#and after that? i'll have to make a decision about it. and mayhaps i'll be poorer or mayhaps i'll be out a car.

[racke7]

Car didn't pass its inspection. Hmm... We'll see what the mechanic says about how much it'll cost to fix, and after that we'll see if I still have a car or not.

[neverthatsirius-jo]

CONGRATS ON 200 FOLLOWERS MY TWINNIE 😋 had to jump on this fic fest and request something with my babygirl james potter <3 and i got these from the gifs !

randomized a song from a playlist and got about you by the 1975 :3 and mayhaps u could add a sprinkle of mutual pining?? 🥰 THANK U LOVE U 🫶🏼

| SOMETHING ABOUT YOU ⊹₊⟡⋆

“In which James is more oblivious to your drunken love confessions than you think and he eggs you on into an even more embarrassing one in a broken lift.”

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

genre: fluff <3

w/c: 1.6k

tags: muggle au, coworkers to lovers, kinda drunken confession, mentions of alcohol...

jo’s note: how could i NOT write my twin @foodiegoogie's request first? thank for requesting and i hope you enjoy reading this, even though i think i was bit stingy with the pining. LOVE YOU RESE <333

also i know i received all the event’s requests back in january, but school and my own perfectionism won't let me do things in a timely manner. i'll be posting all the other requests over the next few weeks <3 nerve-wracking to be posting after so long helpp.

“No, no, no, no, no. Shit! Shit!”

You smash the buttons of the lift as if that will magically make its doors open. You press floor after floor and buttons you’ve never even touched before and don’t know what they do.

You lean forward with your hands on the door; your back cracks after sitting for hours typing away on a computer. You’d had to stay late and so had James, it seems, who clears his throat behind you.

��Alright, spill.” 

You close your eyes and purse your lips but don’t turn around just yet. You can’t face him; not after what happened.

The same bubbles of the fizzy, sweet alcoholic drink one of your coworkers had given you were running through your blood and getting to your brain, getting in the way of your neurons and their synapsis. Quickly. 

Weirdly enough that hadn’t stopped you, accepting a few more drinks that would only deteriorate your capacity to make decisions further. It was New Year’s! Not yet really… and it was an office party but still…

“We’re doing—hip!—karaoke! Come!” A hiccuping woman, in a much more grave state than you, grabbed your arm. You were pretty sure it was one of the secretaries but you couldn’t tell, not even squinting your eyes.

The events that followed are one of the most mortifying experiences you have lived and you wish a wizard would come down from the skies and give you a magical object with which you could erase said events from everybody’s memories. Especially James’, who you have been ignoring since then.

“There was something ‘bout you! That made my heart surrender! It’s the same darn thing, something, something surrender,” you ended with an off-key mumble, forgetting the lyrics.

You had pointed! Pointed at James Potter.

James who definitely wasn’t in any need for you to stroke his ego. James Potter whose self-esteem definitely wasn’t a topic he needed to discuss in therapy. James Potter who would show no hesitation in using your little show against you.

To be frank, you had no idea why he hadn’t already started doing exactly just that.

As much a blur as that night had become, the only thing that you could still replay in your mind and in great detail, like under a magnifying glass, was the way he had looked at you. Smug smile, arms crossed, and the promise of future bullying in his eyes. 

If you now have to stare at the grey, metallic wall of the lift until someone comes to your rescue then so be it. 

Ironically, there’s a sign taped to the wall informing about the upcoming halt of all lifts next monday due to an inspection that you can use as a prop and pretend to read.

You make a sound, something in between a question and what you imagine an ant sounds like as they’re about to be stepped on, when he asks his question. You mean to articulate something, but it doesn’t quite come out. You certainly feel as small as an ant.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he clarifies. “Is it some kind of new year’s resolution?”

You smile despite yourself. “Of course, James. All my new year’s resolutions revolve around you.”

You turn around, leaning back on the wall and swinging one leg about in an ‘I’m so bored, you see?’ way but still not looking up.

“Alright, then. What is it?” He asks.

“Don’t be patronising. It’s not a good look.”

“I’m not. Swear.”

When you look up at him, you’re surprised to see his expression matches yours. You roll your eyes when you look down and see him holding up his pinky finger in sign of a promise. 

Weirdly enough you know he’s being truthful, given he didn’t take the opportunity to respond that ‘every look of his is a good look’.

“Okay, then.” You shrug. “Then it doesn't matter.”

He nods, pursing his lips unconvinced. “Matters to me. Doesn’t make for a good work environment if you can’t even look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

He scoffs. “Congratulations. First time in this whole week.”

“You’re so insufferable. Anyone ever told you that?”

“I would rather call it persistent.”

“Semantics.” You click your tongue on the roof of your mouth.

“Quite an important branch of—”

“Keep talking, and I’ll start jumping until the lift takes pity on me, gives in, and we both fall to our deaths. I mean it.”

He smiles in the way you only see when he knows he’s managed to get under your skin. The silence that follows bothers you greatly but he navigates it with ease, waiting for something, not concerned in the slightest.

“So…” He starts.

“Oh, bloody hell!”

He laughs, and if your face wasn’t burning in anger you’d have relished in the sound, as you usually do but never admit, not even to yourself. 

“I know it’s about the party.” He shakes his head to emphasise his statement as obvious.

“Great observation, Sherlock. How did you manage that?”

“Then I really don’t get what the big deal is.”

You look straight at him and blinking rigidly, like your eyelids weigh triple what they used to and opening them up again costs you greatly.

“You don’t get,” you grit your teeth, “what the big deal is that I serenaded you, drunk, in front of all our coworkers?” 

You don’t break eye contact even when it becomes almost physically painful.

“And all because I have the most embarrassing crush on you! Yeah.” You turn around mumbling petty insults at him. “You don’t see how that could be a big deal? Bloody hell.”

The chuckle he lets out from the deepest part of him makes your head turn at a neck-break pace. 

If looks could kill and what not.

“Now you’re laughing at me. Very mature.”

“I’m the immature one?” He pretends to be offended, bringing a hand to his chest.

“You always have been, I’m not sure why the surprise.” You try to act nonchalant but the wavering in your voice gives you away.

You begin pressing the lift buttons frantically again. Not because you believe it will actually do anything, but because you don’t think strangling James is the way to get the promotion you so desperately want and have been fighting him over. It’s not a good marketing strategy for yourself either, given he’s quite beloved within the company.

Unfortunately, you understand better than anyone why.

He brings both his hands, intertwined, right before his mouth, like he’s pondering about something; not unlike when you stare from across the office to catch him in between files of paperwork. “This is about to get a whole lot more funny for me.”

Most of the time you understand why all the love, anyway.

Not right now.

“Why on earth,” he starts, bringing his hands up with a big grin on his face, as if to cup your face except he’s a few feet back, “would I take your drunken karaoke show as a serenade specifically dedicated to me?”

A feverish chill makes its way across your whole body; your clothes all of a sudden feel too tight, as does the lift you’re standing on. 

“You’re—” you lick your lips; a nervous tick. “You’re saying you didn’t know.”

“That is exactly what I’m saying.” He snickers. “I must say, I’m extremely fla—”

You huff before he can squeeze another word in. “I don’t like you, James. Matter of fact, I find you quite insufferable; and just because I can’t handle my alcohol and it makes me lower my standards to a degrading point, doesn’t mean that you have me in the palm of your hand. Not by a long shot.”

Your feet have taken you only a few centimeters before him, and you can feel his breath, almost as ragged as yours, tickling you. 

You’re fuming but he finds the whole of it exhilarating, which you can see and it doesn’t help your emotional state at all.

“See, I don’t believe you anymore.” He goes to flick an imaginary something off your shoulder. “I reckon the exact words were—”

“Don’t.” You give him a warning look but he’s too busy examining all your face, except your eyes.

“An embarrassing crush?” He rearranges a strand of hair that falls in your eye and tucks it behind your ear. You wonder if he can tell its temperature it’s at boiling point. “On silly old me?”

“You never shut up,” you barely manage to breathe out but he makes out the words somehow.

“I can be persuaded into it. Definitely.”

Without you realizing it, he’s cornered you into the opposite side of the lift. It’s only when the back of your head hits cold metal that you notice you’ve been walking backwards trying to get away from him.

“Plus, my dilemma is far, far worse, y’know.” He tilts his head down to find your eyes that keep trying to evade him. “I happen to be mortifyingly in love with you.”

He inches his face closer to yours, and your stomach drops. You have to look at the side to make sure it’s not the lift falling down.

“It’s too mortifying to even call it a crush, really,” he whispers with a shrug of his shoulders, before he joins your lips and his.

You don’t have time to process much of anything. Not when he has you like this. 

Your initial reaction is to freeze and you can feel him starting to pull away, thinking maybe he’s misread the situation. 

You reassure him he hasn’t by latching onto his hair to pull him closer if that even is possible. 

“Does that make us even? He whispers into your lips once you pull back to get some air. “Or do I need to jump on my desk and sing you something first thing tomorrow?”

You bite your lip to stop from smiling.

He smiles back. “You know I’ll do it.”

You know he would. Which is why you press your lips to his once more before he can start thinking of his choice of song.

thank you for reading, reblogs and replies are appreciated <3

back to masterlist

[eye-may]

Do you have any Munkustrap headcanons mayhaps? The people would love to hear it if you do <3

I was waiting for someone to ask about Munkustrap!!! granted I would have yammered about him unprompted eventually anyway but YAY!

pls accept this speedy doodle of Munk having, what I imagine is one of very many, serious conversations (tm) with with his protegee Alonzo <3

"alonzo I told you the kittens could not watch terrifier 3. I say the things I say for a reason. now neither of us will be able to sleep for a week."

all kidding aside, yesss I have a LOT of thoughts about Munkustrap and how he and his story drive a lot of things that happen in my fanverse lol. I'll keep it relatively brief for now because if I don't moderate myself I'll end up writing 100k words worth of incomprehensible diatribe. somewhat abridged yammering beneath the cut!

edit: this mostly ended up being formatted in extensive elucidations on his relationships with other cats, with references to his backstory through that...which I hope isn't baffling lmao hopefully yall can make sense of it

✨Personality

My Munkustrap is pretty heavily based off of 98's Gruberstrap. That is to say, he's a very "warm" version of the character, a softer and more patient leader compared to some other interpretations where he errs on the side of strict and stringent.

Munk has a pretty troubled background (not unlike Tugger and Alonzo), but I place his symbolic age at around 30-35 so that he's still young and has things to learn and growing to do, but still old enough to have already matured and wizened up past a matrix of self-destructive idiosyncrasies he has dealt with in the past. He may not fully realize it, but he wasn't entirely dissimilar to Tugger in his adolescent days (at least, insofar as feeling governed by his emotions). The temporal distance from his early youth has enabled him to mellow out, think more clearly, and capitalize on his better attributes such as decisiveness, a good grasp on strategizing, and being empathetic and caring.

He is, of course, known to be a straight arrow...that is to say, very about rules and order, following traditions, establishing a hierarchy, having respect for authority and elders, etc. However, he is not immune to lightheartedness and joking around. He's a good, gentle playmate with the kittens on occasion. He lives for directing plays (although subversively he might take them a little too seriously sometimes lmao). He definitely lets a Dad Joke slip out every once in a while. He can read and write, and is pretty erudite about a handful of subjects that extend beyond life in the Junkyard. He's a pretty well-rounded chap!

He's not particularly spiritual or mystical, but has always been fascinated by the mysticism inherent in felinity, and has a unique connection to the concept of magic due to his connection with Old Deuteronomy. He's more naturally attuned to felinity in every corporeal sense, and has strong and thoroughly-developed opinions about the meaningfulness of Jelliclehood along with its history and customs.

He's gentlemanly and intelligent, courageous and dignified, so a pretty archetypal 'leader/hero' character. his faults are brought out by adversity with which he is not familiar...as someone who prefers adhering to precedent and keeping everything in order, he feels very challenged by untrodden territory. While he's good at thinking on his feet, he's also prone to overthinking after the action, and letting that repressed sentimental side from yesteryears cloud his approach. When he's feeling menaced by uncertainty, you'll see those cognitions buoy to the surface...overprotectiveness, stubbornness (sometimes he's bad at listening to suggestions!), over-intensity, and over-worry that he tries his darndest to conceal. He may periodically fall into lapses of "work-life imbalance," for turn of phrase (feels weird because we're talking about mystical dancing singing cats but you get it).

Perhaps his biggest fault is difficulty ceding control. There is no bigger control freak in the Junkyard, even though many would probably assume that the title goes to Jenny. Jenny is more ostentatious in her form of leadership, yes, but Munkustrap is far more immoderate when it comes to judging what he can feasibly handle. Bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders, after all, does not a healthy habitude make. Munkustrap's elders...namely Jennanydots and Old Deutoronomy...occasionally remind him of that.

He also perpetually Tired (but doesn't show it!) and, despite maintaining his veneer of cool-headedness, does in fact Have Anxiety lol.

🫂 Notes on Relationships

Tugger - They are half-brothers, and symbolically, there's about 10-15 years between them. So the age gap is significant, but Munkustrap isn't exactly old enough to be his father (try as he might to parent him in the frequent absence of Old Deutoronomy). Truly the Annoying Younger Brother Ever, Tugger gets on his nerves faster and more effectively than just about anybody in his life. Granted, their pasts respective of each other aren't the most conducive towards a harmonious, peaceful relationship, but the same circumstances are what make their bond so close and significant. If it weren't for Munkustrap extending the olive branch to a very misled young Tugger, the latter would have never been able to severe himself from Macavity. Meanwhile, Tugger's effects on Munkustrap are less literal and obvious but just as significant. He acts as a looser, more optimistically nihilistic buffer to Munk's razor-sharp edges, and frequently functions as a catalyst for Munkustrap to unearth a bevy of feelings and emotions he's long been in the habit of smothering. They frequently bicker and frustrate each other, yes, but they know how to work with one another when it counts, and they love each other very much.

-

Old Deuteronomy - Munk is one of a few examples of a child of Deuteronomy who was raised primarily by the latter; among cats, it's frankly more common for those born into colonies to have been "raised by the village." Munkustrap has always been very close to his father, has bottomless admiration for him, and abides by his platitudes unquestioningly. Deuteronomy recognized a unique fervor and emotional vulnerability in a young Munkustrap and allowed the latter to attach himself inextricably to him. it's because of this connection, and Munkustrap's unconditional adulation of his father, that Tugger has traduced him as being a rather ideal "little soldier."

After a huge fallout with Macavity (whole thing it's a WHOLE THING), Old Deuteronomy took Munkustrap and his other followers (including Skimble, Jenny, Jelly, Gus, and Asparagus) and splintered away from the colony, going onto to establish the Jellicle colony that inhabits the Junkyard, as seen in the actual musical. For a while, the group focused on rebuilding and recuperating, and succeeded harmoniously. but, after a while when the reconstructed colony was comfortably settled, Deuteronomy became more of an itinerant than Munkustrap had ever known him to be, coming and going patternlessly. Munkustrap knows that he can always attempt to reach out to Old Deutoronomy (there's a postal system cats use...again...whole other thing) in times of need (i.e., when Munkustrap learned about Tugger being in Macavity's possession) but at that point, Munkustrap became established as the de facto Secondary Leader and had to establish himself as capable and independent. He never outwardly questions what Deutoronomy is up to when he's away on his long sojourns to Who Knows Where...but he's never one to question his father. (Tugger, on the other hand...)

Macavity - Macavity is symbolically around five-ish years older than Munkustrap. Closer in age than Tugger and Munk, but the gap is still significant. Munkustrap was born into the same colony as Macavity, and the two did share a portion of their respective childhoods together; Munkustrap being, of course, rather worshipful of Macavity as a kitten. Macavity, for his part, engaged with Munkustrap, and the latter retains fond memories of their interactions...but he also remembers how, with the clarity of hindsight, Macavity seemed to "troubled" back then. He was a bit moody, but that's not wholly unusual for an adolescent cat! More uniquely, he seemed oddly attune to the Jellicle Moon...an evidently Mystical characteristic. He often sought solitude and was reclusive, cagey, secretive, and was obsessed with his developing his mysticism and harvesting magic of Deuteronomy's ilk.

Ultimately, Macavity attempted to persuade Munkustrap to join him in a staged rebellion against Old Deuteronomy; but, even at such a tender age, Munk knew better than to be cajoled, and ultimately sided with his father. He tried in earnest to talk Macavity out of his pursuit of power, but of course...it was fruitless. And the ramifications were abominable. Ultimately, Macavity attempted something of a mutiny that resulted in the deaths of Munkustrap's mother, his two littermates, and the injury or loss of many of his friends and cats he considered to be family. To this day, Munkustrap blames himself for knowing of Macavity's designs, but underestimating him and failing to prevent the disaster. He vowed to never allow such calamity to befall his loved ones again, which manifests in the fiercely protective persona for which he's known. Whatever love existed between the two brothers has been seemingly lost to time; Munkustrap has grown past his bitterness, anger, and desire for retribution...but what's left in the wake are sadness, regret, and wariness.

-

Mistoffelees - The youngest of the protag trifecta of Munkustrap/Tugger/Mistoffelees (for purposes of not getting lost in the sauce, they are, in my mind, the Kirk/Spock/Bones so to speak), Mistoffelees is something of a little brother/son/protegee ??? person??? to Munkustrap. Their relationship is a little hard to compartmentalize, but it's warm and familial all the same. Munkustrap sort of supplies to Mistoffelees what Deuteronomy was to Munkustrap. The magical cat, of course, is far from the first youngun to ever stumble into Jellicle territory in need of reprieve, but usually raising the new arrivals is a village effort. And it still was for Mistoffelees, but Munkustrap zeroed in on him in particular for two major reasons: his inexpendably cathartic effect on Tugger, and the whole Being Magical. Munkustrap remembered, of course, the quixotic fascination his older brother had with magic and the legends surrounding it, and his own proclivities towards harvesting and using it, but Munk was not prejudicial towards Mistoffelees because of that. He knew from the onset that Mistoffelees and Macavity are incomparable, and wanted to make sure that Mistoffelees would never lose touch with the goodness at his core. He also wanted to solidify that Mistoffelees would not be treated differently because of his abilities, but would get to enjoy a normal and secure upbringing. Also...he intuited immediately that it was important for Macavity to Not Find Out about this inexplicably magical cat. (Magical Cats aren't exactly unheard of but they're really not...supposed to be able to exist anymore lmao)

In return for Munkustrap's warmth and extensions of care and friendship, Mistoffelees has always been eager to be helpful and useful, and often functions as a "right-hand man" for the Jellicle Protector in many of the banalities of life in the Junkyard. Despite his aloofness and eccentricities, Mistoffelees has always sought to please and prove himself to Munkustrap, despite the fact Munkustrap has always had confidence in him and never required proof or reassurance that the conjurer was someone he could trust and rely on. hhhhh idk their relationship is cute to me!!! they're cute!!!!

-

Alonzo - Alonzo and Munkustrap have a lot in common...like Munkustrap, Alonzo's early youth was peppered by loss and grief, disasters outside the scope of his control for which he still blames himself. Also like Munkustrap, it is because of these developments that Alonzo has sworn himself to be a protector for all those he holds dear. But, unlike Munkustrap, Alonzo is heavily saddled with endless self-doubt, self-flagellation, and fear. He's around Tugger's age, and Munkustrap recognizes how much learning and growing he needs to do, but also recognizes the drive and intensity propelling him towards becoming either a mess of self-destruction, or a rocksteady protector and friend on whom others can rely. Munkustrap instinctively took Alonzo under his wing, becoming his unofficial mentor, and is pretty much the only cat toward whom Alonzo is open and affectionate. The latter often goes to Munkustrap in times of doubt and fear, but also focuses on impressing and emulating the Jellicle Protector in any way he can. When it comes to being backed up during an altercation, or any matters concerning the security and safety of the colony, Munkustrap knows he can rely on Alonzo above anybody else to back him up. The two are very brotherly and familial with one another, and together make a duo that I, personally, would not fuck with.

Also, importantly, Alonzo supplies a sort of catharsis for Munkustrap as well. While the Protector may not realize it, being able to guide and mentor Alonzo functions as something like reparation for his own past failures; now he's able to pass on the lessons he's learned so that Alonzo won't make the same mistakes he made, and Alonzo being his protegee reassures him that he's capable of positively influence those who are in his care. (which he doesn't often conscientiously doubt, but losing his family instills fear in the back of his head that he'll fuck up in any way with his new family, a fear that's usually surfaced in conjunction with Tugger)

Jenny - She is a surrogate mother figure to Munkustrap, and one of the only cats to whom he yields his absolution of authority in the absence of Deuteronomy. (not unlike the way Kirk often has to cede to McCoy...two star trek references in one post about cats??) He's known her his entire life, and she has always been a source of comfort and guidance towards him that is similar, yet still different, in comparison to Deuteronomy. I like to think Jenny is one of the few cats that Munkustrap would ever go to for advice or consolation, and also one of the few cats who will openly question his approaches or point out his shortcomings. (it comes from a place of love!) Munkustrap also just thinks she's hilarious. A heavily burdened cat like him needs the unique combination of comfort and levity that a cat like Jennyanydots can provide! together they have a lovely rapport <3

-

(here comes the somewhat controversial takes pfffttt. you can flame me if you want idc it's the internet and I know what I signed up for lmao but if you are a demestrap purist who may become emotionally compromised by the suggestion that a romantic connection between the two is Not A Given, feel free to skip this part)

Demeter - listen. I know you're wondering but I'm going to keep it short for now okay. suffice it to say, they have a bit of a back-and-forth, so to speak, mostly stemming from Demeter trying to navigate the residual damage of her troubled past (and.....present) but. my version of Munkustrap is on the aroace spectrum (hides) and so instinctively doesn't move in on Demeter out of an impulse to "rescue" or "fix" her. And for her part, whenever she does indicate an interest in anybody, it's not like she's driven by a long-sufferer's Need For True Love. And even if it were, I'd lampshade that as Not A Good Basis For A Relationship. like idk it's a complicated thing, but regardless, I think she's a fascinating character on her own, far outside the realm of her sensuality and her relationships with the male characters lol.

So continuing, Munkustrap doesn't overstep the fact that she's an adult who can make her own decisions, and also he can see with his own eyeballs that she errs on the side of indecisive regarding her estimation of Macavity, and morality in general, and his mind is not clouded with "I Am A Straight Man In The Presence Of A Beautiful Woman" so as to persuade him to, for some reason, insist that she's not capable of making poor decisions, and trust her judgment above anybody else's in a comparable situation. He, of course, would like to help her, within reason, like he would like to help any cat who expresses interest in being a part of the colony and embracing the mores of Jelliclehood. And he is, of course, kind and helpful towards her because that's the kind of cat he is. and it has nothing to do with an urge to romance her. 😬 or protect her with anomalous fervency because She's Just A Girl (honestly idc about any implications regarding gender roles that have wormed their ways into various versions of CATS bc these are CATS and they lack culturally gendered expectations/roles and also they lack secondary sex characteristics)

because Demeter is rather flighty and cagey, and Munkustrap is a Busy Bee, it takes a while for the two of them to even really become friends, and when they do, there are still some ups and downs granted by a bevy of contrasting opinions/idiosyncrasies endemic to the respective characters. Once he gets to actually know her, Munkustrap does believe in Demeter and encourages her to make progress, but he doesn't hover over her or fuss over her more than he does any other of his adult friends lmao. in the few instances that she behaves in a sensual manner towards him, he's like...ig open to it, but again, he's on the aroace spectrum and navigates those kind of connections within that realm, which To Me means that, in his case, he's never governed by romantic, sensual, or sexual impulses/attractions. bc listen. I just love a male hero who is not ultimately fulfilled by A Woman's Love and Having Children (those things are great for some people!!! pls don't think I am suggesting otherwise lmaooooo)

if it seems like these past few paragraphs have a defensive tone...it may be because I operate in anticipation of being condemned by passionate shippers (and also I too am on the aroace spectrum and thats not for nothing lol) but like I said it's the internet and ik what I signed up for. I have nothing against believers in demestrap. not to mention that yk, hal.........it's about cats.

anyway!!!! Munkustrap has a meaningful relationship with everyone at the Junkyard, but I'm gonna stop here for now lol. I could write a passage for every possible combination of every possible pairing of cats but I have already gone beyond the scope I originally imagined pfft. I hope this gives an adequate enough glimpse into how I construe him and his personality and a little bit of his backstory. sorry if's confusing af, or if I focused too much on other cats. also I alluded to a few things that I'm not even sure I've expanded on before. but if you made it through this whole thing and if you care at all about my fanverse pls don't hesitate to ask for expansion or clarification on anything

ty for the ask!! <3

[snickerdoodlles]

📔 📔 📔 Three short wips, please?

😂 love and appreciate u nonny<33

okay, 2+1: first two are fics i'm not writing because they're small ideas i'll just slip into something else if given the chance, and +1 of a short wip i swear i am actually writing.

pickpocket Chay

this was a headcanon i picked up from before kp aired, from... @faillen 's fics i think? it's been a billion years since i read whatever i picked it up from so i am fuzzy on the details, but it's burrowed in my head since. for starters, i think it's SUCH a good skill to give to Chay, i just really like it. but i also really like thinking about other people's reactions to it, namely Porsche teaching Chay and making him practice on his friends, and (obviously lol) KIM's reaction

because Kim would love it. he'd find it so hot, and any time Chay stole something off Kim, Kim would just. swoon. swoon so hard he hits the ground. their entire courtship in my head is just music and hidey-holes and thievery<333

picture with me Kim and Chay on a date, Kim decked out in jewelry, and his accessories just. slowly migrate onto Chay over the course of the date. either Kim doesn't notice at first and swoons when he does, or he realizes but still can't catch Chay in the act, swoons harder.

...possessive jealous kimchay?

realized i am. not sure what to title this one, because it's barely an idea and more a collection of vibes. anyways, people mayhaps have picked up on my not-so-subtle love for Kim and Chay being obsessed with each other, and more than a little clingy/grabby about it<3

so, vaguely, Kim and Chay agree that it is not a good idea to announce their relationship for Wik related reasons. or maybe mafia related reasons? honestly, idk, point is they both agree to keep the relationship under wraps, and then Kim is too sulky about their mutual decision to notice Chay is frowning just as much about it. but like. it's fine. there are so many good reasons not to be super public as boyfriends. Chay says he's fine, he's probably only frowning because the conversation keeps coming up. and Kim is a totally reasonable person who does not get pouty over rational decisions. he is.

anyways, these two out on a date, where they are being super discreet, and Kim is so enchanted by Chay he maybe misses the fan following the two of them. and Chay, who's situational awareness isn't the best and usually relies on Kim noticing something and himself noticing Kim noticing things, doesn't see the fan either. this is not something either would deliberately ignore after all, not after they agreed it would be smarter not to go public.

except then. photos of them circulate online. beans are spilled and all their rational reasons are in tatters around them and Kim likes it SO. MUCH. he is Chay's and Chay is his and people know it. he worries briefly Chay might be upset (after all!! they agreed it was a bad idea!!), except then he sees one of the fan-taken date photos set as Chay's lockscreen and Chay is smug when he clings to him in public and oh yes, fuck the reasons, this is the best.

ANYWAYS, the wip i am writing i SWEAR, writing brain just minorly stuck, is a gone fishing spin-off (drum rolls):

The Many Lives of Mr. Gold

Summary: Kim and Chay raise one(1) fish.

so, does anyone remember from gone fishing the joke at the end where Kim confirms he fed Chay's goldfish to a koi? probably not, it was very offhand, but a little while back i was hit with the silly idea where Khun somehow acquired a goldfish with a cute little heart shaped(ish) spot on it, and got so excited he gave it to Chay and Kim to raise so they could bond as fish fathers.

and so begins Kim and Chay's trials of attempting to raise a stupid fish, except they somehow keep killing the poor things. Khun was so excited and they are suffering trying to make this work for him. they keep replacing the fish and pretending the replacement's spots are totally the same, until they finally can't deal with all the fish deaths on their consciences and decide to release the thing back to Khun, except they have to be sneaky about it...and release it to the koi pond...where the big fish live. needless to say: gulp.

here's a little teaser of it, because it is a very silly spin-off that brings me a lot of joy:

Chay googles the pet store's hours as though they don't already have its schedule perfectly memorized by now. "I'm pretty sure us just owning a fish counts as animal abuse now. How bad's our karma after our latest Mr. Gold, you think?" "Oh, we're definitely getting reborn as fish in our next life," Kim says over the rattle of the glass rocks he's cleaning. Chay laughs. "Should we make merit at a temple before we go to the store? On the off chance it helps the slightest bit?" Kim puts his hands together and bows his head reverently. "May we earn just enough that we don't wind up with owners like us." Chay giggles, louder, and that's all the merit Kim ever needs in this life. "We could also stop risking our next life and just come clean to P'Khun." "Oh fuck no, I'd rather face my karma. At least it's known to be forgiving."

[[ ask me about fics im not writing ]]

[athenaluthor]

flower shopping with obi wan modern au?

description - spring is finally here. you and obi-wan celebrate by expanding his plant collection and buying flowers

warnings - fluff, sweet tooth rotting fluff, domestic obi-wan, lovesick obi wan

side note - i mayhaps have gone and veered away from flower shopping to plant shopping ( cause plants are my jam). still hope u enjoy though. much love from me

word count -1.37k (unedited)

banner by @cafekitsune

Spring is finally here.

With it washes away the dread and barren cold of winter that seeps into your bones . The spring sun melts away the ice and makes way for a season of blooming flowers and plants.

The spring morning chill offers a nice change of pace from the frigid winds of winter. A lovely way to transition from thick winter coats to warm cardigans, according to Obi-Wan.

The hot cup of coffee he buys you does wonders to warm your hand as you both walk through the streets. Though the river market isn't an unfamiliar walk, Obi-Wan prefers to hold one of your hands as if you'd get lost. You don't mind, though. His hands are large and warm, providing you warmth and comfort like no other.

Hand in hand, the two of you walk through the city like always. You can't help but relish in the comfortable silence and the occasional talk. The kind of comfort that only comes through profound understanding. You adore the way his hair falls in his face, the way he smiles when he talks about his passions. Even after all this time, he blushes slightly every time he realizes your eyes are on him for too long.

Each year, the two of you venture down to the river market around spring to catch a glimpse of the annual plants and flowers market. The streets near the river house the stands that showcase all sorts of flowers. Each stand overflows with flowers and plants alike, attracting passersby and locals.

Unavoidably, Obi-Wan insists on you choosing a few plants to bring home every year.

“Obi, absolutely not! We have so many already, I wouldn't even know where to put them.” you say to him, laughing incredulously.

“What? Of course, there's space. I'll make space, darling. My hands are miracle workers, you know that. Remember last time?” he quips.

“Yes, I remember it. The ones you bought last year were too big and wouldn't fit on the balcony, yet you made it work. Now, shall I sing praises of your skill?” you quip back.

Eventually, you cave to Obi-Wan. The two of you settle on a few small houseplants after much contemplation. He wants more plants for the balcony like hydrangeas and morning glories, though he opts out of it after remembering his plans of adding chairs and tables to it.

You tease that Obi-Wan’s confidence and security is all for show, truly shaken when he has to make a decision for which plant he wants for your home. He takes the choice far too seriously which amuses you far more than you'd like to admit.

The look he gives to the fiddle leaf fig and monstera plant nearly makes you burst out laughing. He looks at it with such longing and wistfulness one would think it might be his lover.

“It's a terribly daunting decision, darling. What if we don't like it later? Can't return it back then, can we, hm?” states Obi-Wan

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you watch the stall worker pack your new plants. You find it amusing that he puts so much thought into it despite adorning every plant that comes into your home.

“You know, you love all your plants, Obi. Even the dramatic ones and that makes you all the more adorable to me.” you say dramatically.

He turns his head to you, his eyes bore into yours and his hand reaches for your cheek to caress it. “Adorable? Let's see if you still think that tonight, darling.” he cheekily replies.

Obi-Wan tucks a strand of your hair behind your ears and says “Besides,I have a love for beauty and dramaticness. Especially the one next to me, even if she teases me to no end.”.

The compliment makes the blood rush to your cheeks and you shy away from his gaze. He teases you for how easily your cheeks warm and how shy you get even after all this time.

Excusing yourself, you let Obi-Wan pay for the new plants while you discard your empty cup into a nearby recycling bin. Looking around in an attempt to calm yourself, you see some people walking around with bouquets of fresh flowers. You certainly didn't mind having some flowers around the house, you know Obi-Wan didn't either.

Once he's done, Obi-Wan walks to you with his brand new goods in hand and the brightest grin across his face.

“Where shall we go next, hmm?” He asks you.

“Want to get some fresh flowers? For our desks and maybe for our living room. It'll really feel like spring then.” you reply.

Smiling, Obi-Wan agrees and adds “Some for the kitchen too. Flowers in the kitchen make cooking much better, if you ask me.”

Continuing your journey, the two of you make your way further through the market. Walking hand in hand, both of you try to find the section of florists. Obi-Wan rattles off facts about the plants and flowers you see as you walk by. You tease his enthusiasm here and there, only to kiss his cheek once you've riled him up. Despite your teasing, you don't mind the flowers and plants, he knows it.

In truth, you find it charming to see him care for them meticulously. Though you would rather him tickle you to death than say that to him.

Spotting the section of florists, both of you head over there. Admittedly, you don't care much for plants, but you adore flowers. Especially since Obi-Wan indulges your love by planting some of your favorites at home and buys bouquets of others.

Full of excitement, you begin choosing with much care. You decide carefully which flowers would look best in your home and liven up the place, placing them in a basket the worker gave. Obi-Wan picks a few here and there, but he mostly opts to stand back and watch you be in your little world.

Moments like this remind him of how glorious it is to feel such profound love for you. Nothing can match how desperately and unequivocally in love with you he is.

Your voice snaps him out of his trance, “Should we get lilacs too?” you ask.

“Uhh, definitely. The snowdrops look great too. Do you want to get them?” he replies.

The two of you go back and forth between what other flowers you should get, eventually agreeing on some lilies as well as irises to add more color to the space.

By the end, the two of you have definitely gone a little overboard. Before you leave, Obi-Wan makes a quick purchase of some fertilizer he's been set on trying. All the more variety to up his gardening skills , according to him. He also chooses a few gardening gloves for both of you to replace your worn out ones.

The walk home is quite hilarious. The two of you have definitely purchased more than you can comfortably carry. Though, Obi-Wan suggests you hail a cab, you fail to find any. Your home isn't far enough to justify using a ride-share service at this time of day.

Now, you both are left trying to walk home with your hands full of new goods you can barely carry. Both of you don't complain though. The struggle adds to the laughter that neither of you can contain as you make your way back home.

Coming up to your building, the old lady knitting on by her window throws you a disapproving look. Her look tells you that she thinks the two of you are like teenage love-birds who can't keep quiet. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she thought so.

That evening, you both lay comfortably entangled on the sofa. Obi-Wan ensures to cover your bodies with the blanket once he feels the goosebumps on your skin. He's aware he runs warm but you don't so he offers to turn up the thermostat but you refuse, just wanting to lay with him.

Having your head on his chest and hands on his stomach drawing patterns, he thinks he could stay in this moment forever. A lovely day outside, shopping with the love of his life and evening spent making love to her.

He wishes this spring would last forever.

[adleryoung]

It looks like you've asked more questions:

Ever think you might owe Zandar an apology?

For what??? For giving her chance after chance, and treating her infinitely better than she deserves? I don't regret any of that. Perhaps I should, but it simply takes too much effort to harbor malice toward her.

You still haven't explained about the baby stew.

I'm getting to that! Fuma's sakes, you lowfolk are impatient! A good story, like a good stew, cannot be rushed. It must be slowly simmered, and then savored when it's cooked to perfection.

Are you still rich & single? Any allergies or weaknesses to poison?

All right. Question time is over. Let's get back to the story.

I believe I left off just before our daughter was born. It went smoothly as far as I could tell, but Zandar was exhausted from her travail, and fell asleep. As I sat there thinking, I came to the conclusions I mentioned earlier, namely that neither of us were fit parents for a little elflet (Zandar least of all!) so I picked up the child and used a bit of Gramarye to make sure Zandar would stay asleep until I returned.

I would have to hide the Princess someplace where Zandar would never find her, and I had an excellent idea where that would be. They were even expecting a baby right around this time! It would be perfect! I set out toward the O'Dor residence on a Top Secret mission, accompanied by only one Ixie.

"Continuing the old Changeling tradition then, sir?" she asked me.

"You know about that?"

"It's in the stories," she replied. "I wonder though, when they come of age, how do they know they're elves? Is it some sort of instinct?"

"No," I explained. "Someone is supposed to come and fetch them … or at the very least, tell them where they need to go. I'll be watching over my daughter from the shadows, to make sure she grows up safe and doesn't fall in with a bad crowd. It won't do to have the Princess of Faerie associating with riff-raff, writers, artists, musicians, and other worthless idlers."

"It will require constant vigilance," the Ixie observed.

As I approached the O'dor household in the middle of the night, I couldn't help but sigh as I thought of Vernier. "She ended up marrying another lowfolk," I muttered bitterly. "Even though she confessed that she had feelings for me."

"You mean old Mama Vernier?" the Ixie surmised. "Angela Weakflit told us that sad tale. The reason Vernier never yielded to your desire is because she knew about the curse that befalls all elves who fall in love with lowfolk."

"She did?" I demanded. "How did she find out? Why didn't she ever say anything?"

"It's in the old ballads," the Ixie shrugged. "She probably never said because she wanted to save your feelings, or maybe she knew you'd try to talk her out of it."

That seemed like Vernier. I mulled this over in silence as we walked toward the O'Dor residence. When we finally arrived, I was surprised to see the place still lit up despite the late hour. I could hear a man talking and a femme in obvious distress. I crept into the bushes beneath the window to listen to their conversation.

"Again, Seamus?" Mrs. O'Dor sobbed. "How could it happen again? I was careful! I took no liquor, ate plenty o' potatoes, an' did no heavy liftin' but she came early anyway."

"Tis not your fault, Mary," Seamus O'Dor answered, clearly struggling to seem calm. "Sure an' ye did everything roight."

"Then why?" Mary wailed.

"Fuma's ways are mysterious," Seamus sighed. I was pleased to note that Mephitism had gained a strong foothold in this district, as opposed to the nonsensical cult that the rabbits of Bunkirk followed. "Mayhap it's the Lady's will that we not have children."

Ridiculous! I frowned. Childlessness was never Fuma's will! These lowfolk may have been nominally Mephitist but they obviously still had a lot to learn.

"Twice is enough, macushla," Seamus murmured soothingly over Mary's muffled sobbing. "We daren't try again. Doctor says it'll imperil your health, bedad."

At that moment I made a decision. These were the descendants of one of the only people who was ever genuinely kind to me, and I had the power to mitigate their misfortune. I magicked up a basket and put my precious daughter in it, and I wrote a note:

"I once knew a very kind but unlucky femme named Vernier. She did me a great service once and helped me when I had given up hope. I owe her a wish which she never claimed. Since Vernier now rests in her grave, the wish goes to her descendant. Tonight the debt is finally paid. I shall take away the burden of your sorrow, and leave my own precious daughter in exchange for the child you have lost. Treat her with love and kindness, as if she were your own, just like Vernier would have done. Signed, the King of the Elves."

With a mix of emotions, I placed the basket on the doorstep. I knocked on the door and quickly pooked away into the darkness. I lingered long enough to observe that the note was read and the basket was taken into the house. Then I turned, and my Ixie and I headed for home.

Dropping off Changelings was strenuous work! I decided that when I returned to the palace, I would greet Zandar as she awoke with a fresh pot of delicious stew. That would surely soften the blow of informing her that I had traded our child for one that was already dead, essentially getting nothing at all out of the deal … but it had been the right thing to do!

[galionne-speeding]

WWWIIWWWYYYYY I'll give you somethin' to get the ball rollin' mayhaps 🥺

We all know Zavok is the Leader(tm), but what would be your take if each of the others were leader instead? Whether they're fit for the position or not does not matter in this silly what-if 🤭 Gramps might be easiest to start with, since it's easy to assume he was likely the original Leader in the very beginning of the packs' creation (me thinks anyway, even for a short while)

A second version to this could beeeeeee like how any of the remaining four would handle being a temporary Leader in Zavok's absence for any reason (serious and non-serious reasons), and who you think would be the best option for that temporary time 🤔 (I say four and not five bc I think Zik would handle it best by default)

sorry if thats alot for a first ask coming back 😭

Ooooh this is a fun one!

Okay, okay, so I have a lot of little stories in my head that exist just for fun and not really to be shared ; and one of them is about each D6 getting two other Zetis (mostly OCs because it's fun) under their command and forming 6 mini-teams ; so I actually have a few thoughts on something like that already!

So, yeah, I think we can all agree that aside from Zavok, Master Zik would be the best candidate as Deadly Six leader- he was canonically the previous leader of the pack, after all. And he's the one who trained Zavok ; he's the one who passed all the leadership skills down to him. His leadership would probably be pretty smilar to Zavok's, with perhaps slightly more emphasis on manipulating the enemy rather than full-on fighting.

Zeena is definitely the kind of leader who would give a few orders and then sit back and watch. Do not question her leadership or authority, that's 'how to get kicked in the face 101'. I'd like to think she's a pretty good strategist, tho. So while she likes to sit back, her plans work well enough that the team allows her to do so and has moderate to great success.

Zazz... Zazz. If I say Zazz's solution to every single issue is violence, will you be surprised? The team is going to fight everything and anyone standing in their way- even when that's really not necessary. But one thing I'd like to think Zazz would be really good at as leader is getting the pack fired up. His bloodlust is contagious and he knows exactly what to say or do to get every single member of the group hyped up for the fight(s).

Zomom doesn't know how to strategize and he's not a great speaker. One thing he does know how to do, though, is take hits and protect others. He's less of a leader in the sense of someone telling orders what to do ; and more in the sense that he's not afraid to be at the front of the group in battle. He'll let others come up with the plan ; and make sure they're safe while it's being put in motion.

Zor is probably the most difficult to imagine as a leader. It just, really doesn't feel like a position he'd want. But if he really needs to lead, I'd imagine it would be quite similar to how Zeena does it. Find a plan, lay it out to the team, and sit back. His powers would obviously have to come into play ; perhaps as a tool to help the rest of the pack without having to put himself in harm's way.

So that's that for the first part!

As for how the rest of the pack would react to being temporary leaders ; I have another little story around that idea! Long story short, Zavok and Master Zik are captured by (some villain) and the remaining four have to rescue them.

In the end Zeena, Zazz, Zomom and Zor end up splitting leadership duties between the four of them. Zor gathers intel to help them make informed decisions. Zeena strategizes and crafts attack plans based on the intel. Zazz leads the charge and directs the pack into battle. Zomom keeps the group safe and ensures they all get out of the fight unharmed.

Stepping away from that little story ; I feel like neither Zomom nor Zor would want any kind of leadership position. If there's someone else to drop those duties onto they will gladly hand them the responsability. On the other hand, both Zeena and Zazz would do anything to be leader- and both strongly believe they'd do better than the other. They would probably just end up fighting each other for leadership until Zavok and Master Zik decide to do the work themselves, break free and make their way back on their own.

[bastardsblood]

Hello! May I request a follow up to the Ilya fic!! I want some more of his thoughts as he looks for Eliot afterwards and finds him eventually... Mayhaps in an alleyway?

Hello, my dear reader(s)! I'm sorry for it being so quiet on my end lately. As an apology, I'll throw a bone to you in the form of an incest fic. I sure hope my apology will suffice.

Character(s): Ilya, Eliot

Scenario: Aftermath of the argument

Content Warning(s): Sibling Incest, Manipulation, Slut-shaming

You could often hear Eliot before you could see him.

Ilya would be rather ashamed to admit that he'd been almost trained to recognize the sound of his brother's footsteps, deliberate but also somewhat graceful, with the accompanying click of his tongue when his eyes would finally locate Ilya. The sound made Ilya aware of the incoming time-limit for effectively selling all of his new wares to both gullible and critical customers, and he often thanked the Gods for his silver tongue that managed to convince the underground citizens before his menace of a brother would shoo them away.

Eliot liked to be noticed; Ilya had become painfully aware of that fact during those couple of months they'd known each other. Although his presence wasn't often welcome, it was true that it was hard to miss Eliot. His appearance had the women steal a look or two at him—mostly when they've never heard him speak before—and when he wanted to be seen, he would make sure that people's eyes were on him.

However, when he instead wanted to remain hidden, it was akin to trying to find a needle in a haystack.

Ilya barely suppressed a sigh as he had reached another dead end. Looking at his pocket watch—a silver one that he prided himself on for having—he noted that he had little more than half an hour before the underground's artificial lights would turn off for the night. He clicked his tongue. He would either have to beg one of his acquaintances for a lantern and promise them a discount the next time they'd pay a visit to his store, or simply give up on Eliot for the night.

Ilya's heart churned in disapproval at the latter decision his mind came to. Despite his… difficult personality and his earlier actions, Ilya did care for Eliot. It was no secret that he had very few allies in the underground, so if he stumbled upon the wrong crowd of people, there was no guarantee he'd come out alive.

"He surely knows that too, so why is he being so stubborn," Ilya grumbled. Once his eyes flicked upwards, they instantly widened and his sour face was replaced by his customer smile.

"Oh, wow. I don't think I've ever seen your face contorted like that before," the approaching woman giggled. "What's got you so riled up?"

Ilya internally cursed. "Haha, must've been a trick of the eye, dear Janette," he teased, but quickly realised he may as well inquire for information. "See, I am currently trying to find a friend of mine. I am most worried about him."

"A friend, huh? Pray tell, is it perhaps an unruly customer owing you money?" She giggled, taking a step closer to him and lowering her voice in a playful manner.

"Oh, Janette, you know better than anyone that I wouldn't let myself get robbed." Ilya chuckled back. "If anything, I'm more worried about what you are doing out so late. A late night client, perhaps?"

At that, her smile quickly sharpened. "I was supposed to entertain a late night client tonight, but he shut the door in my face," she scoffed. "Apparently, his darling wife recovered faster than he expected, and so he had no use for me."

"A rather heartless man, I surmise." Ilya offered a pitying smile before opening his pocket watch again. After realising how late it was, he was just about to give her his goodbyes until she was right in his face.

"You are correct," she pitifully nodded. "Who would let a beautiful young woman walk back home on her own at night? Gods know what could happen to me…"

"Ah, I'm sure there are some guards stationed nearby, so…"

"I don't trust them, either!" She clutched at his sleeve and looked into his eyes with a loud plea. "What about this suggestion, then? If you escort me safely back home…" Licking her lips, she gave him a seductive smile, "I'll entertain you tonight, free of charge."

As Ilya's mind scrambled for ways to refuse her politely yet firmly, his ears perked up at a sound he was familiar with. Even if Ilya pegged himself to be a well-mannered man, he nearly laughed when the footsteps quickly reached him and, despite how rude it was, forcefully tore Ilya away from Janette.

His eyes were glazed over with hatred as he inspected the woman in front of him, and Ilya instinctively opened his mouth when he saw Eliot's own opening. "Ah, Janette," he quickly grabbed Eliot by the back of his collar and dragged him behind him, "it appears that my friend has been found."

Ilya gave her a nervous yet disarming smile, quietly begging for her to accept the apology hidden in the upward curves of his mouth. Janette's shoulders drooped, but as she noted the situation at hand and the intensity of the headache one experiences when arguing with Eliot, she just waved her hand off in dismissal.

Eliot was simply itching to say something unnecessary, so, in a roughness not many would ever see from Ilya, he yanked Eliot away from the main road and into an alleyway.

He was immediately hit with the regret of doing that, however, as their previous time alone together in an alleyway ended horribly for Ilya. His body automatically stiffened and the hand that had been clutching Eliot's wrist had loosened its grip. As Eliot's eyes scanned the imprints that Ilya's nails had left on the skin of his wrist, his pointed stare made sure to let Ilya know that he was offended. Ilya ran his thumb over his wrist in order to pacify him, but slid his hand away after realising how Eliot could misconstrue his caress. Licking his lips, he knew he had to distract Eliot somehow.

"Lio," he smiled down at the shorter man. "I'm beyond happy that you're safe. I was so worried." That wasn't a lie, and his sigh of relief sounded authentic even to his own ears. Eliot seemed to be ticked off, as he only curled his lip at him in response, yet also worse for wear than usual. As Ilya's eyes examined him from head to toe, he noticed something peculiar.

"Your shirt, it's gotten torn," he mumbled. "A tear like that will not take many coins to fix, maybe one or two? Nevermind that," Ilya stopped himself before he'd get too invested in monologuing.

"Are you attempting to distract me from the matter at hand?" Eliot scoffed, looking at Ilya in disbelief despite how his eyes flicked to look at his sleeve in surprise. "Twice in a single day—you sure must be an… esteemed customer to those who belong in a whorehouse."

Ilya was hoping it wouldn't come down to this. "Eliot," he tiredly said. "Must we talk about this now? We need to get home quickly."

"Hah, and what would I be doing in the home of a heretic?" He sneered. "Have you finally realised your mistake and came to beg for forgiveness? In my cult, your tongue would've already been rolling on the floor."

It was truly late, Ilya checked, and were it any other day, he would've done as Eliot had asked from him and playfully appeased him. Were it any other day, that would've definitely been the case.

"I still stand by what I said," he sighed through his nose, fixing a purposefully kind look at Eliot. "We've had a long day—you're tired too. Let's… Let's talk about what happened tomorrow morning, please."

"I am not your brother." Eliot hissed. "Only if you repeat that will I actually come with you."

Ilya opened and closed his mouth, an action Eliot seemed to misunderstand as Ilya being close to caving to his demands. They had no more than eleven minutes to pass through these alleyways and back into their humble abode before danger would start lurking at every corner, and yet Eliot was stubbornly refusing him. His smile was becoming warningly smaller as Eliot's expectant gaze weighed on him.

"I don't need you to come with me," Ilya ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Don't you realise I've come searching for you from the goodness of my heart? I will not beg you for anything, nor will I lie to your face." He took a step closer to Eliot, and he hated himself for what he was about to do.

In his hand was Eliot's cheek, softly cupped. Ilya quickly noticed Eliot's posture changing from a haughty, domineering one, to one that was funnily close to being unsure.

“I only want you safe,” Ilya said softly, his hand lingering on Eliot’s cheek. His thumb brushed against the other man’s skin, though he quickly pulled back as if burned. “You’ve been out too long. People talk about all sorts of dangers in the underground at night. What if you’d run into someone less friendly than Janette?”

Eliot blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the gentleness in Ilya’s tone. His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he seemed unsure of how to respond. “I’m not some foolish stray,” Eliot scoffed, though his voice lacked its usual venom. “Unlike you, I know how to handle myself. Perhaps you’re the one who should be more cautious, letting filthy people like her hang off your arm.”

“Ah, Janette’s not so bad,” Ilya said with a breezy smile, as though he hadn’t just been dragged into another confrontation. “She’s just... enthusiastic. If anything, I think she’s more trouble for herself than for anyone else.”

“She’s disgusting,” Eliot snapped, his expression darkening. “As are all the others you insist on associating with. Honestly, I wonder how you even manage to conduct business when you’re surrounded by fools and swindlers.”

Ilya chuckled, though the sound was strained. “What can I say? I’ve got a knack for dealing with all sorts of people.” He tapped the side of his head. “It’s all about reading them, knowing what they want to hear. That’s why I’m still here, isn’t it?”

Eliot narrowed his eyes. “And what exactly do you think I want to hear, Ilya?”

The question caught Ilya off guard, but he recovered quickly, his practiced smile never faltering. “I think you want to hear that I was worried about you,” he said, his voice light. “And I was. You’ve been gone for hours, and I had no idea where you were. Imagine what might have happened if you’d crossed paths with someone unsavory.”

Eliot sniffed disdainfully, though he didn’t pull away when Ilya placed a hand on his shoulder. “As if anyone here could pose a threat to me,” he said, his tone dripping with arrogance.

“Still, I feel better knowing you’re safe,” Ilya said smoothly, steering Eliot back toward the main road. “Let’s head home, shall we? It’s getting late, and I’d rather not test our luck with the crowds that come out after dark.”

Eliot hesitated, his gaze flicking back toward the alleyway. “You’re changing the subject again,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. “You always do that when you don’t want to admit I’m right.”

Ilya let out a quiet laugh, his grip on Eliot’s shoulder tightening slightly. “Maybe I just prefer to avoid unnecessary arguments. You know how tiring those can be.”

Eliot’s lips twitched, as if he were considering a retort, but he remained silent. Instead, he allowed Ilya to guide him away from the alley and toward the faint glow of their shared home.

“And,” Ilya said, his tone casual, “let's talk about why your shirt is torn again. Did something happen?”

Eliot’s gaze dropped to his sleeve, his brow furrowing slightly. “Nothing of consequence,” he muttered. “Certainly nothing worth mentioning.”

“Ah, of course,” Ilya said with a knowing nod. “I’d hate to think someone had the nerve to give you trouble. You’d probably reduce them to dust with that sharp tongue of yours.”

Eliot sniffed, his pride clearly stroked by the comment. “If they had dared, they’d regret it.”

As they walked, Ilya allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Distraction had always been his best weapon when dealing with Eliot, and tonight was no different. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder how long he could keep up this delicate balancing act. He couldn't help but chew on his lip; the most effective method was also the one he was the most averse towards. Eliot's infatuation with him was a double-edged sword, and there was no doubt that the younger man was still stubbornly clinging to the delusion that Ilya was a cowardly liar who lied about their relation to one another.

Still, he sighed, that was a problem for yet another day.