#i was not drinking anything but like. legitimately. if i had tea in my mouth i would have spat it out and ruined my screen

[flickerintwilights]

no WAY it just zoomed out straight to them kissing tenderly & the famed chin touch. I understand they are effectively married now but get a room, oh my god, like one with walls and a ceiling. Right in front of my gorgeous sunrise??

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (7)

all parts in the master list

Minimal editing. Also hit me with some predictions for the end of this and also any thoughts at all about it. Is it trash, is it good? I am curious about what you think!

--

Matthew didn’t usually drink much during their time away from home. If the Flames won, he’d usually have a beer or two to celebrate and that was it. This past week had him consuming more alcohol than he had in a long time and he had no idea why.

The roommate situation put him on edge the moment he found out who he was going to be staying with and his mood soured even more when he discovered they’d have to share a bed so maybe that was why he was taking shots and downing beers like he was on summer vacation. 

He remembered bits and pieces of the previous night: she kissed him and then disappeared, he continued to take shots long after she’d gone, they had a conversation about moms in their hotel room. 

That was it though. He had no recollection of changing into his pajamas and crawling into bed. When his alarm went off, he woke up in bed alone and as he surveyed the room, he realized all her stuff was gone. 

Sure, they were going home today but damn, she must have really wanted to get the fuck away from him. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge that it might have hurt his feelings a little bit so he pushed the thought away and began to get ready for the day.

*

The feeling of peace you got when you quietly closed the door behind you and wheeled your luggage away from the room you shared with Matthew Tkachuk was incredible. 

The past week had been a roller coaster that you were dying to get off of and all you had to do was get through this last game and the bus ride home. That would be easy though, you’d have no interaction with Matthew during the game and you knew damn well he would rather cling to the top of the escape hatch on the bus rather than sit next to you. 

It was finally over. Your mouth was practically watering at the thought of sitting down in your apartment, by yourself, with a bottle of wine, Netflix and Chinese takeout. 

You watched as the Flames won the game and as much as you didn’t want to notice it, you did. Matthew was playing like shit, barely dragging himself around the ice as he tried to keep up with his teammates. His personal play was entirely unremarkable and you were sure he was going to hear all about it as soon he got to the locker room. 

“How happy are you to be free of Tkachuk?” 

“So fucking happy, you’ve got no idea!” 

You laughed along with another of the assistants as the two of you helped organize the remaining luggage for the driver to load beneath the bus. 

“He played like shit today, might be bummed you two aren’t going to keep sleeping together.”

“Oh, don’t even. ‘Sleeping together’ implies something entirely different that what we were forced to do.”

“I know, I know,” he shook his head and laughed easily, “but honestly, did you think about it? I know you two aren’t exactly besties but come on, look at the man.” 

Did you think about it?

Of course you did. You thought about it multiple times. Matthew had stripped down in front of you, once completely and another time almost there. There was no denying that you’d gone to bed at least once thinking about what it would be like to spend the night enjoying yourself underneath him instead of sleeping next to his grumpy ass. 

You were taking that shit to the fucking grave, though.

“He’s a complete prick, and I don’t know if you heard, but I slept on the floor a few days ago, so no. I wouldn’t fuck that man with your dick.” 

That response sent him into a fit of laughter, “I mean I get that it was a rough week for you but I’ll be honest, I respectfully disagree. That pest could fucking get it anytime he wanted.” 

“Gross,” you playfully rolled your eyes as the two of you finished your task, “spend a few hours with him not in a strictly hockey setting and I promise you’ll change your mind.”

“Doubtful!” 

When all the luggage was loaded, the two of you made your way onto the bus. None of the players were there yet so you both took advantage of the back two rows that only contained two seats each. The entirety of the team didn’t completely fill the bus so you, stupidly, assumed you would sit alone on the trip home. 

Shoving your AirPods into your ears, you opened Spotify and settled into both the uncomfortable bus seat and the several hours long trip home. 

Not even ten minutes later, a body dropping into the seat next to you pulled your concentration out of your music and when you looked to see who it was that sat next to you, you couldn’t yourself from rolling your eyes. 

Matthew Tkachuk gave you a tight smile before rummaging around through his book bag and producing a paperback book. 

No he wasn’t. There was no way he was reading that. Dumb hockey bros weren’t into high fantasy. There was no fucking way he was reading ‘A Game of Thrones.’

He was though, and you watched him like a hawk as he parted the book where his mark was placed, almost halfway through, before you felt like you had to say something.

“You’re legitimately reading that book,” you pulled out an AirPod and gave him an inquiring look, “really?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I loved the show, figured I’d give the books a try.”

“They’re really good, much better than the show in my opinion.” 

Matthew’s smile stretched across his face, “that’s what I’m thinking! I know I’m barely into it but the books are so much more detailed.”

It was a cute moment, the two of you sharing an interest, but you were determined to remain all business with him.

“Why’d you sit here?” 

“I don’t know,” he ran a hand through his curls, “why not?”

A quick silence formed between the two of you before he tried again, “what are you listening to?” 

“Uh, Bring Me The Horizon, you probably won’t like it.” 

“Try me.” 

Matthew handed you his phone and you opened up his Spotify account and typed in the song you were listening to. 

“So the band is Bring Me The Horizon, right? What’s the song called?” 

“Sugar honey ice & tea.” 

“Okay.” 

++

You settled into a comfortable flow with Matthew. One of your pods was in his ear as he read AGOT and listened to the whatever you were playing. He didn’t mind when you fell asleep on his shoulder, leaning his head against yours as he continued reading his book. 

“Hey,” he was gentle, “wake up. We’re home.”

“What?” 

“We’re back in Calgary.”

“Oh, okay.” 

“Are you good?” 

“Yeah, I just, yeah. Can you ask someone if they wouldn’t mind taking me home? My car’s here but I’m so fucking tired.”

“I can take you home.”

“Matthew, no, you cant. You need to rest. I’m fine, I’ll be fine. I’ll get an Uber or something.” 

“No.”

He was firm in his response. Your eyes were heavy with sleep and you were in no condition to do anything on your own. 

“Whatever, I don’t want to fight with you, dickface.”

Matthew chuckled to himself as he guided you into the parking garage toward his car. You let him open the passenger door and help you into the Audi. 

“What’s your address?” 

You mumbled it quickly, earning a smile and a “we live in the same building” declaration from him. 

Far too sleepy to notice anything around you, you nodded in and out of sleep as Matthew drove from the area to your building. His quick glances in your direction were lost on you and it was only when he was trying to get you out of the car that you really woke up. 

“Fuck, Matt, I’m so sorry. I’m just so exhausted.” 

“I get it,” he helped you get your bags out of his trunk, “you didn’t have a great week and I had a lot to do with that.” 

The two of you headed up to your second floor apartment in silence, you trudging up the stairs with little effort while Matthew followed you, making sure you didn’t fall. 

“This is me. Where are you?” 

“Oh, uh,” his cheeks lit up red as his eyes traveled toward the ceiling.

“Of course, superstar Matty Tkachuk lives in the penthouse on the top floor,” you teased, “if only we could all be so lucky.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your apartment,” he slid around you let himself in as soon as you opened the door and surveyed his surroundings, “I really like it.” 

*

He didn’t expect her place to be so cute, but it was and he smiled wide when her black cat rubbed against his legs.

“He’s called Onyx.”

“I like him,” Matthew leaned down to scratch his ears, “who takes care of him when you’re gone?” 

“My neighbor. She’s a sweet lady.”

“I’m glad."

“I’m sure this is peasant shit compared to your place, but we do what we can.” 

He stopped petting Onyx and looked up to meet her eyes. 

“I would never think that about anyone. Jesus Christ, do you really think I’m that much of a fucking asshole?”

She didn’t say anything, but her face turned beet red and she turned away from him before turning back again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so used to you being awful that any small morsel of kindness is unfamiliar. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. You should sleep though.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

He paused for a moment before breaking out in a big grin, “can I take Onyx up with me?”

“Absolutely not! Onyx is a heathen like the rest of us on the lower floors!”

“He deserves 360 degree views of Calgary.” 

You paused, turning to look directly at Matthew.

“Do you have that?”

“Yeah.” 

“I am so fucking jealous.” 

“You can come up and see too, as long as you bring Onyx.”

“As much as I don’t like you, I’m absolutely going to take you up on that, Matthew.”

He hated ‘Matthew’ and she knew it. He had tried to correct her a few times but she wasn’t budging. He wasn’t going to argue now, though, because she was adorable standing in her own apartment with her cute cat rubbing against her legs and—No. No, no, no. Matthew did not like this girl because this girl was fucking terrible and she hated him.

Except, he did like her and she was the opposite of terrible and she had an adorable cat. 

What the fuck was he doing?

[lilysdaydreams]

Chocolates

→ Pairing: Corpse Husband X plussize!Reader

→ Request: hello i love you and your writing (firstly) i was wondering if you could write a corpse husband xfem reader who is plus size? i havent seen any of those lol but maybe she gets hate over it and wants to start eating better and working out with him?? you don’t have to if you don’t want to tho!!

→ Warnings: chubby reader, insecure!reader, Body Image issues !!! Swearing, Descriptions of Readers feeling really sad about their body + online hate comments on readers body.

→ A/N: Idk what happened with this. This past week has been hard and I've been really tired but I forced myself to write something. I dont really think its goof but I hope the person who requested it likes it :(((

~~~

You fell into bed, wrapping the blanket around you and rolling over onto your side. Work had been hard today, your manager getting mad at the smallest of things. You could hear Corpse in his streaming room, talking to the viewers. You and Corpse had been together for 2 years now, and both of you had finally decided you were ready to reveal your relationship to his fans. First, you'd simply joined him on stream, talking at some points. Then a few weeks later, he'd posted a photo of him holding your hand and tagged you in it.

Your followers had gone from your 450 friends to 53 000 strangers. And that was only on the first day. You hadn't been on Instagram for a whole week, too overwhelmed about all the attention. It was a Friday today though, so you decided you might as well.

You opened up Instagram and clicked on your profile, eyes widening as you saw the 500k written above followers.

"Five hundred thousand?" You whispered to yourself, not even being able to comprehend the number. Like sure, if you compared it to Corpses 2 million, it seemed small, but it's not as if you did anything! What reason would they have to follow you? You only had two photos posted as well, an outfit photo from your sister's weddings, and one of you drinking a bubble tea.

Quickly clicking on the bubble tea picture, you opened up the comments smiling when the first comment  that caught your eye was "Woah shes so pretty." You scroll slowly, your  smile growing bigger at all the  love that Corpses fans gave you.

"SHES GORGEOUS"

"QUEEN WHAT THE HELL STEP ON ME"

The amount of "CHOKE ME" comments were hilarious.

You chuckled at a few and scrolled again, reading another one.

"Why did he have to pick a fat girl?"

For a second, your heart completely  stopped.

"What the fuck," you muttered.

You quickly clicked on the replies, wanting to see what others had to say. There were people defending you and arguing with the user, and there were others who agreed with them.

“Yes omg do you se ever stomach? Ugh how can Corpse stand staring at that the whole day?”

“Bruh her legs 😂😂”

You sucked in a breath.

You’d never been thin, always a bit chubby and with a bit of stomach fat. You’d been very insecure in high school, always wearing baggy clothes to hide your body, but who hadn’t felt that way in high school. After it though, you’d been okay. You felt happy and Corpse always let you know that he loved your body just the way you were. You were pretty confident normally. Today though... today it felt like all of that confidence has crumbled. You kept scrolling focusing on all the comments that talked about your weight.

Throwing the phone on the bed, you got up and moved to the mirror you have in your room. Grabbing the cloth draped over it, you pulled it off, looking at yourself in the mirror. You can see every flaw the comments talked about. You can see your double chin, your huge stomach, your big thighs. You held your arms up, wincing when you see the fat on them. Your probably looked so bad when you waved bye to someone. Tears now gathering in your eyes, you moved the cloth back over the mirror and then went back to bed, using the pillow to muffle your sobs.

You knew you were being a bit stupid. Random people on the internet and their opinions shouldn’t matter to you. But for some reason, the words had really gotten to you, and all you wanted to do was cry.

A few minutes later, you heard the door open, and knowing it was Corpse, you pushed your head into the pillow even more, not wanting him to look at you like this.

“Babe,” he whispered, coming over and patting you on your back.

“Baby,” he repeated when you refused to say anything and that he could hear was your sniffling. “You okay?”

You sobbed in response and he let out a “Oh” and then pulled you away from the pillow.

You looked down, refusing to look at him because you would look like an absolute mess.

“God I look so bad right now, he’s gonna see me and realise how big of a fat mess I am and leave me,” you thought.

“Hey baby, what’s wrong?” He asked again grabbing you in a hug.

“Was it work?” He asked when you didn’t answer. “or did your mom call again?"

When you stayed silent, he let out a sigh and let you go, getting up from the bed.

You immediately looked up, and asked “Where are you going?" because for a second you felt like it was true.  Maybe Corpse was leaving you because of how disgusting you were.

He looked down at you, startled by your sudden question. "Just to get some chocolate and a blanket."

"No." you said voice shaking a bit from the crying, "I don't want chocolate."

"What babe, what the fuck?" He said softly, dropping back down next to you. "Baby what's going on, just tell me, I can't do anything if you can't tell me."

"You-You know your fans? They're amazing, right?" you finally said, hesitating a little.

"It's just, I checked some comments on one of Instagram posts and there's so many where they're just talking about how fat I am, or how big my stomach is, or how ugly I look," you said, your voice lowering to a whisper at the end.

A beat of silence and then;

"Oh baby noooo," Corpse whispers, grabbing you and pulling you into a hug.

You cant stop the tears from leaking out of your eyes and you bury your head into his shoulder. His hoodie smells like the bodywash he uses, making you calmer in a second.

"Sweetheart, you are absolutely beautiful," he begins, whispering into your ear. "Did you know that when I first saw you, I couldn't even speak? Like I legitimately felt like my mouth had been glued together, I couldn't form any words."

Heat rose to your cheeks as he continued on.

"You were like an angel, literally glowing, and guess what, I still feel like that whenever I see you now. When you come back home and you're wearing that huge hoodie and you just have the hood pulled up because its cold and the little pout on your face, guess what you look fucking gorgeous to me like that. And when you're in our bed, wearing shorts and a crop top with your hair in a bun waiting for me to make popcorn so we can watch a movie, god you look like an angel then okay?"

"Oh ah, when you're on your period, and seriously bloated and eating all the food, you fucking look beautiful to me then as well. Your tummy- Your tummy makes me so happy like look at this soft little baby. And guess what? I fucking LIVE for your thighs and you know that baby, like I will die for them okay? Your ass- well, we both know what I feel about that so I won't say anything." He ended with a chuckle.

You moved back a little, and he grabbed your face and rested his forehead on yours.

Taking a deep breath, he started whispering, eyes locked onto yours.

"Every single part of you is perfect. And I love it. I find you so sexy that I literally cannot breathe sometimes because of your presence. You're amazing and I fucking love you. What those people say on the internet, why the fuck does it matter huh? They obviously can't recognize the absolute fox in front of their faces."

Slowly he wiped the tears from your face, and returned the watery smile that you gave him.

"Chocolates?" he asked, still whispering.

You nodded your head, giggling as he ran to get them.

fin.

[otptings]

Missed You

☼Idol; Woozi

☼Genre; Reunion (full fluff)

☼Synopsis; A drabble of reuniting with Woozi

☼A/n; this is being inspired by the fact I cannot stop watching Adore U and Woozi is just so fucking cute in I love it so much. if you enjoyed reading this like, reblog or donate to my Ko-Fi anything is greatly appreciated. requests are also open for any idol from Enhypen, SVT, and NCT.

Mid-comeback season was absolutely horrible.

It would probably take legitimate hours for you to map out your hatred for it. Simply put despair always pulsed through your veins whenever Jihoon would give you a heads up that it was coming. Only a week before it was going to start. Not enough time for either of you to prepare or plan to be separated for weeks to months.

You just had to deal with the grim reality that your boyfriend would not be coming home, forced to stay at the dorms due to the complicated schedules. It always hit you hard while watching him pack, making sure that he had everything he could potentially need. Practically leaving your shared apartment devoid of him. He’d make sure to leave a few hoodies for you, along with his half empty bottle of cologne, to help make up for his absence a little bit. You’d stay glued to each other, until the dreaded text came that his manager was outside. Tears would be shed - mostly on your side - as you shared one last kiss before he left, the door closing behind him with such finality.

You’ve been doing this dance for two years, and the first night is always the worst. Curling up on his side of the bed, face buried into his pillow as you tried to ignore the ache in your chest. Shedding stray tears as you watched random videos you’ve taken of him, listening to his voice and laughter knowing it’d be a while before you saw him again.

By 10 weeks all of the heartache was gone. Sadness being replaced with a steady feeling of restlessness. Excitedly waiting for Jihoon to come home. Sitting on the couch clutching a warm cup of tea, watching the door carefully. You knew that Jihoon felt the same way, whispering into the phone late at night - as to not wake Mingyu - about how he wanted you to be back at home with.

Now you could only wait for Jihoon to arrive. He had texted you half an hour ago that he was close, but the company building was only 15 minutes away. Your nerves were making way for anxiety to stew, sipping on your tea in an attempt to keep them at bay. You refused to let your mind delve into the negative, knowing that Jihoon would be home any minute and you could curl up into his arms, making up for all of the last time.

While mid-sip the door handle started to jiggle causing you to put your mug down quickly, some of the tea splashing over the sides onto the coffee table. You stood up right as the door opened.

“Hi baby.” A smile spread over his lips, despite the look of exhaustion. His hair was stuffed into a hat, from the tendrils curling around his forehead you saw that it was still blond. He hastily kicked off his shoes, and you ran to close the door behind him. He placed a kiss on your cheek, mumbling a ‘missed you’ before heading to the bedroom. You quickly followed him, making it just in time to see him flop onto the bed, duffle bags placed in front of the dresser.

“Come here.” When you got close enough Woozi pulled you down on top of him, a squeal leaving your mouth as you met his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist, as you got comfortable on top of him, angling your head so you could look up at him.

“How were the shows Hoonie?” A long sigh left his mouth.

“They weren’t bad. I’m just grateful to be back with you.” You couldn’t help the fact that the corners of your lips curled up, heart skipping a beat at Jihoon’s simple words.

“I missed you so much. But come onnn. I don’t wait almost 2 months just for you to say ‘not bad’.” Jihoon flicked your nose lightly at you mocking him, another giggle leaving your mouth.

“If you want to know so badly, I’ll tell you.” You curled up into his chest, listening to his stories about the many different shows that they performed for. How grateful he was to be able to perform in front of a crowd again, despite their lack of size. Even mentioning how Hoshi decided to put sneezing powder all over Seungkwan’s pillow when they stayed in a hotel, a plan that quickly backfired as they shared one bed. You laughed hearing the boys' antics, feeling a slight twang since it’s been so long since you’ve seen them too.

“It never gets easier to leave you.” Woozi’s voice broke the silence, and you realized you both had dozed off. The room was much darker, the setting sun casting an orange glow across everything.

“It never gets easier to have you leave.” Woozi only hummed, his hand rubbing soothing circles over your hip.

“One day I’m going to marry you. Wanna know why?”

“Hm.”

“You’re always here, no matter how long I’m gone.” You hmphed again, tilting your head up to see Woozi already staring at you.

“I’ll always wait for you. You know that I love you.” Woozi was the one hmphed, leaning down to place a kiss on your temple.

“You know what you haven’t done since you’ve been home?” Another hum. “You haven’t kissed me properly.”

Woozi let out a loud laugh, but quickly obliged, changing your positions so that he was sitting up with you straddling him.

“Do you deserve a kiss?” You poked out your lips in a pout, knowing that he couldn’t resist you.

“You’re the one who was gone for 2 months. Do you deserve a kiss?” Instead of answering Jihoon leaned in, swiftly connecting your lips while his hands moved to cup your cheeks. You grabbed his shirt, keeping him close to you while he pressed more into the kiss. Satisfaction flooded through you, warmth running all the way down to your toes. Kissing Jihoon was your greatest form of comfort. It was the equivalent of drinking a nice cup of cocoa during a snowy day, cuddling up underneath a blanket in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Once you ran out of air you both pulled away, keeping your foreheads together. So close that all you had to do was tilt your head up to kiss him again.

“I don’t care where work forces me to go. It doesn’t matter as long as I can come back to you. Just knowing that I have you here is enough.” You felt heat rushing to your face, fighting the urge to smile at his cheesiness.

“I really love you. You know that?”

“Of course I do, baby.” Lips meeting yours again, a giggle leaving your mouth.

[libsterslobsters]

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

---------‐-----------------------------------

“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

���What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

[stiltonbasket]

Aaaaaah!!! Please please please write about wedding clothes, I need more of the Yearning

(note: please reblog, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

anon 1: Prompt for the renouncement AU.  Surely the happy couple (plus assorted Huaisangs and juniors, if you like) need to meet with some chefs and sample a gazillion interesting things to decide on the banquet menu.   WWX, of course, samples all the wines...It would also be lovely if you wrote them getting dressed and having their hair done to match the gorgeous fanart of the two of them kissing one another's hands...

anon 2: renouncement verse prompt for the wedding arc: sizhui and xiao-yu help wwx with a practice run for his wedding hair, and lwj has a surprise for each of them!

Despite Wei Wuxian’s insistence that Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen were going to far too much trouble for the union between their two clans, his brother and future brother-in-law refused to do away with the wedding rehearsal--a grand event in its own right, with a reception for the two bridegrooms’ families and an official exchange of gifts--and set the date for the longest day of the summer, a fortnight before the actual marriage ceremony.

“You’ll enjoy the party,” Jiang Cheng scolds, when Wei Wuxian tries to complain. “And you don’t even have to do anything, so be good and let me and Zewu-jun handle it.”

In the end, Wei Wuxian spends the rehearsal morning tasting wine, because three kinds of liquor are usually served at weddings in Yunmeng: with the sweetest and most delicious drinks poured out alongside the food, and the stronger, sourer ones reserved for later in the night, after the newlyweds retire to their bridal chamber. Surprisingly, Lan Xichen tags along to help him choose the first liquor, and approves of the golden honey-plum wine so highly that he buys a whole case to take back to Gusu with him.

“I leave wine bottles as offerings when I burn incense for Mingjue-xiong,” he explains wistfully, as the two of them go back to the clan quarters with enough fengmi jiu for the dinner party. “He would have liked this, I think.”

After Li Shuai and Yu Zhenhong finish sorting the liquor, Jiang Cheng displays Wei Wuxian’s wedding dowry, and Lan Xichen hands over the bride price, while Wei Wuxian tries not to choke on his own spit from his place at Lan Zhan’s side. He knew about the dowry Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling were settling on him, of course--there was a trunkful of silk sheets in violet and blue, and three deep chests of new gowns and slippers tailored to fit his height and slim shoulders, and then a tea set and a box of gold jewelry. There was also a larger case of jade and silver trinkets for him to wear after moving to the Cloud Recesses, where gold was largely forbidden for the sake of breaking the law against extravagance, and Wei Wuxian had to promise not to touch any of it until he and Lan Zhan officially start living together in the jingshi.

Jin Ling decided to present him with a box of baby’s essentials, which Wei Wuxian thought was ridiculous--the only children he and Lan Zhan will ever have are A-Yuan and Xiao-Yu, both of whom are far too old to actually use the gift, but his nephew looked so pleased when he presented his dajiu with the tiny shoes and dresses that Wei Wuxian shut his mouth and accepted them without protest.

After all, he and Lan Zhan might really end up with a new baby sometime in the not-too-distant future, if Wei Wuxian’s propensity for acquiring small children is anything to go by.

But none of this prepared him for the delivery of the bride price, which turns out to be six thousand golden taels from the Gusu Lan treasury to make up for the loss of Lotus Pier’s newly-instated head disciple and the zongzhu’s elder brother, not to mention the only legitimate heir to Yunmeng Jiang. Jiang Cheng doesn’t even bother to look gracious when he sees it, as Wei Wuxian notes with a cough that sounds more like a strangled scream than anything else--because his shidi seems to believe that a small fortune in gold is his due for having to part with Wei Wuxian, even though Lan Xichen will be compensated for about a fifth of the bride price on the actual wedding day, 

“Did your brother just bankrupt your sect so you could marry me?” Wei Wuxian demands, half-crazed as Lan Zhan ushers him back to his bedroom to bathe and dress in his freshly-tailored bridal robes. “Lan Zhan!”

“My uncle set aside a bride price for me before I was born, since he guessed that I would require no less than five thousand gold whenever I decided to marry,” his intended shrugs. “Hurry up and dress, sweetheart, or we will be late.”

Wei Wuxian relents and takes a hurried bath while Lan Zhan goes off to tend to his own ablutions, watching Sizhui and Xiao-Yu play together from behind the privacy screen as he scrubs his back and arms and pours perfumed oil into his hair. Sizhui seems to be trying to wrangle A-Yu into an embroidered green coat and trousers, but the baby looks far more interested in Wei Wuxian’s clothes: namely, the red and purple wedding gown, since he manages to snatch the shining silk robes out of his xiongzhang’s hands before building a nest in his pillow-basket with them.  

“Xiao-Yu is a bird,” he insists, as Wei Wuxian drops his cake of soap and laughs himself hoarse at the sight of him. “It’s my nest! Go ‘way!”

“A-Yu!” Sizhui cries, nearly stunned speechless. “Didi, those are A-Die’s wedding robes! You can’t play with them, so be a good boy and listen to xiongzhang, or--or you’ll make Yuan-gege cry!”

Xiao-Yu only squints at him before turning up his button nose. “No!”

But Lan Zhan arrives a few minutes later and coaxes the baby out of his basket with a stick of haw candy, leaving Wuxian to heave himself out of the tub and draws on his underwear. After that, the three of them lure Xiao-Yu into his tiny silk coat (by feeding him all the candy he can eat, to keep him from running away) before Wei Wuxian finally dons his bridal ensemble: a deep red overgown with lotus blossoms sewn onto the sleeve-hems in lilac and gold, while the skirt and shoulders boast a shower of stray golden petals falling from the heart of a single central flower. 

“Let me do your hair,” Lan Zhan murmurs, as if this were their actual wedding day instead of the rehearsal dinner. “You look beautiful, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian feels his heart quiver at the compliment as A-Yuan steps forward with his lotus headdress, pinning it into place in front of his high-combed bun so that Lan Zhan can secure the tiny gold chains fastening it to the back of his head. He often noticed his friend’s good looks before they were engaged, of course, which is the only reason why Lan Zhan finding him beautiful in return has flustered him so--and he tries to put the thought from his mind, or at least shove it away so that he can examine it later in private. 

Anyone would find it pleasing to hear such a compliment from their bridegroom, he thinks, before blushing himself half to death when Lan Zhan leans down to kiss the side of his face. Get it together, Wei Wuxian!

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Hi y'all!

So I realized today that it's been about three months since I started cross-posting my stuff to ao3 (those of y'all who were here for After Each Midnight while it was still a wip will know that I've been writing for longer than that but anyway). With the latest fic I just posted, I now have 30 works published to ao3 within those three months! Which is wild to me!

Since that averages out to ten fics a month and I like round numbers, I decided to celebrate by listing my 10 favorite fics...of my own lol. Narcissistic? Maybe! But it's fun anyway!

This is a really long post as each rec includes a summary, an excerpt (or a few), and some personal notes/anecdotes about the writing process or what inspired me to write the fic, etc. so I'm putting it all under the break. If this doesn't sound like your cup of tea then of course please just skip over this one, but for anyone who wants to revisit some of my older works with me, or if you're curious about which fics I personally like the most, or if you want to talk about your favorite fics of mine in the replies or anything, then that's cool too! I just wanted to find a way to mark this down because it feels like something of an achievement ^_^

Thank you!

1. After Each Midnight Begins A New Day, (54,401 words, Rated E) Ship(s): 3zun, Wangxian Summary: When Lan Xichen wakes up the morning after the fifth anniversary of his life crumbling to rubble around him in Guanyin Temple, he's shocked to find both Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao in his bed, both whole and alive and...married to him?! (A time travel fix-it in which the time traveling and fixing of things has already been done by Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, and Lan Xichen accidentally gets dragged along for the happily ever after.) Excerpt(s):

1. “Poor da-ge,” [Meng Yao] teases again, this time with a bit of an edge, and Lan Xichen cracks one eye open just enough to see him stripping first out of his shoes and socks, then his third layer of robes, then his second, until he’s dressed much as he had been the prior evening - in nothing but a black under-robe so sheer that it actually almost looks gray. It clings to all the petite, lithe curves of him and the sight makes Lan Xichen’s mouth practically water. “What if I want my turn with you now? What if I’m jealous that er-ge got to have you all to himself for hours , while your poor A-Yao had to go have a drink with Xian-didi just to pass the time.” “Oh gods you’re a beast too,” Nie Mingjue groans as Meng Yao slips on top of him gracefully to lean down and pepper kisses up and down his neck and shoulder. “Get off of me, foul creature. Go tempt our husband, I’m temporarily immune to your wiles.” “You’re never immune to my wiles, da-ge, and er-ge is meditating oh so diligently. He’s certainly not smiling and watching us through his lashes as if we’re not well aware of his tricks and what he likes to watch.” - 2. “It took years of practice, you with your painting and I with my answering, but when you were a teenager I finally decided on the best advice I could think to give you: Do not seek for every answer in this life all at once, Xichen,” he instructs with a smile as he returns to painting. “Let them come to you gently and in their season, and trust that all will be as it should in the end.” Lan Xichen takes another breath and returns to his painting with a slightly trembling hand - a trembling that ends up creating a lovely branch on the tree he is painting that, when he turns his head to look, is modeled almost exactly after the one growing in the garden behind the Gentian House, just beyond the window. “I don’t remember ever seeing this tree,” he whispers and Qingheng-Jun hums across from him in clear understanding. “And yet it flows from your brush all the same. Now we can all know that you have nothing to fear, your memories will also come to you in their season. Until then, allow yourself to rest, and remember that you have the support of your family whenever you need it.” “Yes, father,” he replies with a whisper and a tremulous smile, feeling lighter than he has in days. - 3. “I will go into seclusion.” The statement is a stone dropped into the gently rippling water of a spring-fed pool. The stone is jagged and pitted with all that the world has done to chip away at it, to make it rough and painful to the touch. It is sharp in his hands, heavy with all the hurts he still carries in his chest, all the grief he has no more room to hold. He feels lighter with it out of his grasp, the words settling into the ensuing silence with some bittersweet relief.

Notes: I know I've said it before but it bears repeating: this entire fic exists solely because of the smut scene in chapter 1. I thought of the smut first, and then the lead-in to it, and I intentionally left the end of chapter 1 ambiguous - it could have ended right there as an angsty one-shot with Lan Xichen believing that it was all a hallucination, and there's nothing really in the text to say that it's not because Lan Xichen is a very unreliable narrator in this fic. But then I wanted to write the backstory for the smut if, in fact, it wasn't a hallucination - and everything kind of...butterfly-effected out from there to become what it is now, along with all the extras in the series that's now roughly 120k long altogether and still not finished. Oops. Oh and also: this fic that started the ball rolling only exists because for some reason the servers for Omegle went down for months where I live, and prior to that I used to spend hours rp'ing. Without that creative outlet, I filled the vacuum with writing fic instead and now here we are. So if you're grateful for my fics then thank Omegle for sucking for a few months lol --//-- 2. Loving, Loud, Wild, and Theirs (7386 words, Rated T) Ship(s): Xuanli & Gen (kidfic), 3zun (briefly) - an extra for AEM Summary: A brief look at how in this kinder world, Jin Zixuan managed to find and legitimize his three siblings as well as a snapshot of the chaos of love and fun that is his family with his siblings, his beloved wife, and their seven children. Excerpt:

He had listened to [Madam Qin] and her handmaid, and he had believed them, and he had been unsurprised to find himself thinking quite uncharitably of his father following his promise to Madam Qin that he would do everything in his power to make it right, as much as he could. [Jin Zixuan and Meng Yao] return to Jinlintai the day after the next, once their business is concluded. He’s relieved when nothing needs his immediate attention as it means he’s free to retreat into his and Jiang Yanli’s quarters so he can tell her everything that’s weighing on his mind. “No more surprise siblings from now on,” he sighs into the comfort of Jiang Yanli's chest when he’s finished outlining what has happened and his plans to prepare a new suite of rooms in the family wing of the tower. For Qin Su. His sister. Jiang Yanli just laughs her tinkling laugh and kisses him, her hands gentle as she combs his hair back from his face with her fingertips. “You’ve got more siblings now than any of the rest of us,” she teases with a mischievous smile down at him that is a bit too reminiscent of, weirdly, both Wei Wuxian and Mo Xuanyu for comfort. “Two brothers, a sister, and of course we must keep Mianmian in her spot on the list. If you would like to count brothers-in-law as well you’ve also got A-Xian, A-Cheng, Huaisang, Wangji, Xichen, and Mingjue...” He groans and hides his face properly in the soft silk of her robes even as she laughs again over his head.

Notes: This fic is actually a request fill for someone and I had some trouble ending it because there's a lot more I want to write with this wild family, though I did eventually find what felt like a good place to cut it off with 3zun arriving in Jinlintai for the visit they leave for at the end of AEM. There is something of a follow-up floating around my wips that - if it ever gets written - is a direct sequel to AEM that continues where this extra leaves off, with 3zun getting to spend time with their hoard of niblings in Jinlintai. No promises about if/when that will get written though. --//-- 3. Performance Art (8106 words, Rated M) Ships: 3zun, Wangxian (briefly) Summary: A Modern AU inspired by the 'Hysterical Literature' performance art project. Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, and Meng Yao take turns doing their best to read aloud from chosen written works as they're filmed. The twist is that they're trying to do so as they're being pleasured with a vibrator controlled by one of their partners off-camera, each of their turns ending when the partner being filmed/played with has an orgasm. Excerpt(s):

1. “Engage people with what they expect; it is..- it…it is what they are able to discern and.. ngh.. confirms their projections. It settles.. ah settles them into predictable-“ He cuts off suddenly to set the book down flat and slap one hand down sharply on the tabletop. Meng Yao simply clicks another button and Nie Mingjue groans as his newly unoccupied hand twitches back to rest on the edge of the table closer to himself, as if about to drop down beneath it. Lan Xichen and Meng Yao both shift forward in their seats but Nie Mingjue catches himself before they have to intervene, returning his hand to the middle of the table and forcing a deep breath into his lungs so he can continue. “-Predictable patterns of..of response, occupying their minds while you w-wait for the ex- extra-“ he huffs out a sharp breath and curls his hand into a fist as he tilts forward and forces out the rest of the sentence in a rush. “Extraordinary moment — that whichtheycannotanticipate. FUCK!” - 2. It’s a few hours of quiet, peaceful work later when Lan Wangji shifts his weight in the way that means he wants Wei Wuxian’s actual attention and not his ‘ I’m sculpting so I’m periodically looking at you ’ sort of attention which he is, of course, quick to grant. He pauses in his muttering half to himself and half to Lan Wangji to say, “Hm? What’s up Zhanzhan?” “From Xiongzhang,” he says by way of explanation, holding his phone out for Wei Wuxian to squint at the screen. It takes him a moment to understand what he’s looking at, his eyes needing a second to adjust to the small black and white video that’s playing after having spent hours looking between Lan Zhan and the clay form taking shape under his hands. “What is this?” he asks as he leans in closer and squints a little harder. He blinks and his eyes go wide in the next moment as he realizes what’s happening on the screen as the woman’s tension climaxes ( literally ) - and then it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump to figure out just why he’d been asked to create an eerily similar setup in his own studio the previous afternoon for three men he might as well consider his sort-of brothers at this point. His next exhale is a wheeze as his ears go hot and Lan Wangji is instantly shrugging into a robe to stand from his lounging position and approach, concern written all over his features. “Wei Ying?”

Notes: I don't really have too much to say about this one except that it brought me so much joy and laughter to write and it honestly kind of surprises me that it's one of my less popular fics - it's nothing but a fun, sexy time! But I'm also terrible at guessing trends/what people will want to see so that might be on me haha. Oh! Also - a minor thing but something I'm very mildly proud of: the narrator voice is dependent on who's behind the camera! I wanted a way to make the person filming feel just as involved as the other two and I thought that was a fun way to do it since within the narrative it's technically going to be their perspective used for the video they're recording. Just to give y'all a little insight into my decision-making when it comes to my writing style for this one. --//-- 4. Anything For My Nie-Zongzhu (6411 words, Rated E) Ship: NieYao - pre-canon (just barely) Summary: Meng Yao is Nie Mingjue's trusted right hand, intelligent and valued by his Sect Leader, at least, who has learned lately to appreciate him a hell of a lot in private too - and for much more personal matters than the minutiae of running the Nie Sect. Seeing as Nie Mingjue trusts him so much, he finds it in himself to ask for something new - for Meng Yao to top him. [Technically an extra for AEM but can be read as a standalone] Excerpt:

“Am I to play into this boorish act you’re putting on tonight?” he teases instead as he steps closer until he’s near enough to feel the way the steam from the bath has turned the air sticky and humid. Nie Mingjue finally looks up at him and Meng Yao is internally crowing with triumph as he watches the lines of tension around his eyes and mouth fall away, his expression smoothing into quiet contentment. He did that. His presence alone is enough to help Nie Mingjue relax. It feels nearly as good as the day the man had angrily defended him to his own disciples and promoted him on the spot. “It’s not an act, I’m plenty boorish,” Nie Mingjue gruffs, returning his gaze to the letter, but this close Meng Yao can actually watch his eyes do nothing but try to glare a hole through the center of the page. “Of course you are, Zongzhu,” Meng Yao allows, his tone openly humoring - as is the smile tightening the corners of his mouth. “Therefore I can only suppose that you would prefer it if I returned to my walk and left you to continue your...correspondence in peace.”

Notes: Once again not really many notes on this one! I just love NieYao, I think their dynamic during Meng Yao's Nie Sect days has so much potential and I love exploring it every so often. --//--

5. Bite The Hands That Feed (1590 words, Rated E) Ship: XiYao Summary: After being forced out of the Nie Sect, Meng Yao has to come to grips with the hunger that's been chasing him his whole life, and he finds temporary satisfaction over and over in Lan Xichen, who is always so generous with his time and his body and is willing to help him feel less empty even just for a night. Excerpt:

He would never bite the hands that feed him, that stuff him full enough to make him believe for a moment that he’s no longer starving. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t inflict pains. He bites and he scratches and he plants himself in the bloody furrows until flowering moans reward his violent care, until pleasure bursts sun-warmed and sweet between them, berries ripe for the picking. He stains his mouth red with them, his fingers purple with the bruises he paints so delicately on his devotee’s body. If Meng Yao is being clawed to a slow torturous death from within, then it stands to reason that his other half will be ripped to shreds from without. He keeps his nails sharp and his teeth bared to tear into his flesh and drink sweetly of the vintage he offers - sweat, spend, blood, saliva when their mouths meet for crushing kisses. All of it is his to consume. He puts his mouth to the feast of Lan Xichen’s body and eats until the hunger pangs are satiated, drinks until he feels dizzy with it.

Notes: So I wrote this one when I was getting a little tired of the straight narration style of all my other fics and I wanted to try my hand at something looser, a little more prose-like but also a little darker than my usual fluff. I'm not sure how successful I was - this is actually one of my absolute least popular fics, number-wise! - but it's one of my favorites anyway. --//-- 6. A Figure, A Mouth (2788 words, Rated M) Ship: Wenzhou Summary: A quiet, intimate evening spent in the comfort of the Four Seasons Mountain Manor sometime between their arrival/fixing up of the place and the confrontation with Ye Baiyi. Excerpt:

After a while of warming each other up Wen Kexing urges him back up to push the bed under the window just as he’d said he would. Zhou Zishu takes the opportunity to blow out the candles before he rejoins Wen Kexing in their bed, the sudden darkness leaving them free to admire each other clothed in nothing but broad swathes of cool, sweet blue light bisected by deep black lattices of shadow from the trees out in the yard, the shadows from the contours of the wall and decorations around the window blocking and revealing them in turns. Lao Wen is, of course, as beautiful like this as he has been in every way Zhou Zishu has ever seen him, and he takes the time to savor it, to indulge in the decadence that Wen Kexing presents for each of his remaining senses. He’s a feast for the eyes, all hard muscle and skin glistening with glittering diamonds of sweat along his shoulders and the soft curve of his cheek. He’s a symphony for the ears, breathless desire and tender calls of his name that Zhou Zishu never lets go unanswered when they’re like this. By now Wen Kexing is an expert at drawing pleasure from him in every unlikely way there is to make sure that the effects of the nails don’t keep him from reaching his peak at least once, occasionally more in spite of his fading sense of touch.

Notes: Wenzhou makes me so soft and emotional, y'all. The next one on the list is also a Wenzhou fic and I just can't seem to stop writing them in fluffy/smutty situations because it's what they deserve. I really don't have anything more interesting to say about this fic, I just love them haha. --//-- 7. Tease Him Just Enough (2537 words, Rated M) Ship: Wenzhou Summary: A possible outcome if the conversation post-face reveal in episode 6 had gone differently - i.e. if Zhou Zishu had called Wen Kexing out on all his flirting and challenged him to do something about it - and then he does. Excerpt:

They don’t need words to communicate that at least right here in this particular moment there’s no one else they would rather have in their arms, pressed up against their bodies, no one else’s tongue who would find a new home in each other’s mouths or any other body their hands would rather explore. Wen Kexing has already known that they’re fated, but for the first time it feels like they’re agreeing to be so. Even if it’s just for a night. (Not that he thinks it will be just one night for them, but getting Zhou Xu to agree to anything remotely of the kind is like trying to drag a stray back-alley cat into a bath so he’ll take what he can get.)

Notes: My first fic for Word of Honor! The whole time I was watching the show (read: obsessively binge-watching) I was like 'Okay I like this show a lot but it's not nearly as compelling as The Untamed, idk if I'll be motivated to write anything for it'. Then I got to the end and I was like NEVERMIND YES I AM. I played myself. --//-- 8. You Need Tending (12,108 words, Rated T) Ship(s): Lan Wangji & Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji & Lan Xichen, Lan Qiren & The Jades & Wei Wuxian (this is a kidfic so nothing romantic!) Summary: Wei Wuxian is alone and homeless on the streets of Yunmeng, unaware of the presence of his parents' old friend so nearby. Lan Wangji is a child grieving for the loss of his mother in silence, overwhelmed by the world his uncle keeps dragging him out into. It takes their paths crossing more than once for Lan Qiren to realize just who Wei Wuxian is and that he needs their help, but he gets there eventually. Excerpt:

He watches on as the man comes to a stop next to the boys and squats down to check over the one who had been lost and suddenly he remembers lying on the ground and looking up at a stern-faced man with gentle hands and a ribbon across his forehead. The man who had given him medicine and bandages after a small boy had defended him from dogs, and an older boy had talked to him so kindly and helped him to sit up off the dirt. Wei Ying gasps as the memory hits and he scrambles back down off the roof, landing on the packed dirt of the space between the buildings with an oof, excitement bubbling in his chest. Along with the memory comes a name and it flies from his lips as he scrambles up off the ground to push his way into the crowd again. “Master Lan!” he shouts, his tiny voice lost in the din of the market. He tries to shove closer but the little family is already walking away, their backs to him as he strains against the flow of people much bigger and stronger than him. “Master Lan!” he tries again, desperation lending extra strength and emotion to his cry. Wei Ying stops struggling as he watches the two boys in white walk away, the pair of them flanking Master Lan in his sky blue robes as they move through the market, radiating serenity in the midst of the chaos. His vision blurs and he scrubs his forearm against his eyes angrily to dry them, trying to keep the three of them in his sight for as long as he can just in case they turn around and spot him. Just in case they remember him and maybe want to tell him to come with them.

Notes: Baby Wei Ying T-T He just hits me right in the heart, and so does baby Lan Zhan! And baby Lan Xichen. All the babies. This fic was actually completely inspired by an utterly adorable fanart of Lan Xichen giving a grumpy baby A-Zhan a piggyback ride! I'd been wanting to write a kidfic type fix-it for a while and that art was the spark I needed to come up with something workable. (Edit: here’s my reblog of the art I’m talking about!) --//--

9. Familial Circumstances (5393 words, Rated G)

Ship(s): Lan Qiren & Original Characters, Lan Qiren & Jin Zixuan, Lan Qiren & Qin Su, Lan Qiren & Mo Xuanyu - An extra for AEM

Summary: Another kidfic extra for the horde of children in Jinlintai, this time as seen through the lens of their beloved Great Uncle Lan. It's a simple relationship-study-type look at how all the children love their Great Uncle and how much he loves and treasures them in return.

Excerpt:

An unusual stillness accompanies [Jin Ruhai's] playing. Jin Lu stops fidgeting with her fingers, the twins slip into the perfect stillness of those who are utterly aware of themselves at all times - a trait [Lan Qiren has] noticed in every skilled fighter he’s ever come across - and even Jin Ye relaxes, slumping further and further backwards until she’s slouched down against his stomach, legs dangling over his crossed shins.

The piece isn’t a terribly long one, nor as complex as the next score Lan Qiren intends to teach the boy, but Jin Ruhai’s mastery of it is impressive. Again, Lan Qiren is forcefully reminded of Lan Wangji, always most at peace when behind his instrument to play with and/or for the people he loves.

There’s silence in the room until the last note fades with a shiver into the air and Jin Ruhai pulls his hands back from the instrument. The stillness lasts for one more moment before it’s interrupted by Jin Lu sneezing suddenly and her siblings laugh as the quiet breaks.

“I had to hold that in the whole time !!” Jin Lu laughs as she rubs her sleeve under her nose, one eye screwed shut as she giggles. “I didn’t want to mess up A-Zhuang’s song, it’s so pretty!”

Notes: I'm definitely biased because they're all my oc's except for Jin Ling, but I genuinely love all of the Jin children in the AEM AU. If anyone is ever interested in knowing more about their individual personalities and the like please don't hesitate to ask me, I've actually put quite a bit of thought into all 6 of the kids I created wholecloth and I have a lot of feelings about Jin Ling getting the chaotic siblings and loving parents he was robbed of.

--//--

10. Opportunities To Practice (5710 words, Rated M) (*WIP)

Ship: Xuanli - An extra for AEM

Summary: Jin Zixuan is nervous for his..marital activities with Jiang Yanli - after all, who could he possibly ask for advice? His father? No thank you. Thankfully Jiang Yanli is sweet and patient and knows her husband well - he just needs a bit of time and he'll get it figured out.

Excerpt:

She shivers with an interesting combination of want and intense vulnerability as she stands there, feeling bare in spite of her remaining layer. It’s of a material so sheer as to be practically nonexistent, nothing more than a delicate veil of a red so pale it’s nearly pink that sits on her body like a second skin. Until it falls gently away at the knee to flutter around her ankles, it clings to every curve, every contour, and as she watches Jin Zixuan doesn’t even bother to hang the robe he had just removed on the screen. He lets it drop into a soft pool around her bare feet, his gaze roaming her newly exposed figure - she would perhaps feel strange about it did he not look so devoted , so in awe of seeing her practically naked in front of him.

Yanli gasps softly as he suddenly drops to his knees at her feet and oh - that’s heady. Her body, which she hasn’t really thought of too much in the past beyond the occasional irritation that it’s weaker than she would prefer, has put the man she loves on his knees. He’s looking up at her now, his eyes wide and his hands reverent as he raises them to rest on her thighs, thumbs caressing her too-warm skin through the barely-there robe that bunches up softly under the pressure of his grip.

“You’re right,” he finally breathes, sounding slightly strained. “I’d like this to stay on. If that’s - are you alright?”

“I am,” she reassures.

Notes: This last fic is technically a wip, the only one in the list! However! - it's going to be a collection of one-shots centered around Xuanli and their sexual exploits that lead to their seven children, and possibly also the ones that are just for fun (horny Yanli rights forever). It's not currently high on my list of priorities or anything and the one chapter that's up so far can stand on its own so it's a wip but it's not? I just love Xuanli so much and I want to explore their relationship in my happy fix-it AU whenever the mood strikes, and whenever that happens this is where those one-shots will go.

--//--

And that's it! My personal top 10 favorite fics of my own as of right now. I thought about doing my top 10 according to statistics like hit counts or kudos, but I genuinely love some of these unpopular fics and I wanted to give them some love and attention even if it's just for me. I know there's a lot here to sift through but if any of y'all enjoyed the list or any of the specific fics on it let me know! I liked taking this little pause to take a look at what I've actually been producing these last few months.

Thanks for reading!

[sunflowerandco]

Entranced

One-Shot

A/N: Hi!!! taking a break, but I queued this one shot I wrote a couple weeks ago. I hope you like it!

Rating: T

Summary:  Courtney's beliefs on hypnotism are challenged when she gets hypnotized into pursuing her growing feelings for the rebellious delinquent of their friend group. [Requested]

          Geoff approached their table with their respective drinks in his hands. He handed them out in the order he called them out in.

         "Okay, Long Island iced tea for Bridge, rum and Coke for DJ, red wine for Courtney and two Blue Moons for me and Duncan for whenever he shows up." DJ raised the question. "Where is he anyway? The hypnotist is coming on stage soon."

         "He had an emergency client at the shop. Something about a failed brake? Anyway, he'll be here soon."

         "You can't tell me you guys actually believe this stuff." Bridgette shook off Courtney's doubt.

         "We do! Too bad your boyfriend isn't here to agree with you." Courtney crossed her arms at Bridgette's comment.

         "Duncan is not my boyfriend!"

         "I didn't say a name." Courtney couldn't say anything and decided not to dig the hole she was in even deeper.

         The show started, and the hypnotist, David, brought out a few people from backstage fifteen minutes into the show. He performed a few acts; the first being David making a woman afraid of the word 'balloon'. The second person was brought into a trance and left craving their least favorite food at the sound of a snap. Courtney remained unimpressed and assumed all his tricks were the product of good acting and practice. She rolled her eyes at the last act and the pure theatricality of the last woman clucking like a chicken across the stage as laughter filled the bar. After she ran off backstage, David called to the audience for their participation.

         "So, anyone wanna take a stab at it? Any doubters?" There weren't many people eager to try public humiliation until Bridgette yelled out while grabbing Courtney’s shoulders from behind.

         "She does!" Courtney turned to face her.

         "What?! No!" If there was one thing Courtney hated, it would be having no control of how the public perceived of her. Still, Bridgette persisted and had the assistance of DJ and Geoff now.

         "Come on, Courtney! I thought you didn't believe in it!"

         "I don't, but-" Courtney tried to make her case, but was cut off by the audience's cheering. David reached his hand out to help her get to the stage. Bridgette swore she heard a death threat from Courtney before she gave in and made her way up. There was a chair ready for her facing the audience to which David gestured for her to sit.

         "Now, remember this can only be done at your most relaxed state." She looked up him; her lack of belief resting on her face. He continued. "So, take a deep breath, doe eyes."

         She used those same eyes to roll them at him before taking a deep breath. He held a pendulum in front of her face and the chain with one finger. "All you need to do is follow the motions of this pendulum. Only focus on this object..." Courtney's eyes moved back in forth, mirroring the object before her. The faces she once saw clearly in the audience faded before her as she slipped into a deeper state of relaxation. Before she knew it, the only voice she could hear was David's. She followed every step he had told her.

         "Now, close your eyes. and repeat after me."

         Every time he spoke, she echoed his words.

         "I was wrong."

         "I was wrong."

         "David was right."

         "David was right."

         The crowd filled with laughter as he continued to prove her wrong, and Bridgette was only glad Courtney wouldn't remember this.

         "I will never doubt the power of hypnosis again."

         "I will never doubt the power of hypnosis again."

         David moved on to seal her fate and tried to keep her focus. "Now, can you still hear me?"

         Courtney sat still. David continued. "I want you to think of the person that attracts you the most. The person that makes your heart race at first glance."

         Courtney's mind faltered but still followed instruction.

         "From now on, at the sound of a bell, you will have the urge to kiss that person when you're in the same room. This urge will dissipate after you kiss that person, and the sound of bells won't affect you any longer."

         David continued to give her instruction. "At the snap of my fingers, you will return to us in a relaxed state, and no memory of this conversation."

         David snapped his fingers quickly and Courtney opened her eyes slowly. She felt like she had just woken up from a cat nap. She stretched her arms out before remembering she was on stage. She jumped from the seat and David only gestured to the stairs leading to the bottom of the stage.

         She walked back to their table still confused as ever as her friends suppressed their snickers. Bridgette playfully questioned her, but Courtney didn't answer out of pride. "So, do you believe in it now?"

         In a matter of perfect timing, Duncan rushed to their table from the door and sat down in the empty seat next to Courtney's. He greeted them as he sat down. "Hey guys. Princess. What'd I miss?"

         They looked at each other with all-knowing expressions in an unspoken decision that it would be funnier if he didn’t know what happened. Geoff, the loudest of the three, tried to suppress his laughter as he handed him the bottle, he ordered for him. Duncan furrowed his brow, grabbed it, and used his keys to pop the top off. He looked to Courtney for an answer. "What's wrong with them?"

         Courtney wasn't ready to admit David's line of work was potentially legitimate and that she was the lab rat in the test of faith. She assumed that's why they were laughing, anyway. So, she just shrugged her shoulders while trying not to make eye contact with him. Their conversation ceased when David called for the next participant and Duncan turned his attention to the stage.

         The rest of the night went on with Bridgette, Geoff and DJ making hints only they'd understand, and for the night Courtney and Duncan's joint confusion left them on a team of their own. Duncan didn't mind the excuse for them to share glances every now and then without her pushing him away.

                                                        ***

         Courtney stared up at the elevator dial as she waited for it to reach the lobby. After a long day at the firm, all she wanted was a night in her bathtub and bed. She heard someone enter the building from the blaring sound of the buzzer to let guests in. The person entering found the audacity to stand right next to her, shoulder to shoulder. She was annoyed at first but caught a whiff of his cologne and recognized the scent. Before she turned her head toward him, she heard his voice, and it echoed throughout the empty lobby.

         "Hey, Princess. Long day?"

         "Yes, Neanderthal. And I wish you'd stop calling me that. " Duncan smirked at the opportunity to ignite the flame inside of her. He loved seeing her nose scrunch at his words knowing there was no real annoyance behind the guise of her expressions. He thought it was cute and it the most common reaction to get out of her.

         "But it's just so fitting, babe."

         "It is not! What are you doing here anyway?"

         "Geoff and I are hanging out tonight. You're not the only tenant here." Courtney's attention shifted to the elevator dial when she heard it reached the lobby, and the bell ringed. Courtney's eyes widened and her mind felt lighter as if all her thought prior to this moment disappeared. She remembered where she was when Duncan gestured for her to go into the elevator with his hand.

         "You first, Princess."

         Courtney looked up at him and the first thing she noticed was his lips moving. They were forming words, but she was more focused on the shape as the sound drowned out. Were they always that pink? Her confusion increased when she felt her heart thump loudly in her chest and she quickly looked toward the elevator doors. She walked inside while he followed behind her. He pressed the tenth floor for her and the eleventh for him, the doors closed, and the elevator ascended to their floors. He whipped his head in her direction when she yelled out.

         The rush of her thoughts only compelled her to do one thing, and it felt increasingly difficult to push it away with him around, and the face she resisted to look at to stop her from feeling anything she couldn't control. Still the words echoed in her head one after the other.

         Kiss him! He's right there, and we're finally alone!

         She held her face with her hands and screamed.

        "No!"

        Duncan got closer to her, and that only made it worse for her. He held a genuinely concerned expression on his face.

        "What's wrong with you? Are you scared of the elevator?" She didn't want to explain nor could she, so she went along with his assumption. She nodded in fear of opening her mouth to hear an uncontrolled thought escape from it. She groaned loudly as she tried to subdue her mind's determination for action. Duncan instinctively held her as he tried to keep her from lowering onto the floor, and her arms wrapped around his upper body. Courtney couldn't resist the need to face him as his grip tightened; her composure slowly coming back to her caused her to stand a little straighter, but her breath couldn't catch up with her when her studying eyes shifted from his lips to his eyes. They still sought after hers to reassure her.

        "It's okay, Courtney. Nothing's gonna happen to you." His words slowly softened the intensity of her thoughts. She remembered feeling safer, and what she wanted didn't sound so bad after all.

        Duncan's voice trailed off, and she appeared to relax for a little before he realized how close their faces were. He savored in the fact that he was able to admire every feature without the barrier of their usual deal. He took in just how rounded and big her eyes were and every freckle on her nose. He allowed himself to focus on her lips and their fullness. They were painted in crimson and were... parting? He knew he wasn't just seeing things when he noticed them slowly inching closer to his. As much as he wanted this, he couldn't determine if this was something she really wanted. Everything was all happening way too fast.

        The bell went off again to signal they had reached Courtney's floor, all her need diminished, and her original thoughts piled on her like a ton of sand. She tried to remember getting into the elevator and into Duncan's arms. She enjoyed the feeling of being wrapped in him for a split second before realization hit. She pushed against his chest to separate them; a look of disbelief portrayed on her face as she pretended her heart didn't skip a few beats in between.

        "What are you doing?!"

        "What am I doing?! You were the one freaking out! I was just trying to calm you down because you wouldn't stop yelling!" Courtney held no regard for what he said as embarrassment took over her body. She readjusted the bag on her shoulder while she looked down to avoid eye contact with him again.

        "I don't need you protecting me!" He couldn't say anything else because she stormed off to her apartment letting the doors close on their conversation. Duncan felt frustrated at first, hell, even angry, and confused all in one. He was only given a mere amount of time to process the fact that she was actually leaning in to kiss him. He was wrapped up in frustration like a ribbon, but then it hit him.

        Courtney wanted to kiss me. That is, before she pushed me away for no reason. The thought chimed in his head repeatedly and he smiled to himself when the question that plagued his mind finally had an answer.

                                                        ***

        The moment in the elevator couldn't leave Duncan's mind. What he assumed was a confirmation of her reciprocating feelings made him feel compelled to talk to her about it and get their feelings in order. He buzzed her apartment and made his way upstairs. The tiniest of nerves got to him on the way up. She didn't have to pursue anything, but he still needed clarity from her.

        Courtney was brought back into a trance and took on the same mindset she had in the elevator. She knew she had to answer the door and in her tranced state she hoped it was the person her mind was hellbent on seeing. The trance stunted her speed by keeping her focus on the feeling her had in the elevator, but she quickly snapped out of the haze when the doorbell rang once more. She proceeded like normal to the door to unlock it to see Duncan standing in her doorway. She was confused but seeing him even in an uninfluenced state made her heart race as his arm hovered over the doorframe. She secured her robe as she greeted him and tried to keep an unfazed tone. "Duncan, what are you doing here? Are you here to apologize?" She still had a brief memory of them in the elevator. She wasn't entirely angry with him, but he indeed caught her off guard that day.

        "I wanted to talk to you. Mind if I come in?" Courtney widened the door to let him inside and led Duncan to the living room. Her heart had no plan of soothing to its normal pace as Duncan sat down next to her on the couch. He placed his elbows on his knees and looked toward her before speaking.

        "We need to talk about what happened in the elevator the other day. I don't know what happened to you at the end, but you tried to kiss me." Courtney wouldn't believe him or anything that made her face her feelings.

        "I did not try to kiss you! You were simply holding onto me and I pushed you away. Anyway, you need to go. I'm expecting Bridgette over any minute now."

        Duncan felt anything but encouraged by their exchange of words. He shook his head in frustration at her disbelief. "Fine. If you wanna keep living with selective memory, then by all means-" He was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Courtney turned to him in vehement intent as if a switch had been flipped in her head. The thoughts that raced through her mind previously in this trance came back to her. This time they grew stronger, and she didn't feel compelled to fight against them anymore. They sounded like that of a schoolgirl crush. Duncan's voiced faded slowly into the background.

        "Are you not gonna answer the door?"

        Kiss him! His lips are right in front of your face and he's right here on your couch!

        Drunk on her pervading thoughts, she slowly inched next to him; seeking her hazy ambitions. This time, Duncan was even more perplexed at the situation and he couldn't understand the sequence of events Courtney brought to their circumstance. Before the madness, he understood their relationship to an extent, and all of it managed to derail in a matter of two days out of utter confusion. She got closer to him, holding her hand to his face. "Courtney, do you not remember what you just said, like, two seconds ago?"

        Bridgette rang the doorbell again, and Courtney immediately slipped out of the trance once again.

        “See? I knew you wanted to kiss me.”.

        “What the hell are you talking about?”

        Duncan stood up from the couch; his brain was tired of the mental gymnastics at this point. “Okay, now you’re making me feel like I’m crazy-“

        “If the shoe fits, wear it.” Courtney opened the door to find Bridgette outside. She was ready with questions after hearing them yelling from the other side of the door.

        "What's going on in here? What are you guys yelling about this time?" Courtney led her to her living room and gestured to Duncan before she explained her side of the story.

        "This Neanderthal thinks I want to kiss him! He keeps up coming up with these stories that didn't even happen."

        Duncan offered his side this time. "They DID happen. And every time I try to tell her, she acts like she doesn't remember!"

        Bridgette sighed and looked at the both of them. Bridgette answered Duncan, not eager to explain to them without creating this awkward moment of realization for Courtney. "Because she can't remember them."

        Courtney looked at her incredulously and crossed her arms. "What are you talking about? You believe him?"

        Bridgette continued and tried to keep her tone calm as Courtney's intensified. "The hypnotist gave you the urge to kiss Duncan at the sound of a bell."

        Duncan and Courtney let out a simultaneous “What?!”

        Courtney surprised tone didn't match Duncan's humored one. She fumed at the thought of her friends causing all this humiliation she couldn't even remember for the past three days. “Why would you guys make me want to kiss Duncan?!”

        “The hypnotist told you to think of the person you’re most attracted to, so we didn’t choose him. You did.”

        Courtney eyes shifted to the side while her ears burned cherry-red at the fact. She looked down so she couldn't face either one of them.

        "Oh." She didn't argue back, letting Bridgette finish her explanation.

        “Yes. And it’ll only end once you actually kiss him.”

        Duncan added on to the conversation with growing frustration. “Which she has been trying to do until you came in!”

        She turned to face him, her face still bright red as ever. “Shut up!”

        “Okay, then. I’ll leave. It's not like you didn't want to do it before he hypnotized you.” Bridgette made her way toward the door and Courtney yelled out for her.

        "Wait! Can you ring the bell so I can get rid this stupid trance?" Bridgette nodded and closed the door behind her.

        "So, ready to admit you have the hots for me?"

        "Even if I did, why would it matter? At the end of the day, you wouldn't last long enough dating me."

        "Would it kill you to have a little faith in anything?" He turned to face her. "I'll be the first to admit it: I like you, Courtney.  I like you enough to come back here. I-I like you enough to " Bridgette rang the doorbell, and Duncan called out behind the closed door. "We're not ready!"

        Bridgette yelled back. "Sorry! Can't hear you."

        All the build up from the last two trances returned to the forefront of Courtney's mind. She looked up to see him in front of her, and her eyes fixated on his lips again. In one gesture, Courtney grabbed his face and placed her lips on top of his rather forcefully in quick motion. She felt herself being brought back to reality and out of the trance she was put under by David, but when she pulled apart from him the craving never died down. She was fully aware of exactly what she wanted. Courtney looked into Duncan's eyes for a second and noticed the seriousness of his expression. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again with the same force. His eyes shut instantly at the collision, and his arms pulled her in closer to him. Her lips began to overlap his in her desperate need to taste him, and Duncan smiled into the kiss while running a hand through her hair. Courtney sighed while they continued, and he swore he heard a moan escape of out her mouth. They were finally able to give into the thoughts of each other that persisted often in the night. He was as spellbinding as she imagined at this, and she gasped when he ran his tongue on her upper lip. She gave him the access he needed, and the feeling shot to her core.

        It was everything he could've wanted to happen between them. He wished for more opportunities like this one as he pulled her in closer to the point where their bodies were pressed against each other. As much as he wanted this to go on, her words still played over in his head. He broke them apart; their breaths trying hard to catch up with them. He looked at her as he posed the question; his arms still held her around her waist. "What about what you said earlier?" Courtney shook her head to dismiss his doubt. She was too enthralled by him to keep up the façade she maintained around their group of friends.

        "Forget what I said. I was just too scared to admit that I like... you?" Duncan smiled at her revelation and playfully poked fun at their predicament, still satisfied with the outcome.

        "So much you had to be hypnotized to do it?" Courtney shut him up again when she attached her lips back to his in an intoxicating pace, and her hands made their way through his dark hair. The weight on her shoulders completely lifted at the confession; she felt happy to feel weightless in Duncan's hold. They held little regard for Bridgette's questions from the other side as their pace escaladed slowly.

        "Do you guys really still need me to stand here?"

        "Guys! Hello?!"

[illfoandillfie]

also my god E9 w/ himbo rog 😳😳 - ☁️

Okay I got lost in the himbo rog sauce and this is less of a blurb and more of an unedited 2.5k word fic 😳 i lov this lil dummy so much

It’s something you’ve talked about before, more than once. Roger has a bit of a thing for public play and while it’s not as strong for you, you do kind of get it. On one hand the danger and excitement and on the other the potential for embarrassment. You’ve played with it once or twice too, a quickie in a bathroom at an awards show Roger was invited to attend, or leaving your panties at home when you went out to a nice restaurant for dinner. But it’s not something you indulge in very often, mostly because you’re too well known. Roger is in a world famous band and you’ve been on TV and radio enough to be recognisable in the local community (though, of course, your relationship has gained you a bit of wider notoriety too. Good for your charity, not so good for your personal life.) There is a legitimate risk of being caught by the wrong person and finding yourselves splashed across every tabloid in London and that’s something neither of you want. The closest to public sex you’ve had in months is fooling around in the pool and with the size of Roger’s properly and how closed off the garden is, the chance of even the neighbours spotting you is virtually non-existent. But recently, you’ve been talking about using hypnosis to make it feel like you’re in public. Roger is keen on the idea, especially if he’s the one who thinks it’s real and you’ve been discussing logistics and limits so you both know what would be hot in case you do decide to test it out. You have to admit, the idea of making Roger think he’s in the middle of a public venue while you tell him what a pretty slut he is, is definitely a turn on. But it stayed as just an idea for a while.

That is, until one day while Roger is unpacking the groceries you’ve just brought in. He bent down to pick up a bag of potatoes and you caught sight of the top of his undies peaking out from under his jeans. Except, they weren’t his undies. They were yours. Red satin briefs. You found yourself giggling without meaning to. Roger turned to see what you were laughing at, blushing a little when you tell him. But he covers his slight embarrassment with a shrug.

“All mine were on the line when it rained last night so I didn’t have a dry pair this morning. Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“You mean every one of your briefs was on the line? All of them?”

Roger just shrugged again in what he must have intended to be a casual, carefree gesture.

You laugh again, “I kind of really want to drop you right now,”

“Seriously? Just from me wearing your knickers?”

“Well there might be other factors….that scene we’ve been talking about. But also, it’s kind of just that hot. And, y’know, I don’t think it was just the wet washing that made you put them on. I think that was a convenient excuse because you liked wearing the pair you ruined and wanted to do it again. This probably isn’t the first time, is it baby? And maybe you wanted me to notice so I’d tease you about it?”

He scoffs a bit, pulls his jeans up a little higher on his hips and turns back to the groceries.

“Bet the satin feels good against your semi huh baby?”

Roger paused again and sighed, “drop me,”

“What was that?”

“I should never have taught you how to domme,” he shook his head, “But please put me under,”

“Aww, good boy for asking so politely,”

“Fucking hell,”

“Let’s finish putting this stuff away first,” you laughed, “then I’ll take you out to the couch and think of something wicked to do to you.”

 After you’d double checked that no perishables had been left in grocery bags you and Roger heading into the living room so you could hypnotise him again. You went through your usual routine of breathing exercises to relax before counting him down, telling him that being embarrassed would only make him more horny (increasing what was already there) and making his mind drip away. But you took a little extra time after that to explain the scene.

“We’re in a coffee shop right now. On a date. Sitting on the same side of a private booth but there are people all through the shop, chatting to friends as they drink tea or coffee or hot chocolate. One lady over by the wall is enjoying a muffin as she reads a book. And there’s a man at the next table with an open briefcase and a stack of important looking documents that he’s highlighting and making notes on. It’s not too busy but there’s a low level bustle as everyone goes about their day. We’ve been having a nice time, talking. Or at least trying to. You’re finding you’re too dumb to understand what I’m talking about. You keep getting lost and getting distracted, letting your mind wander. It’s hard for me not to notice so I keep stopping to look at you and that’s making you feel embarrassed, isn’t it?”

Roger nodded, his cheeks once again tinged with pink, as he squirmed in his seat, trying not to be too obvious.

“Finally, after a long pause I decide to click my fingers to bring your attention back.” You clicked and told him to wake up.

He looked around the room, taking in the people that weren’t really there. You saw him raise his hand as a greeting to one of them. And then his eyes fell back on you and he squirmed again, struggling to make eye contact.

You leaned over, put your hand on his, “You’re very distracted today baby. But that’s okay,”

“Is it?”

“It is, because I know why you’re here.”

“You do?” he looked more confused by the second.

“Of course baby, I know everything about you. I know what you want, I know what you like, and I can give that to you,”

Roger gulped, his breathing heavier, as his eyes darted around the room again, checking if anyone had overheard.

“You wanna know how I know?”

“Yes?”

You chuckled at his uncertainty and he dropped his hands to his lap, clearly embarrassed, “I know because I’ve seen what you’re wearing right now. Should I tell everyone?”

Roger shook is head, biting his lip.

“No? You don’t want everyone here to know you’re wearing pretty red satin knickers? Women’s underwear?” you traced your hand up his thigh as you spoke, knocking his out of the way so you could palm him over his jeans, “Then why are you so hard?”

Roger whimpered, “please,”

“You know what kind of boy goes on a date in his girlfriend’s panties? A naughty little brainless boy. A boy who deserves to be humiliated. And I can do that for you. I can tell everyone what kind of a Dummy you are, let them watch while I play with you. Unless…unless you don’t want that? Maybe you could change my mind.”

Roger opened his mouth and then closed it again, unsure how to respond. He decided to just smile at you instead.

“Tut, tut. Such a Dummy,” you tapped his forehead, “Think baby. You’ve been distracted since we got here. Too dumb to hold a conversation. Too dumb to understand anything I’ve said. And getting so horny. So what have you been thinking about?”

His eyes lit up, finally a question he understood and could answer, “Your cunt,”

“What about it?”

“How much I love it!”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I won’t have to tell everyone what a silly little bimbo you are, if you tell me how much you love it. Worship it, worship me.”

Roger grinned, nodded enthusiastically, as he leaned a little closer to you, I love your cunt so much. So much. SO much!”

“Specifics baby, tell me why,”

“Mmmm soft and pretty. Aaaannnnddd taste good. I like how it feels when I lick you. And how it feels on my cock. Warm. Wet. I love making you wet soooooo much. It makes me happy. Oh! How you sound! Moaning! Everything, so much. I want to lick your cunt allllllllll the time. Can I? Now?” He slipped off the seat, onto the floor, dodging the edge of a table only he could see. You watched, trying not to giggle too much as he looked up at you, pleadingly. “Please? Now? Cunt now?”

“You’re obsessed.”

Roger nodded, “Please?”

“No, I don’t think I want your mouth just yet. But maybe later,”

“Later?” Roger pouted, “But…..”

“Look, if I’m being honest, I thought you’d be more embarrassed by that. I forgot how you get when I take your brain away. How you turn into a cunt hungry Dummy. So I guess I’ll have to think of something else.”

Roger waited patiently, kneeling on the floor, as you thought.

“Hmmmm I think you should put on a little show for me. Strip. Down to those pretty knickers you stole.”

“What? Here?”

“Yes baby, right here. And you know why you’re going to do it? Because it’ll make me happy.”

The embarrassed blush that had subsided as he talked about his favourite subject returned to his cheeks and spread over the rest of his face as he crawled out from under his table and looked around the café again. The was no music but he began undressing as if there was, the red flush spreading down his neck as he slowly pulled his shirt over his head and swung it around before throwing it to you. Next was the jeans. He popped the button and wiggled his hips as he unzipped them, pushed them down and kicked them across the floor.

“I think someone’s seen you baby.”

He froze and gulped, eyes darting to the other side of the room as you stood up. When he looked back you were right in front of him, sliding your hand into the satin panties to grasp his cock.

“Everyone knows now.” You raised your voice as if speaking to the room, “Look at this dumb little sissy boy, all horny from dressing like a slut and worshiping cunt. It’s kind of pathetic. What should I do to him now?” you left a pause which made Roger squirm, “how about I spit in his mouth?”

Without being asked Roger opened his mouth for you to spit on his tongue, swallowing it when you pulled back.

“Good boy Dummy. I think you should be rewarded for that. Maybe everyone here should get to see you fuck your mistress until she cums.” You pushed the panties down just enough to free his cock before removing your own pants and underwear. He watched, enraptured as you lay back on the couch and spread your legs for him, needing a click to get him to take the spot between them.

“You’re so wet,” he mumbled, the flush fading slightly.

“All because of you baby,”

He beamed at the praise as he lined himself up, waiting for you to approve before he pressed into you and then letting you control how slowly he went.

“Go on, fuck me,” you said once you’d adjusted a bit, “show everyone how much you love my cunt,”

He braced his arms on either side of your head as he began thrusting into you, still smiling even as you kissed along his mouth and jaw. You lazily rubbed your clit, keeping up a string of complements about how good he felt and how everyone was watching, encouraging him. But the boost of confidence it gave him was also his undoing. He groaned against your neck, hips stuttering.

“Are you close already?” you asked. You probably shouldn’t have been surprised considering how you’d tortured him and how hard he’d been but all the same you weren’t expecting it to take so little.

“I’m sorry, you feel s-so good.”

You sped up your fingers on your clit but it wasn’t enough. A few more thrusts and Roger was finishing inside you, moaning about how wet you were and how much he loved fucking you.

“What about me Dummy?” you asked as he stilled.

He tried to keep fucking you but whined when he became too sensitive.

“Hey, stop before you hurt yourself. There’s another way.” You let him sit back and calm down a bit, his eyes automatically drawn to the dribble of cum leaking out of you, “Since you were begging for it earlier, you can finish me off with your mouth. Clean up the mess you made in me.”

He didn’t argue, just nodded happily and pressed his tongue to your slit, licking a continuous line up to your clit and then another back down to your hole where he proceeded to take your words literally and press his tongue into you, seeking out his own spunk. Your felt your breath hitch and your muscles tighten. His enthusiasm and determination to make up for his earlier lack of control made your head spin and your core throb. Every moment you weren’t moaning or telling him how good it felt seemed to Roger a moment wasted, a moment he wasn’t doing enough. And when he did break away from you it was only to repeat his earlier praise about how much he loved having his face buried between your legs and how much he loved your taste. Though at one point you did have to press down on the back of his head and rock yourself against his mouth to get him to shut up and continue sucking on your clit. He took the hint and became very reluctant to stop, even after you came and stopped tugging on his hair. You let him keep going as you recovered but eventually had to forcibly pull him away. He was still pouting about it as you talked him back to reality, dissolved the café and returned his brain.

Afterwards Roger pulled you into a tight hug and kissed you hard.

“I take it that means you enjoyed it?” you said through a bout of giggles, noting the blush still visible on his cheeks.

“Very very much,”

“I’m glad. It didn’t feel too far with the crowd watching us?”

“Nope. That was really hot and a bit of an ego boost if I’m honest. Feel like I should go and play a show now just to keep the momentum going.”

“Don’t get used to it Rog, I’m not letting you do me in front of a crowd every night, no matter how they cheer. But other than ready to rock, how are you feeling?”

“I know you get a little worried when we try new things but I promise if something had felt off about any of that, I’d tell you straight up. I loved it. I loved the café scene, how real it felt. When you said everyone had seen me I looked around and there was a lady watching me from over a book. And then while I was y’know in you and you said they were encouraging me, I swear I saw the guy with the briefcase clapping. It felt really really real. Down to the smell of coffee. And god I loved the humiliation parts too. I would wear your underwear constantly if it guaranteed me that sort of treatment. The spitting thing? Yeah we need to do that sometime when I’m not hypno’d. If you’d kept me in there and told me everyone was laughing after I’d gone down on you I would have been hard again in no time. Like, it was embarrassing at the time but in a hot way and now that I’m out of the scene it’s just like really fucking hot. You’re incredible for thinking of all of that. I love you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his excited babbling, “I’m so thrilled you liked it. It’s just important to me that we’re both clear about what works and what doesn’t, that’s all. You do this too when I’m the subby one.”

“Yeah, fair enough. But I promise, everything was great and if you ever want to bring that out again I’d be happy to go along with it. But what I’d really like now, more than anything, is to order something for dinner and relax in front of a dumb movie with you. Maybe a hot shower too,”

“Sounds great, I’ll get the takeout menus if you get a cloth and wipe down the couch.”

[takerfoxx]

Jurassic Park 4: Doki Idol Live Festival!

magic5ball submitted:

Remember how you asked me about my idea for a Jurassic Park sequel? Well, here you go:

The two velociraptors stood outside a pastel colored town house in Hokkaido prefecture, Japan. If any passerbys thought that was weird, they certainly didn’t show it. Probably because the raptors were wearing fedoras and fake mustaches, so they looked like humans. Also they had guns. Very cool, very intimidating mobster guns. A tommy gun and a sawed-off shotgun, respectively.

You needed guns, to survive Shinzo Abe’s little empire of vice and socialized medical care.

“So this is the place, huh?” muttered the velociraptor carrying the sawed-off shotgun. His thick Brooklyn accent hung in the air like concrete. “Kinda… frillier than I was expecting.”

“It better be.” Replied his companion, who sounded like your racist conservative uncle trying to impersonate that one cool guy from ‘The Godfather’ (You know, the one with the mustache who was played by Robert de Niro). “We hadda kill a whole lotta people to get this hellhole.”

Sawed-off shotgun licked his non-existent lizard lips

“But hey. That airplane stewardess tasted mighty fine goin-“

“Oh, for f*ck’s sake, would ya stop thinkin’ with your stomach and help me with this f*ckin’ knob!” cried tommy gun, trying to work the doorknob best he could with his raptor claws, which, in all honesty, wasn’t much, because raptor claws are terrible at operating things meant for human fingers. Little did he know, the door was a ‘pull’, not a ‘push.

At least he didn’t have to wait long before someone unlocked the door from the other side: another velociraptor, this one a bit on the short side. And p!ssed. Very, very p!ssed. You could tell he was the cool one because he wore an eyepatch over one eye. An eyepatch with a Captain Underpants logo on it.

“Didn’t your parent’s ever teach you idiots about using the doorbell?! I was just about to enjoy lunch with my beautiful wife and you-!“

He paused, recognizing the two figures facing him.

“Well, well, well” Said tommy gun, cocking his weapon “If it isn’t SWEET JOHN HAMMOND’S BALLSACK WHAT THE F*CK AM I LOOKING AT?!”

For the cool raptor was dressed in a gothic Lolita maid outfit, complete with a bonnet and penny loafers. Under his arm he carried a human sized pillow depicting what appeared to be a blonde floozy with massive tits.

 “Oh this? This is Mami Tomoe, my beautiful wife.”

“WHAT THE F*CK!?!?” Tommy gun pulled out a flask off orange Fanta from his butthole and drank the whole thing in one go. He did NOT have time for this homosexual weeaboo nonsense! Still, he and shotgun hadn’t left a mountain of corpses the exact height and width as Mt. Fuji behind them. Too many to go back to Isla Nublar empty handed. Er, clawed. Because they were dinosaurs. Who have claws.

Shotgun took a deep breath. “What the Boss means to say is, ‘May we take refuge in this fine establishment?’”

Cool raptor opened his mouth to reveal a pistol he’d hidden there. And by hidden I mean replaced his tongue with it.

“You know, for all crap you guys used to give me in the past, I oughta pump you full of lead right here and now. Buuutttt… the lady of the house is present, and I’m not in the mood to create more work on her end. So come on in! You’re just in time for lunch.”

Lest they attract unneeded attention, the three dinosaurs hopped inside.

.   .   .

Lunch was omurice boba tea with a bottle of teriyaki sauce on the side. It was just boba tea, but the boba had been replaced by omurice because F-Bomb hated the flavor of boba, which he likened to rabbit crap. The teriyaki sauce was teriyaki sauce.

It was the most racist thing shotgun had ever eaten.

“Well, now that you jerks have gotten a taste of my sloppy seconds, I suppose some introductions are in order. You’ve already met my lovely wife” Cool raptor gestured to the body pillow seated next to him “So that leaves you two. Mami, meet A-Hole and D-Bag. A-Hole’s got the tommy gun, D-Bag is ridin’ her sawed off shotgun, as always. They’re old… acquaintances of mine.”

“He.” Corrected D-Bag. “I’ve been using he/him pronouns six months now.”

“Well that’s an improvement. Now instead of bein’ the Boss’ side B!tch literally, you’re just his b!tch figuratively!”

“Well screw you too, F-Bomb!” laughed the boss. “An’ speakin’ of screwing, what’s with the fruity get up? You a prostitute now or something?”

 “Even better! This might surprise you, but I’ve got legitimate work now. This here’s my uniform, my uniform for MILF TIDDIES!”

A-Hole chugged his entire bottle of teriyaki sauce in one go, lest his mind implode from the sheer stupidity of that sentence.

“The Hell’s a milf tiddie!?”

“Only the best freakin’ maid café in Hoikaido, hookers!”

He gestured to a wall, covered in hundreds of photos of cute floozies dressed like they were attending a vampire’s funeral. Among them was a photo of F-Bomb in his drag, serving a deep fried hot dog to some elderly Japanese dude.

“As you can see, yours truly is serving Japan’s national desert to none other than 57th Prime Minister of Japan Shinzo Abe!”

“Hold it up. Youse been hobnobbing it with politicians?!”

“I wish! You’re thinking of Shinzo Abe, 57th Prime Minister of Japan. This guy is his twin brother. Still pretty sweet though. We DID win a Grammy for that, after all.”

A-Holes eyes bulged out of his scaly raptor head.

“YOUSE WON A GRAMMY FOR THAT?!”

“Dang right! Milf Tiddies has won sixteen Grammys since I started working there!” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. A very special piece of paper, if the six holes punched into it were any indication. “Did you know that if you win ten Grammys in a row, they give you a free orphan? That’s how the wife and I got our glorious daughter, Lil’ Nagisa!”

F-Bomb pulled a faded photo out of his wallet. A photo showing himself, his pillow wife, and a smaller body pillow of a ten-year-old moeblob wearing a Green Bay Packers cheesehead helmet.

“So youse couldn’t even conceive your own kid?” Inquired D-Bag sexily. He was munching his omurice slowly, so F-Bomb knew he was being serious.

“Are you implying I have sex with my own wife, you sick freak?! I’m a weeaboo, not some degenerate anime fanboy! Get it straight!” He instinctively cocked the pistol in his throat. It was awesome as hell.

In response, D-Bag pumped his shotgun. Loudly.

“Permission to put the sick freak out of his misery, Boss?”

“Firstly, don’t call me Boss when we’re not having anal sex. Second, no can do, my spicy lover. We need F-Bomb alive.”

F-Bomb heard all of this even though A-Hole whispered it, but he pretended not to make A-Hole feel clever.

D-Bag mumbled about how the Boss was lucky he was so mind blowing in the sack, otherwise he would have left the relationship long ago. The sack in this case being a really kinky sex dungeon. Like really kinky. So kinky even Donald Trump wouldn’t go within a mile of it. D-Bag had almost died of autoerotic asphyxiation more times than I’ve gone to the bathroom in my lifetime. That’s why he was the smartest dinosaur out of the three of them. Now where was I again?

Anyway, F-Bomb interrogated

“Alright guys, what’s the deal? I know folks who come to this socialized medical care infested hellhole, and they don’t come here just to eat omurice boba tea. You WANT me for something.”

He cocked his mouth-pistol again. Sparks flew all over the carpet, which was made of alpaca fur so it didn’t catch fire.

A-Hole scandalously kept his cool.

“It’s about Isla Nublar.”

The second those words left A-Hole’s lips, F-Bomb escorted his wife out of the kitchen, but leaned her against the kitchen door, because that’s what she would have wanted.

“Well what about it? I told ya guys, I’m done with that dump.”

“They’re puttin’ the screws on us, F-Bomb. Making us pay for eating those tourists back in the nineties.”

“And what makes you think I care? Like I said, I’m done with that place. I got a wife and kid now.”

“But F-Bomb, doesn’t the Park mean ANYTHING to ya!? What about the time we ate that park ranger that called you a girl? ‘Better than sex’ I recall you saying.”

“Nice try, but I’m not exactly in the mood to get misgendered again. Don’t you guys got any ideas that don’t involve me?”

“As a matter of fact, yours truly had this really spectacular one!”

D-Bag did a hand gesture wherein he constantly crossed his dinosaur claws across his throat rapidly in quick succession. A-Hole, being very smart, knew this meant he should continue, loudly enough so that everyone in the prefecture could hear.

“It was called ‘Trump Ballz’. We’d harvest Donald Trump’s testicles, see, and sell them to the highest bidder, so they could do whatever people do with lopped off testicles. I’m not one to judge. It was a terrific idea. I know because when I told my best friend Donald Trump about it, he said, ‘A-Hole, this is an incredible idea. Absolutely terrific! This is probably the best idea in America! You are very smart, very intelligent dinosaur! I oughta buy you a prostitute!’ Of course, we didn’t realize that Trump’s ballz don’t grow back when you lop them off. Did you know that by the way? Human testicles don’t grow back-“

F-Bomb cocked the pistol inside his throat gain, getting the Boss to shut up. This was probably the most heroic thing anyone had ever done in the history of the universe. He also asked a question:

“SO WHAT THE HECK DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH ME?!”

A-Hole vomited a severed arm and a pamphlet onto the table.

“EVERYTHING, ya WEEB trash!”

The pamphlet was for something called the Doki Idol Live Fest- DILF, for short. F-Bomb was no stranger to the DILF, but they had parted ways years ago. Six, to be exact, when he had buried Nico Yazawa’s still screaming corpse by the side of the highway. And neither was he stranger to the prize.

It looked like a beer and soda drinking baseball cap, but only to complete idiots who didn’t know crap about the Idol Life.

And F-Bomb wasn’t one of those people, er dinosaurs.

“THE MCGUFFIN OF SIN?!”

“Dam* straight! And like it or not, youse the only one with enough idol know-how to help us win it! Thing’s worth, like, a zillion dollars.”

A zillion in this case was equivalent to half a million. Still, isn’t that impressive?

F-Bomb stuck his nose in his omurice and snorted, a common intimidation tactic among velociraptors. I know because I read  it in the Scientific American.

“Sorry, guys, but even with that on the line, no can do. I’m DONE with the Idol Life, any I’m not letting you filthy casuals drag me back in.” He cocked the pistol in his throat. “NOW SCRAM!”

A-Hole and D-Bag jumped out a window, so they could get the jump on a feral dog humping its’ owner. Nobody realized they were dinosaurs because of their fake mustaches, so it looked like a pair of mobsters were eating a puppy.

When they were gone, F-Bomb pranced to the bathroom, which was filled with plush alpacas he had collected over the years. So many, in fact, the bathroom did not meet OSHA compliance. Which was why F-Bomb had made it an independent nation state, only to realize that OSHA didn’t apply to him anyway, since he lived in Japan.

He had felt really stupid after that, but at least he got his own country out of it.

Anyway, he vomited sixteen liters of blood into the sink, for F-Bomb had a secret: he was dying. Back when he was a fetus in an egg in a lab on some island in the Caribean, he’d become addicted to the illegal street drug known as WEEB, and frequent use had poisoned his lungs. The doctors had given him Socialized Medical Care and four more years to live. The WEEB had taken eighty years off his life. Socialized Medical Care had borrowed his lawnmower and never given it back.

But F-Bomb also had a dream: he and his wife were going to build their own maid café, and it would be even better than MILF Tiddies. He’d already picked a title: DILF Tiddies, and it was going to be the greatest food-selling establishment in the history of Japan. Omurice boba tea was going to go global. But he’d never get the funds on time, not on his meager salary. Unless…

His beautiful wife greeted him as he exited the bathroom.

“Get a pen and some razor blades, sweetgums. I’ve got a letter to send.”

.   .   .

The message arrived in the neck of a mailman’s severed head. This is the traditional way velociraptors send letters to each other. I read it in a book.

D-Bag didn’t see the letter, but the look on A-Hole’s face told him everything.

“What’d I tell ya, D-Bag? Like I always say, when you’re dino you’re dino all the way, till youse dead in the ground or youse come out as gay!”

“Yeah, we really need to update those lyrics.”

End Chapter 1

...I cannot for the life of me decide if this is the greatest thing I've ever seen or the worst, but it at the very least had me staring speechless at my computer screen for a long time.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Reading Area #1 (1/18/2021)

Click here if you’re like “What the heck is this about?”

Valera @autokrates joins Kyxs @usedhearts while reading in the library and pulls out some tea. They hang out and chat about, among other things, Kyxs's death, magic, weird inhuman reproduction, and alien/infernal politics.

Kyxs

Books always attracted him, like a fly to honey, and so it's no wonder that he finally ends up in the library. Most of the volumes on the shelves, he couldn't even read the titles of, but he'd found a nice sci-fi novel in a shelf and sat down with that, just casually flipping through it and skimming.

Valera

Hope Kyxs didn't think he'd get alone time, even in an estate big enough to get lost in. Here comes Valera, a leather bound alien text shoved under one arm, the other holding an oversized mug of tea. To their credit, they offer a little murbling trill in greeting before taking a seat across the way from him in a piled up coil of tail and armchair cushions hidden under a throw blanket. Ohoho, this fish is ready to get COZY.

Kyxs

He looked up with a blink when she entered, but smiled her way. He slowly shut his book and held it in his lap.

"Hey, Val, haven't had a chance to see you yet, nor a chance to thank you for inviting me along. This--" He gestured around them. "Is way better than being in a bunker waiting things out. I'm having a blast."

Valera

"So I can imagine!" They grin, then cock their head to the side and rearrange themselves so they can lean in to get a closer look at their guest.

"Extermination day is your..." Ahem. "*Death Day,* right?" They sound it out carefully, a clear division between two words that didn't belong together in their mind. "Happy Death Day, Kyxs. I hope you've been able to enjoy this one more than the last."

Kyxs

He chuckled, giving a nod. "It is, and thanks. Yeah, usually I have a drink of whiskey with Alastor and listen to the radio waves through the extermination and that's all. Having mixed drinks with my boyfriend and hanging out on a beach side island mansion? Maaaajor upgrade."

Kyxs laughed a little more. "So, still weird to know that we're all dead humans, huh?"

Valera

"Very." They snort, turning to put their tea on the end table next to their chair. "I've seen plenty of humans die, but not as many start walking and talking in new form right afterwards."

They tap the edge of their book, humming as they watch him. "I'm glad I could provide a change of pace for you and yours. I almost didn't offer! I thought it might be too forward with how little we actually know each other, and I'm a TERRIBLE judge on how humans or ex-humans will respond to... Anything, honestly."

Kyxs

"Well, I'm glad you did." He shrugged a bit, leaning his elbow on the arm of his chair.

"Y'know what the worst part of arriving in Hell is? The drop. One minute, you're dying peacefully, and then next--" They lift a hand, making a motion with a finger like something falling. A cartoon sound effect of falling and then a comedic smacking sound play on the air. It's as smooch as any Alastor's effects, but it's clear he's been practicing with the noises.

"You're falling and splatting on the ground. I had the unlucky fortune to do that a few scant minutes before the Extermination kicked off for that year, and as jarring as it is to just fall in, falling in on Extermination day is worse."

Valera

A frown. "I'm surprised you survived. Well, I mean.."  A dip of the head. "You *didn't*, obviously. But you didn't *double* die. How did

freshly fallen sinner not immediately get exterminated? You'd have been a walking target!"

Kyxs

"Simple: Alastor. He was waiting for me when I dropped in, immediately got me up and rushed me to a bunker. Didn't even ask anything of me until after the Extermination." He shrugged a bit.

"Without him, I'd have been double dead for sure."

Valera

"Ah. Must have been a fan of your work." They're just going to take a sip of their tea, don't mind them. They know you, sad radio boy.

Kyxs

His mouth snapped shut, but his expression is a familiar static smile. Kyxs takes a moment to blink and then take a breath, relaxing. He just had to remind himself that they were an alien, maybe they wouldn't judge him like other humans would?

"....Yeah. He was. He followed me, listening in via the radios around me, watching what I was doing. Said he liked my style, but that I could have more flair, more power. Offered to teach me, if I worked for him in exchange. I took the deal." He tries his best to act casual, but his next shrug is a little too stiff.

Valera

They watch him stiffen up, and roll their eyes at his carefully manufactured casual mannerisms. "Here's a little tip from your local theater major, kid. Alastor can get away with the stiffly smiling puppet man act because that's how he *always* is. If you flip the switch on suddenly, everyone is going to notice and be on edge."

Ssssip. Mm, good tea. "Anyway. Making a Deal with Alastor was stupid, obviously, but I'm glad it's working out."

Kyxs

He sighed. "I know, I'm working on it. I only have high school theater to rely on." He laughed, crossing his legs.

"Eh, not as stupid as some people might think. Alastor's actually reasonable, mostly. If he respects you, which I was fortunate enough to earn by my actions in life. He'll give you good terms then, but if you're an idiot and act like one around him, well..." He trailed off and shrugged.

Valera

"Earning his respect doesn't seem that hard... Unless you also want him to fear you just a bit." They grin, all teeth.

"Not that I'd know. I have *no* idea if any Alastors out there respect me. But I do have things they want, and that's good enough. The only ones I make deals with are the ones I know have a vested interest in my survival."

Kyxs

"I don't know about that, there's not much Alastor fears." He took a breath, his hand playing with the pages of the shut book on his lap.

"Which ones are vested in your survival? Or are you not allowed to say?"

Valera

"I disagree MOST heartily, dear boy! There's plenty he fears. But if you haven't figured out what yet, I'm certainly not going to tell you and ruin his fun!" They crack their book open, setting it in their lap as they tug the throw up over their shoulders. Hoohoo cozy time.

"I could tell you specifics, but I wouldn't benefit from you knowing. Suffice to say, the ones that like going to Earth for visits or ingredients make an effort to keep in my good graces. Free rides are hard to come by."

Kyxs

He nodded. "True, I don't know much about what other Alastors fear, only the one I know. Who can say which ones of them have the same fears?"

He leaned over, tilting his head to try and get a peek at her book. "What're you reading?"

Valera

A few seconds of watching him crane his neck, and they obligingly turn the book sideways so he can see text he absolutely can't understand. It was reflex, don't question it too much.

"This? Nothing special, really. It's a book on chronomancy, time manipulation and the like. This one is about creating pockets of reality where time is dilated. Not terribly useful to me, but I like to study the basics of anything I can."

Kyxs

She was right, he could't read it, but he enjoyed being able to see the script, it looked nice. That explination flew over his head, though, and he blinked. "Soooo, time travel? What's.....time dilation?"

Valera

"Time dilation is.." They pull the book back, brows furrowing. "To simplify it to an absurd degree, time dilation is where time slows down. So this teaches you the theory behind creating pockets of space where time slows to a crawl relative to the world outside of it."

Kyxs

"Think I read a fantasy western where someone could do that. Had to burn a metal with Allomancy to do it, though." He chuckled. "But that's....neat? Is that something you can do?"

Valera

"Oh yeah, totally." They toss the book at Kyxs, watching as it freezes in midair, then seems to fall in slow motion.

"I already learned how to break this kind of magic at its zenith, but I did it with brute force. I'm studying the theory to learn how to pick it apart instead of just smashing it with a metaphorical hammer. Because eventually I wont be able to just" here they whip out the airquotes, voice turning exasperated "'orbital drop kick' my way to victory."

Kyxs

Kyxs blinked as the book froze and watched as it kept slowly moving towards him.

"Orbital drop kick, huh? So you got a lot of raw power but no finesse?"

Valera

"Oh, uh. Yeah." They roll their eyes, reaching out to pluck the book from the air before it went too far.

"I ruin a lot of things, losing control of spells. There's actually a spot in one of my off planet estates that infinitely spawns chickens because I overcharged one part of a time weave." A pause. "So if you're ever hungry, paradox chicken is cheap."

Kyxs

Kyxs blinked again, and then laughed, putting his face in his hand. "Paradox chicken?"

He lifted his head and, still giggling, continued. "So, is it just a planet of chickens now, or do they disappear after a while?"

Valera

They snort, waving a hand dismissively as they settle back into their coils. "I put a portal underneath the point that whisks them away to a processing facility. But it sure LOOKED like it was going to turn into a chicken planet for a while there. I didn't exactly have a response plan ready for *an endless flood of chickens*."

Kyxs

"Endless chickens. You could solve world hunger-- or actually, ALL worlds hunger." He laughed again.

"Okay, what else have you fucked up magically?" He looks legitimately excited by this.

Valera

They sniff. "Oh you want to hear about all my FAILURES huh? Not my dazzling successes? I broke an entire MOON out of a time freeze you know!"

A moment, and then they drop the act, grinning again. "Veci learn to channel our magic through boards carved with symbols. They're rigidly designed and have a bunch of redundancies to keep dumbass kids from hurting themselves. They do all sorts of things, and ONLY those things. So I, of course, wired a bunch of them together and powered them all at once."

A long sigh. "Long story short, the whole kit and kaboodle went flying off into low orbit and is probably still going."

Kyxs

Kyxs laughed, harder this time. "Oh my god! Just bam, zoom! Off it goes! That's incredible."

He sighed and wiped at his eye. "Reminds me of when Alastor started teaching me magic-- nearly broke every piece of radio equipment I touched."

Valera

His host watches him, fins twitching as they hold their mug of tea in cupped hands. "Aw, hatchling's growing pains. I assume you've gotten better control since then?"

Kyxs

"Oh yeah, a lot better. I still don't have the simple finesse and control that Alastor does, but I'm also not a full fledged radio demon yet." He shrugged.

"I still have to concentrate for stuff that comes naturally to Alastor." To prove his point, an audience gave sporadic clapping after he spoke and he sighed.

"Like that. Still need to whip my audience into shape."

Valera

"So I've heard! You don't inspire the same fear, but you also didn't exactly spring into Hell fully formed and blasting Overlords with unfathomable power. Or whatever. I wasn't there for it, I'm sure his manifestation was greatly exaggerated."

Kyxs

Kyxs rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged a bit. "I dunno, I've looked into it, quite a bit, and most reports are shockingly accurate from what I can tell. Alastor doesn't like to talk about the specifics a lot, though. But he did kill just...a whole fuckton of sinners."

Valera

They shrug. "Sinners die all the time. But we're focusing on you here. Do you MIND that people aren't as afraid of you?"

Kyxs

"Not really? Like everyone's _so_ afraid of Alastor that he can't do much of anything without people running in terror. I can go places and do things on his behalf and even then people won't just up and run because of my mere presence. Being feared to that extent's gotta be tiring." He shrugs back.

Valera

Sip-- Oh, they're out of tea. Ah well. "Speaking from experience? Exhausting. Especially for someone who was previous used to being well liked. You should feel bad for him, but only a little. He did choose to do all that murder after all."

Kyxs

His head tilted, looking curious. "People feared you? Like they do Alastor? But....you're so nice?" His bright green eyes squinted.

"Though considering you can make a chicken paradox, I guess getting on your bad side is a bad idea."

Valera

Well, if he's going to say his piece.. They carefully set the empty mug aside, face blandly neutral as they speak.

"I was thrust into power at twenty years of age, unprepared and terrified. When people attacked me, I responded in turn. When their families protested, I held public executions, to prove a point. A plot of treason? I strung their bodies up for everyone to see!"

A shrug. "Once people see you pull the trigger on an entire city in response to something they did, they realize what they're trying to fight against only gets worse every time they try to put it down."

Kyxs

"Oh geez." Their eyes widen with each word and they look away, elbows on their knees and hands covering their mouth.

After Valera was done, they were quiet a moment. "Yeah, that'd do it," They muttered.

Kyxs sat back up, leaning back in their chair, arms crossing over their stomach. "I killed my father and brother. They were both my first victims. And then I went off and killed a lot of other people. Not a whole city's worth, but for one person just on their own? I killed a lot."

They shrugged. "I keep that under wraps for most of Hell, on Alastor's advice. Thought since you shared...." They shrugged.

Valera

What a strange heart to heart this is. They'd hesitate to call Kyxs anything more than a maybe-friend, but.. He tries. They offer a smile, one side crooked higher than the other.

"Weird that he'd tell you to keep a few murders under wraps, considering the circumstances! But I'm sure he had his reasons. Maybe keeping your victims from deciding to settle the score personally."

A beat. "Oh. I haven't done a widespread cull since I hit thirty, so don't... worry? I guess? I made a deal; ten years of compassion after ten years of cruelty. Six in now, and people have gotten comfortable enough to insult me to my face."

Kyxs

"I think it's less about the murders themselves and more me being a serial killer and all the media coverage I had before I died. Some people in Hell go real hard for true crime shit and have no qualms about stalking you." He laughed softly.

Kyxs's head titled, curious. "What happens when the ten years are up? Will you go back to doing stuff like that or do you think your decade of compassion's changed you enough to not do it again?"

Valera

"Figures, even in Hell where killers are in spitting distance on any given street corner, the big names still get creepy fans. Ever had people ring into the station over you yet?"

The question catches their attention, eyes alight with mischief. "I'd started to find the devotion to compassion rather boring, but then it lead me to Pentious. I _like_ being attentive with him. Making him happy makes _me_ happy. It's pleasant! And weird!"

They magic up fresh tea, offering a duplicate mug to Kyxs. "In four years time, I'll likely have young children to worry about. Another thing I never expected. So.. The best answer I can give is.. I don't know! This year alone has upset my status quo immensely."

Kyxs

He laughed, shaking his head. "No, thankfully. It helps that Kyxs isn't the name I went by when I was up top. I _do_ get people calling in thirsty as fuck for Alastor, though. In a variety of ways."

Kyxs shuddered a bit, and then grinned.

"Oh yeah, love can do that. Having someone to share things with is just really nice. Whether it's a friend or a significant other, it's really nice just being around people you like and care about."

He blinked and tilted his head. "Kids? With....Pentious? I thought sinners were sterile?"

Valera

"You are." They go back to cupping their drink. Time for more explaining! "Veci can reproduce with anything that has a soul. Sinners like you and Pentious ARE souls, condemned to Hell for your sins in life."

A pleased hum.. And then they snort. "Before you ask, yes I'm sure it works, and I've got the embarrassing story about Alastor being my midwife to prove it."

Kyxs

He blinks again at that and finally takes a sip of the tea she'd given him.

"Ah, hm, I don't think I want to hear that story yet. I don't think I'm mentally prepared." He chuckled. "But that's really interesting. Is it cause your people are so much more magically inclined?"

Valera

"You will never be mentally prepared. And if you ever are, you'll have better luck asking Angel. He was there too." A dainty wrist to their forehead, and they sigh dramatically. "My BEAUTIFUL spusband, my knight in SHINING armor.."

But no, Kyxs was NOT ready to hear the story, and Valera was not about to share it. Instead they grin over their tea, mischief in their eyes. "To answer your question. Yes and no. We're very magically inclined, but we're also genetically all over the place, compared to humans. For example, I bet you had two genetic donors, both normal husband, and you came out looking like either of them. "

Kyxs

Another rapid set of blinks. This converstation really was getting a lot of those out of him. "Angel was there?" He grinned at her display. "Well, that explains everything, he's definitely a knight in shinning armor."

He nods, very seriously, yes absolutely, knight in shinning armor.

"Yeah, that's pretty much how humans do it. Two parents, both equal in indignity." He snorted into his tea as he took another sip.

Valera

Oh no, there they go back into their dramatic swoon. "Of course Angel was there! He was the one whisking me away once things started happening, the one right by my side through thick and thin!"

And cue another sigh, flowery as you please. Then they snap back to normal, chinhanding at Kyxs. "I've got seven parents. All genetically related to me. Though the indignity stands, anyone who thinks reproduction is beautiful is wrong, and worse, they're stupid."

Kyxs

More blinking! His eyelids are going to get tired at this rate. "Seven? If it's not too weird to ask, how?? I only know about human biology, so forgive the ignorance."

He was trying very hard to not giggle as he took yet another sip of tea.

Valera

Kyxs' eyelids were going to be so buff by the time this was over. "Well, in MY case the genes were harvested and then patched together in a controlled environment. Yes, that's right darling... I'm DESIGNER." Hairflip. Anyway.

"But it CAN happen naturally. The optimum mating period is fairly generous, as long as there's enough.. traits.. mixed in there by the time the shop closes, the results can be any mix of the parents... Or you just do it magically. We've got spells to avoid the sexual part of reproduction entirely. Options are out there, suffice to say."

Kyxs

He gives a BIG laugh at the hairflip. That was a good one, tickled his funnybone something good.

"I see. That's really cool. So like, anyone can have a kid if they want, I guess the opposite is true too? Like there's probably magical contraception and all that?"

Valera

Good, they live to entertain!

"Of course! I just use the standard non magical medical solutions. Keeps me from having weird magic interactions!"

Kyxs

Kyxs laughed again. "Oh God what kind of weird magical reactions can they cause?"

Valera

"I mean, I laid three eggs. So failure is a common one." They roll their eyes. "No, I know what you want. Sometimes you change colors if your contraceptive doesn't mesh well with your magic. Or you can turn sparkly."

Kyxs

"_Sparkly?_" Their eyes get real big for a moment there. "Man, I want weird magical reactions that turn people sparkly to exist in Hell that sounds funny as fuck."

They laughed and set their empty cup aside. "I take it yours meshes, though-- or are you normally blue?" Kyxs smirked.

Valera

"I hatched *red,* actually." They flutter their lashes... Then snort and shake their head. "That's true, but misleading. Veci change colors as they grow up fairly frequently, nothing to do with contraceptives. No, I use regular old injections, good for six months at a time. Though my old magical one would sometimes make my horns get blue speckles. As far as side effects, it was pretty harmless!"

Now it's their turn to lean in, eyebrow raising. "You've asked *me* a bunch of questions, but what about you? Any magical contraceptives on your side of things, Kyxs?"

Kyxs

Oh, the blinking time is back, that's good. He laughed after, shaking his head.

"Oh, no, not that I know of. Sinners being sterile and all there's no real need for injections? I don't know what's up with the Hellborns though, so maybe they got some." He shrugged.

Valera

"Oh, boo. Though the idea of Hellborns making minor contracts with...." They trail off, leaning back in their seat.

"Oh my gods. Do they make deals with Stolas? No, no... Unless they were trading for information on contraceptive *herbs*. No, they'd go to Gaap, probably? He's the prince who rules over that sort of thing, if my memory serves. I haven't brushed up on my knowledge of demons in *years*." Plus Gaap was the one that Alastor had called on for them.. They should send a gift basket.

Kyxs

"I've been lacking in my demon studies, honestly. I know about Prince Stolas, but Gaap's not familiar to me? Is he a Duke or...?" He trailed off, shifting to tuck his feet under him on the chair.

Valera

"He's a prince, same as Stolas. Though, that's assuming your Hell works the same as some of the others I've been to. I'd honestly suggest you do your own research when you get home, if possible. Though if you want, I could ask Stolas when I see him on our coffee date." They shuffle deeper into their blankets.

"Do you want a refill on the tea, or is that enough for you?"

Kyxs

"Oh! Yeah a refill would be nice." He picked up his empty cup to hand over.

"Yeah I should. I need to be in the know more when it comes to Hellborns rather than just sinner Overlords."

Valera

A twitch of their fin, and his tea is refilled. Who needs TEAPOTS when you've got MAGIC ~~and a teapot and tea cabinet in the kitchen you can draw boiling water and leaves from~~?

"Indeed! Though, really I should as well. If I'm going to marry a man aspiring to conquer, I need to learn everything I can to help support him in his efforts. His greatest enemies, possible allies, how to manage them.. You know. Political stuff."

Kyxs

He takes a sip of the new tea. Ah yes tasty.

"Yeah, I've been putting it off a lot because of the politics. But considering I'm bound to the Radio Demon, and he's working with the Princess, maybe it's a good idea to look more into things."

Valera

"Take it from a politician. Politics are the worst and I hate them. Death to politics as we know it can't come soon enough." A heaving sigh.

"It sounds like a good idea. If you're going to help your boss, you need to know what you're doing. If I'm going to help my husband, so do I. We're together in misery!"

Kyxs

"Yay!" Kyxs gave a little fake cheer and then laughed.

"Well, as they say, misery loves company." He gave a shrug. "But you said you were planning on having coffee with Prince Stolas? Swanky." He laughed a little.

Valera

They groan, nearly vanishing into their own coils as they slowly place their book over their face. Politicsssssss....

Oh, right. Stolas. They remain exactly as they are, voice muffled but much more cheery. "We're going to meet up and swap parenting tips over iced coffee! He seems lovely, so I'm looking forward to it."

Kyxs

"That sounds so wholesome for a chat with a Prince of Hell." Kyxs couldn't help another giggle.

"Then again, Hellborns are a lot different from sinners. Who's to say they can't be wholesome?"

Valera

They wave a hand, vague and airy. "Parents operate on a higher frequency. We make eye contact and a bond is established. In that moment, we are allies in exasperation and adoration for the weird tiny people we're stuck with."

The book is brought down far enough to peek their third eye over at Kyxs, surprise tinging their voice. "You've met Charlie, haven't you? She's a total sweetheart, and about as Hellborn as it gets."

Kyxs

"Oh yeah! I have, she's really nice. I think my brain just slots her into her own category cause she's Princess." He shrugged again.

"She's very _very_ enthusiastic about things, which is really adorable. I really kinda wanna meet her parents just to see how they could've raised someone as sweet and compassionate in Hell of all places."

Valera

"You know, fair. She's certainly not like any other Hellborn out there, with that parentage." The royal baby, the little Angel of Hell. Poor Charlie.

And then her parents. Ugh. "I've heard very little about Charlotte's parents." They begin, carefully. "But I've heard nothing _good_ about them. I think Charlie's personality is her own doing."

Kyxs

"That's a fair point. I've heard things about Lucifer and Lilith, and none of it wasn't someone doing some ass kissing, sooo..." He snorted and shrugged again.

"It'd make sense if Charlie was mostly a self made Princess."

Valera

"Quite so, Kyxs." The book is finally pulled away, set on the table between them so Valera can have both hands free.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to derail the conversation. Was there anything in particular you wanted to discuss?"

Kyxs

"Oh, not really. I kinda like derailed converstations, makes it easier to go with the flow." He tilted his head.

"Alastor hasn't been any trouble has he? I mean, the one that's my boss, of course."

Valera

They stare at him, blank faced as they process his question. Alastor... Trouble... His *boss* Alastor.... Had he? Had he been trouble? Quick, brain, go evaluate a specific Alastor even though they all looked almost identical. Which one was his boss? Not Stick, right? No of course not. So that meant...

A few seconds of silence, and... "Oh! Not at all. He's lovely. A model guest. Good shot, too." Nailed it.

Kyxs

"Good shot?" His eyebrow raised and he lifted his cup for another sip of tea.

"What was he shooting?"

Valera

"Fish! We went speargun fishing together on the pier. It was very fun, he's good company." Oho, a purr from the fish, good job Alastor, wherever you are.

"I almost feel bad for worrying, all the Alastors have been behaving very well. So far."

Kyxs

"Oh never feel bad about worrying about Alastors making trouble. They'd never be rude, but I will say if they weren't your guests, they would be making a loooot more chaos than they are." He shook his head and smirked.

"Sometimes it's funny, sometimes....not so much."

Valera

They open their mouth to respond, then hesitate, tension tightening their shoulders. "Yes. Sometimes not so much is right."

... Not going to elaborate on that, Valera? No? Alright. "Well, with him at least, we managed to get along well enough with weapons in our hands! Always a good sign. Hopefully even when he isn't bound by his manners we'll muddle through, but we'll see."

Kyxs

"Well, if he didn't take a shot at you with a weapon in his hands, I'd say you're at least good in that he won't immediately kill you." He laughed again.

"I mean, not that he could? I think you'd be able to take anyone in Hell, honestly. Maybe not Lucifer himself, but you never know."

Valera

They grimace, shaking their head at the idea. "I could take Alastor in a fight, but I don't know about any Hellborn. And even if I *could* take them on, I wouldn't want to. Fighting is *stressful*."

Kyxs

He nodded and shrugged. "Fair enough, I haven't actually fought anyone else in Hell, so I don't even know what a big demon magical fight would be like."

Valera

"Oh, you haven't? Do you even know what you're truly capable of?" Now they're interested again.

"If you want to get an idea, I could always spar with one of my friends while you watched. Sparring is one thing, that's just playing."

Kyxs

"Not like, fully capable? I've gone into uhhh, my 'true' demon form a couple times but never to really fight? Or at least not anyone who was even near my level in terms of power." He used airquotes around the true part, and then shrugged.

"But I wouldn't say no to seeing some sparring, sounds fun."

Valera

"Sure! Probably not this time, but we can absolutely arrange something when less people are around to get in the crossfire."

They've abandoned the idea of reading by now, just a bundle of fish in a blanket sitting pretty.

"So, Kyxs. What do you want in Hell? You're stuck there theoretically forever, have you got a goal?"

Kyxs

They pondered that question for a bit, one clawed hand scratching at the base of one of their horns.

"Not really sure? Beyond like, doing the radio thing, learning from Alastor, and playing music, I don't have big overarching goals? I'm.... kind of content with that? Which is weird when you think about it, being content in Hell of all places but hey." They shrugged. "I'll take it."

Valera

"That might be for the best, honestly. But yeah, there's a pretty big flaw in Hell's design."

They shrug. "Humans can adapt to just about anything. That's your claim to fame. Give them eternity and they'll build civilizations, like they did on Earth, and like they did in Hell. Mediocre food? You get used to it."

Kyxs

Kyxs laughed. "Don't let Alastor hear you calling Earth food mediocre, he'll take that as a challenge."

He leaned back, tilting his head to stair up at the ceiling. "Kinda makes you wonder how Hell's supposed to be a punishment when it seems like more of the same. Maybe that _is_ the punishment? You think it's gonna be a change, but it's not. I dunno, I can't claim to know what God was thinking when he came up with it."

Valera

"Alastor can take it as a challenge, I've rarely had food from Earth that actually tasted good. It's not made for a Veci tongue to enjoy. If he thinks he can do better than all the other attempts, let him!" A snort, and then they shrug.

"I can't say much for your God, but they never struck me as the creative sort. Or as all knowing as they act. It's kind of embarrassing, like a kid who made a mess and then tries to hide it." They pause, raising an eyebrow. "Though of course, I get to say that because I'm an alien with gods I can punch in the face. Yours seems a bit loftier."

Kyxs

"Yeah, loftier." He rolled his eyes. "He's an asshole. Thought so when I was alive and still think so now. His sons aren't much better, any of em. Though," He giggles, "It does make me laugh that the family who where the biggest bible thumpers are the ones in Hell with me, the heathen, now."

Valera

Well that earns him a quizzical look. "What does that mean? What family?"

Kyxs

Kyxs winced a little and glanced away. "_My_ family. My uh brother and father. Huge Christian bible thumpers and yet," He giggled again. "They're both in Hell now too. Looks like all their hypocrisy got the best of them."

Valera

They scrunch their face like they just sucked a lemon, sinking further into their blanket. "Gods, I forget that people having families is *normal*. Sounds like yours wasn't great though. I take it you were responsible for their surprise entrances to Hell?"

Kyxs

"Yeah. Said earlier that I killed em, but yeah. Knife to the neck for dear old dad and just a bunch of stabs to the chest for big brother." His face also scrunched. "Really had hoped that they'd been exterminated."

Valera

"Well sure, but I don't know how much family you have. Had. Have?" Squint. "Either way, good riddance. Next round, just throw them into the street yourself. You want a problem solved, do it yourself and all that!"

Kyxs

"Easier said than done, I don't know where they hole up for the exterminations, and I doubt they'd let me in so that I _could_ toss them out." He shrugged. "Just have to find some other way, I guess."

Valera

Valera scoffs, pointing a finger at Kyxs. "You have a lot to learn, kid. I hope Alastor teaches you how to properly track a target by next extermination. It's all about networking with people who want to be in your good graces."

A dismissive toss of the head, and the fish rises to their feet. "Speaking of family we hate, though, I should check on my *own* brother to make sure he hasn't said anything stupid to any of my guests. I'll see you later, Kyxs."

Kyxs

"I know how to track people, they just have some...powerful friends." He sighed. When Val got up, he nodded.

"Brothers are the worst. Alright, see ya later then, Val."

He gave a little wave as she left.

[scarletjedi]

Sangcheng Time Travel Fixit Project Sneak Peak

Remember when I said I was working on this? I’m still figuring out the shape of the whole story, and I’ll post it once I’ve figured it out. But! This scene popped fully formed into my head yesterday, so I thought I’d share :)

Rated T for language, underaged drinking, and implied sexytimes 

I’m calling this “Section 5, subsection b, article ii” because that’s where on the outline this scene fits, but we can also call it “Wait, Why Is He Here?” 

(see the bottom of this post for more notes)

***

The room was lit with candles, their outer robes covering the windows to hide the glow. Wei Wuxian had supplied the wine. Huaisang had brought peanuts. It was exactly as Jiang Cheng remembered — with a few notable exceptions, one of which was sitting across the table.  

Jin Zixuan squinted at him, wary and clearly assessing, but he accepted the drink Jiang Cheng passed him.

“I don’t get it,” Jin Zixuan said, not drinking. Good – perhaps he did have some self-preservation instincts after all. “Why am I here?”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian chimed in, hastily swallowing his mouthful of wine, pointing a finger with the hand holding the bottle. “Why is he here?”

“Because,” Jiang Cheng said firmly, and turned back to Jin Zixuan. “You are engaged to our sister, and while it’s not impossible to break that engagement, it’s not something our mothers would let happen lightly.” He held up a hand before Jin Zixuan could put his foot in it. “I know, it wasn’t your choice. It wasn’t A-Jie’s choice, either, and that’s kinda my point, so let me finish.” He huffed a breath and downed his wine, bringing the cup down with a click before pointing at Jin Zixuan.

“Your parents’ marriage is a sham.”

Zixuan puffed up, like he was going to deny it, but faltered once he opened his mouth and sat back, drinking his wine at last. Jiang Cheng poured him another. “My parents are miserable. They make us, and everyone around us, miserable.” He wasn’t looking at Wei Wuxian while he talked, but he was aware of him where he sat, far too quiet. “They make my sister miserable.” Jiang Cheng continued, and then paused, making sure Jin Zixuan was paying attention. “I would do anything to keep my sister from a marriage that would make her miserable.”

Jiang Cheng sat back on his heels, feeling his spine straighten automatically. “Both of our parents’ marriages were arranged marriages. I’m not surprised the idea scares you shitless; I’m not fond of the idea, either. But, for whatever reason, my sister seems to actually like you,” and here Jin Zixuan sat up straight, caught out and flushing. Oh, no, he did like her already. He hated when Huaisang was right about these things. “But her liking you is not enough. You need to like each other. Before you get married.”

Jin Zixuan squirmed for a moment. “You can’t just force people to like each other,” he said, at last.

Jiang Cheng snorted. “Watch me,” he muttered, then waved it off. “You need to talk her, honestly and without all of your…” he waved a hand, indicating Jin Zixuan’s… everything.

“Stupid peacock face?” Wei Wuxian offered, false cheer soaking through his words.

“Will you go bother Lan Wangji and let me handle this?” Jiang Cheng snapped, and Wei Wuxian stuck out his tongue. 

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian pouted, and Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes hard enough to feel them ache. “Lan Zhaaan!” There was a sound of fluttering cloth and then bodies colliding, and he didn’t need to look to know that Wei Wuxian had all but thrown himself in Lan Wangji’s lap.

Shameless, the both of them.

“Yeah, about that,” Jin Zixuan said, pointing at where Lan Wangji had sat with his usual quiet reserve until Wei Wuxian decided that he was better used as furniture. “Why is he here?”

“Because at the moment, I like him better than you,” Jiang Cheng said.

Jin Zixuan frowned, sitting up and clearly rallying. “I wish it was as easy as hoping, but some things can’t be forced.”

“And I wish you weren’t so damned awkward, but here we are!”

“I—I’m not awkward!” Jin Zixuan protested. Awkwardly.

Jiang Cheng sighed, seeing echoes of Jin Ling, red faced and sputtering and trying so very hard. At least Jin Ling had the benefit of exposure to the Yunmeng Jiang – he was aware of how people could speak openly, even if his uncle was…really kind of bad at it. Zixuan wouldn’t gain that ability until he began courting A-Jie…

…well, now, he guessed.

“Jin-xiong,” Huaisang said, softly and earnestly as he settled beside Jiang Cheng. “It is well known by everyone that, of our generation, you are the third ranked young master. Your skills and beauty are unmistakable.” Zixuan looked away, flushing even as he preened. Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow at Huaisang, mouthing “beauty?” and Huaisang winked at him, smirking from behind his fan.

“But is it also true, Jin-xiong, that it is lonely at the top,” Huaisang continued, his voice gentle and just honest enough that Jiang Cheng found himself lacing their fingers together below the table.

“I’m not lonely,” Zixuan snapped, but it was lacking heat.

“Apologies, but you are,” Huaisang said. People always forgot how Huaisang’s softness hid Nie steel. “You are the heir to the sect, so the disciples must keep a distance. Even Maiden Luo must keep herself a step removed – two, as she is a woman and you are engaged. The sects do not mingle enough to offer you true companionship with your peers and your cousin is…”

“Odious,” Jiang Cheng offered, perfectly willing to say what they were all thinking. Jin Zixun was odious, and the sooner Jin Zixuan began to actively denounce his shitty cousin’s actions, the happier they would all be. Without missing a beat, Huaisang whapped his chest with his closed fan. Jaing Cheng didn’t bother to hide a smug smile.

“Difficult,” Huaisang offered. “My point is, people need people. I have my brother. Wanyin has Wei-xiong and Maiden Jiang.”

“I have my brother,” Lan Wangji said unexpectedly, drawing their attention. Everyone knew how close the Twin Jades were, but that didn’t explain why Wei Wuxian was still leaning against him far too inappropriately for company, face usually somber and his hands were both wrapped around one of Lan Wangji’s. “It is not enough. Brother had been…encouraging me to make friends.” He paused, and Jiang Cheng wondered if Lan Xichen had encouraged his brother last time, too. “I…too, have difficulty.”

Jiang Cheng blinked, wondering what it must have taken for Lan Wangji to admit that, before seeing the encouraging smile on Wei Wuxian’s face. It made something uncomfortable churn in the pit of his stomach that felt too much like guilt.

“So, you’re saying I need a sibling?” Jin Zixuan said, voice loose enough that Jiang Cheng wondered if he was tipsy already. He hadn’t had that much to drink, though he was certainly doing better than Lan Wangji, who stuck stubbornly to tea. “You may play a fool, Nie Huaisang, but you know as well as I do why I don’t have any.” Jiang Cheng nodded to himself – it was an open secret that Madame Jin had refused her husband’s bed at the first proof of his infidelity.

“Of course, I do,” Huaisang drawled, waving his fan pointedly. “Because your ass of a father won’t legitimize any of them, if he even knows how many he has.” Jiang Cheng bit his lip to keep the grin off his face; he loved it when Huaisang was bitchy. Still, it was enough to get Jin Zixuan blinking at him.

Huaisang waved his fan at Jin Zixuan, dismissing his comment. His point was made, no need to rub it in. “My point is – you are going to be sect leader someday,” and Jiang Cheng had to drink for that one. “Which means politics. Politics is all talking to people and making connections. Those skills require practice. Why do you think we are here, Jin-xiong? It’s not just to learn from Lan Qiren.”

“The classes here at Cloud Recesses offer a unique opportunity to learn about and from other sects, and mingle with other sect heirs,” Jiang Cheng said, distantly remembering his mother saying something similar before they had left Lotus Pier.  “Our generation is lucky that we are all here at the same time.” Huaisang muttered something into his fan that he wouldn’t count himself lucky if he had to take these classes for three years in a row, and Jiang Cheng squeezed his hand. “We are here to begin building the alliances that will one day shape our world.” 

Jin Zixuan blinked at him, and Jiang Cheng realized everyone was staring at him. He refused to duck his head, even as he felt a flush crawl across his cheeks. He was sect leader for almost twenty years, damnit. It was hard to turn off. 

“In other words,” Huaisang said, covering smoothly, though his eyes were on Jiang Cheng with no little heat. He knew Huaisang had a thing for authority. “You’re here to make friends.”

“And you’re bad at that,” Jiang Cheng said. “Which is why we’re not giving you a choice.”

Huaisang grinned, showing his teeth. “Face it. You’re one of us, now. 

Jin Zixuan didn’t seem to know how to react to that, and everyone paused, waiting for the inevitable outburst from Wei Wuxian that didn’t come. As the silence stretched, Jin Zixuan glanced over at Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, startling visibly. Jiang Cheng didn’t need to look to know that they were being utterly shameless and he grabbed a handful of peanut shells to lob in their general direction.

“Yeah,” Huaisang said, clearly laughing at the look on Jin Zixuan’s face. “They do that.”

“All the time,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s a wonder they haven’t been caught.”

Jin Zixuan blinked. “I still don’t know how to talk to your sister,” he blurted, and Jiang Cheng sighed. He was so young.

“That’s okay,” Jiang Cheng said, and  poured them both another drink, ignoring the way his lover blatantly watched his brother kiss Lan Wangji. They were going to have to talk about that. He thunked the cup down in front of Jin Zixuan. “You’ll learn. Or I’ll feed you to Wei Wuxian.”

Jin Zixuan blinked. “I think he’d rather eat Lan Wangji,” he said, and seemed pleased when it made Jiang Cheng shout, and sent Huaisang tipping over, giggling into Jiang Cheng’s side.

Jiang Cheng thought he might just be proud.

**Notes: I am most familiar with The Untamed series, so this is operating in (mostly) TV canon - especially in terms of characterizations...which have already altered a bit by the parts of this story not yet posted. By this point in the fic, Jiang Cheng (who has had to do a lot of emotional heavy lifting, with Nie Huaisang’s help) has had enough of Wei Wuxian being oblivious in his crush on Lan Wangji and has pushed them together early (because *that* wont have any serious repercussions). It’s also established Sangcheng, though nobody knows yet and even they think it’s a largely friends with benefits situation. (Spoilers: it’s not. They figure it out.)

[ribcage-rodents]

Post two

Diana

Diana smiled indulgently resting a hand on Donna’s shoulder.

“Hello Donna, it is wonderful to see you again, I have some exciting news.”

Donna

She fidgeted awkwardly trying to act like she hadn't been eavesdropping.

Diana

“You are finally going to see the Man’s World. Go pack your bags, we will leave once you say your goodbyes. We can discuss the rules of your mission in my plane.”

Her excitement was only shown by the joyful flash in her eyes.

Donna attempted to keep her face in a soft smile with her eyes telling her emotions

much like her older sister does, as she made her way towards her home.

Scene 6

Bruce sat at the kitchen counter a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, while his face rested heavily in the other.

Alfred

Alfred curved around Bruce to top off his drink and use a rag to clean up a puddle of coffee Bruce had spilled while complaining about League business.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just let the boy have friends, master Bruce.”

Bruce

Bruce looked up exasperated from where his face was resting.

“Because Dick is more skilled and intelligent than all of those other ‘heroes’. I don’t want him to be influenced by those immature, idiotic, side kicks. Who knows what one of those older kids could encourage him to do!? He’s much safer at home.”

He said moving his hand sharply to the left spilling coffee all over the counter.

Alfred sighed deeply moving to clean up the coffee, sending Bruce a disapproving stare while he sheepishly averted his gaze. Dick was upstairs in his beautiful, pink-marbled bathroom leaning over the counter worriedly applying concealer to purple bruises on his neck as Tate Agile played in the background, he stopped for a moment to read to a text from ‘science lab partner’.

Dick

“Come on dude, it's not that big of a deal Bs never gonna know”

Dick sighed becoming even more concerned, he glanced in the mirror frowning at his reflection before replying.

“Idk Babs, I’d be in a ton of trouble if B found out”

He stared at his phone for a couple of seconds then added,

“Especially since you’re like a little too old for me”

Dick’s hand squeezed around his phone as he shut his eyes, he counted to ten silently before exhaling. Pretending he wasn’t waiting for her response he went back to covering up the bruises on his neck, despite his eyes flicking back over to the black screen every couple of seconds.

Yet when the phone finally pinged he hesitated, it wasn't until the second text arrived that he actually answered.

“No, our age difference really isn’t that big, if you think about it people get married with like a 10 year diff.”

“Are you gonna come out w me tonight?”

Dick sighed softly, his cheeks lighting up pink.

“Yeah I got some free time around 12-2am. But we’re just gonna hang out ok, just like a little bit of kissing. No making out or hickies or anything.”

His phone pinged again.

“Haha yeah sure that's what you said last time.”

“What's up w your schedule man? 12-2am is so random.”

“You might not need sleep but I do, next time we should just meet up during like second period or something.”

Dick’s frown deepened.

“I’m not skipping school. I think you’re a bad influence on me:(“

“You know we don’t have to do anything when we meet up we could just cuddle or something.”

He paused before deleting the last message.

“Ha, maybe I like making you into a bad boy”

“See you tonight, maybe I’ll make you break into the school to find the best secret makeout place!”

Dick set his phone face down, scratching at his arm he went back to covering up those bruises.

Scene 7

Wally was in his tiny little bathroom that looks like it was designed in the 1950’s. He was leaning over the tiled blue and turquoise countertop messing with his forever windswept hair. There was a loud banging at the door as Wally dragged a brush through the birdsnest on top of his head.

Wally

There was a brief pause before Wally once again dragged the brush through his messy hair. The banging returned causing Wally to jerk smacking his hand against the counter, he turned and opened the door staring annoyed at his uncle.

“What?”

Barry

Barry stared back a pleased smirk on his face leaning against the door frame.

“Come on kiddo, we’re gonna be late.”

He reached out and plucked the brush from Wally’s hand as he spoke.

Wally

Wally did a full body groan leaning back, he shot one last mournful look at himself in the mirror before he moved towards the door, his uncle disappearing into his room. Wally sighed rummaging through his room for his suit. “What's the point of having super speed if you’re gonna be late to everything?”

Barry

Barry zipped over to his nephew ruffling his hair, effectively ruining any improvement Wally had managed.

“I ask myself the same question everyday when I show up late for work.”

Flying down the streets of central the two speedsters made haste, two flashes of red and yellow sped down the streets and around buildings. Stopping quickly at a hotdog vendor, handing the man a red credit card decorated with tiny lightning bolts, the city's way of thanking the heroes. Before getting back on the road.

Flash

“So kiddo, are ya nervous?”

Flash called stuffing a whole hot dog in his mouth.

Kidflash

Kidflash made a contemplative noise, looking down at his feet.

“Well yeah, I’m not exactly good at making friends,... or being cool.”

Both speedsters came to a halt, Kidflash resumed looking down self-deprecatingly, shoving the last 12 hotdogs into his mouth. Flash slipped behind him resting a hand on his shoulder.

Flash

“Don’t worry kiddo, just be yourself they’re gonna love you!”

He punctuated his statement by ruffling his nephew’s hair one last time. The two then proceeded, one at a time to enter the transporter.

Scene 8

Kidflash stepped into the JL headquarters quickly moving to catch up with his uncle as he sped towards the monitor room.

Flash

“Welcome to the Justice League break room!”

Flash called happily swinging his arms open to fully display the room. He leaned in close,

“It used to just be the monitor room but we all started to hang around here, mostly because Wonder Woman and Supes like to annoy Bats.”

He said with a nod.

Wonder Girl sat alone on the edge of one of the ugly green couches, sipping on a mug of herbal tea periodically.

Flash

Flash bumped his shoulder against Kidflash’s, whispering an encouraging,

“You got this kiddo!”

The Flash then departed, walking over towards Batman and Wonder Woman chatting by the supercomputer both holding steaming cups of coffee.

Kidflash

Taking a deep breath and gathering all his courage Kidflash confidently strided over to where Wonder Girl was perched. Looming over her he plastered on his best ‘Wall-man’ smirk. Wonder Girl cocked a single eyebrow as a supercilious look settled on her lips.

“Hey gorgeous, I hope you brought your library card because you can totally check me out!”

He flinched expecting to be hit or splashed by her tea.

Wonder Girl

“Wow, I’m already regretting this,”

Wonder Girl huffed glaring at Kidflash

“Maybe I should’ve stayed home,”

She mumbled quietly to herself.

Speedy

Speedy came up behind Kf’s right purposely smacking their shoulders together before plopping down on the couch causing Wonder Girl’s tea to slosh spilling over the rim and roll down the side of her thigh.

“Ew, dude have you ever actually gotten a girl with that line?”

He asked his arms resting on the top of the couch. He then raised his hand in a halting motion.

“Nevermind don't answer that, you have loner-loser written all over you.”

Kidflash

Kidflash lost his composure striking his arms out, before bringing his hand back around to point towards himself.

“Hey! I get tons of ladies!”

Speedy

“Yeah whatever dude,”

Speedy cut him off waving his hand still resting on the top of the couch, looking in the opposite direction of the scene before him.

Garth

Garth parted from his King’s side as they entered the break room with a nod, he walked towards the other heroes, his dark eyes calculating.

“Hello, I’m Garth.”

He said before sitting down on the couch next to Speedy.

Speedy

Speedy made a face.

“Great intro fishboy! But shouldn’t you have like a superhero name?”

Garth

“No, I don’t have a secret identity.”

Garth spoke, his tone relaying how idiotic he thought Speedy was.

Kidflash

“What about protecting your family man?”

Kidflash asked, lifting both his eyebrows, he was never able to just move one, leaning towards Garth.

Garth

Garth’s eyebrows pulled together as frustration took over.

“I don't wear a mask, villains will know who I am regardless.”

Speedy

“Wonder Girl doesn’t wear a mask,”

Speedy said leering at Garth.

“Maybe we should come up with a dumb superhero name for you, personally I like Fishboy!”

Kidflash laughed loudly, Wonder Woman groaned standing up and walking towards her sister.

She was stopped by the Flash calling them over in an energetic voice waving the rest of the sidekicks towards them.

Green Arrow

Green arrow spoke first giving all of the teens a cursory glance before focusing completely on his own sidekick.

“Now listen up, this mission is very important to your future as legitimate heroes.”

Within his brief pause Black Canary sighed heavily at Green Arrow's natural talent for being a terrible parent. He moved one hand to his hip as he spoke lightly elbowing Aquman in the process.

“All ya gotta do is sit and watch your targets,”

Once again there was a lapse in his speech when he turned to check that Batman had brought up the images of the targets and the suspicious big black bags, as well as the address of their hideout. After seeing Batman had in fact project the correct information, Green Arrow nodded to himself before turning back toward the sidekicks. Jerking his thumb backwards, he continued.

“These are them.”

He took a moment to clear his throat at the odd phrasing.

Flash

Flash took that moment to take over patting his colleague’s shoulder as he stepped closer to the center of the group.

“We’ve been monitoring these guys’ set up for a couple weeks. We think that they’re smuggling something illegal in those big black bags-”

Speedy

“What do you mean “illegal” things?! Don't we get to know if there's gonna be guns or drugs or something, idiot-man!”

Speedy cut in sharply placing both hands on his hips and leaning forward, aggressively sneering in the Flash’s face.

Green arrow placed a hand on each side of Speedy’s chest pushing him back as Flash stood there shocked.

Flash

“So we’ll drop ya off at their hideout, be very careful sneaking into the building and while choosing stalking positions. If they begin to pack up and leave or the situation starts to turn violent, stay safe and contact us before attempting to fight. If they have guns, retreat to the transporter immediately.

Batman then swiveled around in his chair, sending a questioning glance at Wonder Woman from across the room, ignoring the conclusion of Superman’s story much to his disappointment.

Batman

“Why would you send these children out into the field if you don't trust them to fight without supervision?”

It was a statement rather than a question, challenging all of the other mentors.

Wonder Woman answered anyway with a judgemental look of her own, but Green Arrow was the one who spoke.

Green arrow

Green arrow took several long strides towards batman.

“Well we’re not just gonna leave our kids at the mercy of a bunch of gun wielding scumbags. I mean, Flash can’t even stand a chance against a handgun, do ya think any side kick could survive that?!”

Batman

Batman glared at him but spoke in a calm voice, only failing a little to keep the smugness out of his tone.

“Robin could.”

Aquaman

Green Arrow geared up to make another loud and spity remark but Aquaman spoke up for the first time since the debriefing began.

“If he is so proficient then why is he not here?”

He questioned with far more smugness in his tone.

Batman

“Because Robin is currently working on his own personal mission tonight.”

The statement was followed by Batman swinging his chair back around and continuing to type up a mission statement.

The group dispersed most of the sidekicks getting last minute pep talks, Kidflash who reached out to his uncle grabbing his elbow as he went to go carbo-load.

Flash

The flash turned to look at his nephew.

“What’s up kiddo?”

He asked, placing a hand on each of his shoulders looking at his face in concern.

Kidflash

Kidflash looked down taking a deep breath before locking eyes with his uncle.

“I-I don't know if I can do this uncle B.”

Flash

Flash answered with a sigh rubbing rough but soothing circles on his shoulders and nape.

“Alright listen kiddo, ya made a jerk out of yourself.”

kidflash‘s face whipped up to face his uncle.

“I know I flirt with all the ladies but I do so in a joking manner that means no harm or a promise for furthering the relationship...just apologize to Wonder Girl.”

Kidflash made a face at the ground scuffing his shoe against the shiny tile floor.

“Make some small talk when appropriate on the mission and you’ll have three new best friends in no time!”

Flash turned him around to face the other sidekicks and smacked him on the back pushing him forward.

Scene 9

A wide shot of the seedier area of Arizona, several of the lamp posts have been shattered and no longer work, streams of light shine across the wet road through boarded up windows of an old warehouse. The sidekicks crouched behind a stack of molding crates, listening intently as the goons played cards and chatted about their personal lives, peering at them periodically.

Roy

Roy groaned softly clunking his head against the rotten wood.

“This is so boring! They aren’t doing anything, I say we just jump ‘em now!”

Roy whispered looking expectantly at his teammates.

Garth

Garth glared annoyed, grabbing Speedy’s wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.

“We were given direct orders-”

Speedy

Speedy shoved his flat palm into Garth’s face creating space between them.

“Calm down Fishboy, I’d never go against our wise and fearless mentors’ orders,”

Speedy sneered, ripping his arm from Garth and rubbing his wrist.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

The Long Way Home: Eleven

“Loki?”

“Yes, your majesty?”

“Has there been any word?”

“None, My Lady.”

You accept this information with a slight nod. Not the whining or tears he’d half been expecting. Though, Loki isn’t sure why he expects it. You may be soft and rather too wispy for his taste, but you don’t cry in public and you never behave in any way that’s that embarrassing. 

But today you look tired. And you crackle with nervous energy. Worry. And in the back of his mind, Loki curses his brother for gallivanting off because the Avengers needed him again and not telling his wife he may be gone for some time. And for leaving her with nothing to do but be vaguely underfoot. It’s true that the people of New Asgard would do anything you asked. As used to obeying Frigga as they were Odin, no one would bat an eye if you gave them a direct order. But you had nothing to order them to do.

So, your Gardens were immaculate. Well tended rows of herbs and vegetables. Delicate starts of fruit trees. Row after row. And the house was spotless and well organized, steadily being altered to suit your tastes. But that still left you with an appalling amount of time to contend with every day. And, if Loki’s assumption is correct, on Less and less sleep, and very little to eat or drink. That’s concerning. 

Thor will be less than pleased if he comes back to find his wife in less than perfect condition.

Still. You’re gone from the doorway as quickly as you arrived. Feet almost silent in the dirt. So you don’t see the look Valkyrie and Loki exchange behind your back. Or that Sif and the warriors three look almost irritated at your question.

“This isn’t Asgard,” Loki cautioned Sif when she opened her mouth to make a comment. What he means is, “This isn’t the Thor you remember.” 

The Thor they remember would have been at his wits end with this doe eyed girl who had no practical weapons experience. That Thor would have found it very easy to simply charm her for a day or two, have his way with her to produce an heir, and then gone back to maintaining discrete little flings. But this Thor? This was a different man. One who understood pain and loss on a level none of them really understood. And when he looked at his wife, he felt peace. He saw someone he could adore and keep safe. Someone that was just his. And he’d be furious, even with his oldest friends, if they were caught undermining her position. 

“The people love her,” Valkyrie said sipping from her flask, “and it’s a legitimate question. In her time here he’s never just left.”

She doesn’t say that there had been an incident. One of Cadel’s spies had been caught, adding poison to a meal you were going to be served. And she didn’t say what had happened to the body of that man. Or that you hadn’t really slept since then. 

And she doesn’t say it because you had asked her not to.

Asked her. Not ordered. 

Even in your shock, curled around a cup of tea like a question mark. Holding yourself together by a thin thread of poise. You’d spoken to her like an equal. And calmly explained that, until you could figure out how they’d gotten so close to you. And if they had an accomplice on New Asgard’s soil, it should be kept as quiet as possible. 

And she could see your point. So she had. 

“The people,” Sif started through gritted teeth.

“Have suffered,” Valkyrie said, “And they deserve a beloved queen. Even if you don’t agree with Thor’s choices.”

Sif had never made a secret of her dislike of you. Not even at your first meeting. She’d been territorial and almost rude. Enough that Thor, who was so nervous he could barely form coherent sentences, had noticed and had Loki quietly remove her. It set Brunhilde’s teeth on edge then and it still rankled. 

If Thor had wanted a warrior, he could have had one. But he didn’t. He wanted someone that brought peace to his soul. Someone he could fuss over and coddle. Someone whose lap he could lay his head in after a long day and forget that he was king for a second. And you were decidedly that person for him. And Brunhilde had to admit, she could see the appeal of you. Quiet and calm with a bright smile and kind eyes. You were nice to be around. 

“It’s been three months,” Sif said angrily, “And there’s still no heir forthcoming.”

Loki sighed, “What are you implying, Sif?”

“That she’s barren and Thor should sue for breech of contract. Send her back where she came from.”

And the crash in the hallway, made them all turn before anyone could answer. And Loki felt a jolt of guilt, even if he hadn’t said it. 

The tray you’d been carrying was on the ground. Pieces of broken crockery and bright, sweet berries, cream and cold tea were spilled around your feet.

“Is that so?” you challenge quietly, raising your chin. 

You step over the mess and sweep into the room, making them all scramble to their feet. Your eyes are narrowed. Locked on to your target. And you have your shoulders thrown back. You look regal in a way that only a Queen can bear down on someone without looking foolish and cartoonish. 

“My Lady-” she started. But your eyebrow twitches in censure. Sif hadn’t earned addressing you so familiarly. 

“Your Majesty,” she tried again, cheeks coloring when Brunhilde struggled to hide her amusement. “I- I- I”

“Oh dear. It appears that sharp tongue has dulled,” you you say sweetly. “Hopefully your hands are still in working order. I’d appreciate help to clean up my mess.”

Sif has no choice but to nod, mutely. And you smile brightly, “How very sweet of you. Thank you, my Lady.”

And point proven, you sweep out of the room. Your head held high and your skirt swishing around your ankles. And Brunhilde beamed. Grateful that you were a Queen that wouldn’t allow herself to be bullied. 

[hoenursey]

NurseyChow prompt: comic 4.08

i can’t believe you made me look up what fucking comic that was, sending me this like i know shit lol

When Chowder comes home from class, there’s an ungodly stomping noise coming from the staircase, and the sound of someone kicking a cardboard box across the floor. The door shuts behind him, and Ford sticks her head out of the kitchen, smiling apologetically.

“Dex’s decided he’s tired of living with Nursey,” she said in lieu of a greeting, and Chris closes his eyes, fingers coming to the bridge of his nose tightly.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, and joins her in the kitchen, where they’re talking about class of ‘16. Apparently, they’ve moved in together, and now that Dex has exploded, Chowder is strongly considering asking if he can move in with them. He misses Lardo.

Dex moving out takes the better part of the afternoon. In the evening, he stays locked in the basement, hammering and cutting and whatever else people who know how tools work do with them. It’s loud, and more than a little annoying, but no one wants to go downstairs and tell him to stop. Besides, it won’t work.

That’s the first time anyone sees Nursey.

Instantly, he knows something is wrong.

For one, he’s got on basketball shorts in October, which everyone knows he’s morally opposed to. He’s ranted about it several times; he could practically write a thesis on it.

Secondly, his eyes are bloodshot.

“Hey,” he says hoarsely, and Chris’ alarm skyrockets.

A chorus of greetings sounds, all some degree of concerned.

Nursey clears his throat. “Uh, i’m going to Annie’s,” he says, trying for normal. He almost accomplishes it. “If anyone wants anything, just text me. My treat.”

“Do you want someone to go with you?” Ford asks anxiously, before anyone can stop her, and Chris manages to kick the foot of her chair in time for her to blurt out, “Uh, to help you carry all those drinks, y’know?”

Nursey smiles wanly. He looks drawn. “Nah, Nicey, i’m good. I’ll see you later, guys.”

Scattered goodbyes go off, and he disappears out the door with hardly a sound.

Bitty turns immediately to Chowder.

“Would you mind--”

“I’m already texting him,” he says, and Bitty smiles worriedly, stacking another few cookies on his plate.

[ text: hot nurse ] hey, would you grab me a jasmine tea? i forgot to buy some at the grocery store !

He watches their chat-- Nursey doesn’t respond, but he does like the message. Satisfied, he taps out a “thanks <3″ and leaves Nursey alone for now.

It’s nearly an hour before Nursey comes back. He knocks briefly on Chris’ door, and he calls cheerfully for him to come in.

“Come on in, close the door! You can go through the bathroom later, I don’t wanna walk all the way over to close the door.”

Nursey nods, silent. Without so much as a greeting, he brings over the drink, mumbling, “here,” and handing it off.

Chris takes it one-handedly-- with the other, he catches Nursey’s wrist, holding him in place and peering up at him.

He looks a little better-- not much, mind-- but his eyes aren’t so red, and he makes eye contact for a few seconds.

“How are you? Really,” he asks evenly. Nursey laughs. There’s very little humor in it.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “Just need some time, y’know.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nursey snaps. “Fine, I feel like shit, is that what you wanted? You wanna know so fucking bad? Did you even want a drink, Chowder, or what? Wanna fucking throw it at me? Did Dex want this fucking drink, and he just didn’t wanna say anything? What?!”

Chris waits until Nursey tires himself out, looking angry and heartbroken, and it hurts him to stay quiet like this, to let Nursey say the negative stuff that festers inside of himself, but he knows intrinsically that the other boy needs it.

Finally, Nursey’s rant ends, and instantly, he looks ashamed of himself, clenching up his jaw and looking away.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t... I didn’t mean to... y’know. Sorry.”

“Do you wanna sleep here tonight?”

He looks back to him. “Huh?”

“Do you wanna sleep here, with me? I just... I thought... I mean, it’s better than sleeping alone, right?” Chris puts on a brave smile, like his heart isn’t thumping, like it isn’t taking everything in him not to tremble at the sight of his teammate like this.

Nursey-- no, Derek, looks... lost. Like the kid they all kind of are, dressed up in grownup’s shoes.

“Dee?” he murmurs, hesitant, and Derek breaks, swallowing tightly; all at once, he nods, the green of his eyes warbling with unshed tears.

Hastily, Chris rises to hold him, and Derek’s weight sags against him the second he envelops him in his hold. He shudders, once, twice, lets out a muffled sob, and Chris squeezes him, presses him to his chest as Derek cries.

It takes time for Chris to get Derek into bed, but he does it, whispering gentle platitudes into his dark curls. Derek drops onto the mattress clumsily, and Chris kneels in front of him, squeezing his hands with gentle pressure. “Let’s get ready for bed,” he prompts, and his friend nods, and goes slowly to his clothing to undress.

Chris strips in record time, finding something for Derek amongst his own clothes. He’s a little bigger, a little more muscled, but he’s always been lean, and Chris himself wears baggy clothes sometimes. A pair of older shorts and a Sharks tee, and Derek is sitting at the edge of his bed, arms around himself tightly.

Chowder lifts the blankets on his side. “C’mon, babe,” he says, coaxing, a hand cupping his elbow. It isn’t until Derek is tucked into his side that Chris even notices the endearment, too caught up in taking care of the boy beside him.

Well, there’s no time for that. If Derek hadn’t noticed, it wasn’t important. He would worry about that... some other time. Sometime appropriate.

“Is this okay?”

Derek tenses; immediately, Chris pulls his arm from around his waist-- or tries to, anyways, but Derek’s hand catches his wrist, pulling him back. His grip is iron.

“Don’t,” he mumbles into Chris’ neck. “Please.”

Chris goes soft, tucks Derek into his arms and holds him while he shakes, while the hot tears drop wetly onto his own warm skin and Derek’s long fingers twist in the fabric of Chris’ tee.

“C?” Nursey rasps, after what feels like hours, and Chris looks down at him, startling.

Oh god, he even looks beautiful when he cries.

It was true: the red rimming his eyes made the green of his irises stand out, framed by tears darkening and crystallizing on his long lashes. Blood had rushed to his cheeks, flushing them, as well as his lips, giving them a reddened, kiss-swollen appearance. Chris’ own face goes hot; Derek bites his bottom lip and he can’t bear to draw his eyes away from it.

“Yeah?”

“...can you kiss me?”

Chris inhales sharply. “We shouldn’t--”

“I know.”

“You--”

Derek surges up and seals their mouths together. Every protest-- token and legitimate-- dies on his lips and is swiped away by Derek’s tongue. 

Every atom of him feels like it’s on fire. His own tongue curls around the expanse of Derek’s mouth, swallowing the hot gasp that pours from it-- Derek’s fingers tighten, fisting the fabric in his grasp near-desperately. His free hand sneaks into Chris’ jet black hair, folding silkily through the pin-straight strands and then, as Chris responds with a groan, catching his lip between his teeth, his fingers tighten, deliciously.

Before he knows it, Chris is half on top of Derek, pressing him into the bed with their lips melded together. By the time he realizes what he’s doing, he’s shoving a knee between Derek’s thighs and dragging him close by the waist.

Fuck.

Chowder pulls away with a curse. Derek’s eyes fly open, half a moan tearing out of his throat-- the pupils are blown black, skin wrought with an impassioned rush of blood. 

“I’m sorry,” Chris blurts out. “I’m sorry, Dee, but we- I- no. Not now, not-- not like this, okay? Not, like, never! But just... just not now. Not when you’re hurting like this.”

Derek swallows. “Right,” he says, suddenly quiet. “Sorry, you.. you probably want me to go.”

“No!”

Derek freezes. Chris gulps nervously, and then sits back on his calves, pulling Derek with him.

“Stay. Please.”

He hesitates. “I...”

“Derek.”

He bites his lip; quietly, after a few minutes, Derek nods. Chris breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thank you. C’mon, let’s sleep,” he says gratefully, and Nursey nods again, shifting to allow Chowder space on the bed. It takes time, but after a few moments of awkward shuffling, he pulls Nursey into his chest, fed up with discomfort and stiltedness. Nursey settles into it immediately, taking sharp little breaths that calm when he unconsciously syncs them up to Chris’.

Derek is asleep in minutes. Chris, spooned up behind him, follows just after between one breath and the next.

In the morning, when Chris wakes, he’s alone. Derek is gone. He’s clutching a pillow-- and drooled on it a little, which, embarrassing, he hopes he didn’t drool on Nursey-- and when he sits up, he sees a notebook at the end of the bed. 

It’s nothing to reach for it, so he does, rubbing sleep from his eyes. It doesn’t say much, but it’s clearly from Nursey.

Thanks. -DMN

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

All is Fair

Oh, Dear God. I’ve had an idea for a fic. Tommy is bored with his OBE, MP life. In an attempt to cheer him up, Ada invites him to a fundraising soiree she has organized, and Tommy becomes horny intrigued by a bright young thing.

“I’ve lined up Picassos, Muchas, a couple of Lalique glass figures — lots of up and coming artists.” Ada paced back and forth before Tommy, counting on her fingers the artists whose work would be shown at the charity auction she’d helped to organize for the Grace Shelby Institute. “I snapped them up for a song, but with the crowd I’ve invited all trying to outdo one another they will bring in thousands…” Ada stopped mid-step and stared at her brother. He had insisted on meeting her before the start of business, and after summoning her at such an ungodly hour he didn’t seem to be listening to a single word she said.

 “Tommy. Oi, Tommy! Are you listening to me?”

 Tommy had been listening. He absorbed every word spoken in his presence, even while he seemed a million miles away. Smoke from a dwindling cigarette curled in a graceful column before his eyes. He was mentally weighing how much money the auction would bring against the amount in his charity reserve account. Of course, he could singlehandedly fund the Institute with the stroke of a pen and skip this whole event, but that wasn’t the point. Publicity was important, and Ada had arranged for all the right people to be seen at his party. That was the point. He knew the rules of the game, but it weighed heavily on him. He was bored with pretending to care about the issues and opinions of the upper-middle class. He craved the gritty realism of Small Heath; the honest observations of the working class meant more to him than the relentless droning of his new peers.

“Yep, Ada, got it,” he sighed as he stood up from his desk and pulled on his jacket. He crossed the room to where she stood and lit another cigarette, seemingly forgetting the one he left burning in the ashtray on his desk. “It should be a resounding success. Thank you for all of your hard work.”

 In the clear light of day, Ada could see the strain of the last few years playing out on her brother’s face. His pale blue eyes used to snap with electricity, but now they were slower, deeper, and more contemplative. Not quite sad, but worn and weary.  “I know it’s hard for you to go to these things, Tommy, but I’ve invited some bright young people who will make it a bit more bearable. Who knows? You might have fun,” she shrugged and smiled hopefully.    

The energy that it took to keep up the façade of a legitimate businessman and Member of Parliament had sapped every ounce of fun from his life. “That wouldn’t be fair, now would it?” he mumbled as he stepped out into the hall and out the door. 

 ***

“Lia, wake up!” 

Sunlight streamed in through the window, painting the backs of Lia’s eyelids pink and warming her face. She had stayed up late talking with her cousin the night before, catching up on family gossip and getting the lowdown on her new job.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled and pulled the sheet over her face. Her mind lazily drifted to thoughts of the upcoming day. She was to train as an assistant librarian; a position made possible by her cousin’s connections at City Hall. Even though she was grateful for the job, the temptation of a few more minutes’ sleep was tough to resist.

“Now! It takes a while to get across town. I stuck my neck out to get you this job, and I won’t have you being late on your first day.” 

The rapidly approaching clacking of high heels on hardwood let Lia know that her cousin Jenny meant business, so she threw back the covers and groaned. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.” 

“You’d better be,” Jenny called. “I’ve got fresh scones and tea.” 

Jenny’s two up two down in Small Heath, Birmingham was like all the others in her street, except where the other houses were filled to capacity with large families, hers was all but empty. Her mom and dad had moved back to the country, and her brothers were off with their own families, so in order to stave off loneliness, she wrote to invite her favorite cousin to come live with her in Birmingham. “It will be great fun, and there’s a position coming open at the library. They promised to hold it for you. After receiving the letter, Lia and her family decided that the change would do her good. The country was stifling Lia. If she stayed, she had no prospects for anything other than marriage to a local farmer and a brood of children. Birmingham meant freedom and adventure for the restless young woman, so she went.  

The pale yellow frock Lia wore stood in sharp contrast to the sooty dark patterned wallpaper in the kitchen. At one time it must’ve been green with pink flowers, Lia mused as she sipped her tea which was the approximate color of the flowers on the wall. 

Jenny laid a plate of scones down on the table and eyed her cousin. “You’ll need to get darker dresses, Lia. The mud and soot of Small Heath will make a hash of that.”

Lia rolled her eyes and smiled, “I plan on doing just that with my first paycheck. In the meantime, maybe I should help myself to your closet.” 

“Not with those knockers you won’t,” Jenny teased. It felt good to have her cousin in the house, and despite the early hour, they were both in the mood to laugh. 

Jenny sipped at her tea and flipped through the morning post until one envelope, in particular, caught her attention. Her lips moved as she whispered under her breath, and her eyes read and reread the writing on the heavily embossed card.  

 “What’s that?”

“My boss has forwarded an invitation to me. It’s for an art auction at the Grace Shelby Institute.” Jenny’s eyes were wide. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe I’ve been invited!” 

“That’s great! Wait, do you have to go with your boss?” 

“No, it’s my own invitation, and I get to bring a guest.”  

The name Shelby rang a bell with Lia. Jenny read the look on her face and lowered her voice as if Arthur Shelby himself were lurking just outside her door. “Yeah, those Shelbys. But they’ve gone legit. The leader is even an MP now.” 

Lia arched an eyebrow, “Legit? How exactly does a razor gang go legit?” 

“The Shelbys can bloody well do whatever they want, and we are going to this event. It means a lot to get invited to these things, and I need to show that I can fit in.”  

 ***  

 The pale blue dress that Lia wore had a low cut back and fringe at the knee, not at all the stuff of a librarian’s wardrobe. She had worn it to a formal engagement party the year before and had been pining away for a reason to wear it again. In a room full of tweeds and sensible shoes, she was a flash of blue sky on a stormy day.  Her cousin dressed to blend in with the crowd—perfect for a work event, and Jenny was certainly all business tonight.

While Jenny circulated around the room, Lia availed herself of several glasses of champagne and studied the paintings on offer. As the daughter of a farmer, she had not had many chances to go to museums and galleries, but she loved art and soaked up everything she could read about it. There was an amazing selection of work at the Institute including a cubist piece by Picasso, but what really caught her eye was a group of Art Nouveau paintings by Alphonse Mucha. She stood, sipping her champagne and smiling at a depiction of a woman in a gracefully flowing gown on a backdrop of stars. 

“Spectacular, isn’t it?” A sweet feminine voice with a Brummie lilt drew her out of her reverie. Lia turned around to see a woman with porcelain skin, dark bobbed hair, and piercing blue eyes extend a hand toward her.

 “Ada Thorne, and you are…”

“Lia Montrose,” she managed to answer in a relatively confident manner. Jenny had mentioned the Shelby’s sister on the way there, but Lia never thought she’d end up in a conversation with her.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. You know, at most of these things people only glance at the paintings and then try to make business deals for the rest of the night. It’s nice to see someone actually appreciate the art for a change.”  

She held up a perfectly manicured finger in the direction of a waiter who immediately brought over a tray of drinks. “Champagne?” She handed Lia a fresh glass without waiting for an answer and then took one for herself. She smiled conspiratorially and raised an eyebrow. “Have you seen the Max Ernst yet?”

“You have an Ernst?” Lia asked, her mouth hanging open for a moment before she realized and closed it. 

“Yeah, it’s in the next room. Come on.” She hooked her arm in Lia’s and led her to the next room where, indeed, the promised painting hung. 

“It’s bloody amazing,” Lia whispered. 

 “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m sure you could have it for a song. None of the tossers here will recognize its significance.” Ada gently shook her head, and the rubies around her neck caught the light. Lia blushed and looked down. She had not near enough to even make a starting bid on any of the artwork. Ada led Lia around talking about the various works up for auction. She was genuine and warm. Not at all what Lia imagined a Shelby would be like. When Lia explained that she couldn’t actually buy any of the art because she had just started a job as a librarian, Ada commiserated with her about the low pay.

“I was a librarian myself for a time. If it weren’t for my brother Tommy… well, let’s just say I know what it’s like to live on a librarian’s pay...and much, much less” 

Ada didn’t expand on her role at Shelby Company Limited, except to say she dealt in imports and exports, and Lia didn’t pry. Even though Ada spoke with a candid ebullience, it seemed safer not to ask questions. As they were discussing the merits of public reading rooms a man entered by a side door and motioned for Ada to come over. “Oh, dear. If you’ll excuse me, I should go to make sure that everything is running smoothly.  It was so nice meeting, you Lia.”

“Likewise Mrs. Thorne.” 

“Call me Ada,” she warmly smiled and was on her way. 

Lia was positively buzzing. She had lost track of time and of how much champagne she had quaffed while talking to Ada. She squinted across the hall into the main room and scanned the crowd for Jenny, who was nowhere to be found. Unbeknownst to her, someone had been watching in admiration as she strolled along.  

 Another Picasso caught her eye, and she stood squinting and biting her bottom lip as she looked at it. She was so astonished by the colors and lines that she hardly noticed the gentleman who had come to stand beside her and ask her what she thought of it.

“Vastly overrated. I much prefer his blue period...”  

As she spoke, she turned to find herself under the gaze of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He took her in with an intensity that was slightly lessened when he raised one corner of his mouth and tilted his head a bit. His voice was a low, raspy rumble and Lia felt it in her gut when he tutted and spoke again.

“If our Ada were here, she’d tell you all about how it represents the chaos of war and the destruction wrought by the powerful…how mechanization renders people obsolete…turns us into interchangeable parts.”

Lia stared at him as her mind lurched toward the realization that maybe she shouldn’t have been so candid. Our Ada? “Are you…” 

He turned his whole body to face her. “Thomas Shelby. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs…”

 As he kissed her hand her breath caught in her throat. She was toe to toe with the most powerful man in Birmingham, and his warm soft lips were currently on her skin. Tommy did not fail to notice the little shiver of electricity that passed between them.

“Miss… Miss Lia Montrose, and the pleasure is all mine.” The heat from his lips on her hand made its way up to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and swirled the champagne in her glass.  “Great party.”

“Party, event, fundraiser, no matter what you call it it’s all about separating this lot from their money. Since my Picasso is shite, tell me, which ones do you like?” There was a hint of mischief in his voice as he spoke.  

Tommy liked that there was something different about her. She was younger than the usual patrons of local charities, but the difference seemed to do more with the light in her eyes as she surveyed the room. Bright. The word Ada had used to describe their special guests sprang to his mind. She was one of those bright young things who Ada invited to try to make him have fun. There was a distinct lack of pretense in the way she carried herself. She had spent the evening looking at and chatting about art instead of business, and her honest reaction to his question did not surprise him in the least. 

Lia giggled a little and apologized. “I didn’t mean to insult your taste in art, Mr. Shelby…” 

“Call me Tommy.” He lazily caressed her body with his eyes.

“…I didn’t know who you were when you asked me.” Lia’s voice quivered, betraying her surprise at the bold way he was looking at her. After all, he was Tommy Shelby, and she was taken aback by the open way in which he was flirting with her.

 He took a step closer and raised his eyebrows. “Had you known, would it have changed your answer?” 

Lia bit her lip and fought back a smile before answering, “Well, no, but I would have used a bit more tact.” She looked up through her lashes at him.

Tommy held her gaze and waited for her to answer what he had asked previously. She seemed a bit dazed, so he repeated the question.  “Which ones do you like?”   

She glanced around the room, gathering her thoughts and began, “I really like the Mucha paintings. They are much more organic in how they reflect the beauty found in nature and…” As she trailed off, she realized that Mr. Shelby was still looking directly at her. His unwavering attention coupled with the champagne made it very hard for her to concentrate. 

Tommy could see that she was having some difficulty in expressing herself, and he was having quite a lot of fun teasing her. He narrowed his eyes and ran his tongue along his lips. “What makes you think the Picasso is shite?” he asked in an exaggeratingly sincere voice.  

She drained her champagne. Liquid courage could only help her current situation. “Personal preference, I suppose. It’s ridiculous,” She leaned closer to him in a conspiratorial manner.  “It’s overwrought and pretentious.”

 As soon as the words left her mouth Jenny came into view. Her eyes were huge as she gingerly approached Lia and Mr. Shelby.

“Oh, Jenny, let me introduce you to Tommy. We’ve been discussing his art collection.”  

Tommy offered a warm greeting to Jenny, who hid her surprise as best she could. “Mr. Shelby, thank you for extending an invitation to my cousin and me.”

“My pleasure. The fine work you’re doing for our city has not gone unnoticed, and I’m happy to show my appreciation. Do you have opinions on art, Miss Montrose? Your cousin is partial to Mucha.”

Lia giggled and smiled up at Tommy, “Well, yeah, of course, I prefer him to Picasso.”

Jenny’s eyes shifted from Lia to Tommy and back again, as she could hardly believe what she was seeing. There was an obvious attraction between them. Lia was fresh from the country and had no way of knowing the gravity of the situation she’d stumbled into. But Jenny did. 

She took the empty champagne glass from her cousin’s hand and placed it on a passing tray, “Thank you so much for your hospitality, Mr. Shelby, but we must be going.” 

Lia frowned, and Tommy’s demeanor cooled as he turned to face Jenny. “Won’t you stay for the auction?”  

“We would love to, but…” Jenny’s excuse was mercifully cut short by an announcement that the auction was beginning. 

Tommy shifted his attention back to Lia and slowly shook his head, “It’s a shame, you know. I could use your expertise to run up the bids.”

Lia looked over her shoulder as she walked toward the door and smiled sweetly, “That wouldn’t be fair, now would it, Mr. Shelby.”