensity and volume. Her bed creaked in protest, rattling and shaking under the force of your thrusts. Ryujin dug her nails into your back, an outlet to release the pleasure that crashed into her body in rapid waves.

As much as you wanted to fuck Ryujin like this forever, her skillful foreplay mere minutes ago didn’t allow you to last too long inside the bliss that was Ryujin’s pussy.

“Ryujin… I’m… I’m gonna cum,” You grunted. She managed a smirk that quickly twisted into a lewd expression as he slammed back into her. 

“On me… Cum… On me…” She rasped. 

Your pace quickened, each breath you took becoming shallower and shallower as you pumped yourself furiously into Ryujin’s tight body. The pressure continued to build at the base of your cock, slowly working its way up from your tingling balls to the tip of your cock. A few thrusts later, you finally couldn’t take it and withdrew yourself out of Ryujin’s cunt. You furiously stroke your shaft with your right hand, and with one, two, three pumps, you explode onto Ryujin’s hot body. Her abs become the canvas for your load, hot bursts of semen painting her abdomen in ropes of white as your orgasm takes you. Your hand never stops stroking your cock, pushing out rope after rope of your seed as you empty yourself onto Ryujin. She sighs softly with each shot onto her, closing her eyes to savour the feel of your warm cum splattering her body. 

It takes you a while to recover from your high, but Ryujin was patient enough to wait for you, idly playing with the cum on her tummy as she watched you with a smirk. 

“Was… I that good?” She giggled. You managed a nod.

“Amazing…” You breathe. She sits up on the bed. 

“Then you’re in for round two of this amazing experience.”

She got up and bent herself over her desk.

Your still hard shaft throbbed at the sight of her round, plump ass protruded out and ready to be taken. 

“I want you to make me cum like this… And don’t you dare stop till I’m a screaming mess,” She hissed aggressively. 

Rejuvenated by her lewd words, you get up and take your position behind her. With an open palm, you deliver a slap to her right ass cheek, enjoying the sight of the plump flesh rippling from the impact. Ryujin clicks her tongue in annoyance.

“Quit playing with my ass and rail me Squeaker,” She growls. 

“Impatient are we?” You ask. She shoots you a glare. 

“When did you start talking so much?” She asked.

“When did you start being such a slut?” You fired back. 

“I’m not a slut,” She argued. 

“Then what are you?” You questioned. That seemed to make Ryujin think for a bit. 

You decided to use that window to surprise her. 

“I’m a—FUCK!” She screamed, her snarky response cut off by you penetrating her once more. She somehow felt even tighter in this position. 

“Got you,” You grinned, your cock throbbing inside her wet, slick heat. She glares at you and opens her mouth to try and say something, but her words turn into a moan when you slam back into her, the delicious flesh of her ass rippling as the base of your crotch makes contact with her juicy cheeks. 

“You have a great ass Ryujin,” You compliment her. 

“T-Thank you…” She manages. “Now shut up and fuck me.”

“As you wish,” You reply. 

Reaching forward, you grasp a palmful of her tits and give it a squeeze. She supports herself against her desk as you begin to rock her body once more, drilling yourself deeper and deeper into her pussy. Her moans fill the room, a delicious arc of her back forming as she tilts her head back to look you in the eyes.

“Pull… My hair…”

Happy to follow through with her request, you make a makeshift ponytail with a handful of her dark hair and yank back. She lets out a sharp gasp, her walls tightening as you clench your fist tighter around the lock of hair. 

“Yes yes yes yes…” She pants, eyes half lidded with pleasure as she struggles to grip the desk properly. Her walls were tightening around you by the second. 

You pull back harder on her hair, pulling her upright. You wrap one arm in front of her, pulling her towards you. Her back flushes against your chest, her eyelids snapping open as she makes eye contact with you. 

“I’m cumming… Oh god I’m fucking cumming…” She gasps, gripping your forearms in a vice grip. 

She continues to let unfiltered gasps leave her throat before she finally reaches her high. Like the beautiful mess she already was, she screams at the top of her lungs, her insides clenching onto your cock as she twitches in your arms. You fuck her relentlessly through her orgasm, chasing your own high as your sensitive member feel every pulse, every twitch of her freshly fucked pussy, your cock spearing her repeatedly. You fuck her twitching body like there was no tommorow, hips thrusting furiously till you hit your second orgasm for the night. 

Pulling your dick out just in time, resting it on her plump ass and stroking yourself to completion. Her butt glistens with your cum, some of the slimy, slick fluid sliding off the curve of her round bottom and dripping onto the floor. Your shaft glistens with your mixed juices. 

You both struggle to catch your breaths, panting against each other as you rest your head on Ryujin’s shoulder. 

“Tell… Tell no one about this… Got it?” Ryujin manages to pant after some time. You nod weakly against her, fully drained this time. She slips out of your arms and wraps a hand around your waist. 

“Come on… Squeaker… Looks like you’ll be crashing with me tonight…”

You didn’t have any energy to argue against her, so you join her in crashing into her mattress and settling in for the night. As sleep took over your body, you felt Ryujin cuddling up against you. 

“We… We’ll talk about this tomorrow…” She whispers. “Goodnight Squeaker.”

You managed a one-worded reply. 

“Night…”

Your eyelids flutter shut as you fall into the welcome arms of rest.

_________________________________________

What is popping. I’m not dead guys, I just don’t use tumblr as much (I swear I’ll try and be a little more active). Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this one and I apologise if it’s bad, I read through it once and decided: Eh... Fuck it, let’s post. Contemplating on making this a series if you guys like it enough. I suck at smut so I’m not too sure if this even has the quality to be a series but eh... I’ll leave it to democracy to decide if this is worthy enough. You guys let me know if you want to see this turn into a series.

Have a nice day :))

Also, Legend for some of the terms I used:

Squeaker: Newbie. I stole it from Whiplash lol.

Charts: Slang for sheet music. Also referred to as “Scores”

Snare: The goofy part of the drum set that gives you the funny “Kat” sound. I think google will explain it better. 

Tuning Key: Key that tunes. (Wow!!!)

Score stand: The thing that holds your sheet music

[goatsandgangsters]

favorite callbacks/foreshadowing payoff in A Power Unbound that made yell "oh goddammit" at my book

MY MOST SATISFYING "OH GODDAMMIT" MOMENT. FULL ON HAD ME PACING UP AND DOWN MY APARTMENT GOING "OH MY GOD THEY ACTUALLY DID IT, THE CRAZY SON OF A BITCH, THEY DID IT"

it wins #1 because this line always made me SO suspicious, but I also thought it was such a longshot. between the suspiciously specific phrasing of "blow up" and alan calling the lockroom easy to misuse in the same scene, my prediction was actually that the bad guys were going to do some fuckshit with the lockroom, because ART introduced us to the concept of "using hair to channel magic" and having a room full of everybody's hair seemed... uh, bad.

so I was just wrong enough to be delightfully shocked and just right enough to feel so satisfyingly smug. 10/10 felt terrific.

"adelaide tapping her ring" is SUCH a sneaky little detail. because she's tapping her ring all throughout a marvelleous light, and then sURPRISE it was the contract piece all along, beautiful bit of same-book foreshadowing, well done everyone go home

so when it showed up again in a power unbound, I was like "aw cute. I like that she's still got that little habit, even though it's not a Plot Relevant Foreshadowing Moment anymore, what a nice detail"

and then adelaide pseudo-flipped me off with her ring finger and went SURPRISE, GOT YOU TWICE, WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT MY PLOT RELEVANT RING?

this one didn't take me by surprise, but it's exactly what I love about reading a careful and deliberate writer.

this is in the same scene where we find out about jack's secretbind. so when I read it, I thought "okay well, we just found out he has A Mouth Thing. but he subconsciously touches his leg as well as his mouth, so probably he has A Leg Thing too." and then did a quick "probably from the war, right? seems most likely" and felt confident I knew that Jack had some kind of leg injury long before A Power Unbound even came out

and it's just SO FUN, because when you have a really good writer like this, you get the absolute joy as a reader of reading One Single Sentence and going "I see you, I know that means something." it's delightful, it's my favorite kind of puzzle, it's so rewarding

the way robin gets super uncomfortable with the penhallick crowd gossiping about what happened to jack and then changes the subject to magical people born into unmagical families who never discover their magic

the way jack and alan are linked together through this one worldbuilding-during-dinner conversation from two books ago. beautiful. profound.

and finally. my grand final of moments that made me go OH!! FUCK!!—

that's the first mention of jack by name, ever, at all, in the entire series.

that is the very first detail we ever learn about him.

AND THEN HE DID IT AGAIN, AFTER ALL THOSE YEARS OF NO MAGIC, AND I WAS SO PROUD, AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH, AND ALSO I HUCKED MY BOOK ACROSS MY BED.

HIS FIRST MENTION AND HIS FIRST ACT OF MAGIC AFTER OVER A DECADE, crying, crying forever, we have come full circle

[multific]

Date Nights

Vincent de Gramont x Reader

Warning: sexual innuendos

Summary: It wasn't very often that he took you out on dates, it did happen occasionally, and you always enjoyed every second of it.

"You know, when you asked me to come shopping with you, this is not what I expected, but I'm not complaining," you said as you sipped on your champagne as Vincent appeared wearing another three-piece suit.

The shop closed as all of the assistants are with you.

When Vincent asked you to go shopping with him, you assumed you were going to buy dresses for yourself, but when he brought you into the shop he gets his suits made, you were delighted.

First, he had a gorgeous all-grey suit on, then a beautiful black and now, he was standing in front of you, in black pants and a red top. He looked stunning.

"Oh, now that is just perfection." you said as he turned a full circle. "Your ass looks really good in that." you hummed as he looked at you through the mirror.

Now you knew how much he liked when you pointed out certain parts of him which you enjoyed. 

Since it was usually him complimenting you not the other way around.

But you weren't lying, he looked stunning.

He ended up getting everything and soon, you found yourself in a nice little restaurant for lunch.

You really enjoyed dates like these.

Simple shopping and food. There was just something about how comfortable you were around him every time silence fell upon both of you.

After lunch, you two went to the Louvre, Vincent had a fascination for paintings and so did you.

You spent good minutes looking at all the paintings, as if it was the first time you saw them, when in fact it wasn't.

"All this history, all this beauty and yet, you are the most beautiful." he said, not looking at you but rather at The Coronation of Napoleon. "When we first met, I often came here to clear my head, I looked at all the marble all the paintings and yet, all I could think about was you. How beautiful you are and how nothing in here could ever compare." he finally looked at you and you smiled at him. "All I could think about was the imperfections of the paintings or the statues because, in my eyes, you are perfection."

"You hold me to a very high standard, Vincent. I will grow old and imperfect while the paintings and statues will stay as they are."

"You will never be imperfect."

"Thank you, Vincent, but truly, you don't have to say all of this. Your guards will hear you. You cannot let them think that the high and mighty Marquis has feelings!" you giggled as he pulled you to stand in front of him, looking at the Mona Lisa. He towered behind you as you let out a sigh. "I still prefer Van Gogh or Dali. But I won't deny the beauty of this. You are a work of art yourself, Vincent. Especially when you are naked." it was meant as teasing, but you knew he took it seriously which you were also okay with.

"I wish I could paint like this. I could paint you and put it in my office." he said as his hands tightened around you.

"For some reason I find that to be both flattering and unsettling. You should get a Monet instead of me. I'm not some 18th century Queen." you looked up at him as he moved both of you to the next painting.

Liberty Leading the People.

"You are my Queen though." you nearly laughed at his cheezy comment.

"Should I get a painting of me for you birthday? One for you office and then one for home, a nude one?"

"If you stand in front of any other person naked, I will have to kill them after the painting is done. No one else is allowed to see you but me."

"I'm okay with that."

"Then I will leave it up for you." he smiled, not looking at you. "See? She is leading the people, a representation of freedom and power. The power the people took back and yet all I can think about is how powerless she is compared to you."

"You are in love." you said watching her on the canvas.

"That I am."

"And I am in love."

"That you are. We are in love."

You hummed.

"I love date nights."

"Who said this is the end?"

"Oh? What else do you have in mind?"

"Dinner and then we drive home, have sex in the car then barely make it into my apartment, have sex against the front door, scare my poor housekeeper, then have sex in our room."

"Now that's a plan! Can we have Italian for dinner? You know I love pasta."

"Of course, if I can come inside you later, Mon Amour."

"Of course." you finally turned around in his arms as you smiled at him, his eyes watching you as you reached up, one hand behind his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

Oh yes, you loved date nights.

More Vincent

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