#importance of record sleeves

[impress-vinyl]

The Vinyl Record Sleeve and It's Significance

In the age of digital music dominance, the vinyl record has staged a triumphant comeback, capturing the hearts of audiophiles and music enthusiasts. The vinyl experience is a holistic one, involving not just the rich, analog sound but also the tangible, visual journey that begins with the vinyl record sleeve. This unassuming protective cover is far more than a mere housing for the vinyl; it is a gateway to sonic stories, a canvas for artistic expression, and a vessel of nostalgia. In this exploration, we delve into the significance of the vinyl record sleeve, examining its role in the revival of vinyl culture.

1. Guardian of Analog Sound

The primary function of the vinyl record sleeve is protection – shielding the delicate grooves of the record from dust, scratches, and environmental elements. In the vinyl realm, where the pursuit of pristine sound is paramount, the sleeve acts as a guardian, ensuring that the analog sound remains unblemished. Audiophiles understand that the condition of the vinyl directly influences the quality of the auditory experience, and the sleeve plays a pivotal role in preserving this sonic fidelity.

2. Aesthetic Portal to Music

While protection is fundamental, the vinyl record sleeve is also a visual portal to the sonic world within. Iconic album covers, from the psychedelic swirls of the '60s to the avant-garde designs of today, adorn these sleeves, turning them into miniature art galleries. The significance lies not just in the artistic expression itself but in the seamless marriage of visual and auditory elements. The cover becomes an integral part of the storytelling process, inviting listeners to engage with the music on a multi-sensory level.

3. Preservation of Album Artwork

Album artwork is more than decoration; it's a form of visual storytelling. The vinyl record sleeve ensures that this artwork, often carefully curated to complement the music, remains intact and accessible. From gatefold designs that unfold into panoramic vistas to inner sleeves housing additional artwork or lyrics, the sleeve preserves the complete artistic package, allowing listeners to immerse themselves fully in the album's visual narrative.

4. Connection to Music History

Vinyl records are time capsules, encapsulating specific moments in music history. The record sleeve, adorned with liner notes, credits, and other contextual information, becomes a tangible link to the past. Collectors cherish sleeves that provide insights into the recording process, the musicians involved, or the socio-cultural climate of the time. In this way, the vinyl record sleeve becomes not just a protective cover but a historical document, telling the story of music through the ages.

5. Collector's Pride and Rarity

For vinyl enthusiasts, the sleeve is as much a part of the collectible allure as the record itself. Limited edition releases, special packaging, and unique sleeve designs add an extra layer of value to vinyl acquisitions. Collectors take pride in owning records with rare or specially designed sleeves, turning the pursuit of vinyl into a treasure hunt where the sleeve is as coveted as the vinyl it houses.

6. Personalization and Artistic Expression

The vinyl record sleeve is a canvas for artistic expression, providing artists with a platform to convey their visual identity. From album cover art to innovative packaging designs, the sleeve allows for a level of personalization that transcends the auditory realm. It becomes a tangible representation of the artist's vision and a testament to the belief that the music experience extends beyond the audio waves.

7. The Ceremonial Unveiling

The act of sliding a vinyl record out of its sleeve is a ritual. It's a moment of anticipation, a deliberate and ceremonial unveiling that sets the stage for the sonic journey about to unfold. The tactile sensation of holding the sleeve, admiring the artwork, and carefully placing the record on the turntable contributes to the immersive and intentional experience that defines vinyl culture. The vinyl record sleeve, in this context, is not just a cover but an integral part of the ritual that makes vinyl unique.

Conclusion:

In the resurging world of vinyl, the vinyl record sleeve is not a mere accessory; it is a vital companion on the sonic odyssey. Beyond its protective role, the sleeve is a storyteller, a curator of visual artistry, and a time traveler connecting us to the music of the past. It is a testament to the enduring allure of analog sound and the timeless marriage of music and visual expression. As vinyl continues to weave its melodic spell, let us not forget to appreciate and celebrate the significance of the vinyl record sleeve – a humble yet indispensable companion on our musical journeys.

Source: Importance of record sleeves

[impercre]

.

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"THE LADY OF THE MOON, MY BRIDE -- ASTAROTH HER NAME..."

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on a photograph of vocalist Kip Trevor of Leicester's occult rock band BLACK WIDOW, and famous British Witch, Maxine Sanders, engaged in a live onstage ritual. The photo was later used as the picture sleeve art for the rare Japanese 45 vinyl pressing of "Come to the Sabbat/Way to Power" on CBS Records/Sony, c. 1970.

"The Lady of the Moon, my bride -- Astaroth her name, Side by side we wove the spells that drove mere men insane, "Get thee hence and scour the world -- seek and you shall find," Read my books, yes, learn from, and Power you shall gain."

-- "Way to Power" (1970) by BLACK WIDOW

Source: www.picuki.com/profile/rise_above_records_and_relics.

[luveline]

hello might i ask for sassy badass reckless reader who is the #1 leading cause of aaron's gray hairs pls 🤞🏻 he is SO exasperated with her like he is TIRED™ but also tweaking bcs he's horrendously down bad for her he's gna throw up

Good morning. I hope you slept well, honey. Can you come to work early, say 6.10AM? I’d like to see you and talk about something in person. 

You squint at the text that’s just come through. Another follows as you’re finishing, lighting the dark of your room.

I love you. Sorry, I know you don’t like when I forget to tell you in the mornings. 

Your own response is sent without propriety. I love you too handsome. 6.10 is not gonna work.

Can you make an effort for me? he asks. 

You do your very best. 

“It’s almost seven,” Hotch says when you finally get there that morning, his frown audible and plain to see. 

You hold up the bag of sugar donuts you’d purchased from the truck on the square just outside of Quantico’s endless parking lots. “Necessary delay.” 

“Unnecessary. I asked you nicely to come early and you’re barely on time,” he grumbles. 

How adorable. You put the bag of donuts on the desk and ignore the paperwork laid out waiting for you in favour of his side of the desk. He smells like cedar, his suit sleeve starched under your hand. You lean back against the lip of his desk and pretend you hadn’t been thinking about climbing into his lap —he’s formidable and lovely and that’s the best combination for lounging about atop someone, especially when that someone is very good at pressing you backwards, and better at kissing your neck. 

He knows what you’re thinking. “You’ve woken up in a mood,” he murmurs. 

“A good one,” you promise. 

You take his coffee and steal a sip. Hotch, resigned, lays a hand on your thigh. “I have important things to talk about, you know? I thought I made that clear this morning.” 

“You made a couple of things clear.” 

“Don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like I…” He tilts his head to the side. “Like I’ve been sending you dirty texts or photos.” 

“Is that an option? I don’t think I’ve subscribed to those emails.” 

“You make me out to be this salacious lark–”

“Aaron, I don’t do anything of the sort.” You can hardly hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry I implied you were sexting me, okay? I wish you had been.” He sighs a long-suffering sigh as you carry on. “But you were very formal. I’ll be sure to tell HR the same thing.” 

His hand slips between your thighs. Nowhere it shouldn’t be, just trapped between soft flesh. “Don’t tell HR anything.” 

His coffee is lukewarm and unsweetened on your tongue. Would it kill your uptight love to add just a dash of cream and sugar? Wrinkling your nose, you set aside the mug and press your mildly heated hand to his cheek. Just quickly, brushing a thumb up to the skin below his eye before you let it fall. “Tell me what you wanted me to come in early for. And, for the record, I’m sorry for not trying to get here before, just I didn’t sleep well, and my neck hurt too much to rush.” 

He looks like he wants to ignore your apology. He doesn’t ask you for much, and showing up when he’d wanted you to would’ve been the kinder thing to do —he can be annoyed as both boss or boyfriend. 

But he doesn’t have it in him. 

“Why didn’t you sleep?” he asks softly. 

“Thinking too much about my nice boyfriend.” 

“Really?” 

You slouch a little. Cover his hand where it rests between your legs. “I don’t know. It was really hot, and my mattress is getting old, probably.” 

He ushers you down for a sympathetic kiss. He’s always so sorry to hear about your minor ailments, he must like you too much. 

You attempt to crawl into his lap, curling an arm behind his head. He, disgruntled and yet far from reluctant, lets you take a seat. 

[ultimate-shipper-blog]

My Darling

"Who even is that guy?"

"That's my darling"

----

It starts with a post.

Eddie had posted a photo on Instagram holding his acoustic guitar, cross legged on a chair.

Recently he had been front cover of a magazine of 'him' wrapped around a young woman. Living the Rockstar life.

His agent had suggested he show a more domestic side to him, a softer side.

Hence the acoustic.

It was summer so Steve was off of work and sleeping on the couch behind him, blankets up to his ears. The only thing visible was his hair peeking out and his arm hanging over the side of the couch. A sleeve of tattoos running down it all the way to his knuckles. Eddie loved that arm. He loved the way the tattoo curved around his knuckles like water. His nice, big. veiny hand that-

WOAH off topic.

He had done half the tattoos himself and made sure he payed for it all.It was the least he could do for all Steve has done for him.

They met eight and a half years ago, Steve had seen Eddie play at shitty clubs and recognized his mop of hair getting hit in the alleyway.

Eddie thought he was a goner for sure until Steve ripped the guy off him.

Steve just shot him a smile and complimented his guitar skills.

Eddie fell to his knees. He was gone for him.

He invited Steve to band practice as a thank you since he didn't have much to offer.

Two weeks later they were dating and Steve has been their number one fan since.

When Eddie got the record deal he dedicated everything to Steve.

Everything always was for him. As it should be.

Anyways,

Eddie posted the photo excited to promote the acoustic cover of his hit song 'My Hero, My Darling'.

The comments instantly went ballistic asking who the random man behind him was. He definitely wasn't in the band and why would notorious lady killer Eddie Munson have a man in his house...he couldn't possibly have friends.

Eddie responded to one comment only, knowing the rest would sort itself out.

"That's my darling ❤️"

----

"Eddie," Steve was frowning at him, poking his side with his foot.

"Eddie look at me this is serious."

"Yes my love?"

"You outed yourself. You were doing such a good job keeping this a secret. This will change everything."

Eddie turns over until his holding Steve close to him, his face in his hands.

"Good. I'm tired of hiding you my darling. I'm tired of the accusations."

"But Eddie you OUTED yourself."

"I won't say anything about you, I'd never out you Stevie. But I'm done hiding that I'm a simple man in love."

"...me too. I'm done too."

"Darling are you sure? This is a big deal. What about your school? Your principal?"

"I don't care. Everyone important to me knows. My family, my real family, know and don't care. They do wonder why I've been single for eight years but they'll get over it."

"Marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me oh my god that's the hottest thing I've ever heard. I love you so much please I can't live another moment not having you mine. Besides, if you get fired that's definitely a lawsuit and you know I've been pleasing for you to quit so I can take care of you, but you love those damn kids. Just...be mine...please."

"I've been yours. Since the start. Since always." They both have tears in their eyes.

"Yes?"

"YES OF COURSE YES!"

They're giggling through their kisses.

---

"Heeeeyyy everyone thanks for joining my live. I have something super important to inform you on! I'm getting married!!!!!"

The comments instantly flood in questioning him on moving too fast, asking if he's on drugs. The usual.

"Oooooh you guys have no idea."

----

The photo goes up an hour after the live ends.

It's Steve sitting on the couch, glasses on, red pen in his mouth. He's wearing a thick sweater and grumbling grading papers.

He looks so soft, so smooth, it's Eddie's favorite picture. The next picture in the carousel is Steve backstage at his concert. They're holding onto each other like they need each other to breathe.

The last picture is a selfie taken minutes after. Eddie with his stage makeup sweating off his face smiling brightly at the camera. and Steve kissing his cheek. Eyes squinted shut and eyeliner thick, he had worn it as a treat for Eddie.

It was well received.

The caption reads:

"I'm so happy to announce I'm marrying my best friend and partner of eight years! Everyone meet my darling. Steve is a local middle school teacher who has literally saved my life more than once. He saved my heart. God, I love him so much.

P.s. yes the tours are in the summer so Stevie can travel with us. I'd never leave him."

---

Bonus engagement edition:

"YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED TO EDDIE MUNSON?!"

"Yes. We've been over this."

Eddie stuck out his hand to shake, "hi, Eddie Munson, nice to meet you."

"YOU HID THIS FOR EIGHT YEARS?!"

"Yes."

"I'M BASICALLY YOUR BROTHER! HE'S MY FAVORITE CELEBRITY!"

"Yes Dustin and you can't keep a secret."

"...fair...welcome to the family."

*inspired by my friend only learning her cousin was marrying someone famous when he showed up to Thanksgiving and she lost her mind

[breelandwalker]

How to Write Your Own Spells

There are lots of ways to create spells, from planning everything to the minutest detail ahead of time to absolutely flying by the seat of your pants in the moment. If you'd like to write your own spells, either for use in your craft or as a creative exercise, here are some suggested steps that I use in my own practice:

1) Determine the intent or goal of your spell. Decide, first and foremost, what you want the spell to do. Refine your goal if necessary and try not to be too nebulous. Your intent tells the spell what it's meant to do. A more focused goal may increase the chances of success.

2) Determine how you want the spell to manifest. Decide how the spell should work and what the result should look like. This is a good time to build in a sign of success, especially for spells that may not work in an obvious or visible way.

3) Determine what or whom the spell will affect. If the spell is to have a target, be it a person or a place or an animal or an object, decide what that should be and how they or it will be represented in the casting.

4) Determine how long the spell is meant to work. If your spell is timebound or has a deadline, decide what that will be. If the spell is meant to work long-term, you may want to check in and refresh it from time to time. (Not every spell will be timebound. Many spells will simply expire when they have fulfilled their purpose or if they are blocked or circumstances are not favorable.)

5) Determine the timing of the spell, if applicable. Not everyone uses celestial or astrological timing for their spells, but if you do, look into the prevailing conditions and decide on an advantageous time for your casting. (Please note that magical timing can only enhance your spell and casting something on the "wrong" day will not necessarily cause it to fail.)

6) Determine what methods and materials you want to use to cast the spell. Decide how you're going to go about performing the casting, whether you're doing a ritual or making a charm or just using energy. If you're going to need a ritual space or physical components, plan that out and make sure it fits with what you want to do.

7) Determine the words, if any, which will empower the spell. If you want to include a prayer or a petition or a song or an incantation with your spell, decide what that should be. This is not strictly necessary and the words need not be spoken aloud. (Rhyming incantations are not required, but if you prefer them that way, you can certainly do so.)

8) Prepare the materials for casting the spell. Get all your necessaries together ahead of time. Make sure you have everything you need, that tools and components are in good and useable condition, prepare your workspace, and make sure everything is within easy reach so you don't have to stop and search for things in the middle of your casting. (And for goodness sake, if you're working with open flame, observe fire safety and tie your hair and sleeves back.)

9) Finalize details and perform the casting. When you're ready to begin, try to eliminate as many possibilities for distraction or interruption as possible. Go over your spell and components one more time, then proceed with casting the spell.

10) Record the particulars for future reference and to determine how well the spell worked. Make a record of the spell, including your goal, how it should manifest, the words and components used, the date of the casting, the casting method and procedure, and how the casting went. If there are any additional details or observations that seem important, include those as well. This will serve as a useful learning tool in the future and will allow you to check your work if the results make themselves known.

It's useful to write spells from time to time if the inspiration strikes you, in order to better understand how they fit together and how they work. Plus it's a fun and creative journaling exercise and recording the spells you cast a great way to measure your progress later on.

For additional tips on writing your own spells and helpful tricks for using timing and available materials to your advantage, check out my podcast, Hex Positive, Eps. 006-007, "Come In For A Spell, pt 1 & 2."

More Witchcraft Exercises Here

(And if you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

Happy Witching! 🔮✨

[kiwi-on-ice]

Favourite pictures of you headcannons with Ashe, Moira, Ramattra, and Lifeweaver with fem!reader

Word count: 700

Warnings: mixture of nsfw and fluff, mentions of sextapes

Notes: Surprise! A small little treat before kinktober arrives and you all get sick of me posting.

Ashe:

Lets get the horny thoughts out the way, she definitely has a few pictures of you that she keeps in the private folder of her phone.

Her favourite being a photo of you on your back against the silk sheets, hair messy and slightly sticking to your forehead. Your lingerie is half torn, bra pulled hastily down so your tits are spilling out, inner thighs parted and glistening with your arousal. But what Ashe loves the most; the red lipstick marks scattered all over your skin, painting you in beautiful salacious brushstrokes.

But she has more sfw ones too. Taped to her new motorcycle was a picture of you both, a candid shot from a bar when deadlock were celebrating a heist. Her arm was around your waist, keeping you pressed against her side. She was giving a smile to the camera, red lips illuminated, but you. Your eyes were firmly on her, gazing at her with such adoration, it gives her a fuzzy feeling in her chest whenever she sees it.

Moira:

she doesn't have a lot of photos period, she finds it unnecessary, society’s need to document everything. So the photos she does have are deemed important for her to keep.

Moira has exactly one photo of you in her lab, framed and away from any chemicals or corrosive materials. It's of the two of you at a scientific gala, her wearing a crisp suit and you wearing a form fitting dress that matched her. You’re holding on to her arm, nails gently pressing into the material of her sleeve, and she loves how relaxed your body looks against her.

You're the one who has more pictures, candids of her while she works. But when you introduced her to your polaroid camera, she's curious.

That's how she ends up with her other favourite picture, tucked away in her wallet. A polaroid of you on your back, her hand wrapped around your throat. Your neck and collarbones are littered with marks and bites, but its your eyes she loves. Despite her choking you, holding your life in her hand, your eyes are bright and excited as you gaze up past the polaroid at her.

Ramattra:

Omnics have photographic memories, incapable of forgetting something they've processed. Because of this, initially he makes fun of you humans and your petty memory cortexes, needing a physical copy to remember in detail.

It's only when you attempt to explain it, that it's not about forgetting but about remembering, of reminiscing, of the feeling the photo gives you, that he starts to understand just a little.

He demands to see your phone, to look at the many pictures you have of eachother, but one photo caught his eye. It's of you on his lap, or more specifically his thigh. The angle of the selfie only serves to exemplify the size difference, making you look so small and puny.

Printing it off, he keeps a small version of it on him at all times, gazing at it when he's alone.

Lifeweaver:

Oh this man is always taking pictures of you. Always.

His phone is always pointed at you, taking snaps of you, posed or candid. Now don't get me wrong, he's always taking pictures when you're dolled up for a date, capturing you in the best lighting to accentuate your dress and makeup. But he especially loves taking pictures of you in your pyjamas, sweatpants and a loose shirt, his hoodie underneath your messy hair. Anytime you look casual, he thinks you're the most beautiful woman on the planet.

His personal favourite of these is you watering a lily he'd bought you, wearing his hoodie that reached the middle of your thighs.

And when he actually bought a proper camera? The reels were just completely you (and the occasional flowers he likes to grow).

But god if you'd let him, he'd 100% be into recording a sextape. He just thinks you're so gorgeous, why would he not want to replay how you look in ecstasy over and over again.

Although his favourite is a teasing selfie you took while he was fucking you from behind. His hands are grasping at your tits, while you're giving a cheeky smile to the camera. He loves it so much he'd have it as is lock-screen if society didn't deem it so inappropriate.

[l2vedive]

CHRISTMAS WITH YOU w. jeon wonwoo

first christmas together + fluff (557)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

note: merry christmas eve !!! here's something to keep you warm and giddy before the year ends <3 i hope y'all are having a good one with ur friends n family 🫶🏻 please don't forget to give a like n a reblog w ur thoughts if you enjoyed !!

the soft crackle of the fireplace fills the living room, casting a warm glow that dances off the walls. the scent of pine mingles with the faint sweetness of cinnamon candles, creating an atmosphere that feels both festive and comforting. the christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, its branches adorned with twinkling lights, baubles, and ribbons.

wonwoo is crouched by its base, untangling a wreath he picked up earlier because, as he put it, “it matches the theme perfectly.” your cat, ever curious, bats playfully at the ribbons dangling from the wreath, earning an exasperated but amused sigh from him.

“you’re not helping, you know,” he says, looking at the cat with mock sternness before turning his attention back to the task.

you’re by the record player, flipping through vinyl sleeves, trying to choose the perfect background song for the evening. it feels important to you—setting the tone, making it just right. your fingers pause on a jazz album, but then you hesitate and move to something else.

“(your name), my love,” wonwoo’s voice cuts through your deliberation, gentle and warm, “whatever you pick will be perfect. honestly, i’d rather hear you humming than anything else.”

you glance over your shoulder, catching his soft smile. “it has to be perfect, though. first christmas together and all that,” you say with a grin, though there’s a hint of seriousness in your tone.

wonwoo rises, the wreath now untangled and hanging neatly on a branch. “it already is,” he says as he crosses the room, wrapping his arms around you from behind. his chin rests lightly on your shoulder, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your temple before he presses a kiss there. “but we’ve got a cake to bake and dinner to prep. think you can multitask, or do i need to pick the song for you?”

you laugh, leaning back into his embrace. “fine, fine. i’ll leave it for now. but if the vibe is off, you’re to blame.”

“deal,” he says easily, his arms loosening as he takes your hand. “come on, let me show you how amazing this wreath looks on the tree. it’s like it was made for it.”

he leads you over, gesturing proudly at the wreath now nestled among the branches. it does look good—better than you’d expected when he’d first brought it home. your cat, meanwhile, has abandoned the ribbons and is now swatting at the shiny wrappers beneath the tree.

“well, she’s having the time of her life,” you say, watching the cat with a fond shake of your head.

“at least someone is,” he jokes. “come on, let’s get started on that cake before she decides the wrapping paper is a snack.”

just as you’re about to head to the kitchen, the doorbell rings, a cheerful chime that sends your cat scurrying under the sofa. “that’ll be our first guests,” you say, your excitement bubbling up.

wonwoo squeezes your hand. “i’ll get it. you start setting out the ingredients. don’t worry—i’ll make sure everyone knows the cat’s got dibs on the tree.”

you laugh, giving him a playful shove as you head towards the kitchen. the sound of your friends’ voices fills the room moments later, their laughter blending seamlessly with the warmth of the evening. it’s a scene of perfect chaos—exactly how christmas should be.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[gilbertscurls]

request::: the triplets each have a significant other and they all film a youtube video but it’s some sort of couples challenge video and it’s just a really cute, full of fluff, little video and all the comments are full of people talking about how cute they all are🥰🥰

hope you like it!! <3

couples challenge — sturniolo triplets

The familiar click of the camera shutter signals that they’re recording. Chris adjusts his beanie, Nick leans closer to the camera with his signature grin, and Matt offers a small, crooked smile while fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie. Behind them, the couch is crowded—three couples squished together, a mix of excitement and mild chaos brewing in the air.

"Alright, guys!" Nick starts, his voice full of energy. "Today’s video is a little different because—well, you can see—we’ve got our significant others with us!"

The camera pans slightly as Jake, Olivia, and Y/N wave awkwardly but enthusiastically.

"Introduce yourselves!" Chris urges.

Jake, sitting close to Nick with their hands intertwined, smiles brightly. "Hi, I’m Jake. I’ve been stuck with Nick for two years now, send help."

Everyone laughs, and Nick playfully shoves Jake’s shoulder.

Olivia, sitting beside Chris, rolls her eyes with affection. "I’m Olivia. Chris is lucky to have me, and he knows it."

Chris lets out an exaggerated sigh, clutching his chest dramatically. "So lucky. Beyond words."

Finally, it’s Y/N’s turn. Sitting cross-legged beside Matt, she nudges his knee before speaking. "Hey, I’m Y/N. And Matt is…" She looks over at him, pausing for dramatic effect. "Well, Matt’s here."

The room erupts in laughter as Matt shakes his head, biting back a smile.

"Okay, okay!" Nick claps his hands. "Today, we are doing the Couples Compatibility Challenge! Basically, we’ll answer questions about our relationships, and if our answers don’t match, there’s a consequence."

Chris holds up a spray bottle filled with water. "And guess what? The consequence is getting sprayed in the face. Have fun."

Round One: Who said ‘I love you’ first?

Matt and Y/N glance at each other and hold up their whiteboards. Both say: Matt.

"Aww!" Olivia coos, leaning against Chris.

"Wait, Matt said it first?!" Nick looks genuinely surprised.

Matt shrugs, his ears slightly red. "I had to lock it in, bro."

Chris holds up his board: Olivia. Olivia holds hers up: Chris.

"Nooo!" Olivia groans as Chris grins wickedly and sprays her face lightly with water.

Jake and Nick hold up their boards, both reading: Jake.

Jake smirks. "He was nervous. It was cute."

Nick buries his face in his hands as everyone teases him.

Round Two: What’s your partner’s biggest pet peeve?

Y/N holds up her board: When Matt leaves socks everywhere.

Matt blinks at his board: Loud chewing.

Everyone bursts into laughter as Chris grabs the spray bottle and gives Matt a quick spritz.

"Bro, you really thought it was loud chewing? You literally leave socks everywhere," Y/N says, exasperated but laughing.

Chris and Olivia both answer correctly: When Chris leaves cabinets open.

"I swear I’m trying to be better," Chris says dramatically.

Nick and Jake? Dead wrong.

Nick writes: When I forget important dates.

Jake writes: When Nick hogs the blanket.

A chaotic spray war ensues, with Nick grabbing the water bottle and spraying Jake back in retaliation.

Round Three: Who’s the better cook?

Jake, Olivia, and Y/N all hold up their boards confidently: Me.

The triplets? All write: Them.

"Wow," Matt says flatly. "We are collectively the most useless chefs in history."

Chris shrugs. "But at least we know our strengths."

Eventually, the video ends with everyone crowded back on the couch, cheeks flushed from laughing and hair slightly damp from the water spray.

"Alright, guys, that’s it for today!" Nick announces. "Make sure to like, comment, and subscribe—and let us know if you want to see more videos with the six of us!"

"And who you think the cutest couple is," Chris adds, pointing directly at himself and Olivia.

"Obviously it’s us," Jake jokes, leaning against Nick.

Matt wraps an arm loosely around Y/N’s shoulder. "You guys are both wrong."

The camera cuts out as everyone dissolves into more laughter and playful bickering.

The comments flood in within minutes of the upload:

Top Comment: "Okay but all three couples are literally the cutest. Nick and Jake’s trivia domination, Matt and Y/N’s wholesome vibes, and Chris and Olivia just being chaotic—10/10 content. 🥺✨"

Comment #2: "Y/N and Matt are giving childhood-best-friends-to-lovers energy and I’m eating it UP."

Comment #3: "Nick and Jake are my comfort duo. The way Nick just KNOWS Jake is everything."

Comment #4: "Chris and Olivia are such golden retriever/black cat energy and I refuse to believe otherwise."

Comment #5: "Petition for more couples content because I could watch this for HOURS."

Comment #6: "Lowkey obsessed with how Y/N roasted Matt for five minutes straight but then called him ‘babe’ all soft and sweet. 💀❤️"

Comment #7: "Nick and Jake finishing each other’s sentences is what true love looks like, folks."

Comment #8: "Chris looking at Olivia like she hung the stars even when she was roasting him for not knowing her favorite movie? Yeah. Yeah, I’m emotional."

Final Comment Highlight: "Someone said ‘Sturniolo Couples Cinematic Universe’ in the replies and honestly... yeah. That’s it. That’s the vibe."

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim, @courta13

[lqveharrington]

Holidays | C.S.

summary: your first holiday/christmas outside of the districts

pairing: politician!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: mainly fluff, reader is from district 12 (this is very important in this one-shot), coriolanus is manipulative in this (not a lot, but still), angst if you squint.

a/n: happy holidays 🎄

Despite living in the Capitol, your spirits were up when the holidays came around. Those living at the Capitol had many decorations up and participated in festivities that would certainly get those in the districts in trouble.

As the chosen wife of — the sudden rise to power and wealth — Coriolanus Snow, you were also put into the impression that you were to make this holiday season the best for you and your husband.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Coriolanus told you that he was to work late, strategizing to help his campaign as he was running for president next year. Of course, you were used to this and gave him a kiss bye as you started your day with the festivities that you used to do back in your home.

By the time Coriolanus came home, it was late and he assumed you were sleeping already. What he did not know was that you were still in the kitchen baking cookies and decorating gingerbread house while playing music from your record collection.

“Why are you still up so late?” Coriolanus wrapped his arms around your hips, resting his head on your shoulder.

You grin at his presence, shifting to meet his eyes. “I wanted to surprise you with cookies and a pretty gingerbread house.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” He kisses your cheek.

“I would like to think so.” You pop a gum drop into your mouth, taking one of your earlier cookies you made from the counter. “Want some?”

He hummed, opening his mouth. You broke a piece off and gave it to him, waiting for a reaction of some sort.

“Well?”

“It’s delicious.” He swallowed, reaching for the rest of the cookie in your hand. “I think I should take them all.”

You let out an airy laugh, handing him the baked good. “I think you should help me decorate this house so we can go to bed. I’m sure you’re tired, Coryo.”

———

“What are you doing now?” Coriolanus asked you as he got out of the bathroom, hair still wet. He brought the a towel to his head, watching you stand outside on the balcony. “My love, you’re going to catch a cold staying out there.”

“I know…” You mess with your silk robe, rubbing the sleeve with your thumb. “Just give me a few more seconds. I want to check off the last thing I used to do back in 12 for Christmas Eve.”

He refrained from scoffing at the mention of District 12, slipping one arm around your waist. “You don’t remember how bad it was back there before I saved you? Why do things that bring back memories of those days being treated like a peasant?”

You stayed quiet, listening to his words intently.

“I believe you should be grateful you aren’t spending time in the freezing weather and instead participate in the fun activities in the Capitol. Where you belong.” He pecked your cheek. “Unless you want to go back… Then that can easily be arranged.”

“No, don’t.” You frown, looking up at the shining moon. “I love it here. A lot. And, I’m really grateful for it, really.”

“Good answer.” He runs his hand up to your chin, tilting it so you would face him. “Just this one thing and then come to bed, okay?”

You nod, pecking his lips. “Thank you… Love you.”

Coriolanus smiles at you, pressing one last tentative kiss to your lips and leaving for the bed, not bothering to take the time to understand what you were doing.

Leaning against the cement railings, your focus moves back to the bright moon, smiling sadly at it.

“I promise I’ll be back and see you again…” You whisper into the crisp, night air, the wind lightly blowing at your skin. “We’ll be okay. Just watch over mom for me. I’ll see you both again.”

You check your watch for the time, the second hand hitting the twelve. “From your somewhat cool older sister: Merry Christmas, Dante Everdeen.”

read more about coriolanus snow here !!

a/n pt2: MING BLOWING 🤯 she’s related to katniss, isn’t that silly :)

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER FIVE

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur wc: 6.3k notes: masterlist ahead? uh yeah i sure hope it does! decided last minute i didn't really care about any real plot action this chapter outside of tess and paige so if you are disappointed by that, sorry but it's better this way, tess and paige are the plot now🤞 accidentally made this chapter kinda important, it lowk got away from me, but i hope you all enjoy 🫶

‘This Month in Review - The Cutest Sports Couple Since Megan and Sue’

Whether you’re a sports fanatic or a casual watcher, there is no denying that Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy have taken the sports scene by storm. They are a topic of conversation in every room – and for good reason. Bueckers and Kennedy were top recruiting prospects out of high school, with Bueckers leading the pack as the #1 recruit and Kennedy following close behind as the #2. They are the current leaders of two superstar programs and despite not having played their full collegiate careers, Bueckers and Kennedy have already cemented themselves as players that will go down in history as the greatest to play college basketball at their institutions.

Bueckers and Kennedy are a power couple through and through, and while neither of them have made anything official, it is clear that they have spent this entire offseason together – even several hundred miles apart. Fans have pointed out that their recent TikTok reposts make references to missing a long distance lover or are largely relationship focused. Their Instagram stories often feature each other. From Kennedy’s Instagram, a recent story showcased a short clip of Bueckers holding a LEGO rose, winking as she blew a kiss to the camera. From Bueckers’s Instagram, a recent story included a FaceTime screenshot of Kennedy, grinning as she threw a thumbs up for the photo, and it was affectionately captioned, “My duo 🎮.”

Additionally, they have been noticeably active in each other’s Instagram comment section:

[IMAGE TRANSCRIPTION: MAY 30, 2023 | BUECKERS IS PHOTOGRAPHED WEARING A LEG SLEEVE, BLUE AND WHITE PATTERNED BASKETBALL SHORTS, AND A BLACK LONG SLEEVED SHIRT ROLLED UP TO HER ELBOWS. SHE IS MID-JUMPER, LEFT ARM EXTENDED AND RIGHT WRIST BENT. USER PAIGEBUECKERS: “TUNNEL VISION ON A MISSION ⏳” | USER TESSKENNEDY25: “I AM LOOKING RESPECTFULLY 👁️” END TRANSCRIPTION.]

Their galavanting didn’t end there. They made their relationship known through TikTok live one night, featuring Bueckers, Kennedy, and some of Buecker’s UConn teammates including Aaliyah Edwards and Nika Muhl. The TikTok live was a source of endless laughter, jokes, and games. Again, nothing was officially confirmed, although many viewers posted various screen recordings the morning after, and all fans can agree on is that Bueckers and Kennedy are not slick.

Many are comparing their relationship to Sue Bird and Megan Rapinoe, and we have to admit, the similarity is there. Bueckers and Kennedy are both standout athletes and leaders on dynasty teams. Fans are eagerly awaiting the hard-launch, if only just to confirm what we all know is true.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

JUNE 20, 2023

“Do you have everything, piccola? Brace, heating pad, charger?”

Making a conscious effort to fix her face, Tess resists a sigh and responds, “Yes, mamma, I have everything.” She knows that her mother is just looking out for her, but she’s been through all of her belongings three times now and she knows for a fact that she has everything. If something was missing, she’s certain Paige would have an extra or she’d be able to buy a new one in Massachusetts. 

She got the call from Amaya only a few days ago. To no one’s surprise at all, the media was eating up her and Paige’s fake relationship. Their brand deals were feeling secure in their investments once more and the tabloids were far more concerned about Tess & Paige than they were about Tess’s month-long crash out. With everything aligning once more, Bose actually wanted to sign a joint deal with her and Paige and get them to advertise a new product – standard NIL endorsement stuff, but the icing on the cake was Amaya’s cheerful, “You’re married now!” that nearly made Tess’s heart fall out of her ass.

Tess doesn’t make a habit of being a gullible person, but she genuinely thought Amaya was going to make her and Paige scrap the whole “soft-launch” idea and just come out at the altar with wedding rings. Amaya was quick to clarify it wasn’t actually like that (Thank God), but the Bose representatives wanted to do something corny, monopolize on their traction as a duo, and Tess and Paige would henceforth be named Mrs. and Mrs. Bose.

It was pretty stupid, but a little funny, and as soon as Tess saw her payout, she couldn’t really complain.

“And Paige is getting you from the airport? No Uber?” her father asks for the second time, mostly to clarify.

Tess can’t stop the flush from spreading across her cheeks like she’d been caught red-handed. Truthfully, her parents weren’t haters by any means. They were oddly invested in her and Paige’s ruse – which made lying to them about it so much more difficult, but the both of them seemed to genuinely like Paige despite never speaking to her. They’d been begging for weeks straight for Tess to bring her home so they could meet her since it’s “getting serious,” although they were pleased to know she’d probably be around by Christmas. She and Paige had this commercial to film, then Paige would have to return to Storrs for summer practices (Tess wouldn’t be returning until the semester officially started – she wants to work as much as she could with Terri, no hate to Craig), then Paige was set to spend early August in Europe with her teammates. Both of them would be extremely busy in the coming months, especially once the season started, so they weren’t expecting to see each other all too much outside of FaceTime.

“Yes, Paige will pick me up,” Tess confirms, zipping up her backpack one last time. “She flew in this morning.” Tess tactfully leaves out the part where Paige had completely rearranged her flight schedule for her. Paige argued that it “wasn’t safe” to put her safety in the hands of a random Uber driver given her knee and that she hated late flights anyways. Tess knows that Paige truthfully doesn’t give a fuck about flight times, but arguing with her was near impossible.

Her father gives an approving nod, and much to Tess’s well-hidden anxiety induced annoyance, the three of them do one last check of her belongings before they load up in the car to drop her off at the airport. Tess tries her best to tune into the conversation, although part of her is still nervous about flying. She’s been cleared to travel for a week or two now. Despite that, she can’t help but anticipate the worst going wrong. Amaya splurged on first class so she’d have plenty of leg room and she’s flying on a very reputable airline. She has to remind herself that realistically, she’ll be perfectly fine.

It’s a quiet morning at the airport as her father pulls into the drop off lane, putting the car in park. “Text us as soon as you land, okay, piccola?” her mother tells her.

Tess flashes the both of them a comforting smile, leaning forward to give them quick hugs. “Of course.” And with that, she grabs her suitcase and her backpack, says her goodbyes, and waits for her parents to pull off before she walks through the airport in search of her gate. She’s only stopped a few times by fans asking for photos, which she dutifully poses for, then she makes her way to the counter to check in. She only has to wait a few more moments to board the plane. Amaya set her up with a secluded seat in the back. She snags a quick photo of the tarmac and sends it to Paige, whose response comes quickly.

Tell your pilot to take a shortcut or sum I miss you

you use that line on all the girls back home?

Is it working?

maybe a little

Then no All my lines are for Tess Kennedy and Tess Kennedy only

good

🤔 Are you forgetting something?

miss you too pb 👎

I know 😁

so modest gtg we’re about to take off

I’ll be waiting 🫶

Tess simply reacts to Paige’s last message with a heart, unable to wipe the smile off her face. She shuts her phone off and settles in for the hour long flight.

When the plane touches down in Framingham, Massachusetts, Tess is full of restless energy. It’s equal parts relief and excitement; however, after spending the morning traveling, she’s ready to get back to the hotel and get a nap in before she has to be productive. She hauls her bag over her shoulder and exits the plane with the other passengers as she waits for her phone to power back on. When it does, she sees that a text from Paige is already waiting for her.

I got your suitcase I’m like right in front of the gate

Tess sends back a thumbs up, something she’s sure Paige is annoyed by, and slides her phone back into her pocket. She follows the crowd out. Her heart thrums with anticipation, even as she tries to shove down those complicated feelings. Friends are allowed to miss each other, but her longing feels different somehow. She and Paige were practically inseparable for the month they were apart. Knowing that they’re about to reunite in person leaves her giddy with anticipation.

The crowd clears. Paige stands tall and proud in the center of the boarding area, an easy smile on her face and her arms hiding something behind her back. When Paige finally spots her, her smile widens and she begins taking swift steps towards her. Tess matches her strides, falling into her embrace with a soft laugh and overwhelming relief. One of Paige’s arms loop around her waist, squeezing her gently. “Missed you,” Paige murmurs, her cheek pressed to her head, and Tess doesn’t bother fighting the flush or the enamored upward curve of her lips.

“Missed you too, P,” she confesses. Paige’s arm tightens around her waist and she can feel the smile the blonde presses to the crown of her head. She pulls back, uncaring of the way the crowd clamors or the phones pointed at them, fully focused on Paige. Her hair is pulled back into a wavy ponytail, her face bare (yet she’s still undeniably beautiful), and she’s dressed in a UConn hoodie and a pair of grey sweatpants. Simple, but Paige is good at pulling just about anything off. With a mischievous grin, Paige displays the bouquet of flowers she’d been hiding behind her back, and Tess can’t quite hide the surprise on her features. “Paige – what?”

Paige carefully pushes them into Tess’s hands. They’re roses and in shockingly good quality, as if they’d been plucked directly from a garden rather than purchased from a grocery store. “Saw ‘em and had to get ‘em for you. Figured you deserved a little better than that LEGO flower after these past two months, yeah?”

Tess is speechless, her mouth opening and closing much like a fish’s. No one has ever gotten her flowers before, high school graduation aside. Paige did this completely on her own whims, and that thought alone makes a fresh blush creep up her neck. She glances at Paige, a soft smile spreading across her face. “These are beautiful, P. Thank you.”

Paige’s grin turns tender, her face clearly pleased as she pulls Tess in by her waist once more, careful to not squash the flowers. “‘Course, ma,” she says like it’s the easiest thing in the world, which, for a girl like Paige, it probably is. That thought alone is sobering and Tess remembers where they are, adrenaline rushing into her mouth as Paige releases her. “Ready to go, Mrs. Bose?”

“So fucking corny,” Tess groans, but Paige’s joke is enough for the tension to melt away, for Tess to forget all about the sudden sadness she’d felt as Paige hugged her. “Lead the way, Mrs. Bose.” Paige cocks a wry smirk at her and does just that, her left hand reaching for the handle of Tess’s suitcase. Her free hand brushes against Tess’s, a silent question in her eyes. One glance at the crowd makes her heart race, but Paige’s eyes are soft, understanding, and all the convincing she needs. She links her fingers together with Paige’s, relishing in the squeeze Paige gives her in reassurance. Tess tries not to think too hard about how well their hands fit together – the blonde’s are just slightly larger, enveloping her own in a way that should not be as comforting as it is, and her thumb mindlessly brushes against her knuckle.

Paige leads them through the busy airport, the crowd parting for them, and Tess hardly pays it any attention as she gets lost in her racing thoughts. They’re just friends. Sure, no one in her life is as close to her in the way Paige is right now, but they just have their own thing going on right now. Pretending to be each other’s girlfriend requires a lot of commitment that neither of them have otherwise experienced. Tess was never one for romance – it wasn’t in the cards for someone like her. Growing up, she was taller than most other girls – and boys – her age. A lot of people weren’t into that. Then she realized she didn’t even like boys, which never bothered her, but she felt as though she was missing out on some crucial part of girlhood because she wasn’t desired or yearned for. She’ll be the first to admit it sounds stupid. There’s many people out there with issues far more serious than whether or not they were somebody’s crush in high school. She’s out of her element in so many ways, and she can’t help but think back to that initial burst of anxiety she felt as soon as the severity of the situation finally hit her. She’s in way over her head, she’s realizing it now, and she fears that it won’t be long until people realize she has no idea what she’s doing.

But Paige? One glance at her, at the easy expression on her face, the slight furrow of her brow as she scans the airport signs for the exit, and Tess can tell she’s not freaking the fuck out like she is. Paige is vastly more experienced in this situation than Tess is and they both know it. Paige said she could do casual. This is essentially what this was, right? All of the romance without the intimacy. Tess should have told her right then and there that she was not built for casual. It always spins out of control, and Tess is probably living proof of that.

This is all physical, she tells herself, unsure of if she even believes it. You don’t actually like her. She’s attractive – that’s all there is to it. And for now, that explanation is good enough for her. She’s going to do these commercials with Paige, hard-launch their fake relationship, and then they’re going to be far too busy to see each other until the holidays when they visit each other’s families to, again, hard-launch their fake relationship and tell the biggest lie to the people closest to them. That time apart will be enough for Tess to get her head back on straight and realize there's absolutely nothing going on between her and Paige that should be of any (reasonable) concern.

She almost believes that. At least until Paige smiles at her as she loads her suitcase into the trunk of her rental, opening the passenger door for her. Tess’s heart swells and she realizes just how unfathomably fucked she is.

JUNE 21, 2023

After a calm night spent watching Grey’s Anatomy – Paige’s request, obviously – Tess and Paige were up bright and early Wednesday morning to drive out to the Bose main office for filming. Paige entrusted her with the aux and promised to not complain about her music choices as long as Tess bought breakfast, which was a deal Tess was all too happy to make as she directed Paige to the nearest Dunkin. She made sure to snag plenty of pictures for the Instagram hard launch they planned to post before they went their separate ways. Her personal favorite was the one of Paige sitting in the driver’s seat, legs wide and pressed against the door and the center console, sunglasses perched over the bridge of her nose as she held both of their coffees. The blonde sported an easy smile with her hair in her game-day braids and her thin, black fleece jacket was unzipped, showcasing the UConn shirt she was wearing under it. Paige made sure to get one of her, too, but it was less presentable and far too candid – Paige had swiped whipped cream across her nose and photographed her mid-gasp. Tess begged her to delete it, but Paige’s infectious laughter caused all of the indignation to drain from her body.

With breakfast and coffee secured, Paige drives the rest of the way to their filming location as Tess hums along to Omar Apollo. The silence in the car is calm, both of them comfortable in simply sitting next to each other as the music plays. Paige shifts, her elbow resting on the center console as she drives with her left hand. Her fingers mindlessly twirl the straw in her cup. The movement catches Tess’s eye and she’s suddenly overcome with the urge to grab her hand.

It’s domestic, in a sense – sitting next to Paige in the car as they drive down the road with the windows down. The weather holds a gentle bite, not overbearingly cold, but chilly enough that it makes Tess feel a little more tethered, that she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

In her last session with Yvette, the psychologist recommended she just let go. As obvious as the advice is, and despite it being easier said than done, Tess is interested in giving it an honest shot. For years, she’s carried so much anxiety with her, worried about whether or not she’s doing something right or worried about how she’s being perceived. Sometimes, it takes a little bit of discomfort to move forward.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Tess props her arm up on the center console. Paige is close enough that she can feel her jacket sleeve brushing against her arm. She can feel Paige’s gaze on her, the gentle curiosity, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead, watching as the trees pass by in green blurs. Then she feels her move, feels her knuckles brush against her hand; and with her heart thrumming in her chest, Tess wordlessly unclenches her fist in invitation. Paige doesn’t hesitate before she’s linking their fingers together, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Tess spots her smile from the corner of her eye, and knowing that Paige is watching her, too, she allows a smile of her own to grace her features. Nothing has ever felt as right as Paige’s hand in hers in a long time. As she continues driving, Tess can’t help herself from feeling at peace.

When the two of them finally make it back to their hotel room after spending the day filming, Tess collapses onto her bed with a dramatic groan, immediately reaching for her pillow and wrapping both arms around it, pressing her chin into the cushion. She hears Paige snort from somewhere in the room, followed by rustling as she shrugs her jacket off her shoulders and throws it haphazardly on her bed. “Tired?” Paige asks teasingly.

Tess hums in confirmation. Tired doesn’t even begin to cover it. She was up early, was on her feet for most of the day, and all of the reshoots and retakes weren’t doing her any favors. She knows she’s crashing out for no reason – this is literally her job – but she’s equal parts tired and hangry and she honestly just wants a hot shower.

“Want me to DoorDash somethin’?” Paige asks, as if reading her mind. She kicks off her shoes and falls into bed next to Tess, already pulling out her phone.

Tess cracks one eye open as the mattress dips under their shared weight, glancing at Paige, who crosses one leg over the other as she gets comfortable. “Chick-fil-A?” she requests. “Nuggets and fries? My card’s in my wallet.”

Paige wrinkles her nose. “Hell no. You got breakfast.”

Tess rolls her eyes. “Breakfast and the aux.”

“All you played was sad, break-up R&B,” Paige grumbles. “I really should make you cover dinner after that bullshit. Feels like there’s something you’re tryna tell me.”

“Pretty sure I’m not contractually allowed to break up with you,” Tess retorts. “So don’t worry.”

The blonde hums, unconvinced, before she turns off her phone and throws it in between the two of them. “Dasher’s gonna be here in 15,” she says, gazing down at her. “You good? Your knee okay?”

Figuring her current position probably isn’t the greatest for said knee, Tess rolls onto her back and stretches her leg out with a sigh. Her elbow brushes against Paige’s stomach and Tess shifts again, not realizing how little space she’d left between them after she moved. “‘M good,” she says. “Should probably get an ice pack just in case.”

Paige is rolling off the bed before Tess even registers what’s going on. She watches her pull the lid off of the ice box on the desk, scooping up a handful and depositing it in a plastic bag. She tests the seal, and once she’s satisfied, she wraps the makeshift pack in a towel, plucks a pillow off of her bed, and holds the ice pack in between her teeth as she gently lifts Tess’s leg, sliding the pillow underneath. Tess’s breath hitches at the slightest contact, and despite the chill of the ice pack, Paige’s hands are inexplicably warm on her skin.

“Is this the Dr. Bueckers the ladies told me about?” Tess asks with a coy smile, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. The way Paige was gazing at her left too much for her to want, eyes soft and attentive, and for Tess, it was easier to hide the longing with humor.

“You play too much,” Paige says, but her words lack any real heat as she rounds the bed once more and crawls back in, reclining against the pile of pillows. She’s closer than she was before she left. Tess can smell her perfume, the shampoo she’d used the night before. Paige is magnetic, that much Tess knew to be true – she’d felt it the very moment Paige stopped her outside of the conference room to inform her that she’d be tagging along for PT. It’s only now that she realizes how strong her pull was as she unconsciously leans into Paige’s space, the blonde’s arm raising to wrap around her, fingers splayed against her shoulder.

“Do I?” she asks, if only to fill the silence. Paige’s thumb begins to trace soft patterns on her skin. It’s difficult for her to focus on anything but that, but she cranes her neck, finding that Paige is already staring at her. Tess flushes under her gaze, though she refuses to break eye contact.

Paige’s lips quirk as she responds, “Yeah. You do.” She seems as though she’s content to leave it at that, but a couple beats pass before she’s speaking again. “You want a lot of things you think you can’t have.” Tess’s brow raises at her words, but she remains quiet. “I see it in film. You’re an insane three-point shooter but you rarely take middies or layups unless it’s absolutely free. And you do this thing – it’s like you’re faking the drive, and I can tell you really want to do it, but you just…don’t. You’re not faking. You’re just scared to get out of your comfort zone and go for it. Scared to get close.”

Tess doesn’t think they’re talking about basketball anymore. Despite the sharpness of her words, Paige’s tone is gentle, and the smile on her face is both confusing and frustrating. Frustrating because Tess knows she’s right; confusing because Paige knows she’s right, but it seems like she’s not completely confident in Tess taking that leap. Honestly, part of Tess is tempted to prove her right. She knows they could drop this topic right now and Paige wouldn’t press her. The other part of her knows they’ve come this far together, that she’s come this far. Doesn’t she owe it to herself, to Paige, to be vulnerable? To take the drive into the paint, risk getting fouled, instead of hovering at the perimeter to take the same shot she’s taken thousands of times already?

She thinks she does. Tess is tired of wanting, of yearning for the things well within her reach if only she had the confidence to go after them. But perhaps there is a thin line between confidence and bravery, between knowing and trying. So she shifts, feeling a little braver, angling her body towards Paige’s, fists the collar of her UConn t-shirt, and pulls her closer and closer until their lips finally meet.

Paige gasps against her, surprised, before her good sense returns and she melts into Tess. The hand on her shoulder skims across her skin to rest on the nape of her neck, her right hand reaching up to hold her face. As Paige guides her jaw to get better access, her kiss deep and consuming, she takes full advantage of Tess’s jilted sigh. Her hands fall from Paige’s collar, finding purchase on her stomach and her waist in search of stabilization. Paige leaves her breathless and woozy, and if she didn’t feel secure in the way she was holding her, then Tess would be afraid of floating away completely.

They break away, chests heaving, flushes down to their collarbones. Tess’s eyes open with a flutter of her eyelashes. Paige is already staring at her, her eyes wide in some sort of awe, pupils dilated. Her lips are swollen, shiny, and Tess can’t help the feeling of smug satisfaction that comes with knowing she did that. Paige Bueckers looks like a mess and it’s all because of her. “Still think I’m scared?” she asks, voice hoarse, her fingers gripping the fabric of Paige’s shirt.

The smile that spreads across Paige’s face is raw, real, visibly affectionate despite her next words. “Yeah.” Tess almost rolls her eyes, but Paige’s hand drops to the base of her throat, her middle finger brushing against her pulse point. She doesn’t apply any sort of pressure, but the weight of her hand makes her head spin anyways. “But s’okay.”

Tess chuckles. “To be scared?”

Paige hums an affirmative, shifting again, and she presses her lips against Tess’s. It’s different this time; firm, lingering, and insistent, almost as though she’s trying to take everything she possibly could. The weight of Paige’s body against hers is exhilarating and it makes her heart race. She can feel Paige’s smirk against her lips. Tess is instantly reminded of the fact that Paige can feel the thrumming of her pulse. She pushes her back with a hand to her chest, smiling at the rumble of laughter that reverberates through her body. “S’okay to be scared,” Paige says seriously, her thumb wiping away the smear of gloss on Tess’s lip. “But you don’t gotta be. Not with me.”

Tess meets her gaze, studying her features, the sheer honesty in her expression. Paige releases her jaw, her hands reaching down to untangle Tess’s fingers from where they’re still clenched in her shirt, fitting their hands together. “Don’t overthink it,” Paige whispers, understanding Tess’s mannerisms by heart now.

But the peace is always short-lived. Tess frowns, her voice almost a murmur when she asks, “What are we doing?” Paige’s eyes widen slightly. Tess wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been so fine-tuned to Paige’s every move for the past month. “The rules, Paige, we agreed–”

“We haven’t broken any of the rules,” Paige states firmly. She squeezes Tess’s hands, her throat bobbing as she swallows. “We communicate. We don’t see other people. We don’t tell other people. And we…” Paige struggles to find the words. “We don’t have to label this. It’s just us.” Tess’s face softens, the furrow in her brow relaxing. “‘M just…glad it was here. You and me, no cameras. And... we can just say we practiced for the public, right?” Paige’s thumb brushes against her hand as she stares at her imploringly, almost as though she’s pleading for Tess to agree, to stop thinking and just do it.

Practice. That word fills her with simultaneous relief and dread, but she remembers Paige’s words. Don’t overthink it. Tess understands that they’re walking a very thin line right now. Why should she let her brain ruin it? They don’t have to complicate what they have right now. And for now, that’s good enough for her. “Practicing is fine,” she confirms, feeling a little more confident.

When Paige’s eyes light up, her lips quirking into a smile, Tess believes that she’s made the right decision. “Yeah?”

Tess nods, flashing a smile that’s unexpectedly genuine. “Yeah.” She pulls Paige in closer by her hands, their lips brushing again, but before she can melt into her completely, Paige’s phone rings and the two of them snap apart.

“Fuck,” Paige groans, her brows drawn tight in annoyance. She hardly looks twice at her phone as she picks it up and answers it. “Hello?” Tess can barely make out what the person on the other end is saying, but the tension leaves Paige’s body. “Okay, I’ll be down. Thank you.” Tess looks at her curiously as she hangs up the phone. “Cockblocked by the dasher,” she says solemnly, unable to hide her pout. “Gimme five minutes, I have to go meet him.”

Tess can’t wipe the smile off her face as Paige rolls off the bed again, slipping on her shoes and rummaging around in her bag for her wallet. Before she leaves, Tess catches her by her wrist, pulling her down to her level and planting a chaste kiss to her lips – a far cry from the one they’d been cheated out of. “Hurry back,” she says. “I’m hangry.”

“Two minutes,” Paige breathes out, grinning stupidly, pushing Tess’s hair out of her face. Then she’s gone, and Tess is left alone in the silence of their room. If any of this had happened a week prior, Tess would probably be spiraling, but she’s committed to turning over a new leaf. She’s not going to overthink it, she’s not going to crash out, and most of all, she’s going to accept this new development in her and Paige’s friendship for what it is without trying to second guess whatever it could mean. They can just be friends who kiss now. That’s a thing. They don’t have to label anything. They can just be them, and as far as Tess is concerned, she’s okay with that.

Paige makes it back in record time, Chick-fil-A bag and drink carrier in hand and slightly out of breath. At Tess’s brow raise, Paige shrugs cheekily, handing over a milkshake. “You said you were hangry,” she teases, sliding back into bed next to her. “I’m too young to die.”

Tess rolls her eyes as Paige begins dividing out their food, passing the sauce and napkins. “You’re such an asshole,” she says good-naturedly.

“You kissed me,” Paige reminds her, as if Tess could ever forget about that. “What does that say about you?”

“I’m a very charitable person,” Tess supplies modestly. Paige snorts like she doesn’t believe that, but Tess smiles regardless.

They continue chatting throughout dinner. Paige pretends like she doesn’t notice Tess stealing her fries, although Paige ends up using most of Tess’s sauce, so they call it even at the end. Paige throws their trash away while Tess scrolls on her phone, only glancing up when Paige returns, hooking her chin over her shoulder and throwing a casual arm over Tess’s waist. “Time to break the internet?”

“You better not post anything embarrassing,” Tess grumbles, enjoying the weight of Paige’s body on hers.

Paige hides her laugh in the fabric of her shirt. “I couldn’t if I tried.” She pulls out her phone, opening Instagram and begins drafting a new post. Tess’s eyes catch on some of Paige’s photos as she scrolls through them. There’s random screenshots of Bible quotes, a concerning amount of selfies, a lot of basketball related things, and pictures of Tess have somehow become a new trend in her gallery. From the photo of Tess with cream on her nose, FaceTime candids, to photos from their shoot today that Tess wasn’t even aware Paige had taken. Tess softens. Most of the pictures were nice. “Could get a new one,” Paige suggests, opening her camera and pointing it at the mirror on the opposite wall, displaying the two of them pressed close together. Tess rolls her eyes, chuckling, but Paige takes the photo before she can react.

“Paige Madison,” Tess sighs. She can feel Paige smile against her.

“C’mon,” she goads. “We look good.” Tess can’t really argue with that one, so she leans her head against Paige’s and begins drafting her own Instagram post. They work in silence as they select the best photos for the hard launch. It’s only been a month and a half, but Tess feels both fondness and nostalgia as she scrolls through their photos and their memories. She has a couple of photos from PT with Paige, FaceTime screenshots, the photo of Paige holding their coffees, and photos of Paige trying to style the Mrs. Bose earbuds they were promoting. She knows there was a reason why Paige came into her life, but she can’t help feeling like she showed up at the right time; it could have been anyone else – college athletics has an endless amount of controversial athletes who are in need of image repair – yet being paired with Paige feels like a stroke of fate.

Tess selects only a few photos, not wanting to go overboard. She includes their first picture at PT – Paige holding the ice pack over her knee, the FaceTime screenshot of Paige showcasing the LEGO rose, Paige and their coffees, and a mirror selfie they’d taken after stylists did their hair and makeup for the shoot. She captions it “here’s to tess kennedy’s worst kept secret. thank you for coming into my life when you did,” and while this hard launch is not real, the sentiment is.

Paige finishes at around the same time she does, a soft smile on her face as they swap phones to look at each other’s work. True to her word, Paige kept the embarrassment to a minimum, although the first photo she selected was the one with whipped cream on her nose. Tess shouldn’t have expected anything less, but it’s quickly growing on her. The rest of the photos consist of the mirror selfie Paige just took, a screenshot of Tess modeling the gold dress for her, a bible quote – 1 Corinthians 16:14 – and, shockingly enough, an older photo of them from their freshman year, shaking hands after the first game they’d played against one another. They’re both cheesing. Tess remembers that loss vividly. The media called it The Battle of the Freshmen, mostly because it was the long awaited match-up between Tess and Paige, who’d been hailed as freshmen phenoms, two top recruits. In that game, they both accounted for the majority of their team’s points. Paige was responsible for 31 of UConn’s 63 while Tess led South Carolina with 30 of their 59.

Tess couldn’t even be upset at the loss. She and Paige played their hearts out, and honestly, playing against Paige was the highlight of the game. From their expressions alone, you would have thought they both walked home with trophies that night. Tess could argue that she did. Playing with Paige makes you a better player, sure, but playing against her? Tess learned so much from her game, although she would never admit that to Paige; her ego is too overinflated and Tess will not contribute to growing it.

“Where’d you find the last one?” Tess asks curiously, handing Paige’s phone back.

Paige does the same, her face lighting up with a soft smile. “Got tagged in it a couple times,” she says. “Felt right.” Tess can’t argue against that, smiling too. “At the same time?” Tess hums in confirmation, her thumb hovering over the post button, and simultaneously, they both share the hard launch to their pages. There is a very brief period of stillness before the notifications and comments begin pouring in. Tess swipes over to Paige’s post and only then does she read the caption, “And her pink skies will keep me warm.”

“Cheesy ass Frank lyric!” Tess exclaims with a laugh.

Paige looks inexplicably smug, pleased with herself. “Full circle,” she says.

“Full circle,” Tess agrees, her smile turning tender.

It’s at that moment that everything finally clicks. The lyrics filter through her brain. And a new day will bring about the dawn. And her pink skies will keep me warm. She can hear it perfectly, Frank’s voice singing to her, “Abandon mission, you must be kiddin’, this shit feelin’ different, shit feelin’ different to me.” All of the thoughts she’d been ignoring, the uncomfortable conversation with herself she’d been avoiding. She tried to push it down, but the realization came into focus with stunning clarity. Tess liked Paige. Tess likes her.

That was the entire reason why everything has felt so different. It wasn’t because she and Paige were spending so much time together, why Paige has become nearly synonymous with Tess’s recovery. It wasn’t because their friendship was just different. It was because it wasn’t friendship at all. It was always something more, even from the start.

Tess feels as though the floor beneath her could splinter, a giant crack down the middle that would send her tumbling to the ground below. She likes Paige. She has feelings for Paige. Calling it by any other name wouldn’t do her any good. She broke their rules and it’s taken her this long to realize.

“You good?” Paige asks her, her brows drawn into a furrow, concern etched onto her face as her hand reaches for Tess’s. She hadn’t realized she was shaking.

Tess clears her throat, nodding. “Yeah,” she lies, hoping that it sounds believable. Bree’s words come back to her. You’re lying to Paige, which is why you’re fumbling the bag. She was right all along. Tess could laugh at the absurdity of it all if Paige wasn’t sitting next to her. “Just need a shower, I think.”

She decides right then and there that Paige can’t know. She can’t know that she’s close to ruining it all, close to undoing all of the work they’d done to restore their reputations. That she’d broken their rule after all. That she let this get out of hand, and if Paige knew, their friendship would be destroyed for sure, and Tess isn’t sure if she could handle not having Paige around.

Paige hums, seemingly convinced, but all Tess can think about is what she’s done.

[kitten4sannie]

ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ

ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴘʟᴀʏ/ꜰʟᴏɢɢɪɴɢ ➠ ʏᴜɴʜᴏ/ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ

pairing: enemy emperor! yunho x empress! reader x scribe! yeosang

genre: historical au, smut

summary: you have another tension filled meeting with the stubborn man that wants nothing more than to conquer and own you. your new dedicated scribe records everything.

w.c: 4k

warnings: hard dom! yunho, bratty pillow princess! reader, bricked up witness! yeosang, monster cock alerttt, cnc, light mxm, exhibitionism/voyeurism, name calling/pet names, degradation, dirty talk (this man…he’s so nasty in this i’m not even sorry…), lots of manhandling, spanking/flogging, dacryphilia, half dressed kink idk, spit, hair grabbing, threesome elements, some cucky vibes, a little dash of praise, rough wall sex, creampie, yeosang licks everything up… AHEM, oral (receiving), fingering, cum eating, squirting

a/n: i was extremely high when i wrote this and i am down bad astronomically for yuyu and yeosang so yeah something religious happened to me during the writing process !! i mostly blame it on jackson wang bc that song is sooooo…. rfhhehwh it turns me into a rabid animal ngl anywaysss i hope you enjoy lovelies xx

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ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ʙʏ ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ ᴡᴀɴɢ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

As the empress of your country’s land, it’s always been up to you to partake in the anointed trivialities that required your royal attention. Aside from drawn out, traditional ceremonies to endless horse riding and archery lessons with a seasoned member of the congregation, you spent most of your time having meetings with your supposed suitors, having to listen to their boundless, self-important monologues about their days in battle, coming to know just how much knowledge they held in combat and war strategies, and fighting the urge to pull your hand away when they would hold onto it, pleading you with their eyes for your approval. It all bored you to tears. 

Though, there was a particular individual that you couldn’t seem to keep your mind off of, no matter how hard you tried. Jeong Yunho, an emperor from the land that bordered yours. A man from a bloodline that your family had gone to war with many times over the years. Despite that you were quite literally sleeping with the enemy, you couldn’t help yourself. You had never met anyone like him before. Instead of asking and pleading for your attention, time, and body, he simply took it. Took what he wanted from you without a care in the world. He wasn’t even bothered by that fact that your dear scribe still sat in the meeting room with you, hazily scribbling down everything that occurred and what was said, spilling bottles of ink onto his scrolls due to how flustered he was from witnessing the way Yunho forcefully conquered his dear empress with a domineering smirk plastered on his sweaty face, the panting emperor’s cock routinely disappearing underneath your disheveled ceremony garments and into your willing cunt. 

“Your Highness, Lord Jeong should be here any second now,” your fresh-faced scribe began from across the meeting room, setting up various sized brushes in a line, smoothing out a few creases he found embedded in the elongated sleeves of his ceremony robe. He suddenly looked up at you, concern present within his widened honey brown eyes. “Should I make more tea?” 

“That won’t be necessary, Yeosang, but your intention is very sweet, thank you,” you replied softly, making your way across the room in your heavy garbs, taking the time to run your fingers through your newest scribe’s hair, offering him a smile that made him drop one of his brushes. “Lord Jeong doesn’t drink much tea. He…prefers to get straight to business.” 

Yeosang’s smile dropped slightly when your hand left his hair, his eyes traveling your form as you sat on your knees in front of the meeting table, watching you take a sip from your steaming celadon cup and nod your head in approval of the flavor. “Have you considered his marriage requests? I’ve read some of the letters he’s sent to you…” The young scribe blushed suddenly, his eyes lowering to look at the blank spaces on his scrolls. “They’re quite intense. Does that sort of thing interest you?” 

You rested your chin inside the palm of your hand, your gold bracelets dangling from your wrist, squinting your eyes at Yeosang, your lips curling up ever so slightly. “It does, very much so. Lord Jeong is one of the most interesting men I’ve come across thus far…I’ve greatly considered his offers, despite him being the enemy.” 

Yeosang tilted his head, a few locks of his hair falling into his focused eyes. “If I may ask, your Highness…What’s stopping you from accepting?” 

You ran your finger around the rim of your celadon cup, looking at your reflection within the black tea, your smile fading. “I don’t want the excitement to end, Yeosang.” You looked back up at him, unable to keep yourself from smiling gently at his confused expression. “Marriage, as beautiful as it is, brings monotony, which brings contempt…” 

“Ahh, I see now,” Yeosang nodded slowly, giving you a sad smile back, feeling like he understood his empress a bit more in that moment. He squeezed his fingers around the intricately carved wooden brush inside his grasp.  “Your Highness, may I ask you a question?” 

Just as you were about to respond, the large, jewel-encrusted doors of your meeting room opened with a groan. A tall, handsome man dressed in an extravagant, hand-sewn traditional robe came strolling in like he owned the place, holding an expensive mahogany box within his large hands. 

“Oh, princess, I’ve brought you a present,” Yunho called out teasingly, walking up to the table. He acknowledged Yeosang’s presence with a nod, who bent over to bow. The confident emperor sat down across from you at the table, his eyes hooded, his lips quirked up perversely as if he was reminiscing about your previous meetings. “Hi. Did you miss me?” 

You rolled your eyes, pretending as if you didn’t care about the emperor’s arrival, despite your heart and core throbbing rhythmically from him simply sitting there across from you. “What did you bring me, Yunho?” 

“Something that’ll have your little scribe here pulling at his robes when I’m done using it on you…Maybe he’ll even spill his ink all over himself like your last one…” Yunho’s eyes shifted from Yeosang, who gulped, to you, who simply sipped on your tea, his long fingers rubbing along the smooth edges of the mahogany box. 

You tilted your head to the side, idly biting at the tip of your manicured nail. “Is that so? Well, get on with it. I’m a busy woman, as you know, and I don’t like when my time is being wasted with nonsense.” 

Yunho simply scoffed, shaking his head slightly, sitting there silently for a moment, the only sound in the room being Yeosang’s wet brush expertly sliding across the scroll and your nails tapping against your tea cup. 

All you registered was the sight of Yunho swiftly getting up onto his feet and heading in your direction, his feet thumping against the mat below. Before you even realized what was happening, you were laying face down on the table, watching your tea pool out onto the sleek wood, your intricately crafted tea cup now split in individual pieces. Yunho had you held down by the neck, his fingers closing around it, his warm body pressing against yours, able to feel his stiff cock against your ass, even through your thick robes. 

He chuckled at the gasp you let out, bringing his lips near your ear to purr huskily, “Am I still wasting your time, princess? Or is getting your little cunt all nice and wet for me something worthwhile?” Instead of letting you answer, Yunho simply reached past you, flipping the boxe’s lid open, bringing it closer for you to take a good look at its contents. Inside the box sat a hand-woven flog, the edges of it decorated with a silver finishing, making it glisten in the light. “Do you like your present? I got it made just for you.” He rubbed his cock along your ass, his free hand roaming over your upper thigh to the curve of your ass. “Can’t you see? I’m in love with you…” 

“Oh, please.” As you tried to get up, Yunho pushed his body weight down onto you, holding your wrists down with ease. “Do you really think I’m going to let you use your little toy on me in front of my innocent scribe, Yunho? Who do you think you are?” 

“I’m simply a man who’s head over heels for you, Y/N…Take some responsibility…” Yunho quickly reached past your neck and down to your chest to rip open your garments, tugging on them while you continued to resist until your bare body was revealed underneath the many layers.

Yeosang dipped his brush inside the bottle of ink with a shaky hand, his cheeks flushed, unsure if he should speak up, his eyes fixated on you, never having seen you in such an indecent state before. “Sh-should…I keep going, your Highness?” 

When Yunho forcefully bent you over his knee and pulled your disheveled robe up to reveal your ass, his large hands squeezing into it, you nodded your head weakly at Yeosang, feeling a bit dizzy from being treated in such a way with your lovely dedicated scribe watching on. “Please, don’t let us stop you from doing your job, Yeosang…you’re doing so well…”  

“Thank you, Your Highness…” Yeosang blushed from the praise, dipping his brush back into the ink, before pressing it to the scroll, thankful that his garments were thick enough to cover his stiffening length.

You weren’t able to reply to Yeosang when Yunho abruptly slammed his open palm against the curve of your ass, a moan leaving your lips instead of words. He smacked the other side of your ass to watch it bounce and groped along it, squeezing your sensitive flesh between his slender fingers. “That’s it…just look at that color…Wish you could see it, princess. Shall I add some pretty shades of purple and pink too? You’re my canvas, Y/N…I’m sure you’ll let me paint you with my cum next, right? Just like every time, yeah?” 

“Fuck off, Yunho,” you grumbled, attempting to climb out of his lap, throbbing at the feeling of him grabbing you by the waist and holding you still, knowing you couldn’t get away even if you tried. 

“You weren’t saying that last time, princess. You were begging me for more…” Yunho picked up the flog, running his fingers along the woven leather, before he cracked it in the air, making Yeosang and you jolt from the sudden loud noise, bringing joy to the emperor. “Take a deep breath for me, Y/N…” 

Just as you did so, Yunho brought the flog down onto your ass, watching the individual leather straps leave pretty red marks on your skin, groaning, “So pretty… you’re so pretty for me, princess…” and repeating the motion, lacking the proper self control to stop himself, even when you began to cry, his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. 

“F-fuck…! Stop!” You kicked your legs and thrashed around until you were able to wiggle out of his grasp, just barely making it over to Yeosang’s large scribing table, before Yunho slammed you down onto it, knocking over one of the ink bottles with his rough handling of you. 

“Crying just for me, princess? You’re making me so hard,” Yunho sighed into your ear, moving closer to your face to lick one of your tears away, his hot breath hitting your cheek, your ass stinging more when he grabbed it roughly, bolts of pleasure shooting into your core. 

 “You fucking asshole…” you choked out, about to pull yourself up when the emperor pinned your hands painfully behind your back, feeling his knee press in between your thighs. 

Yunho tugged more of your garments off without a care in the world, huffing and as he shoved his hand in between your thighs from behind, rubbing two fingers along your clothed cunt, before tearing it off with ease. “Ahh, that’s what I thought…You’re so wet for me, Y/N.” He looked to Yeosang, who was blushing wildly, still just sitting there and haphazardly recording the chaos that was occurring right next to him, knowing it wasn’t his place to interact in any way unless either of you allowed him to. Yunho continued to rub at your cunt, enjoying the noises you and your gushing slit were making. “Hey, scribe, make sure you make a note about how fucking soaked your empress gets from getting manhandled by an enemy emperor. That’s an important detail, isn’t it, princess?” 

You struggled underneath the man, starting to feel ink soaking into your expensive garments, some of it staining your cheek. “Yunho, get off of me, or so help me–” You suddenly found yourself gasping for air, having been flogged again, though this time some of the leather straps reached your cunt, feeling it sting pleasurably in between your trembling thighs. 

Yunho looked over to Yeosang, who had his fingers clenched around his brush, his free hand in between his clenching thighs. “Hey, Yeosang, do you know why the previous scribe quit?” When he shook his head, Yunho grinned, admiring the pattern of bruises he left on your ass, running his fingers lightly over them. “He couldn’t handle watching his beloved empress cry and take what I so graciously gave her, but you can, can’t you, Yeosang?” 

He bit his bottom lip, feeling conflicted, not sure if he should nod or not. He instead looked to you, his eyebrows knitted together with concern. “Your Highness…” Yeosang whispered softly, hesitantly placing one hand on top of yours, holding it tightly. 

You looked up at him, smiling gently, blowing a bit of hair out of your hazy eyes, reaching your other hand over to rub the top of his knuckles. “It’s okay, Yeosang…I want this…” 

Yunho grabbed you by the hair, forcefully lifting up your head so that he could get a good look at you, practically drooling at this point, his cock throbbing against your backside. “Say that again…Let me hear it…” 

You turned your head to look at him, smiling sweetly, before you pursed your lips and sent a wad of spit onto his cheek, satisfied with the way it dripped down along his tightening jaw. “If you hurry up and fuck me instead of continuing on with this bullshit, I’ll think about it.” 

Turned on beyond measure, Yunho grabbed your own jaw, forcing it open so that he could send a wad of spit straight down your throat, chuckling darkly at the moan that escaped your parted lips. “This is why you’re my favorite, princess. You’re such a bratty little thing, just aching to be put in your place, huh? You want me to do that? Fuck you into submission in front of your sweet little scribe? Just say the word….” 

This time around, Yunho could see the desperation on your flushed face, your lips forming a pout. “Please…” you whined, surprising yourself and the two men watching you with your sudden act of obedience. 

“Oh my god, that’s fucking it right there…” Yunho groaned, pulling at the sash wrapped securely around his slim waist and pulling it loose, so that he could gain access to his undergarments, quickly tugging his stiff, leaking cock out. “Do you draw portraits too, scribe? This slut’s pretty face should be kept in the history books…” 

Yeosang nervously shook his head, starting to spread the ink across his scroll from watching the way Yunho pushed you up against the wall, so close to Yeosang that his garments spilled into his lap, forcefully wrapping your legs around his waist, just as he fully sheathed himself inside you, your soaked panties pushed to the side.

“No? That’s too bad…Well, at least jot down the fact that I conquer your Highness’s tight little cunt every time I give her a visit…” Yunho huffed out, smiling at you with his canines showing, his hands cemented tightly around your bare waist, bringing himself down to one of your tits to suck it into his open mouth. 

“God, will you just–aaah–shut the fuck up and…nnngh…fuck me properly?” you asked in between pants, barely able to take the emperor’s thick, oversized cock without feeling like you were going to break, your nails digging into his straining upper back through his garments, one side of his robe starting to drape off one of his broad shoulders. 

“Yeah? You want it rough just like every other time, don’t you, whore?” Yunho groaned against your skin, dragging his tongue up over your spit-laced tit to attack your neck with his lips and teeth, leaving your skin in various shades of red and purple. “Write this down too, scribe. The people should know that this pretty princess can’t cum unless she has a horsecock ramming into her cunt. Isn’t that right, Your Highness?”  

You couldn’t even speak at this point, from the way Yunho lifted one leg up onto the scribe table, using the leverage to fuck into you as deep and hard as he could, about to cream yourself from the way he kept you pinned down, just using you like a doll made for his pleasure. 

Now almost directly underneath his empress and the enemy emperor’s rapidly joining bodies, Yeosang couldn’t help but look up, fixated on the way your cunt spread open each time Yunho slammed himself inside your clenching hole, feeling a few drops of your mixed arousal drip down onto his face and roll down his warm cheek. He gingerly opened his mouth and held his tongue out, now pressing his brush directly into the soaked paper, leaning his back against the wall behind him, his hand beginning to rub at his pre-cum soaked cock that was still trapped underneath his heavy garments. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet, princess…I think I might…slip out…” Yunho sighed heavily against your ear, roughly nibbling it with the aid of one of his canine teeth, slowly sliding his cock out of you and slapping his heavy cock against your abdomen, smearing his pre cum onto your skin. 

The feeling of being completely empty just as you were about to cum almost sent you into a full-blown rage, practically ready to start another war with Yunho if he didn’t stick his cock back inside you. You abruptly grabbed him by the hair, clutching a tuft of his damp icy blond locks, leaning in so that your lips ghosted his. “Fuck me, you goddamn bastard. Make me cum.” 

This time Yunho didn’t play any games, simply rubbing his cockhead back and forth over your throbbing clit just to make you shudder against him, before he slipped back inside, immediately pounding himself into you, essentially leaving you breathless. “Look at you just taking it, princess… I know it’s big…You’re doing so well for me…taking it so good, princess…I’m so proud…” 

The sudden bout of praise coming from the enemy in such a sickly sweet tone, especially while he began to pump hot loads of cum into you, sent you barreling over the edge, not doing your dear scribe any favors when you began to babble nonsensically, tears beginning to fall from your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body. 

“Yeahhh, take it, princess…I’m gonna knock you up so you have to marry me.” Yunho chuckled darkly, his fingers squeezing into your hips, pressing a rough kiss to your lips, biting at your bottom lip before he pulled away. 

“You’re disgusting,” you huffed, grimacing at him, despite the fact that your thighs were still trembling. 

“Don’t say that, princess,” Yunho whined, leaning his forehead against yours, slowly pulling out inch by inch. “You know how hard that makes me…” He looked down to Yeosang, who was breathing heavily underneath the both of you, his mouth agape, splashes of arousal decorating his pretty, flushed face and damp hair. “Hey, scribe, you’ve been a good boy just sitting here and watching the whole time. You want a taste of your Highness’s used cunt?” 

Feeling sufficiently dizzy, Yeosang looked to you for approval, feeling his cock pulse at your slow dazed nod, bringing his hands up to your thighs to caress them, bringing his lips up to kiss and lick at the wetness around your cunt with a gentleness that would’ve had you collapsing if your legs weren’t securely hooked over Yunho’s shoulders. 

“Make sure you get it all…” Yunho murmured softly, completely pulling out of you with a wet, shlick sound, dribbles of his cum beginning to gush out of your gaping hole, allowing Yeosang to collect it inside his drooling mouth. Yunho brought a free hand to Yeosang’s head, holding him against your cunt, finding great joy in the desperate, sloppy manner in which he ate you out, like a delirious, thirsty man that had just found a hidden oasis. 

It was when Yeosang slipped his slender fingers deep inside your pulsing cunt, his hot mouth closed around your sensitive clit, that you began to whine and whimper, one arm hooked around Yunho’s neck for support, your free hand going down to grab onto Yeosang’s hair when Yunho let go, gazing down to find him already looking up at you with half closed eyes. 

“It’s so good, you’re so good for me, Yeosang, I’m going to…oh my god…”  

Yeosang clutched one side of your bruised ass with one hand, curling three of his fingers inside you and rubbing them against your clenching walls, lapping at your clit, his thighs closing together, his cheeks bright red from the praise. 

All the while, Yunho simply watched on, his chest swelling with pride, occasionally leaving kisses and licks on your straining, marked-up neck. “Cum for him, will you, princess? Won’t you soak his pretty face with your squirt?” 

Having your lovely scribe in between your legs, eating your cunt like it was his assigned job to do so, having your sworn enemy pressing his heated, sweaty body against yours, more filthy words leaving his lips for your shared pleasure was all far too much. “Yeosang…!” 

Yeosang found himself being covered in a warm spray of liquid, tasting your squirt on his tongue, closing his eyes for a moment to bask in the pleasure of it all, opening them back up just in time for you to pull him into your arms, your bare body against his half-dressed one. “Your Highness…” 

“I didn’t mean to do such a dirty thing to you, Yeosang, I’m so sorry…” You used your sleeves to wipe some of the wetness away from his face, blushing more than you had during the whole night. 

“Your Highness…” he repeated, softer this time, giving you a shy smile, pulling his robe apart until you could see what he had done to himself. 

Your eyes widened at the milky stains of cum splattered across the insides of his ceremonial garments, looking back up into his eyes, returning his shy smile. “If I had known you had such an affinity for me, I wouldn’t have looked for suitors this long. Who needs them when I have you?” 

Yeosang reached up to hold his heated cheeks, dumbfounded by the string of events, unable to believe that his beloved empress could feel such a way about him. “It’d be an honor to always be by your side…”

You giggled, reaching up to place a hand over his, your thumb brushing over his pretty birthmark. 

Yunho cleared his throat, running his fingers through his sweaty hair, his robe already wrapped ornately around his body, looking like he did when he first entered the meeting room, besides the afterglow he was now sporting. “I’d love to stay here longer and experience this beautiful moment with you both, but my job here is done.” He patted both of your heads, as if he were a proud father, before heading taking a few elegant strides towards the door. Before he left, he turned back to look at you, his tongue poking into one of his canine teeth, giving you a shit-eating smirk. “Until next time, princess.” 

“There isn’t going to be a next time,” you muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes, your arms still around Yeosang, watching your smug enemy leave the room with a soft chuckle. 

Yeosang chuckled softly, reaching up to run his fingers through your hair, feeling confident enough to share his thoughts with you. “Now, let’s not kid ourselves, Your Highness.” 

“Heyyy,” you whined, giving him a pout, watching him pick up his drying brush up from the table. “Don’t you dare write that down.” When he motioned to dip his brush into the spilled ink, you hugged onto him from the side. “Yeosangggg, I’m still your empress!”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you rested your chin on his shoulder. “By the way, what was that question you wanted to ask me?”

Yeosang gulped, studying the ink-stained table below for a second, before turning his head to look at you, your faces just centimeters away from one another. “Will you replace me one day, Your Highness?”

Your eyes widened slightly, taking in your scribe’s vulnerability, wanting to return the same energy to him, as he was deserving of it. “Never, Yeosang. You’re here to stay.”

Yeosang blushed fervently, dropping the brush back down to hug you into his arms, nuzzling your neck gently, his hair tickling your skin, about to melt inside his empress’s grasp. “Promise?” 

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, pressing your lips to his cheek, waiting for him to look back into your eyes to whisper, “Promise.”

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[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

MOVE OVER AC⚡DC -- THE BIGGEST GUN IN ROCK WAS PULLED OUT YEARS BEFORE.

PIC INFO: Spotlight on package sleeve art to the "Brake Torque" 7 inch 45 RPM single by Ann Arbor-based rock/grunge band, BIG CHIEF, released on pink translucent vinyl via the Australian label Messiah Complex in 1990. Only 1000 copies were pressed in total -- 900 on clear pink vinyl, and 100 on grey vinyl.

Source: www.discogs.com/master/716674-Big-Chief-Brake-Torque.

[steddielations]

nonsexual d/s for sub Eddie week with art here by @ent-is-indecisive

“Eddie, will you please open the door?”

“I ruined it, Steve, I messed everything up.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby, let me in, c’mon.”

All the music from the party almost drowns out Steve’s voice, but a small pathetic piece of Eddie clings to it like an anchor. He opens the door and Steve’s brows knit sympathetically at the state of distress Eddie's in. It’s all fucked up.

His leather sleeve is wet and sticky, he can’t stop raking his fingers through his hair, ruining the nice waves Steve styled for him earlier because he was too much of a wreck to do it himself. It’s all fucked up.

“I fucked up.”

Shaking his head, Steve comes inside and shuts the door behind him. “It wasn’t that bad. Could’ve been worse, remember when Robin threw up in the middle of an audition.”

“Steve, at this point they’re gonna pay me not to make an album,” Eddie stresses, pacing around the bathroom. “I spilled wine all over the guy. Dale fucking Grazer wants to talk serious paper and shake my hand and I just emptied my stupid little glass all over him!”

“It was just wine, not puke or something,” Steve says lightly, trying to bring Eddie down from his frantic state. It works, his voice is a tether for Eddie to grab onto. “Come here, let me fix you up.” 

Eddie does as Steve says, not trusting himself to make any more decisions when all he’s done today is fuck up. 

Steve guides him over to the sink, wetting a towel and dabbing Eddie’s jacket. He’s so calm, like this isn’t the most important night in Eddie’s life and it’s not already blown and he can still make that hotshot from the record label like him.

Steve’s acting like everything’s fine, which makes Eddie feel stupid and small like he's overreacting, he tries to let Steve’s energy calm him too but it’s hard.

“You’re overthinking, I can see it on your face,” Steve says, being gentle but not in a coddling way that would make Eddie feel even more stupid.

He straightens out Eddie’s sleeve, good as new, then works on Eddie’s hair next. His fingers are soft and skilled and so sure, knowing exactly how to fix it and how to make Eddie melt under his touch.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, just trying to let Steve fix everything. He's way better at fancy parties and schmoozing than Eddie is. He always knows how to get Eddie out of his head and that’s what he needs right now. As pathetic as he feels about it, he needs to stop thinking. Let Steve think for him, even.

“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” Steve prompts softly and Eddie is helpless but to let it all out.

“I can’t stop saying the wrong shit. Why’d I tell him my dad’s in prison? Or bring up the dropped murder charges, or all that stuff about ket, I just can’t shut up.”

“No, that’s just you, the whole big personality charismatic rockstar thing. Trust me, that guy’s got star eyes for you.”

“This is just like with Paige’s label. I messed that up, and now I’m ruining Jeff’s chance again, and—”

“No you’re not, that guy loves Jeff already, everybody loves Jeff.” 

“You’re right, he’s got this, he doesn’t need me. Let’s just get out of here, make a run for it.”

Eddie barely takes a step before Steve’s hands circle both his wrists, his grip gentle but solid, holding Eddie in place. It flips the same little switch in Eddie as the cuffs they use in the bedroom. It takes away the option to run.

Somewhere in the jumble of his mind, he knows it’s the right choice, trusting that Steve wouldn’t let him make the wrong one.

“We’re not going anywhere, baby, this is your chance too.” Steve rubs up and down Eddie’s arms, guiding him around in front of the mirror. 

It’s hard for Eddie to look at himself right now and see it written all over his face. Steve cleaned the stain and made his hair perfect again but he can’t fix whatever’s making Eddie… Well, Eddie. Whatever it is that made him flunk senior year 3 times, or screw up the first chance he had to make something of himself, or the reason Ronnie won’t pick up his phone calls, or the reason Wayne sleeps with his keys on the bedside table in case he has to come running to Eddie’s rescue like always—

Steve’s fingers lightly cup Eddie’s chin, he’s standing behind Eddie now, his body warmly pressed against him.

“Look here, honey.” Steve gently tips Eddie’s head up to meet his own eyes in the mirror. They’re glistening with unshed tears that almost fall when Steve says soft but sure, “You’re not a fuckup,” and prompts Eddie, “Say it.”

Eddie swallows the lump rising in his throat, “I’m not—” 

He chokes up a little bit and Steve waits patiently. 

“Tell yourself,” Steve whispers, all earnest-eyed in the mirror like all he wants is to make Eddie believe it.

“I’m not a… fuckup,” Eddie gets the words out and a few tears slip free with them.

Steve brushes them away. “You can do this. Say it.”

With a deep breath, Eddie tells himself, “I can do this.”

Steve kisses his temple, gives him a little praise that he admittedly needs so much right now, “You’re gonna be so good.”

Eddie’s mind starts to clear of everything that’s not Steve rocking him slowly in his arms, whispering, “You’re my good boy,” as many times as Eddie needs to hear it. He feels his confidence building back up, getting more comfortable in his skin again with Steve holding him, believing the words Steve made him say in the mirror, believing the words Steve kisses into his neck and loves into his skin. He can do this.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Tell me,” Steve prompts and Eddie turns a little, blinking slowly, eyes feeling heavy with the slow dose of bliss Steve gave him.

“I’m your good boy,” Eddie murmurs and he believes it.

When they leave the bathroom later, Steve can’t hold his hand through this, but Eddie still feels him.

He charms the fuck out of those suits from the label. They love Jeff, everybody loves Jeff, and they love Eddie too. The whole band is definitely getting signed, at least that’s what Steve says on the ride home.

Eddie greedily soaks up all the praise and attention, feeling a little spacey with it, Steve's big warm hand on his thigh grounding him. He can't wait for them to get home so he can properly thank Steve.

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 27: Slow Dancing

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Prompt: Slow Dancing (🌼)

Summary: You and Matt finally manage to be home at the same time, ready to have a romantic dinner when he suddenly puts on one of his jazz vinyls and pulls you in for a dance...

Warnings: Fluff. That’s it.

Word Count: 577

A/n: Posting the last remaining Fictober prompts I didn't get around to posting in October (2024), one by one. I don't like leaving things unfinished, and I promised I'd post them, so... stay tuned!

Read Me On AO3! (coming soon, once all prompts are posted)

The candles on the dining table cast a comfortable glow over the living room. 

For the first time in weeks, Matt has come home from work at a reasonable hour. No, ‘I’ll be home late, don’t wait up for me’ text. No apologetic phone call while he’s eating takeout with Foggy in the office. He came home, and he came home to you. Not the city but you. 

“I’m not going out tonight,” he told you as he kissed you hello, and you never thought a simple statement could sound so sexy. 

The table is adorned with homemade spaghetti and salad. You even brought out the wine one of Matt’s clients gifted him for Christmas last year—the good kind. Just as you’re pouring the first sip of burgundy liquor, the soft tune of a jazz vinyl breaks the comfortable silence. You look up to find your boyfriend standing by his record player, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone. He looks at ease, almost as if he has finally come home. You want nothing more than to wrap him in your arms and never let go. With his cheeks flushed and brown eyes so full of light he reminds you of an angel; an angel who more often than not believes himself to be the devil, but you know him better than anyone on this godforsaken planet, and you know the truth. One look, one touch, is enough for you to know the Matt Murdock you know and love is anything but evil.

Matt smiles at you, a little giddy. “C’mon, dance with me,” he says. 

You raise your eyebrows. “Dance?”

“Yeah.” He reaches out from across the room to take your hand. “Just for a minute. I want to hold you…”

You bridge the gap between you, your fingers gently brushing against his as you take hold of his hand. 

“Feel your skin,” Matt murmurs, “Your heartbeat…”

“Haven’t done that in a while,” you say.

He pulls you in. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“I know.” 

One arm slides around your waist while the other remains tightly in your grasp. You look up at him, this beautiful specimen of a man, watching as his eyelids flutter and he leans his head against yours. Slowly. Reverently. Your pulse jumps under his touch and your heartbeats align. 

He begins to sway you to the gentle rhythm of his favorite jazz tune. It’s just him, you, the music, and the steady beating of his heart against your ear. Thud, thud, thud. He’s so calm, so content. When you’re in his arms, all the wars he’s had to fight on the streets and in his mind are suddenly forgotten. At the end of the day, he will always crawl home to what’s most important to him—you. Even if it’s bloody and bruised and on the brink of death, he will crawl home to you. Because he promised. He swore he would always come home, no matter what and no matter how. You’re the reason he survives. 

“I love you,” he whispers. 

You don’t hesitate whispering back, “I love you,” your voice muffled against his chest. Matt’s hold only seems to tighten around your frame. His voice, only a mere hum in your ear, sings a distant melody. 

You let the music carry you away, the dinner you made long forgotten as you melt like a beeswax candle in his embrace. 

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[letteredlettered]

Hi! I would love to read a JC and WWX post and how it is diff from what you’ve seen in western media!

I'd already started writing a JC post, so I wrapped that in to answer your question.

I follow a few JC fans so I see the backlash to the haters more than I see any haters, but apparently there’s some question in some people’s mind about whether Jiang Cheng loves Wei Wuxian, and I find that a little silly. That said, I think that to understand MDZS’s JC at all, you cannot just read the surface, so if you’re not thinking about him as a person or giving him any consideration beyond what other characters say and think of him, you’re not doing him justice. You’re also not going to see that he loves WWX and also loves several other people quite deeply, because a) JC's never going to be affectionate in his dialogue, b) JC's not going to even be affectionate in his body language or minor actions, and c) WWX, the main viewpoint character, is never once going to think about whether JC likes him or loves him.

Lots of posts have outlined better than I will how deeply loves not only WWX, but also his family, in particular JL. The short version is: JC’s his major flaws are all related to him loving his parents and getting shown very little affection in return—none at all from his father and only some in a backhanded way from his mother, usually in comparison to WWX.

As for Jin Ling, JC threatens him all the time, and even shoves him around a bit, but Jin Ling obviously adores JC and feels adored. JC is the one Jin Ling goes to when he's crying; JC is also the one who leaps to JL's side when JL is hurt. JL knows he's in trouble with JC when JL does something unsafe, but JL knows that his own safety is the most important thing in JC's life. Tellingly, JL rarely takes any of JC's threats seriously, and even tells other people said threats are bogus.

Then there’s WWX. Even while JC is berating WWX endlessly for making their clan look bad, he is literally carrying around WWX on his back. He is protecting WWX with everything he has. He sacrifices himself to the Wens to WWX won't get caught. After their falling out, after WWX lied to him for years and got their sister killed, JC still can't even stop himself from protecting WWX when WWX might get hurt by JGY's guqin string.

The guy is willing to throw himself on the fire for anyone he loves. Just heaven forbid he express any of it. But because he does not express love through speech, Wei Wuxian (who I will point out is a talker) doesn't understand this about Jiang Cheng—and this is shown to be a consistent flaw that WWX has. He also does not understand that LWJ is in love with him, despite LWJ defying all of society to follow him around and lift him onto donkeys whenever WWX gets droopy.

But I'd add the pretty much no one, other than Jin Ling, understands this about Jiang Cheng. If the cultivation world had understood JC, they would not have believed that JC and WWX had actually had a falling out. Part of the reason people don't know him is the same reason JC has such a terrible time with everything—WWX steals everyone's attention, praise, and fear wherever they go. No one is really looking at JC to admire his devotion or his loyalty, because WWX is there, doing it better than him, always. Imagine LWJ+WWX hadn’t defeated the Tortoise of Slaughter and had just been holed up in that cave for six days. All anyone would’ve talked about was how deeply JC must love his shixiong to make it back in such record time. It would all be “heroic rescue” this “unflagging loyalty” that. But instead, LWJ+WWX  had to really just steal the limelight.

In fact, the book is partly about the fact that people don't analyze people's actions too deeply. They believe what they hear. They believe what they want to believe. JC really can just say "I reject WWX" and they believe it. JGS can really just say "WWX is evil" and they believe it. Everybody says LWJ is perfect, so they believe he can't be a cut-sleeve who is in love with WWX. And WWX, who knows better than anyone that rumors aren't true, believes it too.

Even after WWX's death, JC's reputation is locked onto WWX. I do think this is JC’s own fault, given that he can’t accept his brother’s death and is obsessed with him but idk. Canon demonstrates that there’s a huge difference between what JC says he’ll do if he finds WWX and what JC actually does, and it’s not because LWJ is in the way. But no one really seems to pay attention to the difference between what JC says and what he actually does when the chips are down, except JL, so it’s no wonder everyone says he has torture dungeons, no matter how ludicrous that is.

I think what makes JC’s love for WWX particularly complex, and particularly incomprehensible in the eyes of the cultivation world, is WWX's position in JC's family. JC thought of WWX as a brother. He loved him like a brother. And yet JC was deeply aware that WWX wasn't his brother. JC's mom made sure that JC was deeply aware of that at all times, and you know what, so did his dad. And then, the rest of the cultivation world constantly talked about the fact that WWX was not a part of the family, that the Jiang Clan raised him like a son but he was really the son of a servant. MXTX expertly shows that this fact gets trotted out whenever WWX does something questionable--when WWX is brilliant, he's a lauded member of the clan, but when he is bad, he is of low-birth and adopted through charity. The truth is, it’s an unusual relationship for a world in which there’s a pretty big different between your clan (blood relatives) and sect.

How can JC hold both of these truths in his head? What makes it bearable for JC is that when they grow up, JC will be the Sect Leader and WWX will be his right-hand man; they will do everything together; they will be brilliant together; they never have to worry about blood or debt then, because then it won't matter whether they're brothers or best friends; the difference won't matter. They can both be the head of a family that they love. Except that doesn't happen.

JC’s parents die, and WWX disappears. I will, at this point in my understanding and credit to Jiang Cheng, say that the part about JC I find hardest to swallow is that he partially blames his parents' death on WWX. Yes, WWX stayed behind in the cave of the Tortoise of Slaughter to save LWJ, and yes, this meant that Wen Chao and WLJ have a particular grudge against him, which they use as partial excuse to attack Lotus Pier, but by god, that's a stretch. Lotus Pier would have been attacked anyway, and the fact that JC even partly blames the attack on WWX has far more to do with what his mom said about WWX showing off for the glory and bringing down the wrath of the Wens than it has to do with reality. YZY is going to say anything she can about how WWX being a hero with the Tortoise of Slaughter was actually a bad thing, because it's so fucking painful for her that WWX is a fucking legend when her son just . . . isn't.

As JGY points out, they were in fact the strongest sect once WWX comes back from the Burial Mounds and fights the Sunshot Campaign with JC. They could have been the power couple of JC’s dreams, but just as YZY pits JC against WWX, the cultivation world after the war pitted WWX against themselves and by extension, JC, and JC buys into it. I find this super understandable, and I think it’s pretty unfair to expect JC to be more understanding of WWX, given that WWX is constantly lying to him. Similarly, I think it’s pretty understandable that he doesn’t understand the plight of the Wens, given that WWX doesn’t explain it to him at all. From JC’s POV, WWX just leaves, at a time when JC really needs him, and he does it on a crusade for unrelated people—as though he never considered himself part of the family in the first place.

And you know what, that may be WWX’s POV too. He loves the Jiang family like his own family, but he’s also deeply aware that he is not blood. MXTX makes it very clear in canon that WWX felt that he owed the Jiang Clan, and not in the way you owe a family. That is—he doesn’t owe them his existence, but he thinks he does owe them his core and his cultivation. And he gives it all to JC.

I outlined above that the relationship between JC and WWX is unusual in the cultivation world given that they each feel like the other is family but are consistently reminded of the fact, and pressured to believe, that they are only sect siblings and that WWX is actually a subordinate. I also haven’t found many relationships like this in other media—though I’ll point out once again that my experience is mainly with western media. I think the closest things I can think of are stories in which the parties are of a different class but are raised together for whatever reason—because they actually are somewhat related but one of them has low class relatives, or because they were not as well-supervised in their youth but  one of them suddenly comes into money and is forced to leave his low-class BFF behind, etc.

Given that this relationship is unusual, you don’t see a lot of situations like WWX’s, in which WWX feels like he owes the Jiang family his golden core and then gives it to him. But there’s another element to this sacrifice that I’ve only seen in one other piece of media, and that’s the fact that WWX knows that JC can’t live without being special, and WWX thinks he can handle it.

There is so much in western media about brothers giving up their lives to protect their brothers (Supernatural), or even just giving up their dreams and ambitions so that their brother can follow his own dreams instead (It’s a Wonderful Life). But these sacrifices are always framed as “I love him so much,” or “It’s my duty” or “I couldn’t live with myself if he didn’t get what he wanted” and sometimes even, “I can handle the suffering and I don’t want him to live with it.” But there’s something about WWX’s “eh it’s not a big deal to me  and it is to him” or his “bro’s kinda petty and can’t get over himself, whatchu gonna do” that feels stupidly singular.

WWX never says it isn’t a big deal. He never said that it didn’t hurt or that he didn’t make a sacrifice. He never said JC was pathetic or a loser or anything that diminishes JC or makes him less than he is. What he says is that JC is always competitive and comparing himself to others, which is true. But the other sacrifices in fiction that come close are a little more “I don’t want you to have to suffer” or even “I’m strong, and you’re weak, so I’ll take on this burden for you.” Meanwhile WWX doesn’t think JC is weak, and while WWX doesn’t want to suffer, he certainly doesn’t want to suffer himself. The sentiment feels closer to “you need to feel special so I’ll make that happen for you,” and there’s something about it that is a little condescending.

I mentioned that I’ve only seen this kind of thing one other time, and it was in a baseball anime called Touch that aired in Japan in the 1980s. Touch is a story about twins, one of whom is smart, talented, and works hard. The other twin, Tatsuya, is good in school and good at baseball, but at first seems like a lazy guy who only cares about joking around and having fun. Then you find out he’s a genius and a one-in-a-lifetime talent, but just never bothered to focus on anything because he’s so stupidly good at everything that he would just show his brother up, and his brother cares about excelling and Tatsuya doesn’t, so he just…was careful to never apply himself to anything.

WWX isn’t Tatsuya, in that when they’re on an even playing field, WWX doesn’t really seem to have any compunctions about showing off. But as soon as the playing field becomes uneven, he also has no compunctions about destroying himself so that JC’s competitive spirit is satisfied. There’s something about it that has a flavor of “I’m better than you,” even if it’s never what WWX meant to communicate. No wonder JC feels like a clown.

Like, in the end, WWX kind of did make a fool of JC, even though WWX did it out of both love and loyalty. I'm not sure I've ever read or seen anything else where such a sacrifice has such ambiguity, and it really makes the WWX+JC relationship one of the most complicated I've seen.