#and I’m truly honoured you love my art and this au

[compaculaaa]

Not sure if this has been asked before, but what program/tools do you use to draw? I would like to try participating in your DTFIYS and produce something reasonable since I adore your artwork and AU.

Oh I will gladly tell you EVERYTHING, I’ve always been happy whenever someone asks me how do I draw and what I use^^.

I use IbisPaint X mostly Cus it feels the most comfortable for me compared to other programs (for example I have Procreate but I don’t use it lol)

Here’s my pen pressure sensitivity adjustments

The first pic is all the standard brushes I use, for serious pictures I use the dip pen for lineart but for the Sparkling Sibling style I use felt tip pen. Airbrush for soft shade

As well as a lot of stamps to add some cute patterns to my drawings

I use these filters the most

But of course you don’t have to follow how I draw 1 on 1, it’s important to use what’s the most comfortable and convenient for you and your artstyle! I wish you luck on your drawing journey and I can’t wait to see what you’ll make for the DTFIYS ^^

[i-did-not-mean-to]

YOTP - June

It's around @russingon-week after all, I think...

Have some Russingon for your nerves :)

Now with art by @chechula!!! Go give them a follow!

Pairing: Maedhros x Fingon

Prompts: Wedding/Proposal, Saving the world, (accidental) love confession, “You aren’t what I expected”, Downpour, Soulmate AU

Words: 2 510

Warnings: Injury, prophetic dreams, gender confusion, soulmate AU, blood and rain

Nelyafinwë flexed his right hand absent-mindedly—he’d had another highly confusing dream in which a hand that seemed to be his own was pointing wildly at a blurry landscape in the distance.

Even now, hours after waking, he could not shake the gnawing sensation that he knew the outline of the faraway city, nestled at the foot of a mighty mountain, but, no matter how fiercely he frowned, the liberating recognition escaped him stubbornly.

“There you are,” his father exclaimed impatiently upon finding him ambulating under a quiet colonnade. “Your tutor is awaiting you!”

Nelyafinwë looked up, tempted momentarily to ask Fëanáro about the city in his dreams, but he didn’t dare.

Ever since his childhood, his family had owned and inhabited this vast estate. Nelyafinwë had, nevertheless, always been aware that they’d removed themselves from an entirely different, unknown society for reasons his parents adamantly refused to discuss.

He couldn’t shake the sensation that this imposed exile was somehow linked to him, and so he’d done his best to honour his family’s sacrifice by fulfilling his father’s every ambitious project and exaggerated expectation.

He was, Nelyafinwë thought as he ducked into the library, after all the oldest son, and he owed it to his brothers to be the best role model he could possibly be.

With the fanfare of hasty steps and rustling paper started this most fateful of days, looking much like countless ones before, which would end in the inevitable victory of fate over willpower.

In the afternoon, as he took another wistful stroll, Nelyafinwë passed by his father’s study and was struck by the high-pitched trill in his mother’s anxious voice.

His steps faltered for it was not in Nerdanel’s stolid nature to sound so distressed and breathless, not even in the presence of her formidable husband.

“He’s almost reached the age—” she whispered urgently. “Soon…”

“I care nought about the fate of the world,” Fëanáro thundered. “We’ve gone away so far that none even remember him—surely, whatever destiny that hooded, skeletal soothsayer has foretold for my son, shall not come to pass.”

“You have seven sons,” Nerdanel bellowed. “And if the Kingdom, your Kingdom, falls—what is to become of them? I’m afeared, ‘Náro. Can we truly outrun fate once it has been spoken into the world?”

Nelyafinwë did not hear what answer, if any, his esteemed father made to that passionate exclamation, for he was already racing headlong across the atrium towards the gate, desperate to escape the familial country home and lose himself amongst the old groves surrounding their estate.

All his darkest, most torturous suspicions had been confirmed, and he tended to agree with his mother—nobody, not even his father, could circumvent destiny.

The olive trees loomed dark and fertile on a nearby hill, and he plunged into the blessed shadow as fast as his long, toned legs would carry him.

Nobody should witness him as he came to terms with the terrible doom hanging over his helpless head—even a wretched fool had his pride.

Soon, though, he resented himself for his irrational, puerile reaction. He hadn’t even ascertained the nature of the prophecy that had so distressed his parents, and he knew only too well that being aware of the impending danger was ever preferable if one sought to ward it off.

Nevertheless, he was certain that nothing less than unbearable, unacceptable misery could have made his proud father leave his hitherto unmentioned family to hide away in the countryside.

His head was spinning with the devastating answers to old questions and new contradictions; surely, Fëanáro could not be part of the Royal House, could he?

This absurd revelation conjured up a new avalanche of guilt and despair in the young man; if his mother had spoken true, his father would have deserted his duty and deprived the whole family of a luxurious life for the sake of his oldest son alone.

At once, Nelyafinwë understood the deeper meaning of Nerdanel’s harsh words, and his eyes filled with tears of self-loathing and impuissant rage.

“Cry not, little princeling.”

Nelyafinwë looked up sharply upon hearing the ingratiating tone and the mellow voice coming from deep within the shade of the ancient trees.

“Who goes there?” he called, getting back to his feet to meet any intruder or foe head-on.

“I mean you no harm,” the voice resounded once more, followed by the discreet rustling of leaves and crunching of dry earth underfoot.

A moment later, a tall, beautiful stranger appeared, his mouth curled into a friendly smile—Nelyafinwë shivered in vague prescience.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact matter of contention, but something about that man struck him as odd and eerily uncanny.

“Did you have a falling out with your parents?”

Slowly backing away, Nelyafinwë stared at the long-fingered, broad hand extended towards him as one hypnotised by a snake about to strike.

“You cannot outrun them—you cannot outrun me!” Springing forth suddenly, the stranger grabbed the prince’s shoulders and shook him lightly.

Darkness—asphyxiating and absolute—descended upon Nelyafinwë’s senses, and he fell, insensate, into the waiting embrace of his terrifyingly charming captor.

Visions of his severed hand—pointing now to the sky, now to the dark abyss below his dangling feet—haunted his restless unconsciousness, and he struggled through bone-breaking agony back to the cold, glassy surface of the waking world.

As soon as he opened his eyes, Nelyafinwë understood that, as per usual, his mother had been right—there had never been the slightest chance of escaping his fate.

Thus, he was much less horrified than he should have been when he realised that he was chained to the sheer flank of a small mountain by his treacherous hand.

Somewhere overhead, he thought he could hear someone laughing wildly—Nelyafinwë was far too tired and proud to rile against predestination.

He hung his head and waited.

Findekáno awoke bright and early.

“The time has nearly come,” his mother said mournfully as she slowly poured fresh water from an earthen carafe into his goblet.

“I shall be ready!” he assured her confidently. His bright eyes were drawn to a ridge of faraway hills which separated the city from the remote wilds of the countryside. “I feel the need to travel, alone, to gather my spirits and strengthen my flesh.”

Anairë’s gaze grew soft, and she bent over her beloved firstborn to breathe a devoted kiss onto the crown of braided hair tenderly. “So it shall be then,” she whispered, smiling wistfully.

When she’d been heavy with child, a soothsayer had been brought to her, foretelling great feats of valour and puissance for her yet unborn child, and Anairë had never deemed it necessary to subsequently hide that momentous prophecy from her joyous, optimistic son.

“He shall save the kingdom by his fortitude, and true love shall be granted to him as a boon.”

Even now, as she took a sip of her honeyed wine, she could hear the scratchy, unfathomable voice of the hooded stranger echoing through her weary mind.

Often, she had wondered whether she should have spared Findekáno the terrible knowledge of a vague trial awaiting him, especially upon seeing how single-mindedly and grimly he trained to be prepared for every gruesome eventuality.

“It’s almost time—I can sense it. My dreams have been increasingly troubling as of late,” he confessed under his breath.

“The red-haired maiden with the silver eyes again?” Anairë asked understandingly, yearning to lay her cool hand on the feverish brow of her child as she’d once done through seemingly endless nights of debilitating fear. He’d since grown so strong that she doubted he’d ever need her support and comfort again—the thought pained her, but her gentle smile never wavered.

“I cannot see her clearly,” Findekáno mumbled. “She’s always somewhere very high up, blurred by clouds and mist, and yet I know her.”

He stood abruptly. “Please tell father that I wish him well and kiss my siblings in my stead. I shall return soon. I must go at once!”

“May you be victorious, my darling son,” Anairë sighed as she watched him go. Since the day he’d left the protection of her body, she’d not felt so scared on his behalf, so she lifted her head and squared her shoulders resolutely.

She would not quail in the face of destiny—she’d prepare for her son’s triumphant return.

Findekáno set out without delay, a light pack slung across his back, and made for the distant horizon resolutely.

His mind was still entranced with the blurry vision of a person he’d never met and yet had known all his life—he could not recall when the long-limbed, red-haired stranger had first slipped into his most intimate and intense dreams, but he could not consciously remember her ever not having been part of his hopes and fears either.

Maybe, she’d always been there. Maybe, she was a part of himself. Either way, he was determined to find her, and—if possible—fulfil his mother’s tender hopes by courting her.

By the time he re-emerged from his distracted musings about things that belonged to the realm of potential and phantasms instead of careful planning and saving wisdom, Findekáno had left the city far behind him and was clambering over rocks and down virgin gorges.

Still, his heart did not despond, and so he pressed on indefatigably until he reached a bare, forbidding cliff, its jagged outcrops drawing menacing shadows onto the mossy forest floor.

As he turned his gaze upwards in search of he knew not what, Findekáno saw dark clouds gather ominously, and—a mere moment later—heavy rain started falling like passionate, angry tears from the marred sky.

Through the sudden downpour, he could make out a flash of red, glimmering like a defiant torch behind the curtain of shivering grey.

Momentarily, he considered his trusty bow, but he could not trust his aim in the present meteorological conditions, and he didn’t know how feeble his fated lover would be from her ordeal.

“You always knew that it wouldn’t be that easy,” he chided himself, casting off his pack and weapons and clawing his bare fingers into the slippery face of the wet rock.

The ascent was as perilous as it was arduous, but long years of devoted preparation and stubborn training had made Findekáno far stronger and more resilient than any random, benighted wanderer who might have chanced upon so strange and shocking a sight.

At last, he reached a narrow ledge on which he could stand and rest.

Tilting his face upward, he let his eyes travel along dirty, bare feet and long, shapely calves in captivated speechlessness.

This wretched captive, he knew instinctively, was the person of whom he’d been dreaming his whole life…only, those alluring calves melted into bony knees and seemingly endless thighs.

Impatient by nature, he let his gaze move across narrow hips and a taut, pale stomach hastily until it came to rest, astonished and aghast, on a well-defined but unmistakably flat chest.

Findekáno’s stomach somersaulted and his bleeding, aching fingers went numb; he’d found the love of his life, the person who’d right all the countless wrongs of their realm, the very embodiment of his own elusive fate at long last.

His impervious, bold heart stuttered in his heaving chest. Who was he to question fate? Destiny made no mistakes, and he’d risked too much and come too far to turn back now without at least trying to meet this last exquisite challenge head-on.

“You’re not what I expected,” he blurted out.

“I’m ever so sorry if my impersonation of a deviously beguiled and betrayed abductee is not to your liking,” the other rasped, grey eyes flashing in tandem with the churning sky behind him.

“No, I am sorry,” Findekáno replied courteously. “I…surmised that you’d be a woman, but no matter. I’ve been waiting, hoping, wishing for you. My name is Findekáno.”

“I’d shake your hand, but…” the literal hanger-on smiled sharply. “My name is Nelyafinwë. I’ve learned…was it today? Yesterday? A month ago? I know not…that I was a prince. Before I could fulfil my glorious purpose, though, I found myself…between a rock and a hard place, if you will forgive my grim sense of humour.”

Findekáno nodded feelingly; he’d not brought any crafting tools, and even if he was to climb down again to fetch his bow and his dwindling food supplies, he wasn’t confident that he’d then be better equipped to free what was, in all likelihood, his soulmate.

Already, he felt the eerie but irresistible pull of a power far beyond his understanding or control ensnare every fibre of his being.

Instinctively, he understood that the time of struggle and fight was at an end—he wholeheartedly yielded to the warm chains of a nascent bond taking hold of him and rooting him to the bare rock underfoot.

“Have you come to a conclusion?” he then asked cautiously, ready and willing to follow his fated lover’s wishes and commands.

“The hand has to go,” Nelyafinwë replied dryly. “Unfortunately, I seem to be unable to pull myself up for long enough to gnaw it off.”

Horrified, Findekáno patted his belt. “I have a knife if that is of any use to you?”

Like all people who spent their lives waiting for one very specific event to happen, he was thoroughly overwhelmed and discombobulated by the sheer speed and chaotic violence with which that monumental incident tore through his existence like an avalanche.

Unafraid even in the face of certain devastation, Findekáno straightened in a touching imitation of his mother’s steadfast stance of devoted resolution.

“Hand it over!” Nelyafinwë groaned, stretching out a blood-stained, long-fingered hand.

“Will you marry me?” Findekáno asked, holding the lethal blade out of reach.

He knew not why these words had burst from his lips so uncouthly—he’d always envisioned a long courtship full of peaceful walks and tense repasts in flowering meadows—but he couldn’t deny that it felt right.

Surely, Nelyafinwë also sensed their uncanny link. Didn’t he?

Imprudent and nonsensical as his paroxysm of desperate affection was, he stood firm under the bemused scrutiny of those gorgeous, stormy eyes.

“Is that a proposal? Once I’m out of here, I’ll literally give you my hand in marriage,” Nelyafinwë chuckled darkly.

“Don’t you have to consult your parents?”

“You have no idea how much they’ve hidden from me,” the other commented with an exasperated sigh. “Serves them well. I can’t shake the feeling that this, gruesome as it is, was meant to happen. So, may I have your knife as a token of your suit?”

Surrendering the weapon wordlessly, Findekáno felt his heart soar—he slung his strong arms around the cool, slick legs of his fiancé to steady him and keep him from plummeting to his death as soon as he’d escaped his bonds.

It was wrong, he knew, but—standing on the edge of disaster while blood and rain plastered his tunic to his heaving chest—he was perfectly happy.

Thank you for reading!

-> Masterlist

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

the fact that gojo genuinely wanted to teach him about love…… that he wanted to reach out to him and save him from his isolation.

YES!! the whole "i will remember you.." HAS ME FUCKED UP like. there's a few ways it could be interpreted but it gives me the same feeling as when you 'love' someone so much, you honour or cherish the memory of them forever.. AHHHHHH I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

thank you ari for the link <33 when i read the chapter I will be back to let you know my thoughts and feelings :3 I have so many photos in my camera roll of just me sobbing after jjk so :3 definitely scared :3 With 252.. you're very right it's really sad that it's actually quite far from how detailed Gege likes his fights to be. Art style and breaks are on two different spectrums. Complaining about him taking breaks is the biggest NO from me. like PLEASE let Gege release a chapter a month. Every single week is WAY too much for a mangaka - there's only so much a person can do within 6 days :// From a pure quality and marketing standpoint it'll allow him to : process his OWN thoughts, more detailed drawings and (longer) chapters, perhaps even formulate a proper plan for the manga, and the hype will be bigger as well. Especially right now where it is getting criticism and being called repetitive - there is less hype because everyone knows they'll get answers in the next week. But most importantly REST. he is not a machine and you are very right about that!!

something to look forward to :3 (tbf i was especially into it bc i love takaba and kenny lmao but i still think you’ll find it fun!! you can tell akutami was having a blast)

also!! i just thought I'd let you know.. i never really got kenny (kenny is so messed up and i dislike(d) them) but you're the blog that made me understand the lore!! and I even started reading some kenny fics.. Anyways, i think that's enough for today and I'll shut up now haha!! <33

OHHHHH ANON WE’RE HOLDING HANDS OUR BRAINS ARE SMOOCHING

i agree completely 🫂 when i saw that line i kept thinking of sukuna like. centuries into the future…. in a completely different world ….. STILL remembering gojo and no one else. it’s such a wonderful fucking line not only because sukuna looks so sincerely pleased saying it but because it’s proof that gojo DID reach him!!!! gojo wanted to prevent sukuna from feeling alone and he succeeded because sukuna will never truly be alone as long as he’s carrying gojo’s memory with him. they make me insane

PLS DO SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE CHAPTER ONCE YOU READ IT …. i’d love love love to hear!!!! :3 take your time though… get your tissues ready……. aaa and !!! 100% agree on the monthly chapters. that should just be a standard atp but sadly it isn’t…. :ccc i rlly do think gege deserves one long longgggg break to rest up properly.

also!! i just thought I'd let you know.. i never really got kenny (kenny is so messed up and i dislike(d) them) but you're the blog that made me understand the lore!! and I even started reading some kenny fics..

ALSO THIS !!!!!!!! ANON…….. T_T this made me so happy you have NO idea. i’m so glad i could turn you around on him!!! he’s such a silly, interesting, fun little guy :’3 (very fucked up too but that’s just another charm point imo) and aaa the kenny fics !! the world needs sm more of those … i’m working on a no curses au fic for him but i have no idea when it’s getting out …… </3 hopefully soon!!!! anyway pdhdjdj i’m just so happy that you’re a kenny enjoyer now!! welcome to the cult club !!!! 🫂🫂

[mayahawkins]

no one asked me to list my fav blogs but i’m just gonna make my own end of year follow forever bc i wanna rant abt my talented friends, beloved mutuals, and just people i follow that i have never spoken to but who are such a joy to see on my dash. so, without further ado, maddy’s 2022 follow forever:

@strangeswift abby strangeswift, my beloved. you were the first person i talked to in this fandom and i’m so glad u were bc u are the sweetest most kind person ever. you are so supportive of all your friends and mutuals and u make me wanna be a more outwardly loving and supportive person fr. i remember when u wrote that lil ficlet based on my text post and i’m p sure i almost cried bc i felt so special that someone had been inspired by something i had said to write smth so wonderful. you’re an incredible writer and i am always so excited anytime you post any of your writing. i can’t wait to read more of your fics and am so patiently waiting for MilevenVision (as much as i may bug u for crumbs). i’m so glad to call you a friend <3

@elekinetic ella ella, bonded in shared discord trauma so ur never getting rid of me. i feel so honoured to call you a friend bc you are one of the best people i know. you are so smart and level-headed and loyal as hell to your friends. you are also so kind and you're so deliberate with what you say and how you say it. you defs intimidated me the first few times we talked but now im like oh ya ella, my amazing talented friend ella. your scripts give me so much life. and not just your st ones but your original ones as well. can't wait to one day see "ella elekinetic hexagirl" in movie credits (bc obviously ur last name is ur url). and your OCs?? i have never once become obsessed with someone's OCs the way i can't stop thinking abt yours. that's what you've done to me. you are so incredibly talented and ily <3

@andiwriteordie ANNDDIIIIII ILY FR <3 u are so insanely talented and kind and wonderful. i’m so happy we started talking recently bc u have truly brightened the last few weeks of the year. u got me back into watching merlin so thank u for the pain u will surely cause me as i rewatch this show i haven’t seen in almost a decade. ur fics were some of the first that i read in the byler fandom and that means u will always hold a special place in my heart. i remember the first time i read your let's hear it for the boys series and i was just like omg i'm obsessed with this. i have absolutely adored every single one i’ve read (even though i’m a lil behind on them rn oops but i will catch up) and can’t wait to see what else you write. your atla!au (and the newly brainstormed merlin!au) live in my head rent free and i can’t wait to read them if you write them.

@nnilkyway my fellow emo will truther <3 yvie i love you dearly. you are so incredibly talented i could scream abt ur artwork literally for days. your fanworks and your original art and your doodles are all beautiful and stunning. the day we started talking and you sent me the lil doodle you did of emo will byers i think i actually cried at how much i loved it and that it had come from our conversation about it. i saved it onto my camera roll so i can come back to it easier that's how much i love it. you are also one of the funniest people on here, your tags almost always have me rolling. i can't wait to see what beautiful art you draw in the new year.

@finalgirlbyers sierra lovqbrl madcleradin finalgirlbyers!!!! i know we haven’t talked much but i love seeing u on my dash and u always have the best takes and theories and just posts in general. i know i've said that literally multiple times to you but it cannot be overstated how correct you always are. one of my fav people to follow on here.

people i don't talk to but whose presence is a joy to have on my dash:

@astrobei an absolutely incredible writer that wrote some of my fav fics. one of the best will fics, not all the prayers, that truly is just so unbelievably amazing. like the care that you can just tell went into that fic is just incredible. Some absolutely incredible lines that will punch you right in the gut in the best way possible.

@blueeandyellowmakesgreen jade! one of the coolest people, has some of the most amazing art over on @azuries, like it's actually so amazing and people need to go look at it and reblog it now immediately

@mlchaelwheeler an absolute joy to follow. so many good posts and im fr rooting for mike with a sword in s5 just for her

@elmaxed their fics were some of the first i read in the byler fandom and i absolutely fell in love with them. they hold such a dear place in my heart. also one of the sweetest people fr, one of the first to compliment my gifs and so they are forever in my mind for that <3

@smoosnoom omg their fics!!! are!!!! incredible!!!! so many wonderful fics, i was just looking through my bookmarks and i swear half of them are theirs. the one about mike's will voice has my whole heart.

@wiseatom another lovely fic writer, and one who titles her fics with taylor swift lyrics bc she Gets It!!! also one of the sweetest people in the fandom, always seems to be supporting other people.

@kidovna one of the most talented artists in this fandom oh my GOD. i cannot praise her and her art enough idk how what else to even say besides amazing incredible talented showstopping

@byeler wrote one of my all time fav fics, Heavy Hopes, with my beloved trope, oblivious jealous mike, which is truly *chef's kiss*. such a good writer like it cannot be overstated

@ice-sculptures a truly amazing gifmaker. gifs so many little byler moments that are so precious that i've definitely missed when watching the show.

@william-byers an absolutely incredible gif maker. taylor swift and stranger things together on one blog, what more could you want?

@padme-amidala makes some of the most beautiful gifs ever oh my goodness, her gifs are part of what inspired me to start making gifs and to challenge my gifmaking. i hope to one day be as good as she is.

@robiinbuckley also makes some of the most beautiful gifs, literally in awe of her gifs. also inspired my gifmaking journey and has inspired me to challenge myself when it comes to gifmaking.

[thepixelelf]

I posted 4,880 times in 2022

1,280 posts created (26%)

3,600 posts reblogged (74%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jminwook

@woozi

@bisexualgyu

@ only-aroha-would-know

@xuseokgyu

I tagged 4,119 of my posts in 2022

Only 16% of my posts had no tags

#stickynotes.tpe - 756 posts

#seventeen - 678 posts

#golden child - 377 posts

#asks - 291 posts

#astro - 272 posts

#major ursa moment - 169 posts

#woozi - 168 posts

#anonymous - 158 posts

#kpop scenarios - 148 posts

#kpop imagines - 148 posts

rise of the major ursa moment tag 😎 I switched to being ursa halfway through the year so it's fun to see that up there. also omg uji being the only individual person on the top 10... truly I am weak for him

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and the way seokmins death was explained in 1251 so efficiently and yet made the audience 'figure it out' in the simplest sense— wonderful

@97-liners jackie got my longest tag and it was worth every letter 💕

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

and the universe said,

When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren't -- and that's before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

genres: comedy disguised as romance and romance disguised as comedy, soulmate au, technically an alternate universe but they're still idols, fluff, angst?, short chapters

relationship(s): SVT ot13 x reader

warnings: 18+ (there will be no smut but perhaps suggestive parts and multiple references to/jokes about sex and I honestly just don't feel comfy with minors reading my writing of that stuff sorry). coarse language. everybody's a little bit very stupid. individual chapters will have their own warnings

See the full post

593 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

#4

First to Fall - SVT 95 line (Completed!)

What happens when two friends who are ‘bad at love’ want to prove each other wrong?

Genres: romance, comedy, idiots-to-lovers, university au

Pairing: Reader & S.Coups (feat. Jeonghan & Joshua)

Warnings: language, absolute dumbassery

Note: this is a recast of an smau I have posted before

•••

Profiles

1. Taemin from SHINee

2. Scout’s Honour

3. How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days

4. Boom

5. First Date Types

6. As if

7. Wait What Happened

8. Awkward Silence

9. You Have No Idea

10. Emergency

11. No, Maybe

12. I Need To Tell You Something

13. Should’ve Gone First

14. I Don’t Know

15. Priorities

16. Missed

17. Standby for Backup

18. Starstruck

19. I’m Gonna Do Something

20. Because

21. A to B

22. Let’s Talk

See the full post

651 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

#3

powerpoints I think seventeen would bring to a ppt sleepover

scoups: Exactly How Many Minutes After Midnight Each of You Texted Me on My Birthday

jeonghan: Cheating at Everything: Is it Really a Crime?

joshua: When To Quit a Bit (I Wish I Knew)

jun: Good Soup :]

hoshi: I *AM* a Tiger (NOT CLICKBAIT)

wonwoo: Why Cats Are Better Than People

woozi: Top 300 Best Animes Of All Time

dk: My Friends as Pizza Toppings and Combinations

mingyu: Receipts of Every Time You Guys Have Cyberbullied Me (Mostly Instagram)

the8: The Art of Shutting the Fuck Up Sometimes

seungkwan: 12 Slides of Secrets Y'all Have Confided to Me And I Will Only Skip Over Yours if You Admit I'm Your Favourite

vernon: cat videos 🐈‍⬛🐈

dino: I Am Underappreciated in This Household

832 notes - Posted December 1, 2022

#2

Or, Would You Rather it be Me?

Genres: romance, soulmate au, university au, (no angst isn’t that crazy?!) Pairing: Reader & Vernon (Seventeen) Words: 7.9k (00:31) Warnings: language. (spoiler: the characters make out and shirts are taken off but it doesn’t get described past that) Notes: well well well well well… what’s this? a soulmate fic by casey thepixelelf with no angst in sight? it must be christmas! oh wait, it is (was)! happy (EXTREMELY LATE I’M SO SORRY) holidays mia @ memesolvernonchwe​ !! hope you like it :)

set in the Words that Bind Us universe

A detested soulmark, a friendship over a decade in the making, and an unexpected proposal from one friend to another... what could possibly go wrong?

See the full post

840 notes - Posted March 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Bouquets for a Friend (From a Friend)

Genres: romance, ceo au, secretary/personal assistant au Pairing: Reader & S.Coups (Seventeen) Words: 1.6k Warnings: cheol gets drunk off-screen Notes: another recasted fic because ceo cheol has me in a metaphoric literal chokehold sorry

Your boss gets flowers quite often. This time, when he does, he wants to get rid of them, and who are you to turn down free flowers?

See the full post

wow that svt powerpoint post really climbed up last minute 😭 really happy to see or would you rather it be me here, though, because I feel like that's the post I worked the hardest on in this list. not surprised about #1.... it was a repost but I should've expected carats' weakness to ceo cheol lmao

852 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[kiatheinsomniac]

i love your gods au so much and i was wondering if you could do a fic with arno where the reader is super devoted to him?

☾ ⋆ﾟGODS AU

notes: I love this AU sm and also shout out to @freshstartfromscratch for the idea about Jacob and Arno having a wager that inspired the first artist and inventor - it was such a cool idea that I finally had the chance to use with this one!

pairing: god! Arno Dorian x Reader

word count: 0.9k

☾ ⋆ﾟ  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

A devotee's opening night

Arno: God of the arts (also mourning and justice)

You could still hear the applause as you joined all of the cast backstage after giving your speech. It was the opening night of the musical that you had written and brought to life with the many friends you made along the way, a performance narrating some of the most renowned myths of the God of arts, including the tale where he tricked his wife into reuniting with him in immortality and his competition with the God of industrialisation over which of them was the God of creativity and their wager for who could create the more impressive product (which resulted in inspiring the first artist and first inventor). 

Your greatest inspirations had always come to you during prayer to the God of arts and so you wished to honour him by combining so many forms of art into one on stage, dedicating the narrative to him. Various bouquets of congratulations were sent to your little office backstage, covering almost every surface. You had a little shrine to the God on the windowsill and you lit the incense that was scented like mulled wine. You lit the royal blue candles and closed your eyes, hands pressed together and fingers woven in prayer. You uttered the same mantra that you had done for years when a strong gust of breeze flew in through the window, snuffing out the candles and sending ash from the incense flying. 

Cursing under your breath, you stood to close the window before falling back to your knees, grabbing the lighter and relighting the candles, continuing your prayer after a brief apology to the God. 

“You know, I quite like these. I’d like them on my shrine, I think.” You turned to see a man that was far too tall for the room, sitting on his calves with his fingertips stroking a bouquet of blue hyacinths that you had received. You had seen glimpses of this face in dreams, especially those from naps that had been a result of you crashing after overworking yourself when inspiration had hit and you just needed to get everything down on paper. 

He had brown hair that was neatly tied back, was dressed in royal blue robes that were not of this time and seemed to have permanent tear stains beneath his eyes, even despite his currently serene expression. 

“I must admit, it was very tempting to watch the rehearsals but I held back from doing so.” He flashed you a playful smile and you could only stay there in utter shock that the God of arts was currently in your office. “But the opening night was splendid! I truly think that you captured my essence, though I expected no less with all the blessings I have bestowed upon you.” 

“M-my Lord, I’m honoured by your presence.” Your voice wavered and you bowed your head out of respect. 

“Oh, drop the formalities, you never speak to me like that between prayers.” Your eyes met his for a moment but you couldn’t find it in you to hold his gaze, “I will see to it that your musical gets the recognition it deserves, it will live to become a classic, I can assure you.” 

“You’re so kind to me.” Was all you could say in reply, your voice almost a whisper. His eyes softened slightly. You had not first come to him as the God of arts, you had come to him as the God of mourning but he had provided you comfort in art and music and the arts had grown to become fierce passions of yours. He had thought that you deserved some kindness in your life and now you had certainly earned his recognition. It had been centuries since such elaborateness had gone into anything dedicated to him and so, even separate from your utter devotion to him, your musical had caught his eye. He reached forward to cup your face in his large hand, his skin feeling cold and his fingertips smelling of the flowers he had just been caressing. 

“They would be so very proud to see how far you’ve come. I will speak to Bayek about finding them so that I can tell them of the person you’ve become.” He needn’t say a name for you to know that he was talking of who you had mourned for and tears sprung to your eyes at knowing they would be given a glimpse of the you that they had not been able to live to see. 

“Thank you, thank you so much.” You swallowed down the lump in your throat and your eyes landed on those blue flowers once more. Reaching for them, you took them from the little table they were standing on and turned to place them on the shrine instead. Arno smiled at the gesture, satisfied with the offering. 

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, chérie.” He reached out to smooth a hand over your hair, pushing it all back from your face, “I have big plans for you.” And the window blew open despite you having closed it, making you whip your head around to face it, reaching up to close it once more. When you turned back around to continue speaking with the God, you found that you were alone once again. 

But as your eyes landed on the dancing flames of the twin candles, you knew that you were never truly alone. 

☾ ⋆ﾟ Buy me a coffee? ✧⋆.・゜Want to be tagged?

🏷️@gojohater101 @daddyadler @writing-noah @havatnah @aarnodorian @veryfancydoilies @elfaoulyyy

[leemeanhoes]

enhypen’s college majors (a headcanon)

okay so i know that this is skz blog (feel free to ignore), but recently i’ve gotten into enhypen and their music and can’t stop thinking about what the members would study if they were in university/college lol

lee heeseung: a double major in english and music, possibly a minor in education. i saw somewhere that if heeseung wasn’t an idol, he’d want to be an english teacher so i’m mostly basing it off of that. i think he would be a good teacher since he’s already such a good role model for the younger members :))

park jongseong aka jay: okay so, i think jay would be in business or a business-related major (e.g. finance, commerce, econ). i’m pretty sure he has a lot of exposure to this field since his dad owns a business and so he would probably be interested in either continuing his family business or starting his own. he’s a people person and his mbti type is ENTP and all the business majors i know are generally extraverted lol. but i also think he could be a communications or sociology major or even have those as a minor. when he was explaining how he chose batman as a superhero he could relate to (buzzfeed video, i think?), he was articulate and had a lot of insight. i think he would suit liberal arts since he’s well spoken and probably could write a stunning research paper. 10/10 for jay!

sim jaeyun aka jake: jake is the reason why i started thinking about this topic so much and ultimately ended up writing a post about it. all the fics i’ve read on tumblr about jake or the enhypen boys in a college!au all revolve around him being a physics major! i actually disagree on this. i firmly believe that jake suits an engineering major. it’s widely known that he likes math and physics but i think he would’ve gone for more of an applied approach. i specifically think jake would specialize into the biomedical stream of engineering and go into some sort of healthcare because he seems like the person who would want to help people improve their lives. jake is a sweet and kind boy. that’s it.

park sunghoon: our ice prince! i had a bit of a difficult time deciding what fit sunghoon but i think he would suit kinesiology with a possible chance of a minor in sport education. i based this choice off of his figure skating background and if he wasn’t an idol, i think he could’ve done coaching of some sort because it’s quite common for figure skaters to coach once they retire. it’s well known that he truly loves figure skating so if he weren’t an idol, i think this would be the route his goes down.

kim sunoo: liberal arts boy! i headcanoned his major as either sociology, psychology, communications, polisci, international relations, aaand maybe film studies? a lot of variety shows focus on the fact that sunoo leans towards the liberal arts type subjects so i wanted to honour that. he’s quite bubbly and honestly, i could see him having a fun time reading articles and presenting in group projects. i also get the vibe he could probably write papers quite well lmao.

yang jungwon: i had a hard time deciding for jungwon too. ik he’s technically still in high school right now so i’ll be a little more general. he’s quite smart and is really mature for his age. and did you see how fast he solved those logic puzzles in en-o’clock? i think he could probably go for a STEM based major but he could go for law. he’s responsible and dedicated so i think he has what it takes to pass the bar exam. i don’t know if he’d be the type of lawyer who’d go argue in court but he could deal with other stuff. either way, you’re in good hands with yang jungwon as your lawyer!!

nishimura riki aka niki: niki-san! this goofball. okay. i wrote down in my notes: dance major, music major, or kinesiology major with a minor in business/management but i really don’t think anything suits niki more than dance. he lives and breathes dance. it would be criminal to think anything else. but i also put down business/management as a minor because his parents own their own dance studio, lead ent. and i could see him wanting to open his own studio or taking up the business. the minor would probably help that aspect a lot but he would generally love to study dance and learn to perform all the different styles.

---

author’s note: i hope it wasn’t horrible or out of character for them as it is my personal guess and i don’t know them in real life. but i hope it was a fun read if you made it this far :) thank you for reading!!

[sitp-recs]

Hidden Gems by @vaysh11

Vaysh is another excellent, long-time Drarry writer who explores a variety of tropes and has written some incredible drabbles and short fics. I love the quiet and contemplative tone of her work, some downright melancholy, others hot, sweet, intriguing and fun. There’s a little bit of everything and I selected fics covering all kinds of moods to keep you busy this weekend. Oh and btw Vaysh also translates fics to German, how cool is that?!! If you’re interested, you can find the collection here. She’s quite prolific and I still have many fics to go through myself which is perfect, as those short-medium fics happen to be my fave length these days. Next on my list is We Are Legend, a 35k Voldemort wins AU, and I can’t wait! While I’m checking this dystopian adventure (I love this genre!) make sure to indulge these lovely treats, and don’t forget to leave kudos and comments!

Four Letters and a Dance (G, 1.6k) - epistolary + secret lovers through the war!! Sweet and hopeful, I love how happy and free they become together

Harry and Draco have been lovers since fifth year at Hogwarts. When the War has them on opposing sides, they communicate through magical letters, addressing each other in code. Draco is Silver-Green, and Harry is Golden-Red.

The Postmaster (2015, E, 2.8k) - a gorgeous and contemplative sequel to Bound Skerry by Frayach. Cw: mild S&M, breathplay 🔥

A new postmaster comes to the remotest of the Shetland islands.

The Best Hot Chocolate (2017, T, 3k) - emotional Christmas fluff, hurt/comfort, pre-slash

Three times Harry Potter made hot chocolate on Christmas. And one time he didn't.

The Rose Tattoo collab with Raitala (2014, T, 3k) - songfic, tattooed!Draco, open ending and some truly breathtaking Draco art!

A drunken tattoo becomes the anchor and compass in Draco's life.

Preludes to a Wank of Magnificent Proportions (2017, E, 3k) - hot and sweet, fumbling over the years, hung!Draco 🙌 and this perfect summary:

Harry and Draco weren't even together. They only had had sex once twice three times.

Times of Bright (2015, E, 13k) - spell-bound lovers, astronomy, flashbacks, amazing porn with feels. Peak romance!

The one year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts finds Draco Malfoy in a room in the Leaky Cauldron. Incidentally, it's also the time of a rare star conjunction, which has been triggering a secret lovers' spell between him and Harry Potter for the last seven years. Only now he's a Death Eater on the run, whereas Harry's a honoured guest at the ceremonies celebrating the downfall of the Dark Lord.

When the Clocks Stopped (2013, E, 30k) - my personal favourite! Intriguing time travel, slow burn, first time, open ending! Can’t rec it enough

When the clocks stop the past gets its chance to catch up. A catastrophe has hit the world, wizarding and Muggle alike: all the clocks stopped, time has come to a halt. Harry Potter's curse-breaking team is part of the quickly formed Order of the Hummingbird. They need the expertise of the Time Master who is none other than Draco Malfoy.

[incognito-lionbeast]

I don’t have enough followers for an ask meme--let alone one for a niche fandom like Acceleracers--so I’m just gonna fill (most of) this out on my oWN. Credit goes to @tomiyeee​ for the meme and the post can be found here!

How did you first get into the series? It’s all @schnellicanth​‘s fault (and I love him for it) -- I think it was around 2019? We watched it for a group movie night, and MAN I thought for sure I’d be able to multitask during World Race... couldn’t. Didn’t. I was enthralled.

What do you like most about the series? I’m a character enjoyer & there are, in fact, many very lovely characters to enjoy. I just.. I love them, man. There’s really only one that I actively dislike, and that’s uhh. Vert’s dad. Sorry, dude. Do better.

Favorite & least favorite movie? I think World Race/Highway 35 is the weak link in the series as a whole? It’s still super enjoyable, don’t get me wrong! But it’s less imminently rewatchable for me (when all by myself, anyway).

I think my favourite is Breaking Point? Really enjoy the drama, aha. Also, in the (unlisted) Initial eDition put together by my aforementioned friend--he put m.o.v.e’s “Outsoar the Rainbow” over the Silencerz’ opening sequence. And it’s probably one of my most favourite things ever.

Favorite & least favorite character(s)? My ultimate fave is Wylde -- he’s my son. I won’t accept criticism. I know he’s a huge jerk in Acceleracers, but 8′) as a former Younger Sibling with a complicated relationship to my elder brother? Relatable. He’s really just a scared / traumatised kid, man... I care him. He needs to Do Better, but I care him so much. I also really Love/Hate Tezla, but that’s its own whole thing. Honourable mentions include: Shirako, Vert, Kurt, and Taro (really I love them all tho)

Least favourite! I think I already mentioned... it’s Major Wheeler. I sympathise with being a single parent & a widower, but also man. There’s a couple of things he says which REALLY bug me, y’know? ‘You don’t know how sorry I am’ isn’t an apology! Do better. Vert deserves better.

Favorite & least favorite car(s)? I may be biased, but I do really like Spinebuster, aha. Also, Bassline. I’m not sure I have a least fave? Tho the Deora II is sure silly lookin.

Thoughts on the redesigns? I think they’re fine! Taro takes a bit of a hit & I def prefer his WR look, but I think he’s mostly victim to art style rather than the design itself. (also I find Wylde’s Princess Peach lips v funny & good)

Favorite World Race team? Wave Rippers :p Probably for being more memorable than the others, since they have like. the highest number of prominent cast members.

Teku or Metal Maniacs? I love them equally. They both have really fun team dynamics <3

Silencerz or the Drones? Drones. They sure ain’t good guys, but I trust the Silencerz less...

What ships do you like (if any)? I’ve created my own Dinghy. >>;;

My OTP is Vert/Mark Wylde -- like post-canon, once they’ve had a chance to make up. Coz I think it’s a damn shame that the breakdown in their friendship was never addressed :< I wan them to... be friends.... and maybe more....

Tho I’ve seen a lot of Vert/Nolo & Vert/Shirako in the fandom tag. I think that’s also super valid and neat.

Otherwise? I think I polycule’d Taro/Kurt/Karma/Lani together. Just. As ya do. Kadeem can also get in there if he wants. It’s not a super uniform relationship--some are closer to and/or more romantic with certain members more than others--but I can’t & shan’t be tamed.

I do enjoy Karma/Lani & Taro/Kadeem as individual ships. Maybe Taro/Lani with a little post-canon patching up. Though, Kurt I don’t really ship with anyone by himself. Sorry, man >u<

uhhh I feel like Monkey/Porkchop is a given.

But, really, I can be swayed to ship just about anything within reason. I’m a character writer by hobby & writing interpersonal relationships is my passion

Random headcanon/theory about [insert character/faction/event/etc]? Gosh, I have so many. I am very pleased, though, with the random HC I have that Shirako lives with his grandparents (or, rather, they live with him). They’re both very supportive & interested in his hobbies.

Nothing happened to his parents, mind. They just decided to move to Japan not long after he became an adult, and he chose to stay. He loves his grandparents & his friends very much. :>

Any crossover/AU ideas? Uhhh, I think I tossed around the idea of an Oban Star-Racers crossover -- didn’t really come up with anything. I just think it would be neat to smash my two favourite racing series together.

If you could change anything about the story, what would it be? The only thing I can think of is like. :( Kadeem. I don’t mind so much what happens as much as I wish there had been time to truly resolve everything. Kadeem deserves to live and be happy.

Do you have any unpopular opinions about the series? Well, just based on what I’ve seen in the tags, I seem to be in the minority when I say I really love Mark Wylde. So, take that as you will.

What would you like to see/have seen in a continuation? See above. 

But basically:

Mark makes amends with Vert [which I actually wrote here!]

Kadeem is saved

The other drivers who got lost in the realms aRE FINE

Everyone gets therapy

Since I think there’s some really neat narrative parallels between Mark & Kurt’s relationship vs Vert and Major Wheeler’s relationship... Vert takes the other path. Instead of unconditional forgiveness, Vert decides that, while he still loves his father, doesn’t hate him... nothing like that. It’s just really complicated. Maybe it’s better right now if he takes time away from his father.

...among some other things that I’m probably forgetting right now, but oop. this is long enough.

[oftenderweapons]

Illicit Affairs — Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 26k (and for now unedited I am so sorry I have no words left LITERALLY)

Genre: smut, fluff, tiny tiny angst here and there; dating!AU, idol!AU

Rating: 18+

A/N: Hello baby alpacas! I am so sorry this is super late and I know, I know, 26k? I can’t explain myself, there aren’t words right enough for this. I’ve started to write this probably in August, and I kept having Joon and Vixen going a little bit everywhere, they kept defying my plot ideas and in the end I just said screw it, let them lead. Here it is. It’s probably the best result I could achieve, all considered. 

Synopsis: After the date of Love Talk, Vixen has disappeared from Namjoon’s radar and he starts growing impatient. Taehyung takes him to the grand opening of an exhibition curated by the young interior designer and art connoisseur who is currently redecorating his apartment. Yes, it’s Vixen. Completely obliterated by lust and jealousy, Namjoon invites her to his place after the exhibit. It signals the beginning of a very long, very hot weekend. 

TRIGGER WARNING: Cheeze. First of all, jealousy and frustration. Loads of those. Swearing, alcohol consumption. Masturbation (male and female receiving, mutual), voyeurism, exhibitionism, oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected oral sex, protected penetration (Yes, you should use protection for oral sex too. If another person’s semen/preejaculatory liquid/vaginal secretions are about to enter your body, you must be 1000% sure they do not have STIs). Namjoon is big and it’s not entirely a good thing (aka painful penetration), lube, condoms, spanking, thigh riding, gradually increasing daddiness and subsequently daddy kink, switch!Vixen, brat!Vixen, daddy!Namjoon but also slighlyyyyyyy subby!Namjoon, marking and hickeys, cum play and cum eating, predator/prey dynamics, pinning, hair grabbing and tugging (male receiving), a few positions (missionary, cowgirl, spoons). I hope I listed everything. [jk choking, male receiving and facefucking, male receiving] On more emotional terms, both Namjoon and Vixen need commitment, it’s their first time with each other and they’re emotional, there are mentions Namjoon’s exes, Vixen has a moment of panic/cold feet as she realises she’s catching the feels, but Joon is catching them too. Also, LET YOONGI SLEEP AND DO NOT BOTHER JIN

Quick, here is my masterlist

And here is a small music companion (it’s actually a Spotify playlist to honour the queen brat, Vixen)

Enjoy 💜✨

×※×※×※×※×※×※×※×※×※×

He was in a mood.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that you had turned down two dates in two weeks, telling him you were busy.

He suspected differently.

That maybe you didn't like him anymore after last time. That you had realised you needed a man. Someone who didn't need an assistant following him around 24/7, fixing his messes. Someone classy and refined. Adult. Mature. Someone who was appropriate for you. At your level. A peer.

Still he was wound tight. He wanted you. It was ridiculous to think he had feelings.

This was a crush.

Lust.

He liked you and was attracted to you. The chemistry was insane. You are a smart young woman. Truly a little fox, wicked and vicious to the bone. Torturing him, distracting him, sending him naughty texts and then running away as soon as he asks you out, saying your job was suffocating you and you wanted a bit more time with him than your eighth 10 minute coffee break.

‘I’m really sorry Joon. Seriously. I'll make it up to you, I promise.’ You had texted.

Still he was grumpy throughout all Friday morning, making Yoongi suspicious.

“What's with the long face, boy?” He asked. “Is your laptop out again?” He snickered.

Joon snarled. He hadn't been using it for three weeks now, his mind already incredibly imaginative since your latest date. He had imagined you in every single room of his apartment, he had spent the weekend jerking off at random moments of the day, his fantasies torturing and turning him on in an absolutely casual way. On the sofa, in his home studio, in the shower, crouched behind the kitchen counter, one forearm holding him up while his legs gave out under his weight. And in the bed, obviously.

He just wanted you in his apartment for at least eight hours. With a big fat green light for him to fuck you whenever he wanted, you walking around naked so that he could take you whenever the frenzy struck him.

And… He was hard again.

“Grumpy teenager,” Yoongi teased. “Is there someone? Wanna talk it out?”

“Sorta.” Joon put a hand in his hair and ruffled it. “Last time and the one before it was all peachy.” He groaned at his word choice, smashing his head against the table. “She's a fucking catch, hyung. But she's a damn teasing fox. She's been hiding from me. Says she has to focus on work.”

“Would she lie to you?” Yoongi asked.

“She doesn't look like the type.” Namjoon mulled over the question. “She's just so classy. And sexy. Out of my league, hyung.”

“Namjoon, listen. You're the leader of BTS. You held speeches at the UN, Billboard, Grammys. You're one of the most successful people in the world. Her loss.” Yoongi shrugged. “It's okay if you want her, but don't doubt yourself just because she doesn't see your worth. You're a good guy. Clumsy, but good.” Yoongi placed a hand on his back. “And I'm pretty sure she's the one missing out on probably the best sex of her life.” He winked. “I've lived literally next door for ten years. I've heard all your exes. That's good game.” He admitted neutrally, nodding to himself with a devilish smirk on his face.

Namjoon blushed and tried to object, however he was interrupted.

“Hyungs!” Taehyung entered the room. “Are you busy tonight?”

Yoongi nodded. “I'm meeting with a friend.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Cool.” He turned to Namjoon and stared at him expectantly.

Maybe going out, getting you out of his mind, staying busy would help him keep the distance, instead of calling your phone, a little bit tipsy, scolding you for ditching him and begging you to guide him to his climax before saying goodnight and crashing. Still, he felt too grumpy and exhausted to socialise. “I don't know… I'm a bit tired. I'm not sure I'll be in the mood…”

“You know I'm having my apartment redecorated? The designer is opening an exhibit tonight and I thought you would be interested,” Taehyung explained.

“He's coming,” Yoongi replied, lapidary. “Just keep him tipsy and make sure he doesn't use his phone. Be his wingman. He needs to get laid.” Yoongi elbowed his younger friend.

Namjoon snorted. “No need. It's okay. I'll be there.”

“There she is. She's a tasty little thing, isn't she? Legs for miles. Damn she looks incredible tonight.”

Indeed, Namjoon thought. That was his tasty little thing. That was you.

“Do you think she'd let me take her out for dinner?” Taehyung asked. “I’m waiting for this to be just personal, no work matters between us. Just to avoid professional issues.” Taehyung was already waving at you, “Hello, ____.”

Namjoon’s jaw was clenching, fist tightening in the pocket of his slacks.

“____, here!” called Taehyung.

You turned and for fuck's sake was this a heart attack? Beside your client, Mr. Kim was your handsome, mouth-watering crush. The other Mr. Kim.

You beamed as you saw Taehyung. His tastes were classy and traditional and his project was by far your favourite, flowing easily, all your ideas approved straight away by him. “Hello, Mr. Kim!”

Namjoon tensed beside him. He was Mr. Kim. Your Mr. Kim. So, this was why you had been out of touch the last two weeks...

“You look stunning,” Taehyung complimented.

“Thank you so much,” you replied shyly.

Namjoon watched you get flustered. It never happened when he complimented you. You always thanked him cheekily and complimented him back.

“Congratulations for your first exhibition." He offered you his hand and you took it kindly between yours, accepting his felicitations. Lingering on your hands, Taehyung took a slight step aside. “Are introductions needed? I assume you know my friend already. Quite difficult to live in South Korea and not know us, right?” he joked, relaxed.

Namjoon was very, very close to picking you up and smashing you against the wall, showing his friend that yes, he knew you pretty well and yes, he had got here first. Make him wait in line.

“Kim Namjoon. Yes,” you said meekly. “Uh, I'm ____,” you introduced yourself haphazardly, trying to keep up with the ‘we've never met before, I haven't tried to jerk him off in the backseat of his car, he's never had me on his lap melting for him as I called him daddy’ narrative.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, miss ____.”

God, he was in black slacks and a white shirt, hair combed back. Calling you ‘miss’ and keeping up with this crazy game you were improvising. He hadn't thought you could be the young designer working for Taehyung.

You had fortuitously met Namjoon while buying a picture for Taehyung's apartment, not mentioning your work relationship with his friend and colleague, since the deal had to be kept private as your firm's confidential agreement and policy required. It wasn't new to you, since you often dealt with popular, wealthy public figures. And so you had stayed discreet, keeping quiet about your connection with both members.

Namjoon understood the circumstances of your secrecy almost immediately, however, a part of him stayed untrusting and suspicious about your relationship with Taehyung,

“Same for me, Mr. Kim,” you replied, and Namjoon felt his veins catch fire at the innocence and respect in your voice.

Brat.

“Would you like to accompany us for a small tour?” Taehyung gestured towards the first room.

Namjoon felt like punching him. He was acting all charming and serious. The epitome of the man Namjoon imagined at your side.

“I would love to.” But right in that moment a young man interrupted you, placing his hand on the small of your back, leaning down towards your ear and whispering something about an offer and a wealthy buyer.

Of course Namjoon felt his head explode at that.

“I’m sorry, I have to assist a client.” You smiled apologetically.

Taehyung nodded. “Come find me later.” He smiled handsomely with dark, seducing eyes.

Come find us, diphead, Namjoon felt like reprimanding.

However you just bowed your head at Taehyung and, looking at Joon with a fierce ardour in your eyes you murmured. “I’ll come find you.”

Namjoon stared into your eyes intently, still furious, especially when you turned and your assistant still had his hand on the small of your back, so close to that perfect ass of yours.

“Nice and tight, ain't it?”

Just shut the fuck up. Namjoon was ready to throw hands. “I didn't notice.”

“God, that crush of yours really has you whipped, uh?” the younger teased.

I'll come find you, he reminded himself before turning to Tae. “Let's visit the exhibit, yeah?”

Your phone vibrated in your pocket. You were in the briefest break, the guests exhausting you. The worst were the pretentious, spoiled people. But fortunately they were only a small portion of your public.

‘Is this why you’ve ditched me?’

It was a text from Namjoon.

‘I told you I was busy with work.’

‘I thought you were running from me.’

He replied quickly.

‘Why would I? After last time?’

‘I thought you had found someone better.’

‘No, Joonie. I don't do that stuff. I'm going somewhere with you, no need to have others. You said monogamy. I want that too.’

He was standing in one of the smaller rooms, the lights low and reddish, the walls decorated with extremely explicit, but also intimate pictures. This room felt like your creature. 

‘I found your sexy little room.’

He texted you.

‘Enjoy it.’

You replied cheekily.

‘I want to enjoy it with you’

He wrote.

‘On my way.’

“Did she design this room? God she must be a freak,” Taehyung said. “Love the vibe. What about you, hyung?”

“It’s a very interesting room.”

“Don’t you like it? I was thinking of asking ____ to point out her favourites, recommend something for the house.”

Namjoon felt livid. Still he smiled tensely. “Why not? It would be ideal to have the picture of a man sucking a woman's toes right on top of the dinner table, right?” he said, half sarcastic.

“I thought you were more open-minded than this, hyung,” Tae whined, disappointed. “Just get laid… Oh, there she is, we were talking about you.”

“I hope nothing too serious,” you commented cheerfully. “Are you enjoying the exhibit? Is there anything you find especially inspirational?” you asked Taehyung.

“Well, this room is quite interesting. How come you’ve never mentioned?” he questioned in curiosity.

You smiled shyly and looked at Namjoon. “It was a last-minute experiment. I sacrificed the last two weeks on this. A photographer friend of mine told me he had just completed his latest collection and offered me the exclusive. Unfortunately, I had finalised the exhibit layout a couple days before he contacted me. But I had to have them. So I had them sent. The shipment was troubled.” You emitted a small, exasperated laugh.

“So they’ve just arrived and they’re only here, for you?” Taehyung asked.

Was that a lover? One of your flings? An ex? Namjoon was going crazy. He felt like he was just a small toy in an endless collection.

“Yes.” You noticed Joon’s grumpy stare, immediately trying to explain. “He was one of my first connections, truly a friend. He knows all my favourite artists and knows my style, so he knew that I would love this,” you explained while gesturing at the pictures on the walls.

“How are they made?”

“Technically he selected a group of statues and pictures exploring the theme of beauty in erotism, then he created a series of double exposures, that basically means he layered two pictures, first the statue, and then his model. Or models, in some cases.” You paused. “Has anything caught your eye, Namjoon?”

His name on your lips felt like a stranger’s name. It wasn’t Joonie, or Joon or Joons. It wasn’t either darling, sweetie, babe… or daddy. It was Namjoon. It felt like a slap.

“I don’t know. I haven’t really looked carefully yet,” he murmured, still a little shocked.

“Well, my favourite so far is L’Eternelle Idole. But maybe that’s a little too showy.” You laughed. “I think I have a new favourite everyday. The more I look at them, the more I fall. But L’Idole is the one I always go back to.” You kept looking at Namjoon, hoping for him to understand what you were truly saying behind those cryptic words.

“Will you show me?” he asked. If this was all that you could give him, then he would take it all, to the crumbs, and lick the plate clean without pride or dignity.

Taehyung observed the interaction, feeling all the tension between the two of you. He knew something was just there, under the surface. Could the two of you already know each other?

“Here.” You accompanied your… crush? Aspiring boyfriend? — Namjoon to the picture.

He stared at it in wonder, his eyes moving quickly from the picture to your figure. “The statue is a piece by Auguste Rodin, from the 1890s, it shows a man kissing a woman’s stomach, the woman kneeling above him, while the man, slightly lower, is also kneeling with his hands linked behind his back.” You turned to Namjoon, your eyes searing his. “I love how devoted he looks. I love how 130 years have gone by and the man in the photo still conveys the same intensity as the statue.”

He promised himself he would remember this moment. He promised he would remember the intensity of your eyes, the ardent passion in your voice, the silent pleading in your lips. Kiss me, worship me. Love me.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, taking his champagne glass to his lips.

In the meanwhile. Taehyung understood that of course you already knew each other somehow. Strangers don’t work like that. It felt like the two of you were speaking a language built for each other.

Of course he was upset. He wanted that dinner with you. Hopefully, a date. Even more hopefully seeing you naked.

But this thing with Namjoon looked like a ticking bomb and he thought he’d better get out of the way before it blew.

Taehyung's focused glance went unnoticed by you and Namjoon as you locked eyes, him tipping his glass back, you extremely grateful that you had a glass of your own. You also took a sip. “You’d better go, we wouldn’t want to monopolise your attention,” Namjoon murmured, caressing your wrist casually.

“It’s not a prob—” you started, only to turn around and notice all the by-standers. “Of course. Come see me when you leave.” You tried glancing at Taehyung too, in an attempt to include him.

But Namjoon was starving for you and once more he managed to touch your arm and make you jolt with goosebumps. His fingers gently dragged from your elbow to the side of your hand, to the tip of your pinkie. “I’ll come wish you goodnight.” He leaned in closer, “Behave, little vixen.”

Your insides churned with longing, desperate and scorching.

“Taehyung, if you find anything you like, just write it down and we’ll discuss it on Monday,” you suggested, also reminding him of your appointment.

“Thank you so much, ____. We’ll do.” He delivered a smack on Namjoon’s shoulder and winked at him, offering you a quirky grin before dragging his friend away.

“Is she your crush?” he asked, as soon they were out of earshot.

Namjoon looked at Tae with a furrowed brow. “Who? Her? I’ve met her tonight, how could it be?”

Taehyung shook his head. “You’ve never touched strangers like that. And you’ve been skittish all night but when she came close you were all straight back and wide shoulders. You were literally showing her you were the best male in the room.”

“Because I am,” he tried playing bold.

“I am not saying you aren’t,” Taehyung whined. “I just don’t see why you didn’t tell me.”

Namjoon huffed out and shrugged. “I didn’t know until I saw her. The name of the studio she works for is everywhere, but it’s not like they’re screaming she’s the curator,” Namjoon argued. ”Let’s just finish this so we can go home. It’s getting too crowded.”

‘I’m omw to yours. At least I hope it’s the right car. I think I recognised the driver from last time.’

‘He texted me he had you. Did you drink much?’

Namjoon replied to you immediately.

‘Just a couple glasses. Maybe two couples, — More than two, less than seven. I’m not sure.’

‘Are you sure you want to come at mine?’

He texted, just to make sure.

Yes. I want you to ruin me as soon as I come through that door. I have two weeks of sexual frustration and exhaustion on my shoulders and I feel a hug away from subspace.

‘It’s cool.’

You replied. You just wanted to take that doubt away from his eyes, from his voice. You wanted him to know it was only him. That your two weeks had only been about your project and texting him, your body too tired to even act upon your desire.

He had passed by to say goodbye as he’d promised, Taehyung in tow. And five minutes later, he had texted you. ‘Don’t go home tonight. Come to me. I’ll have you find a car outside. You text me when you’re done and my driver will come get you,’ the message had said.

The small part that wanted to say no was drowned in champagne and lust.

Of course you said yes.

The moment you arrived at his underground parking lot, he was waiting for you, dressed just like he’d been earlier.

“Did you wait for me all dolled up?” you asked, walking towards him.

He grabbed you and hugged you. “I wanted my baby to see me dressed nice for her.”

Now you were his baby.

“By the way, I love your dress,” he said. “You look so sexy in black.” He kissed the small patch of skin behind your ear.

“I felt like I was going to die when I saw you come in at the exhibit.” You combed his hair back. “You look incredible Joon.” You moaned, hiding your face in his chest.

He chuckled. “Let's go upstairs. You're tiny. You're gonna freeze here,” he teased, leading you to the lift.

“Would you like to eat something?” he questioned, placing a hand on the small of your back. “Did you eat tonight?”

“I kind of munched on a few appetisers, but I’m not really hungry,” you replied, looking in his eyes as he caressed your hair.

“You should eat, baby.” He allowed you to look around while at the same time accompanying you to the kitchen. “I don’t know what I have in the fridge.”

You smiled. “How long since you last hit the supermarket?” you wondered, touching his sides and teasing him with tickles.

He smirked and shook his head. “You don’t wanna know.”

You scrunched your nose and grinned with your tongue caught between your teeth.

“I got the bare necessities,” he said.

“Like?”

“Nutella. Biscuits. Uhm… sandwich bread.” He opened the fridge. “Apparently I have some beers, but I don’t think that’s the case.”

You shook your head and back-hugged him, sticking your head under his arm and looking at the content of the fridge, his other hand covering your eyes and pushing your face away.

“Why, no… Whipped cream!” you squealed stretching your arm out.

“Baby, don’t!” he said, grabbing it and pulling it away.

You pouted.

“It expired...” He checked the date, “About a month ago.”

You scrunched your nose. “Hell no. Throw that away. Why do you keep bananas in the fridge.”

“How did you call them?” he asked, turning toward you with an amused expression.

“Bananas,” you repeated before he smirked with a side grin, his dimple popping out.

You felt your insides do a double twist. “Bananas,” he repeated with your accent. “Bananas?” he taunted you.

“Shut! Up!” you replied, grabbing the two bananas left and walking to the counter.

He turned, feeling slightly betrayed.

“Are they edible or should I worry?” You grabbed a knife and cutting the skin away.

“I bought them… five days ago, I think? Yeah, Sunday,” he confirmed.

“Do you have a toaster?” 

He frowned. “Yes, somewhere.”

You closed your eyes and pressed your fingers to your brow. “Just get the bread,” you murmured.

He obeyed silently.

“Nutella?” you ordered, showing your palm, waiting for him to deliver.

He smirked devilishly. “Oh, you want nutella?” his tone was excited, playful.

“Yes, please?” you acquiesced, unfazed.

His hand appeared at your side, sprawled on the counter, his body hard against your back. “Sorry,” he whispered in your ear, his deep voice making your tummy quiver.

You could feel everything. His arms lunged for the cabinet, opening it and grabbing the small glass jar, placing it at your side. “There you go, babe.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a shy smile. Focus. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, darling,” he said, tickling your ear, making you arch away from his naughty mouth.

Your hand shook a little as you tried to bring enough saliva in your mouth to speak without sounding funny.

“Do you want me to give you some space, sweet thing?” he asked, tracing your profile from waist to hip with his right hand, his left one still planted on the counter.

You swallowed again and only found the strength to whisper. “No.”

Namjoon traced the shell of your ear with his nose. “You want me close?”

“Yes.”

“How close.”

“The closest.”

“Can you cook if I touch you like this?” he mused, spreading his fingers over your belly. He felt your heartbeat speed up against his chest, your breathing growing ragged. 

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“I need to toast the bread,” you reminded yourself. The faster you finished cooking, the faster you would sit at the table, the faster you would have some space for breathing and thinking.

“I think the toaster could be down there.” he told you, pointing to the lower drawer. He took a step back, leaving you enough space to test your game.

Looking at him from over your shoulder, you bent forward, opening the drawer, turning to him with a disappointed expression as you found only pans and pots.

He made a slow work of moving his gaze from your ass to your face, looking at your unimpressed sneer. He pressed his hands to your hips. “Sorry. I think I was wrong,” he murmured, stretching to the upper cabinet, stealing a small whimper from your throat as his right hand stretched to grab the silver device, placing it on the counter. There was no way you could misunderstand his intention as you felt his hips press against your ass.

His hand moved from your tummy to your stomach, pushing you up, toward his chest. He plugged in the toaster and set the timer before sliding two slices of bread in. “You good, little fox?” His voice was husky and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched your hands while you struggled opening the second banana.

“You’re a menace,” you grumped, slicing the banana and leaving all the small disks lined up neatly on the cutting board.

His hand picked a small piece up and placed it close to your lips. “It’s your fault. You and your tight black dress.”

You opened your mouth and moved it toward his fingers, taking the food on your tongue before letting your lips close around his digits.

“Good?” he asked as the bread jumped out of the toaster.

You nodded before placing the bread on the counter, spreading a thin layer of nutella on both pieces while Namjoon toasted two more slices.

As soon as four pieces were ready, covered in hazelnut cream, you placed the banana disks on top, using the cutting board as a plate, ready to bring it to the table when Namjoon wrapped his hand around your waist. “No, please,” he whined, hugging you tighter. “It feels so good.”

“Only because you can tease me this way,” you spat back with a cocky tone.

“That’s not true,” he argued.

“Choose: either you let me sit at the table, or we stay here.” You paused. “But if we stay, you’ll have a small price to pay.”

“Define the price,” he said, his hands rubbing your sides.

“I choose the price.” You licked your lips.

“Is this a blind purchase?” He cocked an eyebrow as you turned around, your chin tipped up as you looked in his eyes.

“Very blind. Could have many cons. Many pros too,” you taunted.

He bit his lower lip, smirking down at you. “We’re staying.”

You nodded. “You sure?”

“No risk, no fun,” he quipped, biting his lip nervously.

You wiggled your eyebrows and moved the cutting board on the kitchen island behind him, hoisting yourself up.

He immediately grinned and tried to move closer. “I like it.”

You stopped him with your foot against his stomach and he followed the outline of your leg with his eyes. He felt a man starved.

“Vixen.”

“I mentioned a price,” you whispered, lowering your leg and blushing as you looked for more courage.

“Am I gonna like it?”

Looking him right in the eye, you let your hands climb under your skirt, crawling against your thighs until your thumb hooked the sides of your panties, the hem of your dress discretely hitched up to your mid-thigh as you started tugging down your undergarment.

Namjoon was breathing with his mouth, his chest expanding in his sexy white shirt. He called your name as you lifted your hips side to side, your panties finally reaching your knees and sliding down your nylon clad calves. God bless stockings.

“Baby,” Namjoon called, watching your little lace piece fall on his floor.

You fixed your position on the counter, crossing your legs and grabbing one slice of bread. “Bon appetit.” You smiled at him before sinking your teeth on the snack.

Namjoon let his eyes roll close, thinking that he could easily eat you while you ate your snack, waiting for you to be fed before he could banquet over your naked body.

“Does that taste good?” he asked before you nodded convincedly. He moved closer to you, bending to the floor and skimming your calf with his digits as he collected your panties and placed them in his pocket.

“Yes, good.” 

He leaned on the counter, his face so close to your neck, one hand finger-walking up your thigh.

You ate the first slice quickly, your stomach rumbling with way more hunger than you thought you had.

Namjoon simply stared as you cut another slice in small squares, fitting one in your mouth easily.

He liked watching you eat, he realised. You looked like a toddler, with your round mouth and plump lips and big eyes as you opened wide enough to fit a morsel in your tiny mouth.

He couldn’t even think about anything dirty or perverted, you were just too cute.

Even if he had your panties in his pocket and he’d been pressing his erection against your ass roughly four minutes ago.

He snickered as he saw some Nutella smudge your cheek. He stole a small square of toast and gave a bite, moaning. “Good indeed.”

As you took another piece, he stole it from your fingers, feeding it to you, completely amazed as he saw your red lips part for him. “Open up,” he said, staring, longing for you. Except instead of lunging for the bread, you wrapped your lips around his lower one, closing your eyes, sucking on the plump flesh.

He placed the food down, somewhere harmless, his hands trying to touch you before you caught them at the wrists. “We’re gonna get messy, we’re stained in Nutella,” you reminded him.

“Sorry,” he said, painfully restraining himself. “Let’s finish feeding you.”

“You can take a slice, I already ate two.”

“One and a half,” he corrected you. 

“Now one and three quarters,” you chirped before placing another piece in your mouth.

He happily grabbed a piece of toast and bent it in two, eating half in one giant bite. The other half was gone too, his hands flying to one of the smaller squares you had cut, hoping you would let him feed you.

You smiled at him, looking in his eyes as you opened your mouth and stole the piece, munching on it happily as he took another, waiting for you to be done only to feed you again.

Finally done eating, he smiled and cleaned a smear of chocolate on your cheek. As he brought his thumb to his lips, you stopped his wrist and pulled it to your mouth. “Mine,” you murmured, sucking his thumb into your mouth, cleaning the sauce from his thumb.

Namjoon exhaled as you looked him in the eye, your intense gaze meeting his.

“What do you want, Vixen?” he spoke with a low, raspy voice.

You released his finger and let it rest on your lower lip as you spoke. “I want you.”

Namjoon looked at you with his deep eyes as he pondered his next move.

“Do you want me?” you asked quietly, your eyes turned to the floor, ready to call for retreat.

As his silence prolonged, you took some space, old insecurities gnawing at you from within. Slowly, you removed his hand from your face, trying to convince yourself that it was okay, no rush.

“I don't want you to think I'm pressuring you into stuff. We don't have to do anything. I just need to have you close, in any way you'll allow me,” he confessed, trying to reassure you. “But after I saw how everyone looked at you tonight, I just want you to myself.” He paused, looking around. “Wait,” he ordered you, moving a couple steps aside and washing his hands quickly before coming back to you and placing his hands on your waist, helping you down.

As soon as your feet touched the floor, he hugged you close. “I want you too,” he murmured in your ear. “You have no idea how much. But I need to know how far you want to go tonight.”

You bit your lip and caught his hands in yours, looking for reassurance. You looked at your feet. “You have my panties in your pocket. So…” You popped your lips out of nerves. “I don't know where this is going to lead us, specifically.” You took your time, toying with his fingers. “And I'm not good at choosing what to do.”

Namjoon brought your joined hands to his mouth, kissing the back of your palm. “I really like you. I think it’s a bit soon for feelings, although I really care about you and I think you’re smart, beautiful, passionate and dedicated — all traits that I admire and respect and that I could fall for easily,” he explained, leaning his forehead against yours. “I just need to know where I’m standing with you. Are we dating or are we hanging out or like… Vibing…? I don’t know.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled his scent. His cologne and simply his skin always smell so good. You remembered hiding your face in the crook of his neck after your last date. How he’d held you there, close, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I'm attracted to you. Mentally. Physically too. I— I don’t know if we’re going to fall in love or if this will ever turn out to be suitable for both of us.” You led his hands behind your back, around your waist. “Honestly, your uhm… career… scares me a little. You’re a very, very… public figure.”

“Mh. What is it that scares you?” He traced the shape of your spine under his finger.

“I’m needy. I can’t really allow myself to rely on someone who’s always so busy,” you explained, breathing with difficulty.

Namjoon felt his world shatter.

How many more things would he have to give up on?

He tried not to panic. “I can’t make you lean on me.”

Standing on your tiptoes, you brushed your face against his neck. He breathed out shakily. “What do you want to do?” you murmured.

He licked his lips. “I want to…” He tried to word things carefully. “I want your body underneath me. Possibly naked.” He paused. “But there’s no use going there if this might be a one time thing.”

You inhaled at his blunt words. “I don’t think once will be enough.”

He chuckled sadly. “I already know once won’t be enough.” He bit his lip and looked into your eyes. “I need to know we stand a chance. At least for a while. And I need to know you’ll lean on me whenever I’m around.”

You mulled over the situation. “What happens when you leave?”

He cupped your cheek. “I’ll tell you in advance. I’ll tell you as soon as they tell me. I can offer you full disclosure on my schedule. And all my spare time. You choose when you want to see me and I’ll give you the priority.” He kissed your forehead. “As long as it’s not my schedule, I can rearrange all the rest.”

“And if this doesn’t work?” you doubted, titubant. “What if I’m too clingy, too needy, too much...” Your words faded, old insecurities re-emerging to the surface.

His thumb rubbed against your cheek. “That’s when trust comes into play, baby. You need to trust yourself and trust me too.” His mouth came to yours. “Can you do that for me?”

You tried to chase his lips as he retracted. “Please,” you whimpered.

“I can’t give you a one time thing, Vixen, if that’s what you want,” he clarified.

“We’ve been going out… I don’t want a one time thing,” you murmured, chasing his lips as he started taking small steps backwards. “We talked about it last time,” you reminded him.

“About last time,” he started, holding your face in his hands. Damn, her face is so tiny, he thought. So lovely. “I’m glad we had that conversation.”

“I’m glad too,” You agreed, hooking your arms around his neck.

“Although there’s something...” he mused.

You blinked slowly and stretched yourself against him. “What?”

“I wish we hadn’t stopped,” he confessed, smiling lewdly at your attempts of seducing him. He would never admit it, but it was working.

“You should have stayed over,” you purred, realising that you were in the corridor now, and he kept going backwards.

“I would have done stuff we weren’t ready for. That maybe even now we’re not ready for,” he corrected himself.

“I know I want you on top of me, possibly naked, just as much as you want me underneath you,” you teased.

“See, easy. You could have said what you wanted a few minutes ago, when I asked you,” he provoked you. “However I think it’s impossible for you to want me that much. That small, sexy body of yours can’t hold all that yearning.”

“I’m a hundred percent lust undiluted,” you said, feeling his hands grab your behind.

“That you are...” he mused, squeezing your ass. “You don’t know how much I’ve been thinking about you.” He brushed his lips against your temple, feeling the smoothness of your face under his plump lips. “Can’t help it.”

“You think I haven’t been thinking about you all the time?” you admitted, finally reaching his bedroom. You had no time for looking around, especially with the shy moonlight coming from the window. “Can you imagine how hard it was to assemble that room with the thought of you on my mind twenty-four seven?” You stood at the feet of the bed, somehow. “With no chance of relief, coming home too tired to get rid of the tension.”

“I wish you had called me,” he said, pressing his lips to your neck, tugging at the neckline of your dress.

“I wouldn’t have been strong enough to hold back. I don’t think a call would have sufficed.” Your hands tried to undo the buttons of his shirt. You slowed down, realising what you were doing. “Can I?” 

He nodded. “I’m begging you to.”

You smiled, your finger moving lightning fast. “Undo my zipper, would you, please?”

His fingers searched for the small tag in the back. “Can’t find it.” He muttered just as your fingers reached his midriff.

“My nape, in the middle.” You directed him, untugging his shirt from his slacks.

He chuckled. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s tiny.” You raked your nails across his tummy from over his undershirt as soon you took his shirt off. “I’ll do that.”

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, half embarrassed. “Maybe you could turn around and… Yeah.” He looked at you as you stood with your back to him. He placed a kiss against your nape, dragging his palms from your hips up against your sides, towards your shoulder blades and your neck.

You shivered as you heard the sound of the zipper coming undone. He kissed behind your ear, sliding his hands into the opening of your dress, unpeeling it from your skin. “Your skin is so smooth,” he commented, eyes closing. “I kinda want your hair undone, but your neck is so pretty.” He placed a kiss on one side first and then the other. “I bet you'd look sexy in both.” His hands finally reached your breasts, finding great surprise in noticing you weren't wearing a bra.

“The dress has a sewn-in corset,” you explained before your hands flew to your hair, undoing your serious hairdo and unpinning several tens of hairpins.

Namjoon stared transfixed by the way your hair tumbled down gradually as you removed a hair tie. “I think I have a ton of hairspray on.” You chuckled, turning around and stopping as you noticed his expression. “What?”

You looked like a girl. Not a woman, in total black outfits and dark red lipstick. You looked like a girl, ten years younger than what you had looked a minute ago, with your hair pulled up and your dress giving you that oh-so-serious look.

“You're a doll,” he whispered, moving closer, cupping your cheeks, ignoring that you were naked in front of him, except for your stockings, your dress pooling at your feet.

You blushed. “You're still overdressed,” you mewled, basking in the warmth of his touch.

“Would you like to undress me?” he asked, petting your hair.

You nodded eagerly, your hands flying to his belt while he took off his shirt. Your shaking fingers fumbled with his belt hurriedly, making you squeal out a stressed whine before you dropped your hands in frustration. 

“Come on, darling, undress me.” He pressured you playfully. “My pants are so tight it’s uncomfortable, baby. Help me,” he said, begging sarcastically.

With renewed tenacity, you found his belt, gripping and tugging it hard enough that you managed to undo it. Finally you got hold of his trousers button, pushing and pulling so hard that he grabbed your wrists. “Easy, baby. I’m delicate there.”

With a small pout and a clenched jaw you managed to rid him of his trousers.

About fucking time.

Next you slipped your hands underneath the hem of his undershirt, teasing his belly with your nails and dragging the cotton up, rising on your tiptoes and stretching to reach his chest and shoulders.

He chuckled and bent his legs, helping you. “There you go, babything.” He teased with a smirk, sitting on the bed, spreading his thighs and placing his hands on your waist, dragging you towards him. “Turn around, please?” He asked with a pleading tone.

You smirked and obliged.

“For fuck’s sake.” He said, your ass right in front of his face. “I’ve thought of this moment so many times.” He said dreamily.

And suddenly you felt something wet, slippery, but also spiked, surrounded by a plush, soft feeling, landing on your left glute. Turning your head you saw him, kneeling behind you, leaving bites on your ass.

“Namjoon.” You called, confused.

His metaphysical moment interrupted, he opened his eyes, meeting yours. “Sorry, I had to.”

His hands went to your left stocking, rolling it down gently before doing the same on the other leg.

Fully naked in front of him, you turned around.

He called your name. Like a plea. “You’re so beautiful.” He said, kissing your tummy. “A goddess.” He closed his eyes and hugged you at your waist.

You caressed his face, tenderness naturally oozing out of you. “Let’s get on the bed.” You suggested, parting from him and crawling on top of the bed, his gaze zeroing in on your bum, following it on all fours and biting it again.

Laughing, you reached the head of the bed and pressed your chest to the mattress, arching your back and offering him the fullness of your behind.

He immediately nibbled on the softest part before calming down and laying at your side, his head on the pillow. “Would you like to have a dim light on?” He asked, preferring to explore your body with a soft light on, so he could make sure he would learn everything right.  

“I’d love to.” You replied, searching for his face in the dark, now that the light coming from the window didn’t illuminate the two of you anymore.

He stretched on top of you, switched on a dull, orangey stripe of led lights right running along a panel behind the bed. “There you go,” he said, laying back at your side, smiling at you sweetly. You were curious about his bedroom, but you would think about that another time.

He ran his hand down your arm. “Are you cold?” He asked, pulling you toward him.

You shook your head. “Just a little maybe.” However, you gave it no importance, nuzzling your nose against him and closing your eyes, smiling slowly before kissing him.

The kiss went on forever, breathing through your nose while your mouths were busy. “Wanna go under the covers?” He asked as you kissed his jaw and headed for his neck, eliciting a sinful moan from his throat.

“No.” You replied, kissing him again and pushing him on his back before laying a series of sweet pecks down his chest. “Can I take off your socks?” You asked, kissing his stomach.

“Yeah,” he replied before you quickly sat up and removed them.

In the soft penumbra, you could clearly spot the outline of his cock under the dark grey boxers. You couldn’t hold back the need to trace his erection through the soft cotton, a small patch of wet fabric right where his tip was sitting.

You looked at him in fascination.

He let you explore.

He was huge. Around eight inches. Solid. And not just that, he was girthy too, at least two inches wide. A part of you was impatient to take him, another reminded you that you were far from being a size-queen and he was quite bigger than your favourite dildo, so you were probably in for a wild one.

A shiver ran down his spine as he saw you stare at him, mesmerised, the tip of your nail dragging against the vein on the underside of him, so thick that it showed through the cotton

“Vixen. Fuck.” He groaned. “Stop, baby, please.”

You obeyed and licked your lips in mischief.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look, ____?” He whispered gently.

“It doesn’t hurt if you tell me again.” You pouted.

He chuckled and set up, your eyes watching his abs twitch under the soft flesh of his belly. “You look— ” He kissed your forehead. “Beautiful.” And then, wrapping his arms around your body he tugged you down with him, rolling on top of you and cupping your cheek before kissing you again, his tongue possessing your mouth fully.

“I wanna touch you so bad.” He murmured painfully. “But I need you to teach me how you like it, darling.” He whispered at your ear, kissing down your throat. “Can I finger you, little fox? Please?”

Your eyes closed and you nodded like a mad woman, giggling. “Yes, Joon. Please.”

He kissed down your chest, cupping both breasts and kissing one nipple first, then the other. “Love these cherries.” He murmured, sucking one into his mouth. “So fucking adorable.” He said after releasing the left one. “So damn sexy,” he said, taking care of the other one and making his way down.

His eyes went wide.

“What is this, Vixen?” He asked.

Just an inch above the juncture of your thigh to your lap, he noticed a small tattoo of a snake, the size of a post stamp.

“You know I’ll take my time with this one once I’m not dying to be inside you, right?” He growled.

You nodded. “I really hope you will.”

For now, he limited himself to kissing it. “You smell so wet, baby. So good.” He kept kissing the soft skin of your pubis. “Show me how you pleasure yourself. Will you teach me, ____?”

He kissed your belly with a big smile on his face before moving back, his chin resting on the mattress between your legs, waiting for you.

You smiled back at him. “So usually I start like this, teasing the sides a little.” Your right hand cupped your crotch, index and ring finger spreading your folds, running up and down your labia, middle finger barely, accidentally brushing against your clit.

His gaze was focused on your slit, where wetness had begun pooling more abundantly. He licked his lips as he stayed focused, learning precisely the rhythm of your strokes, mimicking it on the outside of your thighs.

“When I feel wetter, I dip a digit in. It’s a delicate matter, the first one. The rest comes easier.” Your middle finger slipped down, finding your hole and entering slowly. You released a tense breath. “Like this. Bend it slightly and massage the inside. Then out. Up. This is where to start with the clit. Mine is slightly asymmetrical. Leans to your left side. And it’s too sensitive so it can easily get unpleasant. That’s why I usually use only one finger. On the hood, here.” You moved your hand away, showing him where. “The tell is that the skin is flatter there. Want to try?” You asked him.

“You lead. I’ll take the next.” He said with a low timbre.

Your eyebrows shot up in anticipation. “Well, then I’ll show you. Slow circles. No jabs, no pushing and pulling or fancy business. Just simple, slow circles.” Your hand started working just at the right pace. “Usually I take it slow. If I need it faster, I’ll let you know.” You grinned sinfully, eyes rolling shut as you found the perfect combination of pace, pressure and spot.

Your first orgasm was always quite difficult to conjure. But Joon’s hands dragging up and down your thighs with his short nails, his gaze on you, his burning lips kissing the skin on the inner side of your legs had you picking up your pace a lot faster. “I’m close.” You breathed out with a whine. “When it gets like this and I start blushing on my chest, do not, ever, for any reason, fucking stop or change motion. Same for oral.”

He grinned and nodded. “Noted.” He took a pause, drinking in the sight of you. “You’re so beautiful.” He said, adoringly. “I want to see how lovely you look when you cum.” He said, kissing your inner thigh, nibbling on the soft flesh there. “I can’t wait to see that pretty face once I put my fingers on you.” His palms skimmed your sides reverently. “Once I get my mouth on you. You smell so good I bet you taste even better.” He teased. “Come on, Vixen, show me how you cum.”

Your finger stopped toying around and began focusing on the right nerve endings. Only a few seconds and your hips arched off the bed, moving on their own accord as Namjoon took the chance to touch every inch of skin he couldn’t reach before since it was pressed to the bed. Once the tide subsided, you lowered your hips to the bed, Namjoon’s hands stuck between your ass and the sheets while your fingers dipped inside to tease your quaking inner muscles. “Joon.” You murmured as your high deflated slowly, your hands parting from your wet warmth, laying spent on your cunt.

“Let me.” He rumbled before freeing his hands and grabbing your wrist, wrapping his lips around the finger coated in your cum.

Licking your lips, you looked at him, lost and surprised.

He growled and moaned, sucking desperately, tongue lapping at it, diving into every small crevice where your juices might have hidden. Releasing your finger, he looked up at you.

“Thank you, ____.” He moved up your body, lingering over your face. “I assume it’s okay to kiss you after… that?” He asked.

Nodding, you arched your back to kiss him. It quickly turned into a reckless ordeal, hips meeting and grinding. He was rock hard.  

“You’re a vision, ____. I’ll dream of you like this for the rest of my life.” He murmured, praising you. “But now I need to eat you out.” He said, desperate. “I need to prep you up.” He said, dispersing constellations of kisses on your face, neck and chest. “You’ll have to give me feedback, sweet thing. I’ll try and use a bit of what you taught me, but I need you to be patient. I want to do it right for you.” He winked. “For now, just give me pointers, okay?”

“Yes, Joon.” You replied, reassuring him, touching his face, arching your hips against him.

He felt like his heart was tumbling down forty sets of stairs.

He kissed all over your torso, furiously keeping himself from bruising you.

Finally at your mound, he spared himself half a minute to lick the tattoo, kiss it, bite it.

“Can I mark you here, little vixen?” He asked, pressing his face against your skin.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You can mark me any place you want, Joonie, I don’t mind.” You told him, combing his hair.

He smiled languidly, looking up at you and sucking your skin into his mouth, again and again, pumping it with his tongue and cheeks, releasing it and watching as a bright purple hickey blossomed right on top of the tattoo. “Now that’s mine.” He said contentedly before moving his head between your legs.

“Okay, so, I start with my fingers parting you, right?” He used his thumbs, the angle quite different from yours. Shifting to his pointer fingers, he used the flat of his thumb to ghost over your clit, the digit skimming the tender skin of your inner labia.

You moaned unashamedly. “Quick learner, uh? That’s perfect Joonie. Fucking perfect.”

He bit his lip, trying to remember the next step. “I use the tip on the tender spot just above the clit, a tiny bit to the left.”

You felt the flat of his thumb finding your bud and sliding just a fraction to the side as he avoided your oversensitive spot and found a more pleasing one. Right away. “Just there, Joon.” You called out, praising him and indirectly ordering him not to change.

“There, uh?” He asked with a smirk.

“Just there. And circles, circles Joonie. Now, please.” His fingers were lighter on you, but you didn’t have time to complain.

“There you go, honey.” He said as he followed your lead, his touch so light that it felt even more powerful than a heavy, rough one.

Your back arched as your inner walls began to palpitate regularly. “Slower.” You called, “and circles, please,” once you noted he was working toward an up and down motion.

“Here.” He delivered.

“Yes, there, like that. Joon, yeah.” You keened, horny out of your mind. “I’m so close, Joon.”

“Already?” He asked. “So soon, little vixen?”

“Joonie… ” You whined, trying to keep your voice low as you panted, focusing on the feeling between your thighs.

And then you felt his tongue on your entrance, not pushing in, but merely teasing the sensitive nerves of the rim of muscles there.

“Joon!”

He took his mouth away. “Are you cumming, baby?”

“Close.”

“Do you wanna cum with my mouth on your clit?” He asked, lips brushing against your slick folds as he spoke.

Timing was crucial. If he got too far, the switch from finger to tongue would stop your high and simply edge you. “Please.” You whined, your hips already buckling.

He didn’t waste his time in a response, he simply placed his lips around his thumb and removed it, the strong tip of his tongue substituting the digit so skillfully that you wondered how many times he’d done that before. However, your thoughts were scattered by the hard flicks torturing your clit, sending you straight to heaven. Or maybe hell.

Your orgasm shattered you, his fingers entering you quickly, rubbing your insides with a slightly more gentle stimulation than the one you had provided yourself earlier.

Still your legs shook, bending, thighs trembling at the effort of not closing around him. His eyes met yours with a hunger so deep you felt like it would take one hundred of you to sate him.

“Please, no, your mouth,” you said, your hands reaching down and pushing him away.

He slowed down before letting you go. You snapped your legs shut, throwing your hands down to protect your tender parts.

He kneeled at the edge of the bed, looking at you with an attentive stare as you panted and tried to calm down the echoes of your orgasm still making your body throb and toss. Your limbs finally relaxed, he laid down next to you, bringing you close once more, hugging you, soothing your exhausted muscles. “Did I go too far?”

You bit your lip, taking in a difficult breath. “No. I was just a bit overstimulated. I realised we didn’t pick safewords to call.”

Namjoon swore and closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry, ____. I apologise, baby. Are you sure you’re okay? Can I do anything to fix this?” He asked, so apprehensive and responsible.

You cooed at the worried sound of his voice. “Joonie, it was just one second. I’m okay. We can choose those now. It’s not like you were whipping me or something. It’s cool. We’re okay.” You reassured him. “We’re learning.”

“I didn’t ask you about your safeword.” He tormented himself.

“And I didn’t ask you for yours.” You replied, touching his face and kissing his palm.

“You gave me power. I should always take care of this stuff when you forget.” He scolded himself.

“Look at me.” You convinced him to stare in your eyes. “Baby steps. We’re okay. You stopped. You’re taking care of me now and you’re doing amazing. We’re both doing amazing. Now can I please take care of you? I’m worried about you.” You whispered gently, your hand rubbing his hip in affection. “Let me show you how thankful I am.” You kissed his jaw. “For you being a fast learner, for those precise fingers and that devilish tongue.”

He smiled timidly.

“What’s our safeword, Joonie?” You asked.

He thought about it for a second. “Uhm… Do you have yours? One you’re already comfortable using?”

“I use ‘chocolate’ as a hard no. But maybe we could introduce a safeword for a slowdown?”

“Yeah… uhm. What about…” He looked around. “Uhm. ‘Bubble’. ‘Bubble’ is a nice word. It makes me feel calm.”

“Yes, we can use ‘bubble’.” You confirmed with a giggle. “I like it.”

You laughed “Yeah. I guess it could work. Now can I go down on you?”

He nodded eagerly. “Let’s take it easy though, I feel like I could cum from you just looking at me.” He laughed, embarrassed.

“That’s good. Then I can try and give you head. It shouldn’t be too difficult if you’re already close, right?” You asked, hopeful.

“Does it scare you?” He asked. “We don’t have to— ”

“What if I want to?” You said. “I’m just afraid of choking. You’re big. It’s gonna be uncomfortable if it takes too long. But I want you in my mouth. I need to taste you.” You whispered seducingly at his ear.

“I promise it won’t take long. Just work the tip. No need to sink on it.” He reassured you, touching your hair.

You nodded, turning his face to kiss him, climbing on top of him, straddling him and grinding on his hard on, just underneath his boxers.

“If you keep that up, no need to suck it to make me cum, Vixen.” He growled on your lips.

Giggling you started moving south, tracing a passionate path down his torso. You went from mole to mole, following them like breadcrumbs in a fairytale.

He was statuesque, proportions divine.

His torso was a mixture of muscles and bones and softer flesh that felt so nice under your fingers. You loved his taut belly, showing no apparent sign of abs. It was smooth, if lightly curved.

It suddenly caved in as you ran your finger from hip to hip.

You looked up at him. “Sorry. Sensitive.” He said, his eyes crinkling in the sweetest smile.

You smiled back and licked your lips, kissing the trail of darker hair leading from his belly button to the waistband of his boxers and disappearing underneath.

“Shall we take these off?” You asked, kneeling beside him legs.

He nodded, waiting for you to slide your hands into the sides of the garment and tug it down.

“Lift up.” You said, peeling the fine cotton off.

He assisted you as you both clumsily tried to get rid of it. Only once the boxers reached his ankles and he kicked them off, you dared look at his lap. At his sex.

“God, you really are huge."

"Is that a compliment?" He asked, confused and flushed.

“Yes, and a call for help.”

He was definitely a grower. Yes, he’d been thick and long when you took off his trousers, but you swore he was even bigger now. You curled up between his legs and explored him with your fingers, your thumb meeting your middle finger just barely as you closed your fist around him.

“Do you want to use a condom?” You asked.

He startled. “I— If you want to, yes, of course. I’m clean.” He added. “This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t use one, I’m just saying because I think you should know.”

You nodded before letting go of him. You much rather not be distracted by his slightly intimidating cock while having this conversation. “Yes, sure. Thank you for telling me. I’m clean too. Got tested a month ago, sorry I didn’t tell you before you ate me out.”

“It’s okay. I think you mentioned last time.” He said, recalling your conversation. “On my behalf, we could forego condoms for oral.” He said. “But it’s up to you.”

You nodded. “I’m okay with not using it too, since this is nothing casual.” You reassured him, knowing just how much he needed to know this wasn’t a one time thing. “But I’ve changed birth control recently so I think we should use one for penetration. If we go there.”

He nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”

You smiled, “It’s in both of our interests.” You looked at his pelvis again. You didn’t know what to do. “Uh—”

“Need me to take the lead?” He asked, seeing you at a loss.

You shook your head yes, looking up at him with your wide baby eyes.

He smiled and gripped his shaft, looking at you while you stared at him, wanting nothing but to learn how he pleasured himself, eager eyes trained on the way he stroked his palm down the shaft, your mouth agape in wonder. You kissed his thighs, leaving soft bites on the tender inner side.

He threw his head back, moaning loudly. "Fuck Vixen, you're gonna kill me there baby."

"Don't you like it?" You asked, wide eyed and sultry mouthed.

"I like it too much, baby." He caressed your cheek tenderly with the other hand. "Would you like to put your mouth on it, little one?"

You nodded, drawing a thin line from his thigh to his pubis with the tip of your nose.

Your eyes met him as you opened your mouth, his eyes zeroing in on your lips, still covered in lipstick. You fit the head of his dick into your mouth, the first two inches already filling you to the back of your tongue.

“Easy, baby.” He called, watching your eyes close and water.

As you opened your lips wider you let a copious amount of drool slide down his shaft, giving him lubrication to stroke the base.

“Thank you, little fox.” He said, his thoughts growing hazy as he started to massage himself, your hand laying on top of his, following his pattern.

You hummed and covered your teeth with your lips, sucking him. Hard. You used your cheeks to pump him with your whole mouth, slightly bobbing your head on him as much as you could.

You tried to make up for the lack of depth with pressure and intensity.

“Fuck, Vixen. Yes.” He threw his head back, closing his eyes. “Yes babe.”

He wondered at how fast he reached his edge.

“Need you off, baby. Want inside, please.” He whimpered, touching your cheek with his free hand. “Little fox, please.” He called, his eyes meeting yours imploringly.

You let go of him, licking your lips and drying the tears on your cheeks, coming from the prolonged effort, you climbed up to his face, his messy hand leaving his cock and resting on your ass. “Need to kiss you,” he murmured, rolling on top of you, joining his lips to yours.

“Joonie.” You whined on his lips, his erection pressing against your belly as he ground against it.

“Condom.” He reminded himself, stretching to his bedside table, fumbling with the content. He tried to feel for the foil under his fingers but he shook his head, needing to see, swearing as he complained about his bad eyesight.

You smiled and tried to help him, wondering for half a second if it was okay to look at the content of his drawer.

Just as you stretched, he managed to fish out a package of foil.

“Aren’t you wearing your contacts?” You asked. 

“Of course. I would be kissing the armchair and thinking it was you if it were for my blind self,” he said, coming back to you. 

You shook your head and laid back on the bed. “I love it when you wear glasses but I guess contacts are more comfy.” You said, just as he got on his knees and wore the condom, throwing the foil somewhere.

He didn’t care. 

“And you would give up kinky professor roleplay for the comfort of contacts?” He joked, recalling a bit of your conversation while getting on top of you.

You pursed your lips and smiled mischievously. “Mh… I think we should find a way for you to keep your glasses on.” You said, just as he dipped to your neck.

He chuckled darkly. “Could have you bouncing on me while I sit back.” He said, kissing you below your ear. “Can I mark you here?” He asked while his lips reached the base of your throat.

“Yes,” you sibilated, stretching your neck to offer him a better angle. “Yes to both,” you confirmed, thinking about his mention of bouncing on his lap.

“Good.” He said, his lips and tongue working your skin against his teeth until it bruised.

He propped himself on his elbow, his eyes so attentive as he stared at you, bringing his fingers to your entrance and rubbing one slowly before sliding it in. “I wanna stretch you a bit more.” He said. “Don’t wanna hurt you.” He pecked the tip of your nose and you closed your eyes smiling as you felt his digit meet your g-spot.

“There.” You said, biting your lip and purring.

“Yes, babe. Moan for me.” He encouraged you, slipping his finger out and rubbing two up and down your slit, before sliding them in again. “Tell me when it feels good,” he asked, feeling for the soft tissue that had you keening before.

Rubbing his fingers in a come-hither motion, he managed to make you even slicker, sliding a third finger in. “I’m so sorry, baby fox.” He said as you winced slightly. “It’s gonna get better, baby. I promise.” He pressed his mouth to your cheek. “Such a good girl.” He praised you with his deep, velvety voice while his fingers bent and scissored inside you, stretching you in depth and width.

His hand exited your cunt, moving to his cock and spreading your wetness over the condom. “Do you want to go on, little fox?” He asked.

You nodded briskly. “Yes, Joonie.”

“Okay then.” His gaze turned down, aligning his length with your hole. “I’ll try and go easy, baby.” He kissed your lips and tried sucking on your lower lip, your nose nudging his face as you claimed his lower one, plumper, softer and fleshier. He resolved to sucking your upper one, letting you have this little win and trying to distract you from the initial burn.

You both hissed a his tip slid in. “Joon.” You called, parting from him and frowning, your lips sucked into your mouth before you whimpered.

“It’s okay, babything. It’s okay. I got you.” He said, cupping your cheek as your eyes opened and looked at him with slight pain. He controlled himself as you adjusted to him.

He tried to slide out but you grabbed his ass and kept him still.

He sank deeper and you hissed. “Want it all.” You murmured through gritted teeth.  

“Don’t be greedy, little fox.” He teased you.

“All, Joonie.” You said again, sinking your nails in his ass. He thrusted in. All the way.

You squealed and shut your eyes. “Dammit. It’s deep.”

He exhaled. “Need me out?”

“No.” You looked down to where your bodies joined. He followed your gaze.

"Goodness fuck, you're doll size, baby. So damn tiny" He growled. "Dammit, I can see the bulge in your belly, Vixen. Are you okay, sweet thing?" He asked, worried by your lack of feedback.

At that moment you were really, really busy trying to handle him. Eyelids shut, biting your lip, your whole focus trained on your kegels, you tried relaxing some more. “Just a sec." You whimpered.

He caressed your cheek fondly. "It's okay, baby." And he drew back a little, leaving only three or four inches inside. “Tell me how to help you, baby fox.” He tried to support you, moving his hand under your head, cradling it tenderly.

“Please, move.” You spoke weakly.

He thrusted back in, as gently as possible. “Hold on to me, Vixen,” he said, driving his cock in and out of you very, very slowly. “You feel so good, ____. You feel so fucking good.” He said, kissing all your neck and chest and face. “Not gonna last.” He said, trying to slow down.

He was so considerate.

If you had been any dumber, you would have thought he was making love to you, worshipping you with such intensity and devotion that you felt like crying.

“It’s okay,” You said, hugging him, moving his hair off his face, touching his lips and cheek. “I want you to cum.”

He shook his head. “Don’t want to without you.” He said, kissing you, feeling his restraint crumble more and more.

You were still too uncomfortable to reach your climax — and though there was pleasure mixed with the most divine of pains in having him inside you, there was no way you could cum right then. “Please, Joonie. I can’t.” You said, kissing his lip.

“Let me...” He tried to slide out.

“No, please. Cum inside.” You said, holding him close. “Please.” You begged again.

He shook his head. “I want to make you cum.” He murmured imploringly.

“I promise I’ll let you do that how many times you want. I can’t right now, darling.” You consoled him.

“You sure?” He asked, perspiration glimmering on his forehead.

“Yes, baby.” You confirmed.

He took it home with a few deep thrusts, going faster, groaning as your muscles curled around him, wrapping around him and milking him hard with slow contractions. “Gonna cum.” He said, hiding his face against your neck.

You untucked him from there, holding his face, wanting to see his expression as you led him over his edge.

“Yes, Vixen, fuck bae, so good. So fucking good,” He rambled. “So warm and tight… Too good, little fox. I'm—”

His orgasm shattered him and you flinched as he rammed into you, on and on, for a long minute before letting go, crashing against your chest.

You could do nothing but comb his hair and run your fingers down his spine.

“Are you okay?” You asked, taking care of him.

He nodded, exhausted. “I can't believe you made me cum without you.”

“It's just that…” You shrugged. “It's been a while since I last slept with someone. And I'm not used to uhm… People this big.”

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, sliding out and quickly removing the condom, knotting it up and walking to the bathroom.

Oh.

There was only a glass wall separating his room from the master bathroom, a shower placed right beside the glass.

You stared at him as he closed the bin and washed his hands. He wet a rag and cleaned himself with his back to you, the gesture a bit too private for him being completely confident with it yet.

Slowly he made his way back to the bedroom and grabbed a pair of boxers.

You frowned, confused.

Laying down at your side he cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone and pulling you close, into his arms. “Do you want my fingers or my tongue?” He said, kissing the underside of your jaw before giving it the smallest taste of his tongue.

You tried to hold back a smile, sucking your lips. “Mh.” You hummed, entangling your legs with his, rubbing your feet against his calves.

“Did you think I was done with you?” He asked, his hand grabbing your ass and hitting it with the slightest slap.

You giggled. “I was slightly worried.”

“Come on Vixen, fingers or mouth?” He asked again. “Can’t believe you thought that lowly of me.”

You rolled on top of him. “I’m not used to getting that spoiled. Maybe we could start with your pretty hands.

“Great choice, miss.” He said, chuckling darkly. “But I need you to get on the bed, pretty thing.” Namjoon murmured, helping you off of him before sitting up, fluffing the pillows next to the headboard and leaning with his back against them. “Sit between my legs, baby?” He asked, looking at your Cheshire grin before you sat with your back to him.

He moved your hair to the side, clearing his access to your ear and throat. “You comfy there?” He asked, placing one hand on your stomach, stroking it up and down your chest, feeling your breastbone before moving to more sensitive spots. “You said you don’t like stuff around your neck, right?” He asked, making sure he remembered correctly.

“Exactly.” You confirmed, just as his other hand cupped your mound.

“Good.” He murmured and you felt his chest reverberating with how deep his voice was. He felt your skin underneath his fingers, making sure every square millimeter of your skin adhered to his palm. The more he touched, the more the skin would grow sensitive, the more the connection would strengthen. He just needed to make sure he kept you focused on what was going on between your legs. “Can you feel how wet you’re getting, little fox?” He whispered in your ear.

You abandoned your head against his collarbone. After feeling him inside, having Namjoon touch you like this, like he was simply making you feel every dip, curve and bump of his palm, every bone of his hand, like he was trying to imprint the shape of his hand there.

“Answer me, Vixen.” He said sternly.

You nodded and felt your eyes close.

His cupped hand started moving side to side, your labia so soft and plump now that arousal had made blood rush there. “Feels so good.”

“I know, darling.” He said, emitting a small snicker. The fleshy part of his palm met your clit, rubbing it so softly and so delicately that he elicited a small moan before you giggled embarrassedly.

“That was a very cute sound, Vixen.” He said, the hand on your breastbone cupping your right boob.

His middle finger was covered in your slick and your neck looked so smooth and long under his heated gaze. “Joonie.” He kept staring at his fingers tugging and pinching your nipple, the rest of his hand cupping the curve of your breast, shifting it just enough to make its weight roll in his palm. “Joonie,” you called again.

“Yes baby thing?” He said, tracing your entrance with the flat of his middle finger.

“Inside?” You asked, shifting your hips forward, trying to meet his hand.

“Don’t be impatient, baby.” He said, teasing you darkly. “You need to take your time.”

“Namjoon.” You said, harshly.

He grinned. “Needy, ain’t we? Look at me, babe.” He said, pressing two fingers to your chin and making you turn your head.

“In. Now.” You repeated dryly.

He laughed. “You think you call the shots, Vixen?” His middle finger zeroed in on your clit, your body hunching forward just as his left forearm anchored you to him, keeping you upright. “Cute.” He said, nibbling on your neck, his hand cupping your cheek and controlling your head. “Do you think you get who’s the boss here?”

With a rebellious streak, you placed your hand on top of his and pressed it harder against you.

“Vixen.”

“Namjoon.”

“Take that hand off. Now.” He growled.

“Or what?” You insinuated.

“You don’t want me to go any slower, uh?” He said, his sweet voice contrasting with his previous raspy one.

You licked your lips and shook your head, removing your hand obediently.

“That’s my good fucking girl.” He praised you, moving his left hand to yours, intertwining your fingers together. “Lemme help you with it.” He said, just as your fingers climbed to his wrist, wrapping around it.

Your right hand curled around his knee.

“Yes, Vixen. Very good girl.” He said, rewarding you with a kiss.

“Can I touch your hair?” You asked, your fingertips skimming the outside of his thigh, then climbing up, caressing his arm and shoulder, finally meeting his nape.

“Yes, baby thing.” He said, bringing your joined hands to your chest. “Are you all set?” He asked before you nodded and held his fingers. “I’m right here, ____.” He said, kissing your temple, “Right here, sweetie,” he said, sliding two fingers in oh-so-slowly.

“Joon...” You moaned, feeling his fingers press to your g-spot.

“Yes, I know...” he said, holding you tighter. “I know, baby. I know.”

You turned to look at him, parting your lips and taking a deep breath, closing your eyes and waiting for his mouth.

“There you go, sweetheart.” He said, placing his lips close to yours, his hair so soft under your fingers. Your mouths skimmed each other, yours opening wide in a gasp as his thumb touched an excessively sensitive part of your clit.

“The sweetest little thing.” He praised you. “Can’t wait to have you seeing stars, little fox.”

“Too sensitive, Joon.” You cried out, holding his hand tighter, tugging at his hair.

“Stay with me, Vixen, focus on my voice, baby girl.” He said, kissing your brow. “Can you do that? It will feel so good at the end, ____. I promise. Do you trust me, little one?”

You hated how your name on his lips sounded so good, like a spell. “Joonie.”

He was hoping he could coax another nickname from your lips, but he figured he would wait till the last of his days for it. No rush. “Yes, baby?”

“Please, your thumb… no, please...” You cried, at which he moved it just slightly to the left, on the hood.

“Better?” He asked, just as his middle and ring fingers moved deeper, stimulating your nerves from within.

“Oh, god.” You mewled.

“Is it that good?” He said, kissing your shoulder as your fingers dug deeper into his hair.

“So good. So close.” You whispered, feeling your hips beginning to grind on him.

“Yes, Vixen. It’s yours, take it, baby.” He said, going back to that excessively delicate spot. “You can take it, little one. Take it for me.” He said, feeling your grip on his hair tighten, your fingers constricting his so hard he hissed, feeling your breath still for the longest seconds before your hips snapped forward, your legs flexed and stretched, a few gasps anticipating a long, drawn out moan.

“Yes, baby.” He said, “Look at me, Vixen. Eyes on me, precious.” He commanded you and you obeyed, with your eyes glazed over, almost crossing in pleasure, mouth agape. “Yes, just like that. You’re the best little one.” He cooed, spreading small pecks all over your face, your hand abandoned on his shoulder, your grip on his hair loosening, turning into soft caresses. He mercifully removed his thumb from your clit, his two fingers still rubbing inside of you, so deep they changed target and drew small, delicate circles around your cervix, with very gentle stimulation.

Slowly your expression shifted to a peaceful, sated and relaxed look, a gentle smile grazing your lips.

“Hello, there.” He said, cupping your cheek and finally kissing your lips.

“Hi.” You replied quietly, your lips brushing against his.

“Are you feeling good?” He asked, touching your hair.

You emitted an easy laugh. “Yeah.”

He smiled. “Perfect.” He kissed your forehead. “Do you need some more?” He asked, running his nose against the side of your face.

You shook your head slowly. “This one was… A masterpiece.” Your body abandoned itself in his arms. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, darling.” He replied, eyes latched onto yours. “I really hope you did come.” He said.

You frowned. “Yes?” You said, confused.

“Sorry. I was just… I mean, I hope you would trust me enough to tell me if you didn’t like stuff rather than fake—”

“Don’t you even dare go there.” Your hand reached his face and you pinched his cheek. “I would tell you and you know it.” You said.

He nodded.

“Really Joon. No faking here. I have no tolerance for that. And I would never undermine your confidence like that, okay?” You said, looking at him warmly and affectionately. “I don’t know who did that to you, but that ain’t me. I’ve said it when you were inside me and I’ll say it again, as many times as needed. If I’m not there, I’ll tell you.” You kissed his mouth. “Orgasms aren’t all that easy. Not getting there together, at the same moment, with the same stuff is completely normal. And it was a first: we’ll have plenty of chances to get to know each other and all of that.”

He nodded. He looked relieved when he opened his eyes again. “Sure. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” you reassured him.

“It feels good to hear you say that. About having plenty of times.” He said, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

Slowly, he removed his fingers from inside you, bringing them to his mouth. However you caught them first, trapping them in your mouth and sucking on them.

“Vixen. Fuck. You’re a fucking delight, bae.” He said, observing your plump lips wrapped around his fingers, you moaning on them.

The moment you released them, it was his tongue invading your mouth with large, thorough swipes that stole your flavour from your mouth.

“So damn delicious.” He said, cleaning his hand against his thigh.

You blushed and looked away.

“Mh, you weren’t all that shy earlier, uh.” He recalled, pressing his nose to your hair. “Do you want to clean up?” He asked.

“I need the restroom.” You said, still snuggling against him, enjoying his warmth now that the high was over and you were covered in a light sheen of perspiration.

“The door in the bathroom, near the washbasin.” He said. “Come on.” He said, inviting you to stand up: the sooner you cleaned up, the sooner he would be able to cuddle you to sleep.

Because he wanted to hold you tight and feel your soft body beside his as he fell asleep, listening to your breathing, keeping you safe and warm in his hold.

You stood up and his eyes naturally focused on your ass as you walked to the bathroom. Quickly you found the private restroom, thanking God it was a separate small room with no glass walls. Once out, you rinsed your hands, Namjoon joining you and washing his own hands, grabbing a toothbrush from his glass together with some toothpaste. Next he opened a cabinet and offered you an unused toothbrush.

You looked at him from the corner of your eye. Taking the toothbrush, you unpacked it and got ready to brush your teeth. For some reason, the whole situation was even more intimate than what you had just done in bed. As he finished, he rinsed his hands. “Need to take off my contacts, just in case that triggers you.” He warned, turning slightly and removing first one, then the other.

“Okay, I'm officially blind.” He said and you smiled. He squinted at you.

He heard you laugh.

You finished brushing your teeth, turned and hugged him. “Do you want me to go?”

“Where?”

“Home?”

“No.” He replied drily. “Let’s go back to bed.” He said.

“You want me there?”

“Yes.” He said, confused. “You’re sleeping here, right?”

You were a bit taken-aback. You had hoped but hadn’t dared expect it to happen.

“You want me to?” You asked again.

He nodded. “Of course.”

You pouted and nodded. “Uhm… can I borrow some sleeping clothes? I can’t really sleep naked.” You said placing your arms on top of his.

Reaching his drawer by muscle memory, he offered you a t-shirt and a pair of boxers that were just a bit too large for you. His t-shirt reached your knees.

Again, he walked through his room in partial blindness, his vision reminding him of Impressionistic paintings. “Claim your side.” He said, letting you choose.

You smiled, climbing right in the middle and tucking yourself in. “Right here.”

He slid in himself, facing you. His arms immediately wrapped around you as the lights went off.

“Is it okay if I hold you?” He asked, loosening his embrace.

“Don’t you dare let me go.” You said, nuzzling into his chest and throwing a leg around his hip.

“I would never.” He replied playfully. He decided to give it a try. “Goodnight little girl.”

He waited. And waited. “Goodnight Joonie.” You replied.

He tried not to let his doubts show.

He would have at least tomorrow morning to try and get the term he was so eager to hear out of your mouth. Hopefully he would have all day. Maybe all weekend.

The first time you woke up was sometime around six thirty am. You were almost ready to leave your bed with your eyes closed, ready to start your day, when you realised the warmth you were feeling had nothing to do with your woolen blanket.

Namjoon felt you shift and woke up himself, his eyes hazy as he stared at you, squinting. “Go back to sleep, Vixen.” He said before pressing your face against his chest and bringing you back inside its comforting darkness.

The second time you woke up, the clock said eleven am and Namjoon's body was below you while you rested your head against his chest. Apparently he was using his phone with one hand while holding you with the other.

“Good morning,” you said, announcing you were awake.

“Good morning, Vixen, I hope you slept okay, baby fox.” He kissed your forehead just as you stretched your legs and wrapped your limbs around him, trying to drag him on top of you.

“I slept fine.” You confirmed, “Maybe it was just a bit too hot.” You mused, your hand slipping into the waistband of his boxers, your nails raking against his backside.

“Mh… Isn’t it getting hotter?” He asked, pressing his hips against yours.

“I think it had to do with the fact that I was hugging a human furnace.” You teased, his eyes squinting as he looked at you.

“Maybe you didn’t need sleeping clothes.”

“Maybe I need a shower.” You said, biting your lip, looking at his chest, a bit disappointed that you hadn’t left any marks there.

“Suit yourself, beautiful.”

You laughed. “A bit ambitious to call me beautiful if you can’t even see me properly.”

He pouted and turned to the bedside table, wearing his glasses. “Let’s see who laughs now.” His arms grabbed your hips, pulling you on top of him, his fingers digging into your waist and wiggling there.

You kept a straight face and raised an eyebrow. “Guess I’m not ticklish.”

He pouted even more, just as your fingers mirrored his gesture, his whole body contorting underneath you as he erupted in a loud, lovely fit of laughter.

“Look who’s laughing!” You said, vendicative to the bone.

“Okay! You win! Sorry!” He said, gripping your wrists. “Sorry,” he said, his breathing still laboured. “Sorry.” He repeated. “You won.”

With a grin you stood and started for the bathroom. You were so excited. That glass wall had just so much potential.

His hand smacked your ass loudly as you walked away, the sound effect way more impressive than the actual force of impact.

You turned and creased your forehead. “You’ll have to do way better than that.” You shook your head in fake disappointment, just as he turned and fluffed his pillows, sitting up and fixing his viewing angle.

On the other side of the glass wall, you stood in silence, staring at him, not breaking eye contact as you took off the boxers you were wearing.

Namjoon was too enchanted to speak. He was entirely caught in your spell.

With your middle finger you hooked the lower hem of the T-shirt and dragged it up, Namjoon licking his lips and breathing through his mouth. Still he stayed silent.

You noticed his gaze darken as he spotted the bruise on your tattoo, a couple marks on your thighs, and the more the shirt lifted, the more he realised how much power and potential there was in all that unmarred skin, only your neck touched by a couple dark splodges.

Your face disappeared for a second behind the white cotton before you were naked, entirely naked.

“Vixen.” He called.

You opened the tap and walked under the water.

Namjoon felt like he was suddenly in an hyper-realistic fantasy, a lucid dream, made to measure right for him. An immersive porn movie.

As water ran down your smooth skin, your makeup melting on your face as you washed off what had remained from the night before.

He was weak.

And you were beautiful.

Glorious.

Divine.

You were all he had never dared believe into.

But most of all he was weak.

His hand slipped into his boxers and rolled them down just enough to free his cock.

You looked. Smiled. Licked your lips. And started touching yourself.

First you rubbed your breasts with a dollop of body wash to clean your skin.

Then you smiled coquettishily, turning around, staring at him from over your shoulder before you bent over, reaching your ankles and dragging the body foam up, reaching your midthigh before turning to the other calf.

You heard him swore under his breath, his hand beginning to rub up and down his length, a low growl exiting his throat as your hands touched the back of your knees and climbed up, highlighting the roundness of your ass.

“Yes, Vixen.” He moaned, as his hand started going faster. He had never appreciated morning wood more than right in that moment.

“Yes, Joonie?” You replied, turning to look at him, your hand provokingly cupping your mound. “Need help?”

“No. Please look at me.” He said as you stood under the spray, waiting for the soap to slide down your body.

“I am looking, baby.” You replied with a mischievous glance.

“You’re so sexy.” He said, looking at you, his right hand pumping his tip while his left one reached for his balls, fondling them with a slight squeezing motion.

You stared, amused as you finished cleaning yourself. “Do you want me there?” You asked.

“Stay there, so close, keep watching please.” He said.

Nodding and smiling gently you cupped your breast, feeling your clit under your your fingers, touching it comfortably and slowly.

“Just like that, baby. Touch it.” He murmured, throwing his head back.

Looking at him so undone from simply looking at your body made your self esteem burst out of the roof, staring at him as a slow purr exited your lips. His body slowed down before he growled and pushed his hips up in a series of hard thrusts that had you wondering what he could possibly do once you got used to his size.

Gasping, he slowed down, his release spilling on his lower stomach.

As eager as ever, you basically rushed out of the shower, trying not to slip as you reached the bed, straddling him and stopping his wrists, bending forward and nibbling on his tummy before sucking and licking the stains on his navel.

“Vixen, fuck it, you’re nasty as hell.” He moaned, desperate as he felt your tongue on his tip, your lips stretching wide before he could even stop you. “No, no, no, sweet thing. Off. Now.” He said, fighting your grip and grabbing your chin. “This is what is gonna happen. I’ll go wash my hands. And I’ll come back here. I want to find you with your pretty head on the pillow, your hands on the headboard and your legs spread wide. Understood?” He asked.

You nodded, already wondering whether you should obey or not.

You heard the tap open, water slosh, Namjoon moving very slowly as he wore his contacts, leaving his glasses on top of the counter before cleaning himself quickly.

And when he arrived, he found you sitting crosslegged, with your arms wrapped around your middle.

“Vixen.”

“Namjoon.”

“Lay down, babything.” He said, his expression so dark in the clear daylight swimming in from the light curtains hiding the window.

“You didn’t let me suck you.” You said with a pout.

“You think that’s a good reason for you to be bratty, baby fox?” He said, kneeling before you and unwrapping your arms delicately. “Come on, lay down.”

You looked him in the eye. “Please.”

“It’s your turn. We’ll see if you’re still in the mood once I’m done with you.” He said, already putting you into position like you were nothing but a doll, placing two pillows under your head and making you lay on your back. He kissed your mouth. “And now you stay there.”

He placed your hands on the headboard, then slid down, kissing your breastbone, bending his head to the side before working your skin between his teeth and tongue, adding a hickey to your collection.

He made a show of parting your legs and sliding down, his calves and feet hanging from the feet of the bed once his face met your hips.

“Hello there, I guess we’ll become very close friends.” He said, licking your tattoo, before sucking it lightly.

Your hands gripped the headboard tighter as he sent cold air across the wet skin.

“Sensitive little thing you are, mh?” He called, nipping at your inner thighs, his hands spreading you wide open. “Does this feel good.” He asked, letting the tip of his tongue go all the way from your entrance to your clit, toying with the delicate underside.

“Yes Joon.” You replied as readily as you could.

He snickered and laid his mouth open, right there, between your legs, so warm and snug, moving it side to side, gently, feeling your soft inner thighs hug his cheeks. His hands hooked around your legs. Parting from you, he started delivering wide sweeps of his tongue, from your entrance to your clit.

“Joonie… Dammit, yes, like it so much, Joon.” You said as you felt him suck your clit very gently.

He hummed and kept going, unhooking one of his arms to slide two fingers inside you.

“That’s perfect, don’t stop, keep going.” He looked up, meeting your glance. His eyes were full of hunger and an endless list of bad intentions, slowing down to slow pumps until he completely stopped, applying full pressure to your vulnerable nerve endings.

Maybe it was because of your little pre-party in the shower, or maybe because of Namjoon’s magic touch, but your edge was slowly crumbling underneath you.

“So close, please,” you begged, hands leaving the headboard, almost landing on his head, before gripping the sheets, giving a small squeal as he added his teeth, letting your skin graze them with a barely-there kind of touch. He stayed silent but started going faster, sucking you harder. He had eaten out a few girls before you and he was actually surprised you got off to getting sucked. Normally his previous partner had been too sensitive, or had preferred licks. He had read somewhere that statistically speaking it was pretty uncommon for girls to enjoy sucking motions for a long time, but as he watched you grow increasingly whiny and messy, he just kept going, grabbing your wrist and placing it on his head, into his hair.

You tugged at his hair, just before loosening your grip and looking down. “Is it okay if I…?”

He nodded and looked at the other hand too as he pressed his forearm to your belly, pinning you down before his fingers inside you quickened their pace.

With a tiny humm, you called for him, your hips beginning to go wild against him as you felt yourself crumble more and more, finally falling into pleasure.

Namjoon enjoyed every single second of it: of your hips grinding against his face, of your cunt swallowing his fingers, your inner walls pulsating around his digits and dragging him in, deeper and deeper. And your hands tugging at his hair before the pulling turned into pushing, your palms sinking him into your crotch, where you smelled so good, covered in sex and his soap.

He was in heaven.

And the lack of oxygen was getting his brain hazy, so, so light that, hadn’t he just pleasured himself, he would have humped the sheets and come apart while you fucked his face until he couldn’t breath.

And the pushing became pulling again.

“Joonie. Stop, Joon.” You called.

Namjoon heard you and kept going.

“Namjoon, please. God!” You were positively shaking by now, shockwaves making your head toss from left to right, wild and possessed. You were afraid of hurting him, but he stayed there, willing to take you all the way.

“Namjoon, fuck!” You squealed, tugging harder, using your feet to push him away by his shoulders. “Stop! Stop. Too much. No!” You cried out, terrified by the intensity of the sensation. “Da—! Please no! Chocolate!”

At that he stopped. He recognised your safeword immediately, even as he had almost reached his goal. Almost being the key word.

He stretched to your face, laying beside you and pulling you into his arms.

“It’s okay, ____, baby. You’re with me, you’re safe here.” He said, letting you rest in his warmth and scent and soft chest. “See, Vixen. You disobeyed me. You had a lesson to learn there, little one.” He said, combing your hair with his clean hand, keeping the other one on the bed before he made a mess.

“Joon.” You sobbed.

“It’s okay now. You learned your lesson, Vixen.” He said, kissing your temple. “And you’re still my precious little girl. Adorable and lovely and so, so good.” He comforted you as your breathing relaxed, your heartbeat slowed down. “You’re my good girl. My little one.” He reassured you.

You both laid there, still, basking in each other’s presence before you looked up at him and kissed his lips.

“Are you okay, Joon? Did I hurt you?” You asked, worried.

“I’m okay, little vixen.” He said, smiling so warmly you felt your insides melt just a little. “What do you want to do today?” He asked, his fingertips drawing the line of your spine, up and down.

“What do you mean?” You asked with a playful smile.

“I mean I need twenty-four hours with you, Vixen.” He said, looking at you with his sinful dragon eyes.

“Twenty-four hours are a lot. You sure you can keep a brat in place for such a long time?” You said, taunting him.

“I’m sure I’ll keep you in check.” He said, chuckling with his deep voice.

You felt yourself grow wet again.

“Plus you’re such a good girl to me,” he mused. “All you need is some cuddles and an orgasm every two or three hours to keep you obedient and as sweet as a peach.” He said before smacking your ass.

You laughed and closed your eyes, already set on falling asleep again. “Okay. Permission granted. Your twenty four hours start now.” You said, relaxing, breathing him in.

And then it dawned on you.

“I have my pills at home.”

He blinked a couple times, completely impassive. “We can go grab them. It’s ten minutes by bike. We can go get them and go for a walk afterwards.”

“Okay.”

“I can feel you getting sleepy, babe. But we should clean up first.” He said, patting your ass.

You groaned and sat up, reaching the bathroom tentatively.

He started the shower. You joined him shortly after, just to get rid of the sweat.

Just to hug him before you both crashed in bed again.

Your afternoon was amazing, lazy, uneventful. You woke again around one pm, you and Namjoon got dressed — he lent you some clothes that could approximately fit you, or at least had a way to make them work on your body. You just had to stay warm and comfy until you reached your apartment and wore something appropriate.

Therefore, with an oversized warm jacket on top of one of Namjoon's sweaters, a pair of sports leggings underneath, you slipped on your heels and reached your apartment, where you abandoned your clothes from the exhibition and wore a soft, warm turtleneck, a pair of mom jeans and super warm socks, together with your most comfortable shoes. In a tote you placed a couple personal items – phone charger, pills, basic makeup, underwear. Namjoon waited in your living room, looking at your book case.

“All set.” You said, backhugging him while he leafed through one of your favourite art books.

He put it down. “Your library is incredible.” He said placing his hands on top of yours.

You kissed him between his shoulder blades. “Kinky question.”

He hummed, looking at you from over his shoulder.

“Should I grab toys? Lube? Anything spicy?” You said, pressing even more into his back.

“Do you want to?” Ha asked.

You shook your head. “Let's keep it just me and you for this weekend.”

He nodded. “Did you put my clothes—”

“In the weekender. We're ready to go.” You said, going back toward the city through the large path along the river, both of you wearing face masks and hats, completely unsuspicious thanks to the cold weather.

And once you were frozen to the bone and you'd filled your belly with hot snacks, you both went back to his place, with Namjoon insisting you wore one of his hoodies for lounging on the couch.

“Netflix?” He asked. “I have been wanting to watch this series for a while.”

“Yeah, sure,” you said, before yawning noisily. “I'm gonna snooze anyway.”

He smiled and kissed your temple. “Poor baby girl.” He said, placing you across his lap and covering your legs with a blanket, holding you up with one arm around your shoulders, your lower back pressed to the sofa.

You resisted half a episode before you drifted off to sleep, Namjoon's hand rubbing the hair of your nape.

When you woke up, Namjoon was still watching the TV.

“Joonie?” You called, once you woke.

Namjoon's lids fluttered gently. “Yes, darling.”

“What time is it?”

He looked at his watch. “Half past six.”

“How long did I sleep?” You asked, stretching your back.

“Roughly an hour.” He replied, dividing your attention between the screen and your face.

You kissed his cheek and straddled his lap, planting your face in the crook of his neck, the blanket on your legs moving just enough for you to feel his thigh underneath you.

“You getting cosy, baby.” He said, cupping the back of his head, hugging you to his chest.

Still sleepy, you dipped your fingers into his hair.

“Don't tug, puppet. You don't wanna make me bald, do you, baby?” He said, caressing your hair repeatedly as he felt your hips beginning to grind on him.

“Joonie.”

He tightened his jaw and sucked his cheeks. Patience, he told himself, You'll get there.

He knew he had to earn your trust first, and be just kind enough, just sweet and soft enough to make you soften yourself. He needed to be strong, reliable, steady. Supportive, protective. Baby you without belittling you.

Too harsh and you would stay guarded. Too permissive and you would turn rebellious.

In resolve, he placed a hand on the small of your back and lifted his thigh just enough that you could ride his thigh comfortably. Your hair felt so soft in his hand and his soap smelled so good on your skin. He was all over you, with the perfume of his body wash, of his cologne — which he had surreptitiously spritzed on the hoodie before offering it to you — and the delicate scent of his fabric softener.

You were warm and tender and so so delicate, even though your glutes were so solid under his palms, even though your muscles were strong, driving you hard against his flesh.

“You feel so good,” you murmured into his ear, your body growing wilder as you found the right angle to rub your crotch against his leg. “Can’t get enough.”

“See, my smart baby knew what she wanted.” He said, massaging your scalp, keeping you close, trying to support you physically and emotionally. “You waited until we could have all the time we needed.” He continued, trying to kiss you.

With closed eyes and soft, plump lips you turned, offering your face to him.

He laid a quick, light peck on your mouth. “So smart. And so, so pretty. The most perfect darling in the whole world.” And as he praised you more and more, he felt you melt into his arms, your thrusts heavier and quicker, more powerful.

“I’m so close.” You said, whimpering gingerly.

“Already?”

In less than a day, he’d got you to cum almost five times — four and a half considering that the first orgasm and your incumbent one were a joined effort.

“You’re getting me wild.” You said, sucking his earlobe. “Plus I’ve spent two dry weeks.”

He exhaled. “Poor little fox.” By now his cock was painfully stiff, especially since your crotch meeting his thigh combined with your own thigh teasing his crotch. “You’re getting me wild too, Vixen.” He admitted helping you ride him.

You laughed, emitting no sound, just your breath. “I feel like such a freak.” You said tightening your arms around him and feeling his hair under your fingers.

“I like you like this.” He said, tipping his chin up, your lips immediately tracing the vein there before nipping.

“Can I?” You asked, “just so you know, once I start, they’re gonna think you spent the weekend in Transylvania.”

“I’ll tell them a group of vampires kidnapped me.” He said, just as you moved to the lower part of his throat and started sucking his skin.

“Hell yes, Vixen.” He growled and you felt so powerful you thought you could really bite into him and have him climaxing from your mouth on his neck.

Too sad you were ready to embrace your own high, your clit meeting the hard muscle of his thigh once he flexed it for your pleasure.

“Cumming.” You keened before throwing your head back, anchoring your hands to his shoulders, sinking your nails into the fabric of his sweater as your back arched and your neck stretched. He dove for it without any care, immediately suckling at the sweet spot where your vein thumped visibly.

Slowing down, you enjoyed the last few tendrils of pleasure intoxicating your blood like sweet smoke.

“You got me so hard, Vixen.” He said, finally releasing your skin after he was sure you’d have a new bruise tomorrow.

You giggled and hid into him. “Sorry.” You said, without real contrition in your voice.

“You gonna take care of it, little devil?” He asked, his hand digging into your panties and grabbing your ass.

Your hand explored the width of his chest, how it swelled and how you had to curve your palm to follow the shape of it. Slowly your hand reached even lower, touching his stomach, lower, to his navel, lower, to the hem of his sweater, climbing underneath, your nails teasing his skin, giving him the perfect mix of bitter and sweet.

“I—” he tried to speak but every word sunk into a deep sigh, smirking as he threw his head back and relaxed, absolutely ready for you to service him.

You felt his erection, rubbing it from over his sweats. “You’re so damn big.” You said, biting his throat now that you had it right in front of you, magnificently stretched for your viewing pleasure. “What are you so big for?”

He bit his lips and gave a raw chuckle. “For wrecking pretty girls like you.”

You smiled with your tongue between your teeth, observing the reddened skin that would bloom purple by tomorrow. “You wanna wreck me?” You said, giving a slow, wet lick to your palm before slipping it into his underwear, meeting his cock and massaging his delicate tip, your fingers searching for his frenulum, focusing on it without hesitation.

“If you don’t wreck me first yes, dammit, right there, Vixen.” He said, pushing his hips up, fucking your fist. “You’re a delight, baby.” He moaned, “you make me talk fucking filthy.”

“I like you talking filthy.” You said with a slightly high pitched voice, barely capable of hiding your enthusiasm. You were getting to his head. Literally and figuratively.

“So good. So fucking good.” He said, his hand touching his neck, his chest, sliding underneath the neckline of his sweater as he teased his nipples. “You’re the most sinful little thing I’ve ever seen.” He said as he felt your other hand venture under his shirt. “So wicked.” He went on rambling, too lost in pleasure as you drew small circles on his slit with your thumb while the rest of your hand pulsated around him. “And so damn sweet. I’m so close, baby girl. So, so close. Keep going like that.”

You smiled and spread his precum over his glans. “You’re close, mh?” You said, considering how close to the edge you could get him.

“Yes, yes, keep going. Like— Vixen.” Pause. “Vixen?”

On the opposite end of the room, far away from him, there you stood.

“Vixen.” He said, suddenly cold as stone, very damn serious.

“This is for overstimulating me this morning.” You said, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the floor.

“Vixen, come back here, puppet.” He said, as gently as he could.

You struggled to hold back a grin as you shook your head no.

“Vixen, baby. Come back here. Nothing will happen. I swear.” He said, noticing how you started taking small steps backwards, toward the corridor.

“Vixen, no.” He said, his jaw clenched and his cheeks sucked tight against his teeth.

He was mad.

And you were damn pleased with yourself.

“Try me.” You said, cocking an eyebrow.

He cocked one himself. “Last warning.” He announced.

“Keep your useless warnings.” You spit back with a lopsided grin.

His dimple showed with a sadistic smile. “Run.” He said as he lunged and started after you, letting you take only a few steps before his arms wrapped around your middle and his teeth bit into the shell of your ear, hurting you a little.

You were intoxicated by adrenaline.

“You see, baby fox. I don’t like running after tiny, feral animals like you.” He said, lifting you from the ground, trying to make your leg bend and put you into a kneeling position. “I like my pet obedient. Polite. Domesticated.” He said, fighting you. “Now you either kneel willingly, or we can keep fighting.” He grabbed your cheeks and twisted your face. “And remember how much bigger and stronger I am. We both know I’ll outlast you, little vixen. You’d better behave, if you were smart.”

With ragged breathing, you lowered yourself. You had obtained your rough treatment and you were more than willing and ready to reap what you sowed.

“Good girl, Vixen. You do realise you misbehaved, little one.” He began, his voice so low and rumbling.

“I do.”

“You do understand I need to punish you, Vixen.” He explained.

“I do.” You said, feeling how that word lingered on your tongue, begging to get out.

“I believe ten spanks would do, mh?” He asked, loosening his grip on your midriff, bringing one palm between your shoulder blades as he kneeled behind you, his chest still solid against your spine before the hand on your back started pushing you forward, into the carpet running down the corridor. If felt slightly rough under your knees. And against your face as you ended up with your chest and your cheek pressed to it, your wrists pinned together to the floor, Namjoon’s left hand keeping you still while his right hand lifted the sweater and found your cute satin panties, with ruffled edges and pastel hearts printed all over them.

“Such cute underwear, little one.” He said, his mouth coming to graze at your bottom. “You’re so smart, wearing pretty, innocent underwear and then acting like a very naughty foxie.” He said biting your glute. “Such a brat, making me so, so disappointed in you.” He said, sitting up. “I need your consent before I can punish you, Vixen. Ten spanks. Are you in?”

“Yes, Namjoon.” You confirmed.

He exhaled. Patience, he told himself. “Good.”

You recognised the feel of his mouth on your ass immediately. You had never had a hickey on your booty, but you had no intention of complaining. Instead, you had every intention of getting used to that. “You love kissing my ass, uh?” You chuckled.

And the first spank landed.

It was vicious, far from the playful smack of earlier that morning.

“Count.” He said.

“One.” You obeyed.

You handled everything nicely until spank seven had your legs shaking. You wondered how you could take thirty when you were nineteen, and now you could barely handle seven before starting to feel the burn.

“Eight,” you called, emitting a sob as Namjoon blew on your reddened skin and rubbed it with his palm, the position slightly uncomfortable as he was still pinning your wrists.

“Come on. You’re almost there, Vixen.” He said, removing his palm and hitting the other asscheek.

“Nine.” You called, whimpering while his hand rubbed you gently.

“Come on, it’s the last one.” Namjoon only wanted to give you forgiveness, start from a clear slate and try to make you cum with his cock buried deep inside you. Where try is clearly the keyword. He still had a clear image of you wincing the night before, of your tiny whimper, of your frown, of your pout, of how much he wanted to console you and support you and make the pain end and the pleasure flow in endlessly.

“Joon.” You called.

“Yes, baby?”

“Please.” You said with a tiny hiccup. “Please.”

He hit you and it was over, finally over.

“Ten.”

“Good girl, ____. My good girl.” He said, rubbing at your skin, observing the red marks of his palms, mixed with bruising hickeys and lovebites. “You’re forgiven, little one,” he said, cupping your cheek and kissing your face.

“Joon.” You called again.

“Tell me, sweet thing.” He said, feeling almost saccharine with the endless list of pet names he already had for you.

You gasped and closed your eyes, your request making you feel just a bit too vulnerable. “Could you...” You looked at his lips. “Would you please cum on my ass?”

He stayed perfectly still for just a second before he smiled so delicately, so kindly. “Are you sure, ____? Are you okay with that?”

You nodded, feeling the stiff fibres of the carpet scratch your skin. “Please?”

He stood on his knees and settled behind you. “It won’t take long.” He promised, unpinning your wrists to caress your spine. He took his cock out of his pants.

“You look ravishing, Vixen. You’re my pretty little pet.” He said, massaging your tailbone before sliding his hand forward, into your panties, lingering on your mound.  “Can I feel you up, lovely?” He asked, refusing to give that for granted.

You nodded.

His fingers met your clit and toyed around it: he had some difficulties finding it as he was jerking himself off, and the position wasn’t helping.

It all lasted maybe two minutes, his moans growing louder, deeper, shorter, until he stopped.

Next you only felt silence and the hot liquid dribbling down each of your asscheeks.

“You look so fucking hot, bae. I’m gonna dream of you like this for at least a couple months.”

You giggled quietly before you felt another hot thing against your behind. Fleshy. Strong. Scorching.

His tongue.

He licked up his cum, cleaning you as best as he could before helping you up.

“Let’s get a cold pack for your poor little bum.” He said, accompanying you to the bedroom, stopping by in the master bathroom and fixing the What was left of the mess before grabbing a clean towel and running it under cold water, squeezing it and placing an arm around your middle. “Are you hungry?” He asked, noticing it was about dinner time.

“We had snacks two hours ago.” You shrugged. “Maybe we could wait a little,” you mused with a curious expression. He realised it looked like Yoongi’s wondering pout. He smiled a little.

You grabbed the rag. “And this could wait too.” You said, placing it down, taking Namjoon’s hands and leading him to the bed, standing at its feet.

Seoul was wearing her best dress just outside the window, completely covered in flickering, coloured lights. The slight darkness was welcome. You undressed quickly. “I want to try having you inside again.” You said, sitting on the bed. “Maybe I could be on top. Take it easy.” Your eyes danced between him and the floor, feeling so, so insecure.

He kissed your forehead. “Anything you want as long as I don’t hurt you.” He replied, taking off his sweater, then walking to his side of the bed and sitting there, taking off his sweats and underwear before laying on the sheets.

He was half-mast, but it took him only a couple strokes and looking at you naked, stretching yourself, before gaining full length again.

The condom came on quickly, a tight hiss leaving his mouth as he rolled it on.

“I— Last night I forgot to mention this but… I have lube, I think it would be smart to use it but I know girls can be sensitive and I don’t know if it could possibly upset your uhm… insides.” He said, taking out the bottle. “It’s supposed to be pretty mild and it’s water based, still...”

You looked at the tiny bottle. You weren’t familiar with it but you knew the brand as a name a friend of yours had mentioned a couple times. “I guess I can try. I’ve never had any issue with lubricants so… I guess I can give it a try.”

“Good.” He said.

“Good” you replied, squeezing some on his latex-covered sex.

Spreading it with your fingers, you slipped them inside of you, fitting three easily after you stretched before.

“Want me to use my hands? They’re bigger.” He said, offering you some help.

Still you shook your head. “If I do it myself I can focus on how it feels.” You said, stopping only a second to go deeper. “Still, thank you, Joonie.”

Once your entrance was abundantly stretched, you gripped his base. “Ready?” You asked.

He nodded. “Waiting for you.” He reassured you as you started lowering yourself onto him, feeling his tip breach your entrance and cause a slight burn.

Slight.

You inhaled and gave a tiny whine before smiling lewdly. “It’s right.” You said, sinking some more towards his pelvis.

You forced your muscles to stretch before taking some more, mewling in pleasure.

“That’s my baby,” Namjoon said, throwing his head back as he felt his tip reach deeper and deeper, until not an inch of him was left cold and dry. “Good god, Vixen, are you okay, babything?”

You hissed and chuckled, nodding. “Never been better.” You said, the pain slowly disappearing.

Maybe it was the lack of nerves, maybe it depended on how much your attraction for Namjoon had evolved in the last few hours, maybe it was because you felt closer and closer to that complicated word that had been so shamed and so loved in your past.

Maybe because all you wanted to do was please him and tease him in an endless circle.

No matter the reasons, you pulled him out slowly, your kegels squeezing the soft head three, four times before you lowered yourself again, moaning as he reached the bottom of your cunt.

“So deep.” He growled, licking his thumb and bringing it to the apex of your folds. “Can you cum like this?” He asked, beginning to draw slow, light circles on your clit.

“You’ll have me cumming in… five? Six minutes? Maybe?” You said, beginning to ride him in earnest, with a slow but steady place.

His hand stayed at your hip, guiding you while your hands pressed to his naked, sweaty chest. “No need to bounce,” he said, keeping you glued to him. “Just slide. Two inches in and out are all I need. Focus on squeezing me, Vixen.”

You listened to his directions and felt your high approach.

“Joon.”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t believe it. So close.” You said.

His thumb kept drawing circles just as you had taught him.

“Go get it, baby fox. All yours.” He encouraged you, moving his hips himself now that your upper legs were starting to shake at the effort. “You can take it, darling. Come on.”

For a few seconds you just stayed silent.

And then your hearing became over sensitive as your blood pressure spiked, making you explode.

You didn’t hear your loud keening and moaning that slowly turned into a weak mewl. You didn’t hear the headboard hitting the panel or Namjoon praising you, his thumb still taking care of your clit as he buckled up a few times and spilled his release inside the condom.

You didn’t hear. And you wouldn’t have cared.

All you felt was Namjoon inside you. All you were was an empty recipient filled with his fullness.

You felt your torso shake before you fell forward, into his arms.

“You did amazing, baby thing. Amazing.” He said, kissing your hair, tugging the covers on top of you both. “A work of art.” He spoke with wonder in his voice.

“It feels so good, Joonie.” You replied weakly.

“That’s how I want you to feel. All the time when you’re with me. Understood?” He asked affectionately.

You nodded. “Understood.”

“I hope that hurt. Man, why aren't we extinct yet?” You said, shaking your head at the dumb fool who basically smashed his front teeth on the floor in an attempt to do an unnecessarily stupid jump with a skateboard.

“I mean, that's basically asking for it.” He said, munching on some fried chicken.

You were both sitting in bed naked, propped against the headboard and eating his favourite after sex snack, watching a playlist of funny videos.

“Do you happen to have any chocolate?” You asked.

“As in chocolate sauce? Like chocolate and fried chicken?” He asked, talking through a pout as he kept munching on his chicken leg.

You shook your head, grimacing at the thought. “No, I mean real chocolate. Like a chocolate bar. It's my pick-me-up after sex. I tend to get a bit sensitive and that's like… very emotionally soothing.”

He turned with a sorry expression on his face. “I don't think I have any but I could order it—”

Again you shook your head. “Come on, it's not necessary, I'm okay. Look, it's a doggo!” You said in an attempt to distract him, pointing at the screen of his laptop.

His head snapped to the screen. “Oh, cute!” He said, goofing.

You pouted with a small smile at how endearing it was to see him like this. How  domestic it felt. You could get used to this.

You kept eating in silence, occasionally gushing over a hilarious kitty or a funny dog.

And he laughed. He was beautiful, hair going a little bit everywhere, his fingers stained and his cheeks a bit smeared with oil and crumbles of the fried mix covering the meat.

“My exes never did this with me.” He said, and it sounded like a confession.

You turned, alarmed. “What? Why?”

“I just never had the chance. The first one was before I had a room to myself. Meeting with her was… Complicated. And she could never linger much. Then there were a couple years where I just went a bit wild and had… A few random flings and hookups. And I preferred them to be gone. Then my second girlfriend was too classy for postorgasmic chimaek in bed. Back then I already had my place but, yeah. Right place, wrong person.” He giggled awkwardly. “And the last one was again… wrong person.” That beautiful inner spark seemed to dim at that.

“I'm sorry.” You said, not really knowing what to do.

“It was always so complicated. And then I realised I didn't want to hold on anymore. I don't know, maybe I'm naive, but I think that with the right person everything will feel easy.” He mused.

“Usually it does, yes.” You admitted.

He frowned at that. Had you already met the right person? And why were you there, with him and not with the one? “So you met them?”

You shrugged. “I believe that there's a right person at the right moment. My first partner was that to me. And then the moment changed and the person did not. And it wasn't right anymore. We parted ways. They're the wrong person now, but I will always look back with good memories and no hard feelings. However, I know that my present, and my foreseeable future are not there.” You explained. “I speak of them fondly but it's not for who they are, rather for what they gave me, emotionally speaking.”

And he understood.

“Right now I'm seeing you. And it feels right. You and now.” You felt like confessing.

“Thank you.” He blushed. “You feel right too.” He replied calmly.

You smiled. And he smiled back.

It all felt very right.

With your own greasy mouth and fingers you grabbed his face and placed a big fat kiss on the corner of his mouth.

His smile amplified. “Amazing.”

“What?” You asked, curious.

“I had this scary idea of you being some sort of black widow or something and it turns out you're a cute goofball. Girls who look like you shouldn't be allowed to act cute and giggly and then be fucking bombshells in bed with a sex appeal so loud they could charm a room full of hundreds of people.”

“Says you.” You said, raising an eyebrow. “Mister heavenly body proportions, well-spoken and well-read, too smart for your own good and so sexy you could set a room on fire but also so clumsy that you could literally set a room on fire. That is not fair.”

He hid his face behind his hand as you praised him, shrinking down to half his size and looking so cute you wished you could pocket him, the apples of his cheeks turning into fluffy, biteable, inviting cushions.

Since both of you were done with the food, you moved the small boxes from your and his lap, placing them on your bedside table.

Hell.

That is the bedside table next to you. Not yours. No.

Trying to shake off the thought, you looked at him again as he stared at you intently, trying to figure out your next move.

A yawn bloomed on his lips and contagiously ricocheted onto yours.

“Joonie.”

“_____.” He replied, plainly calling your name.

“Are you sleepy?” You asked, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He nodded.

“Is it too early to sleep?” You asked, staring at his digital clock, on his bedside table.

He shook his head. “No, but we have chicken grease all over our hands and faces.” He said mid-chuckle.

“We could nap and… maybe… ” You toyed around with the idea. “Maybe we could have a late night/early morning chill session.” You mused, looking at him.

He looked back at you.

“Sounds great to me.”

Once agreed, you got ready for bed. It was almost ten thirty when you both crashed, this time completely forgoing clothes.

They would be only a nuisance by the time you woke up.

The clock told three am when you heard a slow, R&B track play from Namjoon’s phone. It was something mellow and sultry. You recognised the artist.

Namjoon’s lips mouthed at your neck as he woke up slowly, humming before he squeezed you into his arms. “Let it play.” He said, licking your neck. “It’s a whole playlist.”

You closed your eyes and let him do all the effort as his hips started grinding into your ass. “I can’t believe I was having wet dreams about you after all the stuff we did.”

“I’m hard to forget.” You said, cocky and playful.

He laughed with his bedroom voice.

You could make late night quickies mandatory if Namjoon was going to talk with that timbre anytime he woke up.

Once he was sufficiently hard he laid on his back and wore protection and lube, making a quick work of placing himself behind you and hooking your leg around his body, spreading you open.

“It should be easier like this.” He said, more relaxed once he noticed you were stretching yourself. “I shouldn’t be hitting too deep. Just a different angle,” he reassured you.

“Yes. I like spoons.”

“Okay, so you’ve done it before?” He asked, kissing your hair.

“Yup.”

“You like it?” He murmured, and it felt like it was darkness itself speaking to you, with its soothing and exciting, if slightly scary, voice.

“Yes.” You whispered.

He hummed, “Then tell me when you’re ready.” He said, kissing your nape.

He had a thing for feeling your skin against his mouth. He didn’t care about body hair, or perspiration or sweat, about moles and scars and blemishes.

He wanted your skin. Every single inch of it.

You positioned your slit for him to slide in. “Please, inside.” You called.

“Here. Easy.” He said, answering your call and slowly, gently, delicately pushing inside.

You purred.

Namjoon was just… something you had never expected you could get. Actually, someone.

You had thought you would deem your kinky life over and consider yourself lucky with lazy vanilla sex once a week, waiting for your partner to leave the house so you could take your time with your toys.

But then Namjoon had happened, with cosy smiles and gentle words and smart talking that made you think he was too good, too kind, too sweet for you; but that was before you discovered his kinky background, before you started noticing all the ways he teased you and kept you in check at the same time.

Before you talked about your intimate lives and what you need from your ideal partners. And just like that, everything had clicked into place.

Right in that moment one more puzzle piece finally seemed to be fitting.

“Joonie.” You called, “Joons.”

“Yes, bae.” He said.

He always seemed to reply to you whenever you called him, always ready to listen to you, to follow your instructions. So attentive to your sensitivity and your feedback.

“I want you on top of me.” You said, needing to feel small, to look him in the eye, to touch his face and kiss his lips and… and feel him there. Close. Passionate, Attentive. Supportive. Nourishing. Caring. Guiding.

He pulled out and moved back just enough for you to lay on your back.

You liked the song that started playing right in that moment. You liked the harp, so delicate. And the heavy R&B beat.

Namjoon moved on top of you, mouthing a tiny bit of lyrics. You bit your lower lip and somehow smiled, your eyes rolling shut as he entered you.

“Look at me.” Namjoon said, touching your face.

He could barely see you in the dark, only your dark pupils like islands in the white of your eyes, the deeper darkness of your open mouth as you breathed heavily.

Your expression turned imploring as you stretched your mouth to his, silently requesting to be kissed.

He followed, letting you suck on his lower lip — your favourite for plumpness and texture. The kiss drew out endlessly. Another, even slower and quieter song came on.

He let go of your mouth. “Vixen—”

“Joonie?” You said, and he immediately recognised how small and vulnerable you sounded.

“Are you okay, baby?” He said, pulling out and lingering with only his tip inside. “Am I hurting you?”

You shook your head and cupped his face. “Joonie,” Your voice was impossibly softer, and he felt ready to melt. He would do anything as long as you asked him with that voice. “Can I call you daddy?”

His eyebrows knitted together before he smiled painfully, his heart so full. He couldn’t quite explain how it felt to know that he meant that much to you, that you deemed him that worthy, that you trusted him that much.

“Yes, baby fox.” He said, touching your hair and sliding in with the most fluid of strokes. “Gonna make you so proud of me, little one.” He said, growing increasingly emotional.

As he had your greenlight, he decided he could finally use that title. “Can you touch yourself for daddy? Touch yourself for me?” He asked, watching as your face — looking so heartbreakingly young — moved in the tiniest nod, your fingers reaching down.

“That’s my good girl,” He rewarded you as your hips started moving on their own account, chasing their high. “Cum for daddy.”

“Please.” You said, gripping his wrist and turning your head, trying to find his fingers. “Daddy, please,” you mewled. “I need it.”

He shifted his weight to free his arm, letting you lead his hand where you craved it.

You selected his middle and ring finger and bought them past your teeth, into your mouth, closing your lips around them, sucking on them as you grew increasingly whiny.

“Yes, little one. Take it,” he repeated, too wrecked by the sight of you to find something good to say.

You went completely silent and your hips stopped before they started going three times faster, a series of high pitched sobs echoing through the room before Namjoon came undone himself.

“Thank you, _____. Thank you so much, little fox.” He said, kissing your temple before slipping out. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“Don’t go.” You said, lip wobbly.

“I’ll be back super soon, treasure. I promise. And you should go to the restroom.”

You huffed and stood. “I hate it.”

“It keeps you healthy.” He said, kissing your temple.

Once back from your small clean up, Namjoon crashed like a baby on your chest.

You stared at the ceiling, watching minutes go by endlessly,  torturing yourself with useless questions.

When the clock hit four thirty, you decided you needed out. Gone.

As he was still fucked out, you managed to slide gently out of his grip and crawl to the edge of the bed, sitting on it and quietly heading for your discarded clothes.

Your plan was short lived. “Baby?” He growled after patting the empty space on the bed, eyes still closed. “Vixen.” He called again, this time sitting up and rubbing his eyes, searching for his glasses.

Once he wore them, he spotted you like a predator, but looking at you with a confused expression. “Where you going?”

You kept dressing up, trying not to look at him as you did so. This was probably panic.

“Vixen?” He asked again. “____.” He finally said, the bed dipping as his body came closer. “Did I do something wrong?”

You felt like running away because there was no way you could save yourself from falling for him after all of this.

Leave the premises ASAP, said your brain.

“Baby. Are you leaving already?” He asked. “Just answer me, you can have your reasons, I'll understand, but please don't leave me hanging.”

“I just thought it was better if I left.” You murmured.

“Don't go.”

Well, you were falling already.

“Joon, it's dangerous.” You whispered, the hands on the clasp of your bra falling limp at your sides. “Please, don't hurt me.” You said with a small voice.

He had no idea what you were going through. What you had gone through. He felt like the intimacy he had reached with you just an hour ago was a very short-lived victory.

“I'll take care of you.” He promised. And probably it was because of how vulnerable you always felt after sex (go figure after good sex) but you let your body crumble, leaning back into his chest as he sat behind you, his knees bent and parted to accommodate your figure. “Is it okay if I hold you?”He asked, suspecting that you were going through something in that moment, but also knowing that some people prefer to be on their own after sex.

You simply nodded. “Yeah.”

Before you knew, he was hugging you to his chest, sweaty and warm and soft. “It's okay. I'll take care.” He shushed you as you completely fell into him, your insecurities and vulnerabilities being drained by his gentle embrace. He used his big hand to collect your legs from below your knees, bending them to your chest so that you were balled up, completely enveloped in his hold. “Please stay.” He requested, voice tender with emotion. “You’re free to leave, but let me tell you you could literally stay until Monday morning. I don’t care. I like having you here.”

You felt like Alice in the rabbit hole, discovering a new world, falling further and further into this new space that is his entire being.

“Sleep here," he said, imploring you in such a sweet, simple way that you simply nodded, and what a crime it would be to deny him. “We’ll just sleep, watch stuff on Netflix, stay in. No biggie.”

No biggie.

Like you weren't realising that the moment he would say “oh, it was fun but I actually cannot be in a relationship” you would need to reset your emotions with months and months of apathy and self-imposed loneliness.

“Okay.” You agreed simply, and you felt like that okay was both to his offer and to the inevitable consequences of this thing with him.

He beamed. “I think you should take off your underwear, then. You're a bit overdressed for the party.” He landed a smooch on your cheek and tried to drag you back to the headboard of the bed, holding you close.

Snickering, you rolled your eyes and turned your head to look at him. “If you want me to take it off, maybe you could do that yourself.”

He shook his head with a devilish smirk.

The following morning, at around ten am, you hear a rustle and turned, watching as Namjoon entered with a tray.

“Breakfast. Gently offered by Yoongi.”

You snickered.

“And he left a note.”

You stretched and sat up straight.

He had created this maneater image of you in his head and seeing that it was no panther, but rather a soft kitten laying in his arms had his gut fluttering with a sense of fondness he had no name for.

Maybe it was the same feeling that almost had you running out last night.

You sat side by side, sharing the tray.

You opened the note.

Congrats on the sex, now please stop fucking like bunnies, the walls are really fucking thin and I need my sleep.

Both you and Namjoon laughed hysterically.

“Do you think he poisoned the food?”

“Difficult but not unlikely.” Namjoon replied, trying the food and deeming it edible.

You laughed and digged in, chitchatting as you ate.

Sunday was a blessing.

Relaxing. Uneventful.

Except for Namjoon making you call him daddy as many times as he could. First in the shower, where he clearly decided it was a good idea to eat you out.

You were thankful, if a little wobbly-legged once you managed to make it out of the dangerous environment.

Next on the sofa, after you offered him an excessively generous blowjob before he slipped his fingers in your cunt and drew out one more orgasm to make your legs shake and your hands grip anything that could possibly help you keep some semblance of composure.

At eight he managed to trap you at his place for dinner. And in the end you simply gave up on the idea of leaving his apartment anytime before Monday morning. That is precisely how you found yourself straddling him on his bed, his back pressed to the headboard as he pretended he was scrolling on his phone while he was only paying attention to the hand groping your ass while you nuzzled your nose against his jaw.

A thought coursed through your mind. A very intrusive, very welcome thought. “Joon.” You said.

“Mh.”

“Can I do something?” You asked, a bit dubious.

“That’s a very generic request, darling.”

You purred, “Would you let me take control?” You bent to his neck, nipping at his throat. “I'll be so good to you, Joonie bear.”

He blinked a couple times and put down his phone before breathing heavily. “Aren't you happy with daddy taking care of you, baby?” He asked, with just a sprinkle of aggression in his voice.

You pouted. “Yes, daddy, but I want to show you how grateful I am.”

He grinned as he heard the nickname. He was weak. He let you take the lead.

Your hips had started grinding on him on their own account, which had him moaning so perfectly, at your ear. “Does it feel as good as it sounds, Joonie bear?” You questioned.

He replied with a groan and a tight squeeze on your ass.

“Answer me, Joonie bear.” You commanded, growing stern.

“What?” He asked with a whisper, eyes closed, head tipped back, exposing his throat.

One of your hands wrapped around the thick column of his neck. You paused the motion of your hips.

He opened his eyes. “Vixen?”

“I said, does it feel as good as it sounds, Joonie?” You remarked, something aggressive and dark making you take control.

He licked his lips and let his mouth fall open. “It feels very good, miss.”

Your eyes rolled back. It felt empowering to have him on his knees, mind-blowing to have him recognise your authority over him, so big and strong and obeying to your command. “That's a nice answer, Joonie bear.”

He smirked. “Then may I ask for a kiss as a reward, miss? You must admit I am a brilliant student.”

Fuck him.

Well, you intended to, as literally as you could. For as long as you could.

Your hips regained their rocking with some additional desperation. Your lips lingered a hair breadth away from his. “Do you know how good of a kisser you are?” The tip of your tongue came out to taste his mouth.

He blushed at your compliment and giggled embarrassedly.

“I'm going to cover you in kisses, Joonie. Head to toe.” You promised. “And I'm going to wear bright red lipstick for that. Reapply it every time it fades from my lips. You'll have to soak up in make-up remover for a whole day to get me off your skin.”

He whimpered, his hips pushing up against you.

Looking down, your mouth watered at the sight of him.

“Do you like it, Vixen?” He spoke with a breathy tone.

Raising an eyebrow, you looked up at him. “I'll have to teach you not to speak unless you're being addressed to, uh?”

“I'm sorry, miss.” He apologised with a creased brow and his most contrite voice, maybe soft and sweet because your wetness was pressed up against the base of his cock, your clit grinding up the veined ridge of his shaft.

“It's okay, Joonie bear.” You kissed him chastely, in contrast with the way you were moving from waist down.

“Thank you, miss.” He said as you let his lips free.

Smiling and nodding you brought your hand between your bodies, your thumb spreading his precum all over the spongy head of his dick. “That's my good boy.”

He shut his eyes tight, face constricted in a silent groan of pleasure.

“Condom,” you reminded yourself.

“We’ve almost ran out.” He rasped, trying not to shove himself in when you stretched to reach for his drawer.

Settling back down, you kissed his lovely, full lips. “Can I?” You asked, shaking the foil square between your fingers.

“Quick, please.” He said, laughing in a desperate fashion.

You ripped the foil quickly, finding the right side of the condom and sitting further down his thighs to have enough space to roll the condom on. In the process you kissed his chest.

Through all of this, his hands were still glued to your ass, obviously. He looked like he was ready to risk his sanity for it. You didn't get all the hype, but as long as he was happy you had no complaints about that.

Bending to his lap, you once more marvelled at the size of him, asking yourself how one can walk with something like that between their legs. Placing the disk on the tip, you used your dominant hand to roll it down gently, using your nails to give him something you were quite sure he'd never received before.

“Vixen, fuck.” He groaned before exhaling forcefully.

“Language.” You reprimanded him, squeezing his balls at the remark.

“Miss.” He said, trying to contain himself.

Grabbing the lube from your side, you uncapped it and squeezed a dollop directly on his covered tip.

“Cold.” He hissed.

Your palm came down on him, your eyes and then lips meeting again as you spread and warmed the liquid.

“I wanna ride you, Joonie bear. Are you okay with that?” You spoke, trying to stay as close as possible.

He nodded, “Please, miss. Thank you, miss.” He said with a deep, husky baritonal tone.

You shook your head, scooting closer to his lap, rising to your knees and hovering over him. Your hand at his base guided him.

“____, wait, don't you wanna stretch first?” He asked, worried.

You tightened your mouth in a thin line. “I'll take it slow. Plus, you’ve been keeping me trained, uh.”

He nodded with a tiny proud smirk, his dimple appearing as his hands massaged the thick flesh of your behind.

You proceeded.

The tip was glorious. It slid in magnificently, his head rolling back as he desperately tried to maintain eye contact.

The first three inches also went quite with ease.

The remaining five were a process of adaptation.

“Baby,” he whined as you lifted your hips, pulling him out, the look on your face so delicate that he completely forgot the little power imbalance of a few minutes earlier. And you were too busy to notice.

“I'm gonna take it all, don't worry.” You replied, caressing his face.

He smiled lazily but his face crunched in focus.

Sliding back down again, you took the stretch, taking a deep breath before sinking down a bit more.

“So tight. So warm.” He sat straighter, bringing you closer. “You feel so good.”

On the other side you huffed, trying to take a bit more.

“You okay, baby?” He asked, his hands leaving your backside and sliding upwards, toward your waist, then to your breasts, skimming the curve of your neck and finally reaching your cheeks, stopping there. “You're doing so good, baby. You're so good to me, darling.” He combed your hair back, cradling your head.

You slid back up, your muscles gripping him.

“That's cruel, Vixen.” He rumbled.

“Sorry.” You mewled as you sat back down, taking him all.

“Fuuuuck. That's it, sweet thing.” He said, relief smoothening his traits, his face looking absolutely divine.

Once he was in, you had no intention of letting him out, simply using your inner walls and the swirls of your hips to stimulate him. “Is it okay, Joonie bear?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled, realising the shift a second too late, the nickname giving it off. “I mean, yes, miss.”

You smiled and nodded, making eye contact with him. “Perfect.” You kept twirling your pelvis on him, allowing yourself a small, slow bounce.

He looked lost. Your hands lowered, chest parting from his so you could scratch his majestic pectorals. His eyelids fluttered open, “____. Yes.”

“You're so beautiful.” You whispered. “You're perfect.” Bending down you let your nails tease his abdomen, climbing back up and around his shoulders, behind his neck, into the short hair of his nape.

“Baby.” He murmured, his mouth hanging open and searching for yours, eyes glued to the spot where he moved inside you. You followed his gaze, hypnotized by the rhythm of your hips and the regular twitching of his belly.

“Do you want to touch me, Joonie?” You said, bringing your lips to his ear. “I want you to touch my clit, Namjoon.”

He growled and moved one hand from your cheek to your chin, dipping his thumb in your mouth. “Make it wet, Vixen.”

You smiled around it, drenching it in your spit before biting on the finger and releasing his hand. “Not your turn. I'm the one giving orders now, Joonie bear.”

He shook his head. “Enjoy it while it lasts, brat.”

Holding one hand on his nape, you moved the other one around, pressing your palm against his lips and shutting him up. “Let's keep that smart mouth close. Or would you rather I stop fucking you and use that tongue for more pleasurable activities?”

His eyes went wide as his hips shifted, pushing into you.

“Oh, you like that?” You questioned cruelly. “Do you like my hand on your mouth or the idea of me fucking your face?”

From the way he moved his hand to your wrist, pressing it harder on his face, you realised it was the first option, but his wide-eyed nodding suggested you maybe he liked both.

Disregarding your vicious behaviour, he still brought his wet fingers to your clit, focusing on the exact spot you had shown him. “Joonie.” You mewled the moment you felt that familiar tugging at your core.

In reply, he caressed the wrist he was still holding, slowly lowering your hand until it rested around his throat. Next, his hand slid down, skimming your forearm and side, wrapping around your middle and bringing you closer.

You stared in each other's eyes as you tentatively tightened your grip, arching your hand off, away from his throat, simply pressing your fingertips against the twin veins on each side.

He replied with a deep thrust, moaning out a “just like that, yes”.

You felt like self combusting. It was just too good. And you had never known you could crave power like this, but he made you want things you had never even considered before.

Riding him faster, excited both because of the idea of what you were doing and the actual sensations of it all, you whimpered, “I'm gonna cum”, shortly before your head fell forward, your tongue chasing the droplets of sweat on his chest.

You felt him moan against your palm.

“So close. Be good to me, Joonie bear.” You begged. “I feel so full. You're so big, baby, I've never had anyone like you, Joon.”

He snickered. With a gentle shift of his index he massaged your most sensitive spot, his cock reaching so deep inside you with the perfect pattern as he used the arm around your waist to assist you bouncing on his lap. You shattered.

Even though his head felt dizzy, he took everything in with wide, eager eyes: your arched back and your head reclined, exposing your beautiful neckline. Your perky breasts pressed against his chest, your thighs getting juicier each time you landed on his legs.

Somehow he resisted your high. He didn't quite know how, he only knew he was grateful. Mostly because as you moaned his name again and again, you completely lost control of your body and ignoring your tiny cunt squeezing him tighter and tighter, he managed to overthrow you, laying you down with your back to the mattress.

“My turn, Vixen.”  He said before slamming into you. “This is for teasing me.”

He said, burying himself deep, using his arm to hold himself upright while the other wrapped your leg around his waist.

“And this is to remind you who's the boss.” He said, pushing harder. “Take it. You wanted this, didn't you?” He bent down and growled into your ear. “Such a tease, ain't you? My dirty little girl.” He grunted before biting and sucking your neck, hammering into you for a few minutes before he came undone.

Your hands, previously scratching his back and squeezing and pushing his ass into you were now busy on your clit, trying desperately to reach your second climax which was so close all you needed was a finger on your clit. Two quick circles and your fullness peaked, exploding in an unexpected and quite desperate orgasm.

Namjoon murmured your name like a litany, barely surviving at the spasm of your inner muscles.

“I've never…” He tried to say, his sweaty forehead resting in your chest.

You simply hugged him closer.

He knew that he could fall in love with you. It was only a matter of you loving him back.

To refresh his thoughts he gently slipped out of you, gripping the base of the condom with a careful but powerful touch. He pouted, thinking about the fact that he would need to stand up and part from you to get rid of the protection. Finding some strength, he sat back on his knees, between your thighs. Your first instinct was that of following him. “I'm just gonna throw it away. I'll be right back.”

You gripped Namjoon tighter.

“Baby, I promise I'll be back.” He smiled, touching your face. “Stay here, sweetie.”

He really did everything as fast as possible and he came back with a wet cloth. First he cleaned your hand, smeared in lube and his saliva. Then he cleaned your chest and neck, wet with sweat and the traces of his tongue. The final step was parting your legs. He immediately saw how swollen and red you were, both for arousal and manhandling. “Poor baby.” He said before bending down to kiss your knee. “Here, let me fix that.”

His hand cupped your crotch gently with the cool cloth, trying to avoid brushing the cotton against your sensitised skin. He dabbed it lightly, his gaze focused on your sleepy, fucked out state. Smiling fondly, he discarded the cloth, coming up for your face and pushing your wild hair back. “Would you like sleeping clothes?”

You only nodded. You were wrecked.

He snickered before hearing a drawer open and close. “Tshirt and boxers?”

“Tshirt.” You whispered.

Strong hands raised your torso and slipped one of his clean undershirts on you.

It smells so good.

“Ready for sleep, little Vixen?”

You just nodded.

He laughed. “Soft, warm and freshly fucked out.” He settled behind you, switching off the gentle lights which had accompanied your first time together. He spooned you, while you shifted and turned until he cradled your whole body, your chest against his, your head tucked under his chin. “That's how you deserve to be.” He said fondly.

You smiled contentedly, butting into him. “What time do you need to wake up tomorrow?”

“I have a meeting at nine, so make it seven? Seven thirty?”

“Make it six forty-five.” You said with a grin, snuggling up.

“Mh.”

“I have a meeting with Taehyung half past eight.”

“Where?”

“Just across the street. His apartment.”

Namjoon kissed your forehead. “Then we can wake up later.”

“Not if you want morning head, champ.” You said teasingly.

He laughed and hugged you tighter. “You’re a freak. And you’re fucking perfect.”

You smiled smugly. “I know.”

Taehyung stared at you and Namjoon in front of his door the following morning

“Morning, you mongrels.” Taehyung opened the door and watched you and Namjoon enter in matching turtlenecks, Namjoon’s hand holding you tighter as you struggled walking on your heels.

And they were thick, steady ones.

“So, did you spot anything at the exhibition or in the catalogues that I brought you?”

You bit your lip in pain, but still playing it cool as you sat down, Taehyung looking at Namjoon as the older gave him a stern look.

“Uhm… Yeah…” Taehyung tried to keep things casual, trying to ignore the dark bruise appearing once Namjoon’s sweater slid down slightly and how you gestured for him to fix the clothing malfunction.

You managed to discuss bathroom tiles and mirrors quite with ease until someone knocked at the door.

“You have kept Yoongi up all night, are you completely inconsiderate? I thought I had raised you better than that!” Seokjin barged in, reaching the kitchen but spotting you a second too late.

“Oh. She’s… Yeah. Makes sense.” He said, moving his eyes back and forth between you and Namjoon.

“He’s just sour because Yoongi complained to him all weekend.” Taehyung explained. “Which you would know if you had read the texts in the group chat.”

You blushed and sank in the chair.

“I guess it’s our cue, Vixen, say bye. Bye everyone!” Namjoon stood as quickly as he could while you tried to follow him, waving with your hand as you left, not trusting your mouth to open as you tried to run after him on still wobbly legs.

[saessenach]

Hi! For the ask thing, top 5 missmungoe's fics and top 5 One Piece villains?

Love your art!

Hi, nonnie!!

I'm afraid it's been a minute since I've been up to date with One Piece, so both questions will be more or less based around @missmungoe and her incredible, swashbuckling Odyssey-retelling (although let's be real, Odysseus could never) honest-to-god multi-verse Shanties 😊

Top 5 OP Villains

1. Blackbeard (love him, love the parallels to Luffy and Shanks, love his ominous intro and the way he's thematically relevant to a T)

2. Akainu (love to hate him, he is terrible, I hope he gets w r e c k e d, and that whoever takes him down has a marvellous time while at it)

3. That one guy from Film Gold bc he was hella compelling and he had style, but I forget his name. He was extra gaudy and that wins points from me

4. Gold Lion Shiki (I think??? From Strong World, because the last few films have been really good - worldbuilding-wise and narratively speaking, and it's been fun to dip my toes back into the story without having to tackle several hundred chapters)

5. TBH I've only rewatched properly up until Arabasta, so the villains I have Opinions on are Arlong, Croc, Captain Kuro and mayyyybe Rob Lucci and his gang, but I have no idea what's happened with them since, if they've gotten their own arcs like Buggy, or whether we're friends with them or not, so I'll leave it at that.

(An honorary mention to the slavemonger Celestial Dragon from the latest chapter of Mnemosyne, because he was awful, incredibly well-written and made me want to hurl my phone against the wall)

(So now onto the fun part)

Top 5 missmungoe fics

1. Heed the Siren's Call and Sailor's Folly (technically cheating as they are separate stories, yes, but when I reread one, I also immediately reread the other, so imo, it's only fair. Siren was a favourite I first read years ago on ff.net while it was being written, and which I happened across again in 2017 on ao3, and it's never been the same!! When I say it's life-changing literature, I mean it, because how many stories can claim to grow up and change right alongside you? I just have a lot of love for it, and I am this 🤏 close to taking a bookbinding class and having my way with it)

2. Penelope (the amount of times I've read and reread this is truly embarrassing, and that number has more digits than I care to admit - but I am a sucker for weddings which tell tradition to f right off, tiny brides giving voice to their anger at the world and bridegrooms smitten straight out of their ugly ass sandals. This is my comfort read.)

3. Mnemosyne (is the herculean, show-stopping, incredible slow-burn of my dreams and just - wow, it literally takes Oda's worldbuilding and makes it immeasurably richer and better. If for nothing else, then read it for Hancock and her friendship to Makino, for the INTRICACY given to the Amazons, for the way it breathes life into every single place the cast visits, and ties in over-arching themes from canon with details so fucking brilliant, you just sort of stare dumbly at your screen because of course they should be there. There are so many different POVs, and so many intersecting threads that make up this huge-ass tapestry I am continuously in awe of, because it's not just the HEART-ACHE INDUCING marvel of a love story, it's the Red-Hair crew's shenanigans, and the Straw-Hats' incapacity to stay put, it's Rowan's adventure, it's Hancock and her people getting the quality writing they DESERVE, it's the ASL reunion which made me cry, and a found family which spans oceans and realms of existence and everything in-between)

4. Andromeda Unbound (the SWASHBUCKLING UNDERCOVER EXTRAVAGANZA! The one where everyone and their mother separately shows up to crash Shanks' execution, complete with narrow misses, over-the-top banquets, Leverage heist music and so many good reunions. A big, fat and incredibly Extra(tm) middle-finger to propriety and saintly lawful systems, and just, so much fun to read)

5. Time for the ties lol - I still can't believe the Unspeakable 30 year fic and the subsequent AU in which Shanks crashes Makino's wedding are a thing, but I just love that miniseries a lot. Somewhere on this spot are also Moon and Her Maiden (for being ridiculously atmospheric), Bind me to the Tide (uhh, the coolest and also most painful soulmate AU for them, with Makino being very much against her intended, Shanks dealing with period cramps from Hell and just overall being Very Good for my Heart) and, of course Peony and Silver (ROGER. Shakky sweeping Rayleigh off his feet. ROGER. More over-arching themes, as usual. Have I mentioned, perhaps, ROGER? Just to be safe.)

Oh, and an honourable mention for Charybdis as it single-handedly (😌) dragged me out of the biggest art-block I've ever had, and I've rarely cried this much when reading fic.

Hope these answers are satisfying, nonnie!! Thank you for the lovely compliment, and for giving me an opportunity to gush about one of my favourite series ♡

[wistfulcynic]

The Thief of Time

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @optomisticgirl!! You are one of the loveliest and most supportive people in the fandom, a loving cat mom and brutal murderer who would die for a fictional plant and has the t-shirt to prove it. I am so, so honoured to have you as a friend ❤️❤️.

This fic came about because B sent me this post and I immediately said "Yep, Killian would be a wizard or an artificer." And B, unrepentant evildoer and witch!Emma's foremost fan, planted seeds in my head that would not stop growing. This is the result.

SUMMARY: Killian Jones, pirate-turned-artificer, has suffered blow after blow from life and all he wants is to go back to the past and make things right. If only he could get his bloody time machine to work.

Emma Swan, witch, has the ability to See through time and space and the responsibility to stand down any threats to either of them. When an artificer from 300 years ago in another realm devises a machine that could blow a hole straight through the multiverse, it’s her job to stop him.

What they find when they meet is an improbable connection, an understanding that bridges the distance between them. A distance that is in all practical ways insurmountable—by everything but love.

(And one very determined pirate-turned-artificer.)

-

Words: <9k Rating: T Tags: magic au, witch!Emma, artificer!Killian, angst, Killian Jones is a sad boi, a dash of hurt/comfort, time travel, realm travel, HEA

AO3

-

The Thief of Time:

Once upon a time there was an artificer.

He wasn’t much of an artificer, it must be said. Artificing, as everyone knows, requires patience, perseverance, and attention to detail, and while Killian Jones possessed a rock-solid stubbornness that stood in well for perseverance as well as a fine eye for detail, patience—at least when it came to tedious, laborious tasks—was not among his strengths.

This is perhaps why, on the particular bright morning when his life changed forever, Killian could be found in his workshop surrounded by shards of glass and a puddle of pale brown liquid oozing through his floorboards that until a moment before had been a bottle of rum. Until Killian, in a surge of frustration at yet another failure, had flung it furiously at the wall.

The rum bottle had been a more or less innocent bystander, a casualty of proximity, a stand-in for the machine that sat on a rickety table in the centre of the hut that served as Killian’s workshop—a machine that continued nonchalantly failing to function even after the rum bottle had met its tragic fate.

It was almost, thought Killian, as though the device didn’t care how many bottles came to an untimely end, it still had no intention of ever working.

He held out his hand with fingers curled like talons and let it hover menacingly over the machine before tightening it into a fist and shaking it. “I should bloody well smash you to bits,” he growled. “I should—”

He had no real idea of what he should do, beyond demolishing the bloody thing, heaving its carcass into the sea, and abandoning this foolhardy plan for good and all. It hardly mattered, though, as the machine made no reply—not so much as a tick of motion to indicate that it cared in the slightest about its own fate. Killian gritted his teeth and with effort reined in his temper. He reached for another rum bottle—there were always plenty standing by—and groped for a moment before he remembered he had the awl attachment connected to his brace and grabbed the bottle with his hand instead.

The bottle was stoppered with a tenuous scrap of cork; this Killian gripped between his teeth and dislodged with an expert twist of his neck, then spat it at the machine and watched as it struck the hammered copper facing with a satisfying thunk. He took the bottle to the porch of his hut—‘porch’ being the word with which he flattered the platform of weatherbeaten boards raised on hunks of driftwood—collapsed into the hammock strung across the corner of it and stared out to sea with the rum bottle cradled in his lap.

Tropical sun beat down on the shack and on the swaying palms that shaded it, and on the stretch of white beach that curved beyond it, and on the azure water glistening beneath the blazing sky. A tumbledown shack on a lonely atoll was not, so Killian had been given to understand, generally the sort of place in which most artificers chose to set up shop. They preferred tiny rooms atop winding staircases in tall university towers, so he was told, or for the more eccentric among them perhaps an derelict castle or even a dark forest hut. Somewhere close and damp and chill, where they could work by artful firelight draped in hooded cloaks and tuck the secrets of their craft safely away amongst the shadows.

Killian cared very little for such things, however, as he was not most artificers. He wasn’t, as has already been remarked, much of an artificer at all. A sailor by blood, a naval man by training, and a pirate by circumstance, this was Killian Jones. And now an artificer, by desperate last resort.

He took a long swig from his bottle and glared at the sea, at the ship that bobbed gently on the waves, anchored just to the left in the atoll’s curving bay. If he had any sense he’d end this foolishness, he thought with a bitter twist of his lip. He’d take his ship and find himself a crew, sail off and vent his frustrations on royal cargo vessels and navy frigates rather than haphazardly assembled collections of wood and scrap metal that would certainly never do more than than sit there smugly not working, taunting him, and—

Click.

Killian froze, with every muscle in his body. He waited. And waited. And—

Click.

Again. Killian exhaled slowly, cursing the faint vibrations of his breath in the air. He waited. And waited. And—

Click.

Click.

Click.

It was working.

—

A week later and Killian’s temper once again was hanging by the barest thread; the click of the device that had at first spurred him on now plucked at the frayed edges of his nerves and rattled inside his head each time he tried to focus. It was clicking, the mechanism was turning over, he had everything he’d thought he needed but still an element was missing, something vital that he couldn’t put his finger on, that hovered just at the edge of his perception like some fey spirit sent to taunt him.

Maybe you should just give up.

Killian spun around at the sound of the voice, a woman’s voice, with a wry tone and an unfamiliar accent. His eyes scanned the empty room. “Who’s there?” he called out, though it was plain to see no one was there. He was alone.

Quite alone.

He knew he was alone, of course, though the tingle between his shoulder blades did not concur, and remained even when he turned his attention back to his work. The sensation of being watched by unseen eyes is frequently a distracting one, but Killian stubbornly disregarded it and focused on his task. The sensation persisted.

He worked doggedly for several minutes, then set down his tools. “Lass,” he said to the room at large, “it’s bad form to stare.”

He swore he heard a chuckle.

“I do understand how it can be difficult for women to take their eyes off a devilishly handsome rapscallion such as myself,” Killian continued, “but I’m trying to work here so if you wouldn’t mind…”

He turned back to his workbench and as he did his elbow struck the edge of it, knocking over his latest rum bottle and sending a shooting pain up his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut and spat a stream of vicious curses and very nearly stabbed himself with the awl before recalling that he had no hand with which to cradle the afflicted elbow and rub away the pain. When it finally subsided and he opened his eyes once more, the sight that met them had him swearing a new and even bluer streak.

His device now sat bathed in a pool of rum, with sparks shooting from behind its copper face and very ominously not clicking. With a snarl Killian slammed his fist down on the table and ground it into the wood. He’d have to mop up the rum and wait at least a day or two to be certain whatever had seeped into the mechanism was completely dried before attempting to open it again to determine whether he could repair the damage. If he couldn’t he’d have to start over.

Or you could just give up.

“Are you responsible for this?” he demanded of the voice. “At long bloody last I was on the right track, and now—now—” He slammed his fist into his workbench again, sending rum droplets flying.

Look, don’t get cranky, mister. I’m just trying to stop you doing something stupid.

“Oh?” Killian snarled. “Is that what you’re doing? You’re a bit bloody late.”

What?

“I’ve done many a stupider thing than this, unhindered by any disembodied voices. You couldn’t have stopped me doing any of them?”

I—

“Where were you, for example, when I lost my brother in a cursed land, travelled back from that land, and then in a fit of rage burned the only method I had of returning there?” he demanded. “Where were you when I threw away my naval career, stole my brother’s ship, and led her crew into piracy? Where were you when I ravaged the land of my birth? Where were you when I fell in love with—” he broke off with a choking sound, then sat with his forearms resting on his knees, staring at his hand and at the leather brace where its twin should be. “I don’t know why I’m even saying this aloud,” he murmured, “you’re not truly here.” He ran his hand over his face then through his hair. “Perhaps I’m finally going mad. It’s an occupational hazard, or so I’ve been told.”

A breeze rustled through the shack, gentle and soothing. It whispered across his skin in what could only be called a caress. Despite himself, Killian felt comforted.

I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered. The voice’s compassion was undoubtedly genuine. But I couldn’t have prevented those things. They were not my business to See.

“And this is?” Killian demanded.

Yes.

He shook his head. “Who are you?”

There was no reply. The soothing breeze was gone, leaving the late afternoon air heavier and more still in its absence. His neck no longer tingled. He was alone. Again.

Always.

Killian pressed his fingers to his eyes and sighed, then grabbed a fresh bottle of rum—plus a second, upon further consideration—and headed out of the shack. Headed to the rowboat and the Jolly Roger, and, with any luck, a drunken stupor that would last until he could work on the device again.

“Hear this, lass,” he murmured as he paused in the doorway. “I will be back. I’m not giving up.”

We’ll see about that, whispered the voice, once he was gone.

—

Three days later and Killian’s hangover throbbed between his eyes, but his device was dry and in a less disastrous state than he’d feared. He tapped the magical stone that powered the mechanism until it sparked sharply in response, reconnected a few fine filaments of copper, snapped the gears back into place and held his breath.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Killian exhaled. It was still working.

Sort of.

He sat at his workbench and glared at the device, as though intensity alone could help him see what was missing in it. When it did not, he reached into his satchel with a long-suffering sigh, and withdrew a book.

He really should have gone to the books first. That’s what the other artificers had advised. Research before experimentation, a solid foundation of scholarship on which to build. In another life another Killian would have listened too, would have loved the prospect of hours, days, weeks spent in a library, absorbing the wondrous knowledge that it held. But that eager boy had long been lost, and the man who remained had spent too many years in wasted endeavours, hunting elusive magic beans and fairy wands, anything he heard of that he thought might aid his quest. When every lead he could scrounge all came to nothing he’d had no choice but to alter his course, and no bloody time to start from the beginning and do the thing properly. He’d already wasted so much time.

But perhaps, he conceded now, that had been a mistake.

The book had a weighty heft that testified its age, as did the brilliance of the jewelled ink on its vellum pages. Modern books with their rag-paper and plant inks were lighter, more fragile, less vibrant. Cheaper to produce of course, and more accessible, but the earnest, bespectacled scholar that still lived in Killian’s heart found them far more difficult to love. This book had been scribed centuries ago, by the hand of a monk whose name had long since vanished into time but whose skill was evident in the carefully crafted words and illustrations, the diagrams of fantastical devices that he had seen only with the eyes of his mind, never in reality.

Killian traced his finger over the lines of an engraving, squinting through his headache and the glaring sunshine to make out the tiny words that labelled it. With painstaking strokes he massaged his temples and let himself fall into the book, lost in study for the first time in many a year.

The hours sifted away like sand through his fingers, until a soft breeze ruffled through his hair and he became aware of that telltale tingle at the nape of his neck.

“Lass,” he said wryly, “has no one ever told you it’s rude to read over a person’s shoulder?”

It’s the only way I can find out what you’re up to.

“And just what prescisely makes that any of your concern?”

It just is. I can See it.

Though he could not have said how, Killian was certain she didn’t mean the sort of seeing one did with one’s eyes.

“So tell me then, what do you make of my choice of reading material?” he inquired.

Seems a bit dry.

He chuckled. “It is at that. But useful.”

You’re still planning to go ahead with it, then?

“I am. As I told you before, I don’t intend to give up.” A sharp smile flashed through his memory, the smell of sea salt on skin and in wind-whipped chestnut curls. His fist clenched. “I can’t.”

The breeze swirled up around him, wrapped itself about his shoulders in the gentlest embrace, and for a moment—just a moment—Killian let go. Let himself be comforted. Let himself relax. Tears prickled behind his eyes and his tired heart sighed. He swallowed hard.

You won’t find what you seek in this book, said the voice. Not what you really seek.

“Perhaps not. But it’s all I have left.”

Without warning the soft breeze stiffened, whipping up with force behind it and sending a half-full rum bottle teetering dangerously—but if Killian was prepared for anything these days it was betrayal. He caught the bottle before it could fall and set it safely aside, away from his device and his book and anything else that had the potential to be harmed by it.

“Nice try,” he sneered. The wind huffed a frustrated sigh.

This isn’t over.

“Why are you so determined to see me fail?” he demanded, but the words fell flat in the still and empty air—the absent prickle on the back of Killian’s neck informed him that she was gone again. “It’s not like I need any extra assistance in that area,” he grumbled. “I can fail perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.”

He bent to pick up the rum—a drink to soothe the ache in his heart—when his gaze caught on a diagram he hadn’t spotted before. He frowned and leaned closer, the rum forgotten, and began to read again. Soon he was absorbed once more, his eyes voracious as they scanned the pages. He made notes in the margins as he read, and tiny drawings and equations, and muttered half-formed thoughts to accompany the scratching of his pen. The clicks from his device soothed him now with their regular beat, and the tingle between his shoulder blades, when it returned, did not so much as register in his mind... though it lingered there as he worked, as the afternoon waned, until the sun began to sink below the horizon and Killian packed up his notes and his book and not his rum, and made his way back to his ship.

—

The next day found him in his workshop early, his mood uncharacteristically bright. He’d awoken that morning without a hangover for the first time in far longer than he cared to remember; the resulting clear head and sharp senses made the bright sunlight less oppressive in his perception, less like its exuberance was a judgement on his choices. Even his shack appeared cheerier than he recalled it, quaint rather than run-down, its slight slump to the left charming and not at all ominous. Killian was dangerously close to whistling a merry tune as he approached it, with his satchel slung over his shoulder and heavy with books.

He had brand new ideas to test.

His workshop itself consisted of the shack’s lone room and a single, long table that sat at the centre of it. On the table was his device, looking right at home there in the sense that it too was rickety, haphazardly constructed, and pitched to the left. Killian had told himself that the appearance of the thing didn’t matter so long as it functioned, but after it failed for so long to do even that he had begun to treat its exterior as a sort of whipping boy for his frustrations. The wooden casing bore deep gouges from his hook and other implements he’d attached to his brace; the copper facing was tarnished and dented. Hairline fractures criss-crossed the glass that covered the three small dials on the front and the long copper pole that was meant to be attached to the rear casing sat forlornly in a corner, looking as though it would dearly love the ability to rust, just as a way to express its feelings on the situation.

Looking at his device for the first time with clear eyes, Killian found that he felt rather bad. He really had made a dreadful hash of it. And although Killian Jones was frequently reckless, sometimes rash, and from time to time even a bit unhinged, he had never before been incompetent. Making a firm mental note to pick up some new materials the next time he made a supply run, he hefted the satchel onto his worktable, seated himself on the bench before it, and removed a book from the bag.

If he’d had two hands, he would have rubbed them together in glee.

Whatcha reading?

She appeared so suddenly that the prickle on his neck didn’t even have time to warn him. “I’m certain you can see the title for yourself, from wherever you are,” he replied.

Arithmetical Principles of the Mechanics of Time? Not very snappy.

“Never judge a book by its title, love.”

I thought that was by its cover.

“Title’s on the cover, isn’t it?”

So it is.

The voice sounded amused, and Killian chuckled to himself as he settled in to read. The tingle on the back of his neck remained as the unseen woman read along with him. He could feel her presence there, her eyes on him and on the book as he made his customary notes in the margins: quick diagrams and calculations and questions he would need to answer before he could proceed.

He was astonished to discover how engrossing the book was and how easy it was to lose himself in its pages, just as he had done the day before. How long had it been before then, since he’d allowed himself the luxury of a full day spent reading? Years, certainly. Time and tides, as the saying goes, wait for no man, and nor do rival pirate captains or deep-sea hellbeasts—they certainly do not wait for a man to finish his chapter before launching their attacks. Lazy days like this one took him back to his time in the naval academy, the long afternoons in the library there, the wonder he’d felt at all the knowledge contained in the books that surrounded him. An entire realm at his fingertips, just waiting for him to explore.

He had explored it in actuality years later on his ship, sailing her to the edge of the maps and beyond, but that first exposure to all the wonders the world held still shone as a jewel in his memory. For a young boy who until that moment had known only abandonment, drudgery, and abuse, the discovery that the world was far, far larger than he could ever have dreamt had been an invaluable treasure.

You love books.

Killian started; the voice sounded different now. It no longer echoed in his head, instead it seemed to come from somewhere to his right. He turned, and as he did perceived a shimmering in the hazy air, one that disappeared the moment he looked directly at it.

“I did,” he replied. “Once.” His mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Are you in my head, then, lass? Reading my thoughts?”

Of course not. It’s just obvious from your face.

“You’re familiar with the expression I’m wearing then, I take it? Perhaps because you’re inclined to wear it yourself?”

It was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to hit its mark. The shimmer grew more solid.

I—I’ve always loved to read. When I was a child it was all I had.

Something in the tone, a wistfulness perhaps, struck a chord in Killian. “You were alone, as child,” he said. “The books were your refuge.”

Yes.

Silence stretched for a moment, then he spoke again. “When I first arrived at the naval academy I could barely read,” he said slowly. “I was twelve years old. Where I come from literacy is a privilege of the wealthy, which my family was certainly not, but my mother’s father had been educated and he taught her to read and write. He was the younger son of a nobleman, disowned when he fell in love with a village girl. My mother in turn taught my father and also my elder brother. She had started to teach me as well but she grew ill and I was still so young, and then…” He trailed off, choked by the decades-old memory that still had the power to wound.

Then she died.

The voice was soft, so soft, and it settled around his shoulders like a blanket. He nodded. “Aye. She did.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes, just briefly, then continued. “After she passed, Liam, my brother, took over with my lessons, but there was never much time for such things. We were cabin boys on a large merchant ship by then, worked most days from dawn to dusk—but in what moments we had, we did try.” He shook his head. “Liam did the best he could, though our resources were so scarce his efforts produced little result. I was years behind the other lads my age at the academy at first, something they found highly entertaining.”

But you didn’t let that stop you.

“I did not,” he agreed. “Instead it spurred me on. In less than a year I had matched them, and in a year surpassed them. It was satisfying to make them eat their words, but in truth that was not my motivation.”

You wanted to know a world beyond the one you lived in.

“I wanted to know a world beyond the one I lived in.” He smiled at her, at the shimmering air in the corner of his eye that he almost fancied formed the shape of a woman. “As, I imagine, did you.”

Mmm.

Killian quirked an eyebrow at the shimmer. “Another orphan, I gather?” he pressed. “Alone in the world, unable to see a way out? Escaping into books for adventure, for a sense of the potential that lay beyond the narrow parameters of your life?”

You read me pretty well for someone who can’t even see me.

“You’re something of an open book, darling. If that metaphor isn’t too on the nose.” And perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t necessary to see someone to know them.

Faint laughter rang through the room. Open books read both ways, Killian Jones, her voice whispered, and then she was gone.

“Touché,” he muttered, as the tingle in his neck faded and a wave of magic pulsed in the air. A sharp snapping noise sounded from the device, followed by an echoing boingggg. Killian’s lips twitched. Softness followed by sabotage was becoming rather a thing with her.

He opened the casing and after a moment’s poking around in the mechanism identified the target of her attack—a small coupling in the box responsible for managing temporal currents. Killian felt himself grin. He was certain his unseen nemesis wouldn’t trouble herself to destroy anything that wasn’t crucial to the functioning of the device. He turned back to his book and flipped to the section on temporal flow.

“Thanks for the tip, love,” he murmured to the empty air.

—

Over the next month Killian worked doggedly on his research, leaving the device untouched and himself unhindered by tingles or voices or shimmery thickenings of the air. He read every book in his rather considerable collection, all the texts he’d… liberated from the universities and private collections of the realm’s best artificers then barely glanced into before he began constructing his device. He took a week off for a supply run, to collect the materials and bric-a-brac he’d need to construct the thing properly along with even more books, which he read eagerly at night on his ship, greedily absorbing the knowledge they contained as he lounged in his bunk.

Every day he thought about the voice, and about the very real woman he now felt certain was behind it. She wasn’t just a voice in his head, a symptom of madness or loneliness, or both. She existed, he had felt her, though he had never seen her face. He’d felt her presence and the connection between them—a peculiar sort of connection to be sure, but no less genuine for it.

The thought of speaking to her again helped spur him on.

Once he was back his workshop armed with resources in the form of both knowledge and supplies, he threw himself into a flurry of activity. He constructed shelves for his books, so he would not have to lug them to and from his ship every day. He built a sturdier workbench, with drawers to hold his tools, and a new, robust and polished casing and face for his device.

This was close work, requiring dexterity and concentration and the careful application of several magical items that had previously seemed to go out of their way to thwart him. As it turned out, Killian reflected wryly, he had simply been using them wrong. He still made mistakes, of course, and his lack of hand still proved a challenge. But gradually he found that he lost his temper less and less, that as he grew more knowledgeable and skilled he did not give in so easily or so frequently to despair.

He had almost entirely stopped drinking.

He spent a full week tweaking and refining the temporal current regulator in his device, until he was satisfied that not only near impervious to any further sabotage but also featured a clever adjustment of his own devising. Take that, Other Artificers.

He had done it. He knew he had. He had built his device and built it well. It would work now, and not because he threatened it or stumbled by happenstance upon the proper configuration. It would work because he knew what he was doing, and this time he’d done it right.

Killian Jones, artificer.

—

The stage was set.

The device was ready. More than ready. Its polished wood casing gleamed in the playful caress of the afternoon sunlight, which shimmered also off its copper facing and the smooth glass of its dials. The copper tube came up from where it was attached to the rear of the device and curved over the top of it, ending in a wide opening directly over Killian’s head. The rhythmic click of the mechanism was smooth and sonorous, each coupling attached and every gear well-oiled.

Click, went the device, tremulous and eager.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Every last thing was in readiness. Killian had only to flip the switch.

“You don’t want to do that.”

He paused with his finger poised above the small brass switch and smiled. “Back again, lass?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

The floorboards creaked, under boots that were not his. Leather rustled. Killian froze, then spun around. His jaw dropped.

“Bloody hell,” he gasped.

The woman stood in the centre of his workshop with her hands on her hips and lips curved in a wry smirk. Loose golden waves tumbled over her shoulders to frame an exquisite, fine-boned face and eyes that glinted green. She was dressed... well, she was dressed as no woman he’d ever seen before, in tall boots and tight-fitting trousers with no overskirt to cover them, and a leather jacket in the most outrageous shade of red. Killian blinked.

“You’re—I’m—what?” he choked.

“I said, you don’t want to do that,” she repeated. “If you do, you’ll blow a hole in the universe or—or something, I don’t exactly know. But it’s bad, and I can’t allow it to happen.”

Killian shook his head. He blinked again, harder this time, then rubbed his eyes. The woman was still there.

“What?” he shouted.

“Seriously?” snapped the woman. “You heard my voice in your head and didn’t even blink and I know you felt my presence. But now I’ve actually manifested and suddenly you’re at a loss for words? I thought at least I’d get some kind of smartass quip out of you. ‘At last a face to match the voice, lass’ or something.” She shrugged a single shoulder. “I don’t know. Something.”

“That’s—” Killian’s voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s your idea of a clever quip?”

She scowled. “Look, I said I don’t know. You’re the smartass.”

“Well you might at least give a man a minute to adjust his premises before you start demanding cleverness from him, when you appear from out of nowhere in his workshop,” retorted Killian. “There is in fact a world of difference between voices in the head and full fledged hallucinations, you know.”

“I’m not a hallucination,” she huffed.

Killian knew that of course, but he still felt on rather shaky ground, metaphysically speaking. “Well what are you then?” he demanded.

“I’m a manifestation,” she replied, as though it were obvious.

“Oh yes of course,” he shot back. “A manifestation, how foolish of me not to have known that.”

She rolled her eyes. He smirked.

“A manifestation of whom, precisely, if I might enquire?” he drawled.

“Emma Swan,” she proclaimed, in a tone one might use to announce the arrival of a queen. “Witch.”

Killian regarded her with his smirk firmly in place, to which he now added a raised eyebrow. “A witch, you say?”

“Yep.”

“Indeed.”

She sauntered over to his workbench, hips swaying in a manner that Killian told himself firmly he did not find enticing, and leaned over, peering at the device. “This looks a lot better than the last time I saw it,” she remarked.

“Yes, well, I’ve been working hard since then.”

“I can tell.” She flashed him a look that had his muscles tensing. “Too bad it’s all for nothing.”

“What the bloody hell is that supposed—”

“Why do you want to travel in time anyway?” she interrupted, turning to face him and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a risky business, you know. Loads of people have tried and it never ends well for any of them.”

“That’s rather a bold statement from you, love, considering you are clearly not from this time,” he retorted.

“What makes you say that?”

Killian let his gaze sweep over her. “Red leather jackets aren’t exactly in vogue here,” he said loftily. “I’d be very surprised if they even exist. How did you get it to be that colour?”

“How the hell should I know, I didn’t make it!”

“Fair enough. Still stands out like a sore thumb, though.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not staying then.”

“Aren’t you?” Killian felt a twist in his gut at that; he was so enjoying sparring with her. “Shame. I suppose you ought to run along then, and let me get back to my work.”

“Ah, no. That I can’t do.”

“And might I enquire why not?”

Her expression, which had been sparking with the same joy of snarky battle that Killian felt himself, grew solemn. “If you’re successful then the repercussions of your work will echo all the way into my realm, in my time,” she said. “And I can’t allow that to happen.”

“Indeed?” he taunted, before he could prevent himself. “And just how do you propose to stop it?”

Her eyes flashed. “Oh you are so going to regret asking that.”

She raised her hand and twisted it, the merest flick of her wrist that sent a powerful pulse of energy through the room. He felt it throb through his body and he was rocked by its wave. What followed was silence.

Silence. No clicks. Not a one.

Killian spun round in fury and glowered down at Emma Swan, witch, who did not so much as flinch away from him. On the contrary, she appeared quite pleased with herself, and thoroughly unfazed by his very finest pirate snarl.

“I’ve never managed that so successfully cross-realms before,” she remarked.

Killian’s temper snapped. “What the bloody buggering fuck do you think you’re doing?” he roared. Her nonchalance was infuriating.

“I told you,” she reminded him coolly. “I can’t allow you to succeed.”

“I wasn’t succeeding, though, was I?” he hissed. “I’ve been not succeeding for the best part of a year now.”

“I know.” Her smug expression softened into an empathy that set his teeth on edge. “But that was about to change.”

“Oh was it?”

“Yep.”

He knew it was. But she... “And how the bloody hell could you possibly know that?”

“I told you, I’m a witch.”

He scoffed. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

“Well... yeah, I guess it kind of is.” She frowned. “You know what a witch is, right?”

“Of course I do. A witch is a person, most commonly a female, who is possessed of magical or supernatural powers, typically focused on medicine, the body, nature, and the spirit,” Killian recited.

Emma blinked. “That’s… very precise.”

“I’m well versed in defining the various types and levels of magical practitioner,” he informed her. His surge of anger was draining away and he found he lacked both the energy and will to hold on to it. “The Guild is most insistent that registration be precise.”

“Guild?” Her frown deepened. “Registration?”

“Aye. To both.”

“You had to register? With a guild?”

“I did.”

“Register as what?”

“As an artificer, of course. Despite my lack of skill in the discipline, the Guild insisted. Firmly. Fists were involved.”

“I—see.” Her lips twitched. “That seems unethical.”

He barked a laugh. “Welcome to the Enchanted Forest, love.”

Emma’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. “Is that where this is?”

“Aye. Though strictly speaking this”—he gestured at the space around them—“is on an atoll in the Far Southern Sea. But the Artificers’ Guild is in the Enchanted Forest, and they care very little for such things as venue or jurisdiction.” He looked at her curiously. “Didn’t you know?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “I’m not really here, you see.”

Killian had been so caught up first in wonder then in fury that he hadn’t truly looked at her, at least not beyond what was required to note her striking beauty and odd attire. A manifestation, she had called herself, and once he knew what to look for it was plain to see—the faint translucence and hazy outline of her form. Cautiously, he reached out his hand. It went right through her shoulder, with no more resistance than water in a bathtub.

“Huh,” he said. “Curious. So where exactly are you then, Emma Swan, witch, if you’re not here?”

“I’m…” Emma’s brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled. Killian told himself sternly that it was unwise to find a nose adorable when it sat on the face of the corporeal manifestation of a witch from an unspecified realm. “Well, I don’t really know how to describe it,” she said. “I’m on Earth. About three hundred years in your future. Though I suppose this must be Earth too, really.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I think so? What do you call it? This… place. Bigger than the Enchanted Forest. You… you know there’s a place bigger, right? Beyond the, um, the forest?”

His lip quirked. Her stumbling attempts to explain were also not adorable. “That I do, lass,” he replied. “I spent years sailing the seas of this realm and have travelled to many a land.”

“You’ve travelled the Earth, then,” said Emma. “Or your equivalent of it. What would you call it?”

“Terra, I believe is what you mean.”

“Yes!” She snapped her fingers then pointed the index one at him. “That’s got to be it!”

“So if I understand you, you’re saying you come from Terra as well, but a different version of it, which you call Earth?”

She gave an eager nod. “Yeah, basically. My Earth was called Terra once too, by people who lived in my past, in a different country. But in my language and my time and my country we say Earth.”

“I... see,” said Killian.

“Yeah.” Emma looked a bit sheepish and waved her hand in a vague arc. “It’s a whole thing with multiverses I don’t really understand, if I’m honest. I’m not a wizard, you see.”

“No indeed. Nor I.”

“Well, I mean, you’re not even much of an artificer. Or at least not until recently.”

She was attempting to tease, he could tell. To keep the mood light between them. But all he could hear was the death knell of his last resort, the only hope he had left of honouring his vow. Without warning, the weight of everything he’d been through, a lifetime of struggle and defeat culminating in his attempt to build a time machine that would apparently destroy multiple realms were it allowed to succeed, settled on his shoulders. It was all he could do not to collapse beneath it. He sank down onto the bench and ran his hand down his face.

“No. That I certainly am not.”

He sensed rather than felt Emma sit down beside him—there was barely more than a shift in the air to mark her movement.

“I’m not an artificer, not even now,” he told her, staring at his hand and brace. “All I am is a desperate man looking to right a terrible wrong.”

“A wrong you need to go back in time to fix?” she asked gently.

“Aye.”

“What happened?”

Killian clenched his jaw. He did not wish to discuss Milah. He never actually had, though others besides Emma had tried to make him, insisting he would feel better if he spoke of it. If he gave vent to his anger and his grief. But he could not—the words caught in his throat each time he tried, stopped by the anger that sat hard and curdled in his chest.

“There was… a woman,” he ground out, faintly astonished to hear the words fall from his lips. “I loved her and she me, but she was married to another. A cringing coward of a man who valued his own comfort and meagre security above her happiness and her health.” He breathed slowly through the anger that still rose up at the thought of it. “She tried her best with him, for years she tried, but ultimately she came to realise that he would never change. She saw the remainder of her life stretched out before her, a grim slog through a grey world of misery, and she knew she had to do something, whatever was necessary to change it. For the sake of her own survival.” He risked a glance at Emma. “But she was a woman, thus her options were limited.”

“So she ran away with you,” said Emma. He searched her face for judgment, but there was none.

He nodded. “She ran away with me.”

“You saved her life,” she said harshly. “But you shouldn’t have had to.”

He blinked, startled at her tone, and watched as her face grew tight with anger. “In my land and my time, women have choices,” she hissed. “We have to fight for them every day, but we have them. We can leave marriages and we can have jobs and we can own our own houses and have our own lives. We don’t rely on men unless we choose to.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “I’m guessing that’s not the case here?”

“You guess correctly.” Killian’s voice was choked, his chest drawn tight by the depth of her compassion. Compassion for a woman she’d never met, who had died long before her time. He cleared his throat. “Milah had nowhere to go and no means to go there. I offered her an escape. It was all I could do.”

A moment passed before Emma spoke again.

“What went wrong?” she asked.

His lip curled. “I expect you can guess.”

He could sense the catch in her breath, though it made no sound in the quiet room. “Her husband found you?”

“Aye. Rather a predictable storyline, isn’t it? But there's an unpleasant twist to this tale, I fear.”

“What twist?” she demanded.

Killian swallowed. “Have you heard of the Dark One?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Well, yes. I’ve read the lore of course, but… are you saying the Dark One is real?”

“Very much so.”

He watched as comprehension dawned in her eyes. “And he—your—Milah’s husband—”

“Had become the Dark One, aye. At the cost of his soul, of course, but for some men that's a small price to pay to punish an errant wife.”

“Wow. I mean—wow.”

“I’m not familiar with that particular expression but it certainly seems to suit the case,” said Killian drily. “Wow indeed.”

“He murdered her, didn’t he?” Emma said, in a voice like the lash of a whip. It was not a question.

“On the deck of my ship,” Killian replied, “as I watched, helpless to prevent it. He tore her heart from her chest and he crushed it to dust.” He held up his brace, catching the sunlight on the curve of his hook. “And then he took my hand.”

Emma exhaled, long and slow. “So that’s why you want to go back. To stop her murder.”

This was also not a question, but he answered it nonetheless. “Aye. I promised to protect her and I failed. I have to make it right.”

“You know you can’t do that, Killian.”

The empathy in her voice, the understanding, the way she said his name… Killian’s anger rose again and he snapped at her. “Well not now that you’ve destroyed my bloody time machine!”

“You couldn’t have anyway.”

“And just how the devil—”

“Look, I told you, I’m not a wizard,” said Emma insistently. She shifted on the bench until she was facing him fully, one leg tucked beneath the other. “I don’t know all the ins and outs of how the universe works, or like, the multiverse or whatever. All I know is that if you turn on that machine it will blow a hole in all of it. Every realm and at every time would be destroyed. It would end the world.”

Killian scowled as his mind sought frantically for a loophole, a counterpoint, a way. His fist was tightly clenched and pressed hard against his thigh, his breathing shallow. “The books said—”

“The books don’t know,” she interrupted in that same insistent tone. “No one’s ever done this before. No one’s ever even come close.”

“And here I thought I wasn’t much of an artificer,” he sneered.

“Like I said before. You weren’t.”

Killian thought of all the reading he’d done, the careful cross-referencing of books that likely had never before been seen by the same pair of eyes. He thought of his temporal current regulator, the refinements he’d made to it. How certain he was that it would work.

He looked over at Emma to find her watching him, with gentle sympathy and not a hint of pity. “You can’t go back, Killian,” she said softly. “The past has already happened. All you can do is go forward.”

“So what you’re telling me is I need to move on,” he snarled. How he loathed that expression.

She nodded. “In more ways than one.”

Cautiously she reached out and placed her hand over his clenched fist, and though he could not feel her touch he felt it, the warmth of her compassion and her strength and her magic, drawn from another realm in another time. He let his hand relax and held it, palm up, beneath hers. He drew a deep, unsteady breath and then released it. Then he drew another.

They sat in silence for some time.

“I can’t recall the last time I considered what Milah would think if she could see what I was doing,” said Killian, finally, in a low voice. “I thought about her all the time, at first. But then… it got to the point where every time thoughts of her came into my head I would drink them straight out of it.”

“Because you knew that if she could see you she wouldn’t like what she saw.”

“Because I knew that if she could see me she wouldn’t like what she saw,” he echoed. “She wouldn’t have wanted me to lose myself in this—obsession. But then I have always been prone to obsession and she knew that better than anyone.”

“Obsession is just another word for intense dedication,” declared Emma, “once you add a bit of healthy perspective to it. It’s sincere devotion to what you value. Maybe all you need is just to shift your focus a bit. Find something new to work on, and another motivation to drive you.”

“Something new,” he repeated, then gave a hoarse, choking laugh. “I confess I’ve no idea what that could be.”

“You’ll find something.” The look in her eyes as she watched him was amused, wry, soft, and sad all at once. An odd sensation twisted in his chest. “I wish—” she began, then broke off with a shake of her head.

Killian realised their hands were still clasped. He wished he could close his fingers around hers, truly feel the touch of them against his skin. “What do you wish, love?” he pressed.

She shook her head again. “It’s just—after today I won’t be able to See you anymore. Once you’re no longer a threat you’ll stop appearing in my visions. I just wish I could watch what you do next, that’s all." She flashed him a grin. "I have a feeling it’ll be something epic.”

He laughed and after a moment she joined him, with a tinkling, joyous sound that made his heart feel lighter than perhaps it ever had. Maybe she was right, he thought. Maybe he could do something different. Something not driven by loss or anger or greed. “I don’t know if I can promise epic,” he told her. “But I do promise I'll do something. Something important to me. I promise you, Emma Swan.”

She smiled, gorgeous and heartbreaking. “Good.”

Killian could swear he felt her hand tightening on his, felt it in the echoing squeeze in his chest. He heard her next words before she spoke them.

“I have to go.”

He forced himself to nod. “I know.”

She reached up with her free hand and traced her fingertips across his cheek. “Goodbye, Killian Jones,” she whispered… and then she was gone.

Killian sat alone in his workshop with an empty hand and a silent machine, and a brand new ache in his heart. And for the very first time in a life full of loss, he allowed himself to grieve.

—

Killian didn’t drink.

He wanted to. The rum called to him, a siren’s song of numb oblivion, but that was a pit into which he no longer wished to fall. He had things to do now, crucial things, and they required a clear head.

He took the Jolly Roger and he sailed away, far across the seas to a place he'd sworn he’d never go again. The small port village where Milah had lived, and where she’d died. Whose harbour he’d put at his bow for less than an hour before he’d tipped her body into the depths of the sea.

It was the nearest thing he had to a gravestone.

He stood on the deck with his hand on the railing, staring down into the choppy waves below. His throat ached and his chest felt tight.

“I’m so sorry, Milah,” he whispered. “Sorry that I failed in my promise to protect you. Sorry that when I lost you I lost myself as well. I let myself fall so deeply into despair that I lost sight of who I was—and in doing so I sacrificed the man you loved. I’m sorry I became something you’d have hated me to be.” His throat closed up and he swallowed through it, forced the next words out. “When you died I swore to avenge you, but my love, I think—” he exhaled slowly “—I think I have to let you go.”

A brisk wind swept in off the water and ruffled through his hair as Milah’s fingers used to do. It stroked his cheek with the touch of her lips and whispered with her voice in his ear.

I love you, it said. Go.

Killian let his eyes fall shut as he breathed in the scent of her skin, closed his fist in her curls one final time. When he opened them again he was alone.

Alone, but for the first time in many a year, hopeful.

The past is done, he thought, and can’t be changed. All you can do is move forward.

Somewhere, some time, there was a green-eyed witch with golden curls and a sharp tongue and the softest heart he’d ever known. One who could read him like a book and understand the story it told. And he was an artificer who knew how to build a bloody time machine.

It was time to move on.

—

The afternoon was warm and hazy as it often is in August on the coast of Maine. The air was heavy and humid and buzzing with the hum of bees and midges as they swarmed and bumbled their way through late-summer flowers. Flowers that bloomed in full riotous colour in the remarkable garden of a thoroughly unremarkable grey clapboard house.

A figure approached the garden gate, tall and oddly dressed for this realm. He wore a long and sweeping leather coat over an ornately embroidered waistcoat, tall leather boots and a matching heavy satchel slung across his back. He paused, and regarded the gate with a raised eyebrow and all the deference he could muster.

Killian Jones knew magic when he sensed it.

“May I come in, lass?” he inquired of the air and the gate and the bumblebees, and whomever else might happen to be listening.

The gate swung open.

Killian favoured it with a small bow then sauntered through it, through the bright and fragrant garden and up to the porch steps and the door atop them. It opened as he approached to reveal a woman with long curling hair, a tight white tank top and very short shorts. She placed a hand on her hip and smirked.

“Took you long enough,” she said.

Killian climbed the porch steps and dropped his satchel, hooked a thumb beneath his belt buckle and treated her to his flirtiest grin. “Time is relative, I think you’ll find,” he replied. “Also an illusion. And there are some philosophers who claim that—”

His words were cut off by Emma’s lips, her fingers tight on the lapels of his coat as she pulled him in close. She was solid and real against his chest, her mouth hot and her skin so soft. Killian groaned as he sank his fingers into her hair, as he kissed her back with everything he’d held in his heart since he saw her last.

The kiss was short but rich with feeling, with potential, with hope. When it ended they paused for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s breath.

Emma spoke first. “You came forward,” she said. “You actually did it.” She laughed, and thumped her fist lightly against his chest. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Aye, well, as it turns out, I’m a hell of an artificer,” he replied, and she laughed again. He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms tight around her and sighed as she tucked her head beneath his chin.

“And the rest of it?” she inquired softly. “Milah, and the Dark One—”

He took a moment to consider how to answer. There were many things he could say, so much he wanted to tell her. But it would wait. They had time. In the end he said simply, “I’ve made my peace. It’s done.”

“Good.” She looked up at him with that glorious smile and his heart sang with happiness. “That’s good.”

—

@ohmightydevviepuu @thisonesatellite @katie-dub @kmomof4 @mariakov81 @stahlop @spartanguard @killianjones-twopointoh @captain-emmajones

-

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance - Author's Notes

The End.

Wow, I still can’t quite believe it. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that “An Art of Balance”/ “AoB” / “that goddamn story that costs me my last nerve” or however I have called it over the last 6 months is really and truly over.

How far we’ve come together.

Who would have thought what this little idea I had in my head back in December and that wouldn’t let me sleep until I had written half of the first chapter down would turn into. When I started drafting the plot, it was intended to be a little, about 18 chapters worth of story to get my dormant writing skills back into swing before starting on a more complex work I wanted to do. I hadn’t written a single word of prose in almost 15 years at that point.

Now, half a year, about 110k words and a lot of incredibly great friends later, look what this story has turned into.

Thank you to every single one of you who took the time out of their day to read about Lizzie, Orion, Skye, Charlie and all the others. You have no idea how much I appreciated every single like, kudos, reblog and comment. I love you all with all of my heart.

A very special thanks, however, goes to a few friends I made along the way:

@the-al-chemist

Where to start? I don’t call you my writer bestie for nothing. I remember you reaching out to me because you saw a GIF of Luke Pasqualino that reminded you of Orion and you thought I might like. That basically says a lot about our friendship already 😂 In all seriousness, you grew so close to my heart in the shortest amount of times, I’m still baffled by it. Whether it’s our endless chats, our brainstorming for both our stories or our AU or just simping over certain faceclaims together, I would never ever want to miss you again. A lot of chapters of AoB wouldn’t have been half as good without your input. Looking forward to unleashing our OCs’ Rockstar side with you, bestie! 💛💛💛

@kc-needs-coffee

Wifey, you were the first person ever to comment on AoB and were my biggest supporter throughout. Whether it was technicalities, borrowing your girl KC, joined fawning over our un-dateables, building me up when I felt down over the fluff parts, helping me sort my thoughts or just being one of the best friends imaginable, you did it all. I’m so honoured to be able to count you as a friend. You know how much your own story influenced me into developing my idea into a real story and I still cannot imagine Murphy being with anyone else than your lovely girl. Please, don’t ever change, I can’t wait to go on the next adventure with your girls and take you to see mine. 💛💙

@nevilles-top @weasleysandwheezes

My other two wifies completing the squad. It would never be the same without you, I’m living for our group chats and it's the best feeling to know we’re always there to take care of each other. You ladies are so incredibly talented, it’s an honour to be friends with you. Special shoutout to @nevilles-top for turning me into the greatest simp when she provided me with Avan Jogia as face claim for Orion. I will never forgive for unleashing this monster 😂 Kidding, I would have never forgiven you for not doing it, you know me.

@whatwouldvalerydo @me-charlie-you-angels

You wonderful girls helped me save AoB when I was on the verge of giving up because I couldn’t wrap my mind around what’s coming next. You know all that's in store for Lizzie and Orion and still don’t think I’m a horrible person 😂 Your endless enthusiasm and lovely comments never fail to put the biggest smile on my face. And I PROMISE @whatwouldvalerydo, I will catch up with Late Night Enchantments as soon as I can!

Also the biggest thank you to all the mutuals who let me borrow their OCs for a little cameo or two, it makes writing just that much more fun! @judediangelo75 @cursebreakerfarrier @slytherindisaster @thatravenpuffwitch

So, is that the end of Lizzie’s and Orion’s story? Well… it was supposed to. But I realised that we’re not quite there yet, I still have one or two (or many) things I need to tell you about.

I have several bonus chapters I still need to write, which is why the story isn’t marked as closed yet. My next immediate project featuring them will be a Band/Rockstar AU in collaboration with my dearest @the-al-chemist. Simultaneously, I’m working on the second instalment of “An Art of Balance” called “A Search for Balance” (or SfB as you may have seen in some tags) and a Warcraft AU.

And who knows, maybe one day I will actually be able to write that Charlie x MC fic as well. xD

Thank you so much for the continued support! I love you all!

XXX

Kaze

[anika-ann]

Of Jewels and Gems (B.B)

Type: One-shot, Reader-insert               Word count: 1740

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary:  Medieval AU with thief!Bucky and princess!reader.

Based on a prompt: ‘I snuck in the castle to steal the royal crown but I’m stealing you instead au’.

Warnings: briefest violence, mention of anxiety if you squint

A/N: Prompt is a courtesy of  @caplanbuckybarnes​ ‘s challenge! Thank you for gathering so many wonderful ideas! Also, I did not follow  the prompt entirely, but I’m sorta hoping that it’s okay 😇

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Your heels were clapping softly as you wished to blend with the shadows of the castle’s corridors, sweetly lit by many torches, casting a lovely game of shadows on the walls and warming the otherwise cold space. Most importantly though, the space the lit up was empty – and you allowed yourself to inhale and exhale in relief, tension leaving your shoulders at last.

Your sky-blue dress, threaded by silvery white as if to compliment the feast, the celebration of winter solstice, brushed the hard-stony floor with every step, a rustle tender like a breath, remaining elegant even as the door to the royal ballroom closed after you.

You had sought a moment of refuge from the attentive if not downright prying gazes, which never seem to leave your person as if expecting to find a flaw – a living proof of the princess not belonging on the throne, on her rightful place to take in only a few years’ time.

Not one guard dared to follow you; whether the expression on your face was to blame or your status of Crown Princess, you couldn’t find yourself to care, simply grateful to Gods for such blessing. Endlessly grateful for a brief moments of serenity and solitude with nothing but a literal whisper of ‘Thank Gods’ on your lips.

Should you take Gods’ name in vain, Queen’s voice echoed in your mind, they will punish you for your insolence.

And as mother had told you on numerous occasions, they truly did, the punishment appearing in front of your eyes as if from thin air.

With a muffled thud of expensive boots, a dark, strong male figure, clothed in an attire barely suitable for such memorable day, emerged from the shadows four feet from you, almost as if falling from the ceiling.

“Halt!” a strict voice ordered to the stranger instantly, the sound fazing you only for a fleeting moment as realization dawned to you; it was your own voice that had found its way out and echoed in the otherwise abandoned walls. “Show yourself!”

The man indeed halted in his steps, clearly taken aback by your presence, and slowly turned around to face you; only then you took notice of his hands cladded in black gloves, clutching a sack no bigger than his head.

Much to your surprise, a grin swiftly replaced the grimace twisting his unfamiliar face and his bright eyes seemed to light up while his gaze rudely roamed your figure, finally landing on your frowny expression.

“Ah, the princess herself! What an honour!” a deep timber of a voice called out.

Then the stranger attempted and failed to curtsy, giving you an impression of a man mocking you.

A righteous offence taken warmed up your head in an instant; yet, you had been taught to be nothing short of polite, ever, and so you approached the man with kindness and caution as if to battle his rudeness.

“What are you seeking in these corridors, my lord? You should not-“

“My lord!” he echoed, a blend of more mockery and awe colouring his voice in deep marron, his next slurred words giving away his origin – one that could have not be noble, ringing all alarm bells in your mind. ”Whadda polite thin’ ya’re.”

“Excuse me? And who do you believe to be to address me in such manner?!” you snapped back, forgoing all the manners you had been taught and reaching to your bodice for a hidden slot instinctively. “What is it you hide in your sack?”

His eyebrow rose in bewilderment, his smile widening visibly under his thick dark beard – however, you did not miss how his eyes flickered to your side, where your hand had sneaked to take a hold of your dagger.

One single step in your direction, a minute shift in his posture, and your weapon was drawn, blade in the height of his eyes; his pupils enclosed in blue-grey irises swiftly refocused on the sharp object, his hands slowly lowering the sack. Under your attentive gaze, he went to unwrap it.

“Do you not come closer or I shall call the guards!” you warned him, your voice rising in volume to emphasize your point, to show him that your actions and threats were as far from a jest as he could imagine.

“Just showin’ ya’ the sack, Princess, no need to get jumpy,“ the stranger grumbled, eyes never leaving yours as he revealed his secret.

A gasp of pure surprise and horror left your lips, a momentary weakness swaying your strength and causing you to lower the blade only a fraction. Spots danced in your vision upon the revelation.

In an instant, faster than you could ever hope to comprehend, a slightly painful twist of your wrist had you drop your weapon, a rustle of fabric the only warning before your back gently hit the wall with a soft thud, pinned by his body, entirely immobilized.

Before you could attempt a scream, a calloused hand covered your mouth – a dirty, filthy hand, one which had touched the royal crown (!) without permission, without any right--- and as if such insolence wasn’t insulting enough, the man, momentarily touching you as well, clearly attempted to steal it.

Attempted to steal the crown jewels!

Oh Gods-

The clank of your dagger on the stony floor broke the vicious circle of your consternation; however, you couldn’t bear tearing your gaze away from the handsome face as you found it in such close quarters with yours, few inches only. Hard warm body had found its way to press against yours further, hard and yet almost soft, as if holding you down with care.

Perhaps you should have tried and alert the guards even incapacitated--- however, you couldn’t. Your shock at the impertinence of this man was long gone, its rightful place taken by awe at his startling beauty.

Your heart was attempting to beat its way out of your chest, for reasons you seemed to be unable to fully grasp; never you had thought fear was so near to excitement and fascination. You never hoped a man’s body touching yours could feel so wonderful.

“I don’t like bein’ rude, doll.”

Not even the contradiction of such sentence – calling you a doll, which for an explicable reason brought you pleasure, and the exclaim of his aversion to disrespect – could hope to snap you from your trance.

The huff of exasperation against his palm was more of an instinct, half-heartedly meant, as your eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, unable to escape the trap of his gaze.

“So I gotta introduce myself,” the stranger hummed, observing you with equal interest as if he saw you for the first time, as if all of your people didn’t know your face. “They call me Winter.”

Every muscle in your body tensed at the exclaim and yet, you turned nearly limp in his hold as you succumbed to the sudden faintness.

Winter.

You have heard of that name, clad in a fog of mystery. Winter, the fabled thief, given the name for he was always coming on days of celebrations of the winter solstice; and yet, while all kingdoms remained at highest alert for the fear that he would arrive at their doorstep, he always managed to slip through their fingers, almost as if being a master of mystical arts.

Some didn’t believe in his existence as such at all; however, the losses in royals’ and noble’s belongings were far too real for the man to be a mere legend.

In this moment, Winter – especially since standing right in front of your own eyes – appeared indeed startlingly real.

And as much as such realization was disconcerting, you felt yourself being thoroughly charmed and fascinated.  

Your mind could not but race to solve the mystery – how many gems he had stolen before they began to reflect in his face? Eyes like topazes, threaded with silver lining, precious ruby lips hidden in a rich dark beard covering a jaw worth of royalty. A golden crown would complete the picture and perhaps its glow already twinkled in the thief’s irises.

“I don’t wanna hurt ya’, pretty doll. So, don’t ya’ scream, yeah?” Winter whispered a secret, a plea, and you couldn’t but comply, even if you found yourself missing the warmth and weight of his palm. A smile graced his lips again, your heart replying with a flutter. “I’m gonna walk away and you’re not gonna say a thin’ ‘bout me, yeah?”  

The gems glimmering in his eyes shone brighter as they indulged in observing your face with something resembling attraction as you she battled with yourself, vainly attempting to overcome the spell he put on you, causing you to only nod – rather than acting upon a rational thought and calling for guards to capture the infamous thief.

The most skilled thief you had ever encountered; though you had not met many.

Rough fingers with the softest touch brushed your cheek and you wondered how only was it possible to steal someone’s breath, the air from their lungs; for this was what it felt like, a brief encounter of skin and skin, fleeting, yet eternal as your face appeared to absorb the heat of his touch.

A playful smile, a smirk blending into a tender grin, spread your assailant’s mouth.

“Next time… I’m stealin’ the real crown jewel, Your Highness,” a confident exclaim left his lips before they encountered yours in a hasty peck, pleasant warmth only lasting a moment, yet long enough to ignite fire in your bones. Your eyes nearly fluttered shut in an unexpected bliss.

He had the audacity to wink at you as he took his retreat, claiming both his price and your dagger for a good measure, still smiling, as if the weapon meant a memento to him.

He left you in your stupor, form unmoving besides the swift motions of your chest as you hoped to catch your breath, to calm your fluttering heart and tingling fingertips and most importantly, to regather your wits.

Winter had already taken his leave long ago when you, in your mind, proclaimed him the most skilful thief in seven kingdoms indeed – for he had stolen your breath… and perhaps captured your heart as well.

Of that you were certain when the next day, you could feel your face light up as a brand-new dagger was brought to you by your loyal handmaiden Wanda, along with a note written in charming cursive, without a name signed yet self-explanatory:

Till next time, Jewel mine.

And you felt as if the next-time couldn’t arrive soon enough, your body already aching for your missing heart.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Of Thieves and Queens of Hearts (sequel, ‘one-shot’)

B.B. masterlist (...yes, it’s that short)

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ •• 

Thank you for reading!   

And wow, look at that, I wrote something short again; I blame my poor attempts at writing Bucky 😄

[petekaos]

2020 creator wrap + a follow forever

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

hiii hello everyone! sorry it’s taken me so long to get on this BUT it’s all for good reason! i thought i would combine this post into me sharing some of the works i am most proud of this year as well as spreading more love in this wonderful little community because i truly love you all tons and being a part of such a lovely group of people has made me beyond happy this year. it’s been a difficult year for all of us and i’m just so glad that i can give back the love and care y’all can give to me 💛

onward to spreading love to people who tagged me, in no particular order! thank you all for tagging me, it means so much and know that i have read through your posts at least twice with a smile on my face.

@wjmild: kylie!! you constantly surprise me with how kind and insightful you are, as well as your dedication to watching absolutely every show with lee thanat in it. you are so smart and educated and every time you talk about your research and your studies i can’t help but feel so incredibly proud of you. i really hope life brings you the peace and fulfillment you deserve. i love you!

@gigiesarocha: cata - it is always such a pleasure to see you on my dash. i can rely on you losing your shit over ingredients every two weeks and every time i see jeff doing things it 100% reminds me of you! you possess such a kind soul and i’m so glad to have had the pleasure of following you this year :’)

@yihwas: sometimes i still can’t believe you know who i am and that we’re grouped together, soph! your blog is such a refuge to me, i adore scrolling through your replies and laughing at all the witty things you say. you are simply so kind and thoughtful in your responses and criticism and you have such talent in gifmaking! i am forever grateful to you for introducing me to new lakorns and to you and shannon for creating @lakornladies​. 

@morksuns: sumaya! my url twin! i absolutely love seeing you on the dash, it really is that trans desi solidarity, no? your moodboards are always so aesthetic and your blog is so soft and calm. i see you sending such lovely asks to people, including myself, and i truly admire your personality so much!

@gayvlad: nico, my sibling! i love you so much and seeing you on the dash always makes me smile. sometimes you’re too hard on yourself, but that’s okay, because i’m always here for you. i loved your reactions to dbk in live time, and that you’re now as attached to the show as i am. we love a lot of the same things, and i’ll forever be grateful to you for indulging my headcanons and developing them with me, like the ram and bohn friendship. the ram fic of him finding the gym as a home was developed through much of your influence, and i’ll never stop being astonished at how kind and supportive you are. i love you! 

@khaotungthanawat: saaaam! your gifs are always a beauty to behold. i admire you so much for making those bl compilation gifsets because that takes so much patience and dedication, especially to find all the moments. i can always count on you for underrated gifsets, too, and i smile every time you send me an ask!

@tanwirapong: roa! oh i adored getting to know you better this year through the gifted gays gc. i remember still when you made a post about there’s an art to honesty and it truly made my day - i sent it to my partner and best friend and they were so fond as well! i will always be so happy about the fact that we both lose it over petekao every now and again, it means the world to me :’)

@emisfritish: your wisdom and way of expressing your thoughts will never fail to amaze me, emma. i can always count on you for calling things like they are and writing out well-worded, thought-provoking posts that express everything i have ever thought about fandom but could never quite write down. it’s such a pleasure seeing you on my dash and honestly, whenever i see tay, he reminds me of you!

so that was everyone who tagged me, for which i am eternally grateful! (if i missed anyone... i am so sorry ily...) now onto me rambling about how much i love specific people in the fandom generally that i haven’t already mentioned.

@earthfluuke: maddie... where do i even start. getting to know you this year means the absolute world to me and i love how many thoughts we can share together and how many aus and ideas we can plot out to the finest detail, but i also love how we can talk about serious topics and irl issues affecting us both and know that the other person will be there. i admire you so much for going on and persevering despite the many difficult factors in your life right now. know that i will always be there - to listen to you, to support your gifs and fics, to develop characters with you, to weigh in on problems or ideas you have. i love you!

@asianmelodrama: faiza!! i can never address you without immediately adding ‘jaan’ after it honestly. you are a sister to me in all things and knowing you has been such an honour. your wise words, your calmness in dealing with things, your infectious excitement - they are all facets of your personality that i both admire and adore. whether it’s getting angry about shitty muslim rep or freaking out about a movie, i know that i can always count on you to be there for me if i ever need it. i hope light and love touches your life always, and you find peace in everything you do. if i ever happen to be in england, i am definitely coming over for your chai :’) i love you!

@yioh: yura my laddoo! i say this all the time, but i simply am so grateful that we met. i love seeing your tags on my posts and i just... adore seeing you doing your thing on your blog, your posts always make me smile. i know school is hard right now, but know that i’m always rooting for you and believe in you completely. words cannot express how happy i am to have found another tamil lgbt person who can understand the same experiences, it really does mean everything to me. and know that i will begin reading tyk soon, i promise, and i’ll tell you all about my thoughts! i love youuu!

@1akorn: shannon!! i still cannot believe people group us together because i’ve always admired you from a distance - imagine my absolute surprise when i found out that you followed me! i 100% rely on you for the good mek content and love your gifs so much. you’re so articulate and speak your thoughts incredibly well, which i truly admire.

@brightwin: jelly - you already know the amount of love and fondness i hold for you. you’re such a kind and bubbly person and your personality shines not only through your tags and responses to people, but also through your gorgeous gifsets that are just so warm and lovely. i can always rely on you to give me updates on all things related to brightwin and 2gether. you’re wonderful!

@yibobibo: aamna! i know i can always get my yibo content from you, and i adore it. i love seeing updates about your bunnies and your kind responses to your anons, you truly are a ray of light! you’re also one of the fairly concentrated cql blogs i follow - and for that i am always grateful.

@metawwin: ali! your gorgeous gifs are always such a light on my dash. i remember once you called me ‘rahulito’ and it made me so soft. your voice and songs are so lovely and i don’t even know where to begin thanking you for sharing your art with us. i know it means a lot to me, and it means the same to many others.

@taytawan: nuriaaa! i remember seeing you so often in the petekao tag and i gotta say that your sets of both petekao and sarawatine, especially the heart eyes series, always make me so soft. and of course, the fact that you gifted me this wonderful url! i will always be thankful for that and for your general kindness and warmth that you bestow upon everyone.

@piningbisexuals: axelle! although we don’t talk that much, i always love seeing your gifs and your thoughts on shows on the dash. i’m wishing you all the best with your thai classes and hope that everything goes well with you! also, you should know that i read that manboss fic you gifted to me at least once a week because it just means that much to me - and i’m so glad i got you into this little silly ship of mine. 

@sunsetchimyeon: nene, my pk anon! i love seeing your asks in my inbox and writing essays as replies. having conversations with you was one of my absolute highlights and i’ll always be blown away by how kind and calm and supportive and patient you are! i hope life is treating you well, my friend.

@toptaps: zey!! oh i love seeing your gifs and kindness on my dash and know that whenever i see toptap in anything, he always reminds me of you! also your gifs of sammy? absolutely gorgeous!

@giftedgays: i love you all SO much it is truly insane. being part of our tumblr gc that evolved into a discord server with a thousand channels has been one of my 2020 highlights. i loved yelling with you all about tgg every week and i must thank you all for sitting through my chanonpom breakdowns every second day. 

in particular: 

@pangwave - dawnie, i love you! i admire you and your no bullshit attitude so much. i know you’re going through a process of change right now, and i could not be prouder of you for persevering through it, regardless of the painful and strange circumstances we find ourselves in. i have full faith in you, and i know that you got this. we’re all here for you! 

@doctorbahnjit: - alexa! i still remember when you wrote the first manboss fic and an anon sent me a link regarding it. you are genuinely one of the funniest people i know and you deserve the absolute world. i read out of the blue every day, no kidding, because it means so much to me! thank you for being my fellow chanonpomer, my fellow manboss-er, and just being an all around ray of absolute sunshine.

@gunatps: vee! i have already embarrassed myself enough in my post to you but it’s worth repeating. i adore our eden chanonpom breakdown sessions, which we should have again soon when you have time, and i love us roasting modi in the chat, it truly cracks me up! we have so much in common and i just want to say that i am so proud of you for studying and taking your exams - i know how difficult they are. 

@wavelovespang: cass!! how i adore your analyses and breakdowns of scenes and relationships, you have so much insight and wisdom that you spread in such thoughtful ways! you’re so supportive and kind and such a great teacher, i know that. your writing is so wonderful and i’m truly so honoured that we all get to read it, it’s a gift!

@class2clown: angel! i cannot say this enough but i admire your art so much, it’s so so beautiful! you’ve always been so kind and lovely, and just like with cass, thank you so much for organising the gifted week events! although i couldn’t properly partake this year because of time constraints, i loved seeing everyone’s creations and it was super thoughtful.

@soulmatelines: i’ve said this before, jo, but it must be said again: i cannot believe you thought i was cool. i’ve always adored your gifs from afar and you’re such a sweet person! i love love love talking with you in the kpop channel (even if you personally hate 3racha smh), and you truly do bear the novel agenda! i’ve learned about so many more novels i must read and for that i am so grateful :’) 

@billkinpp: violet, i will never fail to crack up at a) your and kylie’s plans to run away and get married, and b) you having a thousand sideblogs and complimenting yourself on your own gifs in the tags, as you absolutely should! i hope the next year is kind to you and that your sleep schedule isn’t too fucked up :’)

@vihokratanas: mel, i will always be in complete awe of your gifs! they are always so clean and crisp. i remember still when you were fondestphan and my phannie days flashed in front of my eyes fhsnfg but either way, you’re so kind and sweet! 

@pvrrish: eleni!! i don’t think i’ve ever told you this before but i’ve always loved the 2gether poster that you made, i sometimes go on your blog to look at it for like 5 minutes, it’s truly so beautiful! i hope you’ve had an okay year, all things considered, and that life is kind to you!

@lee-thanat: another leesbian, ke! y’all always crack me up in the lesbians for lee thanat channel truly. your simping for ms ladda is so valid, i miss her so much honestly. i hope that the coming year is kind to you, and that you find the peace you deserve!

okay, so i think that’s everyone that i either talk to regularly or admire a lot! in case i didn’t mention you, please please feel free to reach out to me because i mean no offense at all - my brain is small haha. would also like to shout out all my anons who send me asks and bear with my late responses these days because of life, i adore you all and i love answering your asks.

if you’re still reading after this... whole monster of a post, i’m just gonna quickly mention some things i’ve been proud of either writing or making this year. in no particular order:

1. my weary heart has come to rest in yours. this is a fic i wrote in an... interesting headspace, and i was really going through my chanonpom feelings at the time. i’m really proud of how it came out and i adored writing chanon through pom’s pov. also i kinda love how i tied in p’bird’s song prip dtah in with the fic because i adore the song and it fits so well with them.

2. petekao week 2020. i guess this is sort of cheating, because these are technically 7 fics, BUT. i am actually proud of myself for writing seven, and i think they’re all of fairly good quality. i just really love this little universe i created for the dbk characters after the show and this whole week was just so warm and lovely to be a part of.

3. this set of num and prang from a gift for whom you hate. this moment really stuck with me from the finale and i actually am really proud of the colouring and how it came out! i think the blues really popped and i managed to lighten this dark ass scene without whitewashing mek or aye. the fireworks gif also is one of my favourites i’ve made! num and prang’s whole relationship was so pure throughout the entirety of this show, i adored them. 

4. but love is impossible and it goes on despite the impossible. this is the longest fic i’ve posted so far and i’m super proud of it - it’s also my most well-received fic. the yunmeng brothers mean the world to me and i just... wanted to write about jiang cheng and his love for his brother and give them a somewhat happy ending, in one future at least.

5. there’s an art to honesty. i think i really nailed my version of kao in this work! i just really loved writing this fic so much, especially because it was right after the whole ‘scandal’ with new happened. i was really just finding a way to separate kao from him, and i delved into my feelings with this fic as well, because i relate to kao in multiple ways. either way, i thought writing this fic was fun and a lot of people loved it too, which made me so soft!

if you’ve read this far, i personally adore you! while this has been a difficult year, i am blessed to have been part of this loving community, and i really hope that next year will be kinder to us all and give us good shows and discussions! i love you all. stay safe and stay kind, friends 💛

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 11

Day 11 - Pick your favorite Soulmate AU and write about it, it can be from this list or something completely different.  

(Balloon AU: you have a spirit-like balloon with the name of your soulmate written on it that only you can see. It will often drift towards your soulmate’s when they’re close by.)

Pairing(s): Romantic Logicality, Romantic Remile

TWs: Character Death (it’s loosely based on Disney’s UP, so y’all know whats going on), implied homophobia for a small section, unspecified heart condition mention

Author’s note: please forgive any inaccuracies in time periods and such, I did my best ;w; 

Also don’t let the tags throw you off, this story’s bittersweet but it’s really lovely, thank you if you do indeed keep reading, ily <3

–

They met when they were just children back in March of 1950. 

Logan Crofter had just come from the theatre after having seen the newest Walt Disney movie, Cinderella, when he overheard a commotion coming from the children’s park on his way home. He was always a cautious young lad but as he caught sight of his balloon begin to sway that way, Logan wasted no time in hurrying towards the sound of children arguing.

“Boys don’t wear dresses, stupid!!!”

“But it’s really pretty!!”

Logan arrived in time to see an older boy shove another boy about his age into a puddle, soaking the light blue dress he was wearing over a light t-shirt and dungarees. Upon realising the dress was likely ruined, the boy began crying. Logan wasted no time in getting between the two of them,

“Leave him alone, or I’ll inform the proper authorities!”

“.... You’ll what?”, the taller boy asked dumbfoundedly.

“It means I’ll tell your mom!!”

He was bluffing of course, Logan had no idea who the boy was, but the threat was enough to send him running. With a sigh of relief, he turned his attention to the boy in the puddle. Instead of crying anymore, he was gazing up at Logan in excited adoration,

“Wow!! You saved me!! Just like Prince Charming saved Cinderella!!!”

The boy wiped his face of tears and stood up to grasp Logan’s hands, “Thank you, thank you, thank youuuu!!”

Embarrassed by the overly sweet gesture, Logan cleared his throat, “You’re far too kind, I simply cannot tolerate bullying, I’m certainly no Prince Charming.”, he tried to assure the boy, “Truly, it was no trouble. Are you going to be alright, um-?”

“Patton!”, the boy, Patton, beamed.

A gasp left Logan, the name wasn’t that common, so perhaps….  “Patton Hart?”

The boy nodded, surprised, “That’s me-”, then realised, “A-Are you Logan Crofter!?”

Logan’s smile must’ve said it all as Patton threw his arms around him, “I can’t believe it! My soulmate saved me! I really am like Cinderella!”

“You are pretty like Cinderella as well.”, Logan offered shyly, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Patton giggled and took his hands. 

“Come on! I wanna introduce you to mama!! She’ll like you lots!!”

Patton was right, Logan adored Mrs Hart from the moment they were introduced. He loved the whole family with every member he was introduced to; it wasn’t hard to see where Patton got his shining personality from, happiness and warmth radiated from every one of them. Logan remembered the way Patton had introduced him to his parents and that summer he’d done the same for all his grandparents, his ‘tios and tias’ as he referred to them, and his many cousins who welcomed Logan with open arms.

He was grateful for such a loving family especially when his own disowned him. Logan had known from the day he finally brought Patton home to meet his parents - six years after they’d first met - that they would never accept his soulmate. Despite the majority of the world’s population accepting that the soulmate bond was a fixed infallible system, the Crofters had their minds made up that their son’s soulmate would be someone worthy of their expectations. Someone stoic and serious, not bubbly and energetic. Someone who was all work and no play, not someone who wanted to have fun and just enjoy life. Someone who was female, not another male. Logan hadn’t anticipated that extra twist of the knife but all the same, he wouldn’t trade Patton for anyone else.

It was hard being fourteen and having to turn his back on the family home he’d grown up in, but as Patton’s family helped him move his things into the room they’d painstakingly cleared out for him, Logan figured that feeling would soon pass.

--

Throughout high school, the two grew even more inseparable; Logan helped tutor Patton in math and science while Patton helped Logan with art and music. Logan joined Patton’s cooking club to support his cause while Patton would always attend Logan’s debates, captivated by his drive and dedication.

Another routine they’d started over the years was attending the latest screenings of each new Disney movie. In truth, Logan had lost his taste for “childish exploits” around the age of ten, but he would never admit out loud that seeing the way Patton would smile during their theatre dates made his heart race faster than any other sight on the entire planet. That was why for their 27th anniversary, Logan proposed to Patton during the double bill screening of The Many Adventures of Winnie The Pooh. He burned the moment Patton threw his arms around him in sheer glee into his brain forever. He would carry the joy of hearing his soulmate - no, his husband-to-be - cry out that wonderful “yes!” with him for eternity.

Sending out the invitations had been a nerve wracking affair for Logan, but Patton had assured him that everything would be okay in the end as he sent out his half of the invitations. He knew his parents wouldn’t show so he didn’t bother to invite them, but he wasn’t sure if his grandparents or distant aunts and uncles would. Aside from them, he’d never met much of his own family, most of them residing outside of the states. 

In the end, only his paternal grandparents and mother’s brother agreed to attend. Logan didn’t mind, he was just glad to have someone. Thankfully, his side of the church wouldn’t be too empty for the friends he made in his highschool years were more than happy to fill the pews.

Logan Crofter-Hart married his husband Patton Hart in the spring of 1981 after four years of planning and saving for their first home together. Logan’s endless studying and training to become a lecturer combined with Patton’s enthusiasm and drive to make money working at Foster’s Family Diner had all led up to this moment. As Logan placed the ring on Patton’s finger and promised to love and honour him - in sickness and in health, til death did they part - he couldn’t help but think himself the luckiest man alive. After the ceremony, his uncle and paternal grandparents had congratulated him, with the former asking what their next step would be.

Logan wasn’t sure about the far future, but at the time while he watched the love of his life dance and gesture for Logan to join him, all he could think to answer was “Simple, our Traditional Disney Movie Date.”, as he got up to indulge Patton’s request.

Said movie was The Fox And The Hound, and Patton, bless him, had cried for most of it. Logan draped his arm around his husband’s shoulders and softly wiped his tears with his other hand. While the scene where Todd’s owner sadly releases him into the wild played, Patton snuggled closer to Logan for comfort. Logan would deny that he teared up at that part too, though the memory of Patton humming the tune of Goodbye May Seem Forever would always stick with him even on his saddest days...

--

“Logan?”, Patton softly piped up as they lay in bed watching TV together one night.

Logan turned to face his husband, “Yes, starlight?”

“What do you think about...”, he hesitated, but continued at Logan’s nod of encouragement, “...us adopting?” 

The idea had indeed occurred to Logan. They’d been married only a year but he knew his husband would make a wonderful father. 

“.... Do you think I’d be ready, Patton?”, Logan offered unsurely. Patton softly removed his head from Logan’s shoulder and sat in his lap to properly apply one soothing hug directly to his darling husband.

“Only you’ll know for sure, but I think you’ll be an amazing father, Logie Bear.”

A soft kiss from his husband destroyed any doubt Logan had harboured. “Just imagine it, getting to watch our son or daughter grow up and get married someday! Ooh, or maybe they’ll become an astronaut! The second person to go into space!”

Logan chuckled, knowing Patton was playing on his fondness for space travel, “Perhaps, however, they would in fact be the fifth person to go into space-”

With a fond sigh, Patton brought Logan into a gentle kiss, one that Logan had no intentions of breaking to keep infodumping. He wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist, pulling him closer as if no amount of closeness would ever be enough. Another memory that would burn itself into his brain forever. Patton pulled back to his Logan with those puppy dog eyes that resulted in him getting what he wanted at least 80% of the time.

“So, does this mean you want to give adopting a try, Logie Bear?”

Feigning annoyance with a smiling eye roll and a forced huff of air, Logan replied, “Yeah. I guess-”

He spent the rest of the night returning Patton’s delighted kisses and listening to him ramble adorably about all the wonderful memories they’d make as a family.

--

The rejection hit the Hart couple hard; Patton even more so than Logan. 

Yes, he was just as crushed by the news, but Patton was distraught. 

They’d done all they could to be sure the adoption would be a success. Logan had been hired as part of the local university’s astrophysics division which did bring in enough money to allow the couple to renovate Logan’s old office room into a bedroom for their potential child. The day had been filled with laughter and, with some coercion from Patton, dancing along to the radio in between paint drying times. They’d been sure to go through all the steps, make sure their house was child friendly, even going as far as to secure references from friends and family in case they were needed.

Alas, some bad luck out of nowhere had been the first blow to the couple. After hanging on for a good decade or so, Foster’s Family Diner was bought over by a larger franchise and thus, Patton had been laid off with little warning to cut down the number of employees. The only comfort he found at the time was from his fellow staff who were devastated to see him go. The full weight of the situation really hit home when they realised it’d put enough of a dent in their income to make things a little less comfy for a while.

The second blow was the twins. Two young boys Patton had grown attached to during an Adoption Activity Day he and Logan had attended. Logan knew while he watched both boys painting his husband’s face with vastly different degrees of success, that they’d be the children Patton wanted to adopt. The boys seemed to love them too, going by their reluctance to let either of them leave at the end of the event. But the blow to their finances and the lack of a large enough room for twins had been a cause for concern with the agency, and try as the Harts might, they just weren’t able to get the room up to code in time.

Both boys were adopted that same week, and Patton further spiralled even further. Logan tried his best to try and cheer him up, but nothing seemed to work. As a last ditch attempt, Logan even requested to be able to be put in contact with the twins’ adoptive parents to ask for a visit but he was told, as anticipated, that the agency couldn’t allow it.

Logan refused to give up though. Using his university’s connections, he was able to find Patton a prospective new job; one of the researchers in the history department had a brother who worked for the local zoo. She assured Logan that with her brother’s approval, Patton would more than likely be offered the job opening they had going.

It wasn’t much, not really, but when he brought Patton to the zoo to surprise him with the offer of running the park’s souvenir shop, his husband’s glowing smile stole Logan’s breath away. For the first time in months, he heard Patton laugh with delight as he accepted the job.

--

With both of them working again, Logan put all of his effort into a new goal; helping Patton feel ready to adopt once more. It would be a slow venture; they cut out anything that wasn’t necessary and swapped the pricier items for store brands. The 80s rolled into the 90s and it felt like for a while the world would doom them to a life of endless saving, even having to eventually forgo their sacred cinema dates in favour of waiting for video and later DVD releases. 

But they were happy. 

Happy to have each other, and happily thinking of the day when they could try adopting again.

As the years went on, however, Logan began to worry. With he and his husband approaching their fifties, Patton’s hopes of adopting a young child to raise dwindled, knowing that they often gave other couples older children to look after. He knew Patton wanted to see them attend their first day of school, to teach them to ride a bike, to spend as much time as possible with them.

So Logan made a bold suggestion to Patton that night that they try again. 

Patton was quiet for a while causing Logan to fear it was still too soon, but his husband agreed that it had been long enough. They once more gave adoption a try.

--

The second time proved to be a charm and the Harts welcomed their son - six year old Emile - into the family in 1993.

He was an eccentric, curious young lad with a love of cartoons and biology; a perfect combination for the happy parents. Not that it would have mattered in the long run, they’d have loved their son no matter what.

Logan looked to the man asleep on his shoulder and their son who had also tuckered himself out watching The Nightmare Before Christmas with them. With a fond smile, Logan rested his head against the back of the sofa, catching sight of his soul balloon. It’d been years since he’d really paid much attention to it, but the name Patton Hart still glistened in wonderous golden letters set against the baby blue of the balloon. He glanced over to Patton, seeing that same cute sleepy face he always made. Logan wondered how, whenever he believed he had hit the maximum, he ended up falling more and more in love with Patton. 

The stronger the feeling grew, the more Logan felt like he could conquer anything, and he would do so in a heartbeat for his husband, and now his son too.. 

--

Love alone, however, couldn’t conquer all things. 

During Emile’s 14th birthday party, Patton collapsed. It was sudden and terrifying, but thankfully Logan was able to keep him out of harm's way until the paramedics arrived. Luckily, they were able to treat Patton at home, coming to the conclusion that heat exhaustion had been the culprit when they were informed that Patton had given himself little time to rest coupled with the unusually hot day.

Logan still wanted Patton to see a doctor as soon as possible, but Patton sweetly but stubbornly insisted he was fine. He didn’t want to cause more of a scene during Emile’s big day. Reluctantly, Logan let him make the final call, relief setting in as Patton went about the rest of the day as his usual cheerful self. Logan made sure to stay by his husband just in case, but the day passed without another hitch.

That couldn’t be said for the second time.

The call came for Logan during one of his lectures; Patton had been catching up with an old coworker from his diner days who’d come to the zoo with their granddaughter when he’d just crumpled to the floor without warning. Logan wasn’t sure what exactly happened, but the next thing he knew, he was parking his car outside the hospital and desperately asking the staff where his husband was being treated.

Fortunately, once again, Patton was more or less alright. When Logan saw him sitting upright in his hospital bed chattering away to a young girl in a hospital gown, he knew for sure his husband was alright. At least for now.

“Will you ever stop giving me a heart attack?”, Logan had sighed with fond exhaustion as he sat next to Patton with his hard carding through his soft umber hair. Patton chuckled and played with the blue tie Logan was so fond of, “Not if it means you’ll keep coming to my rescue like Prince Charming.”. 

Logan let out a huff of laughter, fondly recalling their first meeting. It felt like yesterday still…

“Does that mean you’re still my Cinderella?”

Patton tapped a finger to his chin and finally answered with a smile, “Maybe not. Glass slippers and fairy godmothers or not, I’d never leave your side for anything, Logie Bear.”

Logan wished Patton could have kept that promise.

--

The following years passed with a couple of stumbles along the way in regards to Patton’s health and still the doctor’s weren’t sure what caused his episodes. Logan was naturally worried; he and Patton were in their sixties, he knew that even though Patton kept bouncing back that one day statistically he wouldn’t be able to. That one day Patton would…

Logan didn’t allow himself to think about it. Instead he sat with his husband, enjoying the movie they’d put on; Disney’s UP. His attention wasn’t so much on the movie as it was on Patton. Every time he looked at his husband, Logan didn’t see the silver roots, eye wrinkles, and laughter lines; he saw the boy he’d moved in with at 14, the beautiful young man he went on regular cinema dates with like clockwork, the man whose excited tearful “yes!” still echoed in his brain no matter how many years had passed. 1979 felt both so long ago, yet like it was just yesterday. And now they were doing just what Logan had hoped; growing old together while their son was out in the world working as a therapist alongside his own husband. 

Logan had been skeptical of Remy the first time Emile had introduced them to his parents, but in spite of their sharp tongue and sassy attitude, Logan had easily grown fond of the person who would later become his child-in-law. Logan wasn’t sure if that was the term, but he did his best to keep up. He remembered the day Emile had come home from high school, excitedly babbling about his soulmate. Patton had been on cloud nine the whole time, and while Logan was just as delighted for their son, he was too wrapped up in admiring the happiness that radiated from his husband.

Goodness, when had Logan gotten this sentimental? He asked, knowing full well he’d always been that way when it came to Pat. He decided to tune back in to the movie only to realise he’d been lost in his memories for nearly the entire run time.

On screen, Carl Fredricksen had just discovered the rest of his late wife’s additions to her adventure book. The more stoic Logan of the past would never have been swayed by such a heart-string tugging moment, but well. The years had softened that stony exterior. At least, that's what he told himself while he felt tears roll down his cheeks silently. Patton’s gentle thumb wiping away his tears, drew his attention, noting that his husband was also tearing up. But my god, that smile. Logan could’ve stared at that sunshine grin til the end of time itself. Seizing the moment, Logan gently leant in to give Patton a kiss, which his husband returned in kind.

At that moment, Logan had an idea. It took a lot of string pulling to make it happen, granted, but he refused to allow anything to get in the way of his plans. 

January of 2010 saw Patton’s 66th’s birthday roll in, and Logan first surprised his husband by driving their old car, a blue 1955 Ford Thunderbird, into the driveway. It wasn’t in the greatest condition, having been kept in their garage for years, but Logan had secretly washed and maintained it leading up to today. It still had their cassette tape in the player; the Beach Boys’ Wouldn’t It Be Nice played just as it had back in the day.

The car was only one of the surprises Logan had in store; he’d found an old diner that, while it wasn’t much like Foster’s, was dedicated to capturing the 1980s vibe they were both familiar with. After a couple of milkshakes and Patton’s insistence that they dance together when the jukebox would play their favourite tunes, Logan parked outside of a familiar sight.

Their old theatre and origin of Patton’s nickname, The Starlight; it’d been renamed of course, but thankfully the former owner’s daughter remembered the couple from back in her father’s day, and so Logan had asked if the old sign could be replaced just this once. She’d done one better, adding a lovely “Happy Birthday Patton!” banner underneath. Logan wasn’t sure if hugs could be fatal, but the one Patton sent his way nearly crushed him with the weight of it’s love.

Once inside the foyer, Logan directed Patton to their private screening of Cinderella. He had wanted the same movie he’d proposed to Patton with initially, but alas, the owner couldn’t track it down in time, thus they went with the movie that had led Logan to his soulmate in the first place. The Harts sat in a comfortable silence throughout the film; they didn’t need to say anything, their intertwined hands and soft sighs of adoration were enough. When the movie ended, they began to drive home until Patton spoke up, “Logan, look!”, he gestured out the window towards a familiar sight; the park where they’d met.

The old equipment had been removed and changed  somewhat over the years, but the familiar landmarks were all still there. Logan didn’t need to be asked the question as he parked nearby and walked with his beloved towards the spot where they’d met. The small indent in the ground where the same puddle he’d helped Patton out of was still there in all it’s sentimental glory. Logan raised an eyebrow as Patton sat at the edge of the former puddle until he realised what he was up to,

“Oh no! I’ve fallen! And I can’t get up! Oh where is my Prince Charming who shall come to save me?!”

Logan had to stifle his laughter with his hand for a second before offering it to Patton, rolling his eyes fondly as he stated, “I’m here, I’m here, don’t worry, fair Cinderella.”

He helped Patton to his feet, stumbling a little but thankfully he caught his husband in his waiting arms. With a smile that shone like the gold of his soul balloon’s cursive, Patton met Logan’s eyes, whispering a soft, loving, “I love you, Logan.”

Logan gently brushed a strand of Patton’s hair away from his soulmate’s eyes, “I love you too, Patton.”

The two began to walk back to the car, hand in hand, while Patton explained to Logan where he’d gotten the blue dress he’d met him in when Patton stopped. 

“Patton? Is everything alright-?”

Patton’s breathing hastened, and before he could try and say he was okay, he curled in on himself, grasping his chest. Terrified for his husband, Logan called 911, doing his best to get Patton to the car to drive him to A&E.

--

Nothing was alright.

Logan stayed by Patton’s side in hospital when the doctors delivered the bad news. 

Heart failure. 

The doctor was apologetic the whole time - “I’m so sorry” “If only we’d caught it sooner” “Too late for a transplant” “Surgery would only prolong the inevitable” - but Logan couldn’t bear to hear it. The love of his life lay dying in a cold, sterile room when he should be at home; dancing around their living room, baking with him in their kitchen, laying next to him in bed as they held hands and regaled each other with happy memories and countless “I love you”s. 

The decision wasn’t difficult, not for Logan anyway. The doctors offered to let Logan take him home so he could pass in the comfort of his own home, and while Emile had tried to convince his parents to try for more time in hospital, his fathers both refused. Patton was stubborn when he wanted to be, and Logan even more so. They’d wasted three days with Logan having to stay in hospital with Patton, he wasn’t about to jeopardise any more time. 

Emile and Remy came to visit each day once Patton came home. Neither one would comment on just how tired he looked, but Logan could see the concern in their faces. They both knew as well as Logan that any day could be Patton’s last. Every time they left, both would hold Patton tightly, making sure to always leave with an “I love you, dad”, no matter how late it made them for an appointment or the like.

--

One night, Logan noticed Patton was sitting outside on the porch step in the early morning sunrise, in one hand was a pack of balloons, and in the other, some string and markers.

“What’re you up to, starlight?”, Logan questioned curiously, unable to stop himself smiling as Patton sent him a smile at the old nickname.

“Just wanted to try something, Logie Bear. Here, you can pick out your color.”

Ah. Logan understood, rifling through the pack for the right shade of baby blue to make his soul balloon. He and Patton had of course described their balloons to each other, “Mine’s this lovely dark blue with silver writing! Bold and smart, just like you, Logan!”, Patton had said. He watched Patton try to blow up the balloon, but upon giving himself a coughing fit, Logan went to get the helium pump he’d used for the balloons at Emile’s 14th birthday. 

Once both balloons were safely inflated and tied with some string, the Harts set about writing each other’s name in an imitation of their respective soul balloon. Patton wasn’t sure whether to write Logan’s married name or the one on the balloon, but Logan assured him he didn’t mind. With both balloons finished, the couple tied the ends of their strings together, Patton requesting Logan take some pictures with his phone to show Emile and Remy later. With the request indulged - along with some depicting the couple sat cuddled together with their respective balloons - the two held out the tied end of the balloons and let them go.

Bobbing in the wind, the balloons carried themselves into the sky, twirling in a dance as they soared towards the clouds. The Harts watched until they could no longer see the pair anymore; eventually just sitting side by side on the porch, their fingers locked together and their heads rested against one another. 

The morning was stunning; soft cloudy skies that let the sun peek through while a warm breeze drifted by. 

“Hey, Logie Bear?”, Patton quietly requested. His voice ghostly even in it’s happiness.

“Yes, starlight?”

Logan couldn’t explain how or why he knew that it’d be the last thing he heard Patton say, but he simply held his husband of thirty nine years, his soulmate since birth, even closer as Patton’s last words carved themselves into his memory;

“Thanks for the adventure.”, his stunning eyes met Logan’s one last time, “I love you, Logan.”

“You too, Patton,”, Logan couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down his cheeks, “I love you too.”

Even as Patton’s grip loosened, as his eyes closed, as his breathing shuddered to a halt, Logan stayed with his husband for hours. He knew he’d soon have to break the news to their son before the poor lad and his husband found them still sitting together like always. But Logan couldn’t bring himself to move an inch. 

“I’d never leave your side for anything, starlight...”

--------

I’m not crying I’m SOBBING

This one has me in tears just rereading it to make last minute corrections, god...

Day 12 will be back to much happier themes, I promise!

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom