#matching trouser pajama

[gullei]

Get Cozy for the Holidays with Matching Soft Cotton Pajamas Set for Couples by Gullei.com. This Christmas loungewear set is the perfect way to celebrate together in comfort and style. Embrace the festive spirit in matching pajamas designed for warmth and togetherness.

[storiesofaot]

I hadn't been aware of the fact that the outfit Hange is wearing in 3x01 were actually her pajamas!! 😍 Maybe it was obvious, since she was saying that the news about pastor Nick's death had reached her in the morning, I know, but I just didn't notice it!

To be honest, I had thought she was wearing some kind of lab coat underneath her jacket lol.

I love the fact that Hange doesn't waste any time to change her clothes - no, she just puts on her robe, her scouts jacket and rushes off! I also love that she's barefoot and only wearing slippers, she didn't even change into her boots 😆

Moblit is wearing his normal clothes, so I guess he was the one who went to her room, woke her up and told her the news? And at hearing the news Hange is so surprised and flustered that she simply throws over her dressing gown (it's a wonder she actually thought of it) and runs off. When I think about it, is probably Moblit who grabs her scout's jacket and forces her to put it on, to make her look a bit more adequate 😆

And that's the reason why her hair was open and not in a ponytail! (Guess we got a peek at Hange's bedhead here hehe)

Those little things always make me so happy, for I always wondered what Hange would wear when she sleeps, or what clothes she wears in her free time. 😍

[wttcsms]

i wanna brag about it (i wanna tie the knot) ; choso.

pairing choso x f!reader word count 2.6k synopsis overworked, stressed, and in need of relief, choso comes home to the sight of you looking all pretty and sweet. it's been a long time coming, and tonight is the night where choso finally gives in to his deepest desire: fucking a baby into you. content contains babysitter!au (babysitter!reader), ceo!choso, half-brothers!choso & yuuji, toddler!yuuji, implied age gap, breeding kink, obsessive + possessive!choso, housewife kink, misogynistic ideals, wet n messy, size kink, belly bulge, bro is literally so in love with you and dreams abt starting a family with you

Choso could use a drink right about now.

He’s rummaging through his fridge, more than happy to grab one of the many bottles in the back (he doesn’t want Yuuji accidentally grabbing one by accident — not that it would happen, thanks to your supervision), but he startles away from the fridge when a voice fills the silence of the kitchen.

“Late night?” You tease, giving him that sweet smile of yours that has the stresses from today lifting from his body, easing the weight on his otherwise tense shoulders. 

Fuck. 

Proof that today was a major shitshow is evident in the fact that Choso has forgotten all about you. Staring at your body clad in nothing more than one of those skimpy cropped-cami-and-boyshorts matching sets you always favor, he finds it hard to believe that he could ever forget about you. The refrigerator light bathes you, envelopes you, casts a warm glow on your soft skin and makes it look like you’re an angel radiating some bright aura. A subtle glance at your entire body allows him a glimpse of two, tiny peaks poking through the thin material of your top. You like keeping the house cold. He swallows hard, finding the willpower to focus on your face.

Not like staring at your face is enough to stop his cock from twitching in his work trousers. In fact, he probably gets even harder looking at you, especially when he can tell you’ve probably just finished your very sacred and meticulous nighttime skincare routine, your face glowing. Seeing you all clean and fresh, savoring the domesticity of you washing your face in the same bathroom he brushes his teeth in, salivating over the way you look standing in his kitchen (it could be yours, too, if you would let him give you everything he wants to) wearing nothing but your pajamas — it all makes his hindbrain want to take over. He’s spent the last fourteen hours stuffed in a boardroom or his office, and your simple existence is enough to soothe his soul and send him spiraling, all at the same time.

Choso could really, really use a drink right about now.

“Sorry, I meant to call to tell you—”

“Don’t worry about it.” You smile at him goodnaturedly, like you’re not still in college with much better things to do on a Friday night than wait for him to come home. 

He should be thankful that you’re so sweet to him, but just the idea that you did have plans tonight makes a hot coil of jealousy tighten in his stomach. 

Choso knows that he shouldn’t be feeling this way; he shouldn’t even notice you as much as he does. It starts out with the little things, first, like making sure his assistant gets your favorite snacks restocked during his usual weekly grocery delivery. He asks you about your schoolwork, and then finds himself filing away people he knows in your major’s industry. It’s good to have connections, he tells you, giving you the number to a good business acquaintance of his who’s looking for an intern in the near future. And of course, he’s hyper aware of the fact that you are a very beautiful girl. Unfairly so, with the curve of your lips and the slope of your nose; every time he sees you, he plays a game with himself. Tries to notice something new about you, a beauty mark, a new haircut. If he had the time, he’d probably try to get an exact count of your eyelashes. 

And now, he’s noticing too much of you. The way the fabric of your tiny matching set seems to accentuate every aspect of your body. How he can smell the sweet scent of your body wash and lotion. The way you’re staring at him, so innocently, completely unaware of the lewd thoughts that run rampant in his mind every time you have him cornered like this. 

Some nights, it’s almost too much to bear. 

It’s been a tough day, though. Week. Month. Endless meetings, negotiations that never result in any firm solutions, just more addendums to contracts. He hasn’t seen much of anything besides his office and the boardroom; what’s the point of having an office with a skyline view if he’s too busy staring at spreadsheets and emails to even enjoy it? 

Tonight, Choso realizes, is the night where he snaps. 

He says your name in such a low register, you almost don’t pick up on it. You’re in the middle of telling him a cute story about what Yuuji did during recess with his pre-k class, but you pause.

Maybe it’s all in your head, but it feels like something in the air has shifted. The way your tummy’s butterflies seem to be in overdrive is only proof of this. 

You’re used to the perpetual tension between you and Choso. Filthy rich, successful, always in a nice, tailored suit — looking purely on the outside, who wouldn’t want to get fucked by him? The more time you spend with him, the more time you fill the role of mother over just babysitter for little Yuuji, which gives way to deeper observation of Choso. He works incredibly long hours, but still has time to stay updated on all of Yuuji’s comings and goings, accomplishments and awards. He doesn’t have to; it’s not like he’s obligated. After all, Yuuji is his half-brother, a byproduct of his father’s mistress. He didn’t have to take him in, love him with his entire being, but he does, and this makes you fall for him only more. 

Then, there’s the fact of how he makes you feel. Every time his hands will brush gently against yours, innocently and so quickly, you swear you’re being electrified. The way he says your name, the way he tells you anything, in that low voice of his is enough to get you squeezing your thighs together. But most of all, it’s the way he looks at you. At first, you thought it was because of your crush, but the longer you work for him, the more you realize that Choso will occasionally stare at you when he thinks you won’t notice. 

But how could you not? How could you not detect the feel of his dark eyes scanning your figure, taking in your features? How could you not detect the way his eyes will darken over in lust when he watches you lick sweet cream off your fingers from an explosive can of whipped cream? How could you not catch the barest trace of a smile as he watches you interact with Yuuji at a park, willing to get your hands dirty to appease the toddler while Choso watches over the two of you from his seat on the bench? 

How could you not fall deeper and deeper into his spell when the threads of lust continue to spool, tightening over your body, practically choking you with desire. 

You don’t even realize how big Choso is until he’s standing so close to you, towering over you. So much bigger than you to the point where if you look straight ahead, all you can see is the rise and fall of his chest through his white button down (the one you ironed for him this morning). 

His hands curl into fists, like he’s restraining himself. “Tell me now,” he breathes out, words coming out tight, like speaking to you civilly is proving to be a strenuous task for him. “Tell me that I shouldn’t fuck you tonight. That I can’t.”

Is he joking, or are you dreaming? You’re hyper aware of your breathing now, of the way you reflexively lick your lips, of the way your nipples are pressed taut against the thin, cotton fabric of your cami. You’re also way too aware of him, with the lustful expression in his eyes that give way to something more, as if this request of his means something more. Most men his age and in his powerful position have a wife or a girlfriend by now. As long as you’ve known him, Choso hasn’t been with anybody. 

The stress, the agitation, that annoying, persistent feeling of constantly being pent up — all of it has been building up inside of him. Whoever is going to be on the receiving end of it will be lucky if they’re able to walk the morning after.

“But you can.” You say softly, almost scared that this is some elaborate trick, a means to see if his brother’s babysitter is to be trusted. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

There’s something animalistic in the way he takes you. When he kisses you, it’s hungry. Open-mouthed. Sloppy. It would be invasive if you weren’t so eager to let him, to allow his tongue to hit the roof of your mouth, to swap saliva in the messiest manner possible.

But there’s something gentle there, too. The way his hands cup your face, or travel to rest on your waist. He’s sweet, taking his time to help you slip out of your pajamas, and sweeter still — he lets out an appreciative hum as he takes in the sight of you bare, naked in the kitchen. Fuck a drink, Choso thinks as he takes in your nude body. You’re the only stress relief he needs. 

He whispers the nastiest things to you as he gets you to sit on the kitchen island. He asks you to please spread your legs so he can see that pretty pussy of yours, and when you comply, he takes in a sharp breath before running a single, cold finger against your wet folds. He makes a crude, appreciative comment, asking you are you really this wet, baby? All of this because of me? For me? 

You can’t answer him, of course. Talking is hard when he’s using two fingers to fuck you open, get you ready to take his cock. He’s knuckles deep, and when he curls his fingers right there, the only thing you’re capable of saying is a squeal of his name. Your juices are pooling into a puddle on the counter, the same counter where you served him breakfast so many hours ago. 

He loves watching you. Choso could watch you every second for the rest of his life and still never get his fill of you. He only catches you during particularly chaste moments, moments where you’re humming in the kitchen or playing with Yuuji. He loves those scenes; it feeds the archaic, masculine ego inside of him that tells him he needs to make life easier for you. That you shouldn’t have to worry about school or work, about money or other frivolous things he has an abundance of. He wants to take care of you. 

Seeing the way you lose control of yourself from the work of his own hand has him getting unbearably hard in his work slacks. He loves watching you, and he knows he’s going to love watching you get all depraved and drunk on his cock. 

When Choso first tries to ease just the tip in, you have to curl your fingers over the edge of the counter, trying to steel yourself. With how wet and willing you are, it should be an easy enough task, but it’s made difficult by the fact that he’s just too thick. 

Tip red and angry, leaking with pre, wide — just the sight of Choso’s cock is enough to get you even wetter, more pliant for him, but even the first stretch still has you hissing. 

“S’okay, baby.” He groans, one hand on your waist, trying to steady you, keep you still so he can keep on pushing himself deeper. “You’re doing so good for me.” 

You certainly don’t feel like you’re doing much of anything. It’s hard, when you can’t stop your walls from clamping down on his cock, making it harder for him to move or even think. When he fully enters you, your mind is already too dizzy with pleasure to think straight. You think he says something, but you’re not sure what, and you try to focus on his words, you really do, but then he starts thrusting, and you think it’s powerful enough to tilt the axis of the earth. 

Oh, so this is what sex is supposed to feel like. He redefines everything you thought you knew about it. The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, the way the slickness and heat of your pussy seems to keep motivating him to go harder, the way if you look down, you can spot a tiny bulge every time he hits as deep as he can go — all of this combined marks the height of pleasure for you.

“You’re so perfect.” He grunts out, relishing in the way you tighten up at his words. Your eyes are a bit glazed, almost like you’re struggling to focus on what’s in front of you. He doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, there’s pride settling inside his gut as he realizes that he’s the one fucking all the sense out of you. “Let’s do this every night, baby. Do you like the sound of that? Of being my stress relief?” 

He knows that you’re too far gone, too deep in the haze of pleasure, to process his words, to answer him. 

“I wanna fuck you forever, baby. Make you my pretty, little wife and have you waitin’ at home for me. How does that sound?”

He assumes when your pussy tightens up that that’s a yes. 

His hand finds your own, and he interlinks your fingers together. He might be fucking you all messy on the kitchen counter, but he still holds an overwhelming amount of affection for you. Of course he would want to hold your hand. 

He traces your ring finger, feels the familiar sensation of his release building up. So close, he thinks to himself. He’s so close to getting everything he wants.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum right. In. Your. Fucking. Pussy.” Each word is emphasized with a particularly hard thrust, and this — him saying that — is what your sex-addled mind registers. You’re vaguely aware that this could be a bad idea, but you’re too addicted to chasing after your high that you don’t put a stop to it. “Gonna give you a baby.”

“Please.” You moan out, the word coming out ragged and strained. Speaking is difficult, so so difficult. He’s happy to hear your beautiful voice, nonetheless.

“Atta girl. I knew you would understand.” 

As if confirming to him that the two of you are meant to be, you both cum at the same time. You feel weightless and drowsy, too out of it to even process how sloppy and wet the mess in between your legs is right now. If Choso pulls out, his cum and your juices would make the counter even more slippery. 

But Choso doesn’t pull out. His cock stays nestled in your wet heat, and he admires your fucked out form. You look a bit different from the fresh and clean girl who greeted him when he came home, but that’s okay. He loves you for you, every iteration you have to offer. He’ll carry you to the bedroom, where he can fuck you nicely, sweetly. Maybe he’ll try his hardest to not go too hard when he has you in a mating press. And after getting his fill of you, after the stresses of work disappear from his mind completely, then he’ll take you to the bathroom and get you all nice and clean. 

He’ll even be a gentleman, showcase what a great husband he’ll be, by letting you sleep in while he cooks the family breakfast.

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: But I'm So Sweet and Tasty [Yandere Vampire!L Lawliet x Reader]

Title: But I'm So Sweet and Tasty [Yandere Vampire!L Lawliet x Reader]

Synopsis: You've been kidnapped by a vampire with a penchant for sweets.

For Horrorfest request: I read your L x vampire fic a while ago and started thinking about the reverse. So maybe vampire L gets discovered, and instead of killing them to protect his identity, he decides to keep them like livestock? His own personal regenerating blood bag <3

Word count: 970ish

notes: vampire au, yandere, kidnapped reader, descriptions of blood drinking

“Is this really necessary?” You ask, pouting, tugging down the strawberry-frosting pink frills of a dress that barely reaches your mid-thigh. It’s a frilly, sweet pink number, with lace on the collar and a bounce to the skirt; certainly not the type of clothing you would have worn before all this. 

It is, however, the type of clothing you see in the magazines that L doesn’t bother hiding in his office. Magazines with idols wearing impractical things that are designed to bounce and jump and make their fans long for just a glimpse of something more. 

Yet it was the only thing to wear in your wardrobe when you woke up earlier; gone were your comfortable sweatshirts and trousers, gone were your warm pajamas, gone were the occasional dresses you liked to wear, sensible things with long skirts.

You’d had to practically beg L for each of them, and he never added anything to your wardrobe without a lengthy bargaining process, but your hard work was undone. 

In their place was this frothy, sweet little dress that barely kept you warm and made you look like–well.

Like a piece of cake. 

He puts the finishing touch on your hair, a matching ribbon that he deftly ties with his fingers, and pats your head for behaving so well. There was a time when you might have snarled at him through the entire process, though you were never stupid enough to fight him, even back when you would still cry and scream and rage at being stuck here.

Now, though. Now you behave, because it’s easier this way. And frankly, after so many evenings being fed on by the vampire beside you, you just don’t have the energy anymore.

Your reflection in the mirror shows no one but yourself, but when you turn your head, he is there–a small smile on his face.

“It’s very cute on you.” His voice dips a bit when he says it, and you know he’ll want to feed soon. Something about his moods when he deems you to be cute; he gets weirder, if such a thing were possible. He also gets hungry–and that never ends well for you. 

You’re staring in the mirror at your solitary reflection when he lifts your arm, giving your wrist a sniff. It never fails to make you dizzy, this contrast–the weight and pressure of him as he holds you and moves you, and the lack of him in the mirror. Like your body is on puppet strings, being yanked around by some awful thing above you.

Maybe it was, in a way. Maybe that thought is what makes you tense, now, makes you want to jerk away and run down the carpeted halls and scratch at the front door as if it wasn’t locked twenty times over. 

Maybe you couldn’t take another night of being his living blood bag, or another day of lounging about, tired and alone, snacking on the sweets he left you to eat in the kitchen. They made you taste better, he said, and you had no reason to think he was lying.

Maybe it shows on your face, in the way your muscles seize, all of this–

Maybe that’s why he gives you a gentle tug, and pulls you away from the mirror, so you can’t look anymore. So you can’t think about it.

It works, awfully enough. He smiles when he sees you shake yourself out of it, when you look at him, and not the things he does to you in the mirror.

“I bet you taste just as cute,” he murmurs, lifting your wrist again, and licking the skin there. 

You shudder.

“Things can’t taste cute,” you correct, wondering if he’ll give you a warning, or if he’ll take that first bite on impulse. It’s a 50/50, with L; he might give you a more accurate percentage, if you asked. But you won’t.

He hums. “Scientifically speaking, no. But visual perception does have a significant impact on how our brain perceives the taste of foods. For instance, something green will be perceived as being fresh and nutritious. But something pink and light…” His voice trails off, and his lips latch onto your wrist. “I can bring you the studies to read after this,” he says, voice muffled against your skin.

“No thanks,” you say, just as he takes a bite into the sensitive skin of your wrist. You cry out, squeezing your eyes shut, clenching your fist tight. It never gets easier. It never stops hurting. 

The sensation of his fangs sinking into your skin doesn’t change; the sharp points of them like carving knives, opening up your veins so that he can get the best flow of blood. 

“Worst part is over,” he murmurs, liquid against his mouth. If you looked down–you won’t, not again–you would see his front teeth all covered in blood.

Instead, you look everywhere else in the room. At the white walls, which he’s let you decorate. At your bed, with its checkered comforter. At your stack of books, that you’ll read tomorrow, when you’re too exhausted from blood loss to get out of bed. 

The bite is the worst part, you suppose. The part that hurts the most. After a while, the pain will dull down to an ache, and by the next morning there will only be bruises and the faintest memory of pain. 

Wooziness swoops down over your head as he begins to feed in earnest, and your stomach turns at both the feeling and the sound of it. Slurping and a soft squelch as he almost gums the wound at your wrist. 

Yes, it is the bite that hurts the most–but the slurping and satisfied hums afterward are just as sickening. 

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Spring Wardrobe Essentials

Staple Tees & Tanks:

**Purchase in Modal, Pima cotton, linen, silk, or Tencel fabric**

Fitted scoop neck tank

Fitted high-neck tank top

Structured, relaxed fit crewneck tee

Fitted scoop neck/crewneck tee

Halterneck tee/mockneck tee

Contour tank/tee bodysuits

Blouses/Shirting:

Linen button-down (can be long/short-sleeve or a tank variety)

Silk button-down (can be a long/short-sleeve or a tank variety)

Relaxed fit silky tank

Relaxed fit silky cami top

Sweetheart neck tube top

Any other desired silk shell top/t-shirts/camis (for layering)

Sculpt knit top(s)

Self-tie wrap blouse

Halter-style silk blouse

Bottoms:

Black straight-leg jeans

Black bootcut/flared jeans

Black straight/bootcut trousers

Wide-leg trousers (I love a solid black, black pinstripe, and black with lace-up detail selection)

Split hem trousers

Black linen trousers

Stretch jersey pants (straight-leg, bootcut, and/or flared)

Black satin midi skirt

Leather skirt (mini or midi)

Tailored shorts (Tencel ones are great for various climates/weather that drastically in temperature/humidity throughout the day)

Leather shorts

Tailored black linen shorts

Dresses/Jumpsuits:

Slip dress (midi-length for every day; mini for hotter days/nights out)

Linen button-down dress (for work/modest dressing)

Linen tank dress (for layering/hotter days)

Little black dress (shift dress/A-line cuts are great)

Minimal black jumpsuit ("LBJ")

Black linen or silk jumpsuit

Blazer dress/jumpsuit

Long-sleeve playsuit/romper

Tuxedo jumpsuit/playsuit

Jackets/Outerwear:

Well-tailored black blazer

Well-tailored black vest

Leather moto jacket

Black trench coat

Tailored longline sleeveless blazer/vest

Neutral-toned racer jacket

Structured utility jacket

Satin coat/trench/blazer (great over transitional nighttime looks)

Footwear:

Black loafers

Square-toe/pointed-toe flats

Slingback/mary-jane flats/casual kitten heels

Short black lace-up boots

Sleek low to mid-calf black square/pointed-toe boot

Western-inspired boot

Minimalist white sneakers

Black pointed-toe pumps

Sleek mules/cut-out flats

Slingblack pointed-toe wedges

Rain boots

Accessories:

White/black ankle & crew socks

High-waisted shapewear shorts

Chunky/small chain necklaces & bracelets

Simple pendant necklace(s)

Pearl necklace

Simple diamond studs

Crystal drop earrings

Minimalist bangles

Stackable rings

A sleek, minimalist black tote (can fit a laptop for work/travel)

Black shoulder bag

Small black bag (top handle, crossbody, etc.)

Statement bag/evening bag

Silk/decorative scarf

Sleek neutral sunglasses that suit your face shape

Lingerie/Loungewear:

Seamless bra/underwear

Lace bra/underwear

Matching pullover cotton sweatshirt/sweatpants

Tencel, Modal, or cotton top/lounge pants set

Luxurious pajama set (Long sleeve/pants + short-sleeve/tank + shorts, depending on the climate – silk, Tencel, cashmere, etc.)

A to-die-for piece of lingerie like a lace slip/silk teddy

Silk or cozy robe

Open-back slippers

[fox-guardian]

I have thoughts and since I keep forgetting to draw it, I will write it out

✨️ fashion headcanons for the oiar crew ✨️

Alice (I've already drawn her but I'm adding it here again anyway):

General thoughts: she enjoys layers when possible, fits the "tiny top large bottoms" silhouette most often in her outfits, and tries to throw plaid/flannel into her outfits in some way as often as possible. It's a minor obsession. Jewelry-wise she's typically a silver girlie but is far from against mixing metals and likes wearing piercings with colorful plating

the oiar likely has a pretty solid dress code and I highly doubt she follows it, especially after having been there for nearly a decade

At work I think she keeps it relatively simple. Comfy flannel shirts and/or t-shirts, hoodie if she's cold, and maxi skirts or jeans. Sneakers. It's nothing super fun (the workplace doesn't deserve her at her most fabulous) but it's comfy

Jewelry is also kept simple, studs and plain rings for her ears (snakebites are a given). She also wears her fav bracelets

Outside of work she gets sillayyyy. Bit chunky jewelry, novelty pieces. More fun frilly skirts, some shorter ones. Her nicer outside-of-work looks are somewhere between "hippie" and "that one type of iconic fashionable older woman" she also wears makeup more often Outside of work

Concert attire varies but she gets more grungy with ripped/shredded pieces and band tees (obviously) and sluts it up with shorter skirts/shorts and cropped shirts

Fancy clothes are as 80s as possible. This woman owns multiple shoulder-padded button downs

Pajamas are usually basic sets (often mismatched) or just like. Old t shirt and underwear.

Sam:

General thoughts: priorities comfort and tries to stay comfy as much as possible. You have never felt a wardrobe more soft overall. He wears plain earrings and the occasional friendship bracelet, otherwise not much jewelry I also think he wears as little sock as possible (unless it's funny) (alice got on him for wearing socks with sandals one time back in uni and that's all he wore in front of her for months)

Idk what the exact dress code for the oiar would be, but assume he adheres as much as possible

Prefers soft cotton mocknecks/turtlenecks to crisp button downs, with a nice cardigan instead of a blazer. Trousers are sensible, but soft. He probably irons them

Casual outfits are. Very casual. Sweatpants and sweatshirts/pullovers.

Nicer outside of work outfits aren't very different from work outfits. Date nights might require jewelry (rings, maybe a chain or two). I think he's a gold guy

He does have like one nice suit for special occasions but he suffers through the stiff fabric

Pajamas are button-up sets or literally just his underwear.

Gwen:

General thoughts: this woman is so monochromatic to me. She's very "dark mode basic" if that makes sense. She's not trendy but her looks are always solid. Owns a lot of black. Most outfits are fitted and snug. Wears minimal jewelry and always silver (even though gold would look so good) has a secret love of nice vintage pieces

Work looks are professional and crisp. Pencil skirts, button downs, and a sensible sweater typically (its cold) and plan heels/booties. After having to flee from ink5oul her work wardrobe has graduated to Trousers And Flats For Booking It. Her "girlboss" outfit is a matching blazer/trouser combo

Casual outfits are still well put together. Enjoys miniskirts and tights (if she's feeling bold she'll wear tights with a pattern) and off-the-shoulder tops. Wears basic chokers and slightly more jewelry overall. If she's feeling balls to the walls INSANE she might wear a dark red lip.

She doesn't really have a nicer vs comfy casual wardrobe, so all that's left is special occasion stuff. A nice dress for get togethers with "friends". An especially nice vintage coat she snagged. These pieces might have color other than gray maybe.

Pajamas. Hm. I think she would either have simple button down sets or frilly nightgowns. She definitely dreams of having a nightgown fit for touring a haunted castle I think

Celia:

General thoughts: butch <3 she has learned she really likes the look and feel of a more masculine shape and fit to her clothes after getting a hard reset on her identity. She doesnt wear a lot of jewelry outside her ear and facial piercings, and it is all gold, and she also has snakebites but prefers studs (slightly less enticing for babies to grab than hoops)

Work outfits are nice. Vests and trousers, with the occasional cardigan if it's cold.

Casual outfits are jeans and nice fitted t-shirts. A denim jacket perhaps. I also think she works out in some capacity so there's shorts and muscle tanks also (no bras ever, shits shwangin)

Nicer outside of work stuff.... I don't think she owns any special occasion things right now?? She simply would not have an occasion/reason to have them yet maybe. Maybe she gets a fancy vest for date night idk. She'd probably signify This Is A Special Occasion with nice bracelets and rings. Maybe a neck chain.

Pajamas are usually t-shirts and lounge bottoms/comfy shorts. She is forced to be fully dressed lest she teleport in her sleep while half/fully naked

Lena:

General thoughts: this is already so difficult. I think she would dress very practically. No jewelry unless you count her glasses chain, no skirts, and only very short heels/flats. She keeps proper walking shoes with her if need be.

Work fits. She has a whole power suit in my brain that's just a matching white blazer and trousers, and then the red button down. The white is the biggest power move. I think she has a few of these in different colors (black and iron grey) but the white one is the main one.

Casual.... I don't even know man. Probably also practical over pretty. Probably only wears men's pants due to the pockets. Probably owns a very practical leather jacket. Whatever she wears, she does numbers at the lesbian bars

Nicer out of work clothes.... probably not much different than her work clothes. She may tolerate a dress if she needs to attend a wedding.

Pajamas: she either has the button up sets. Wears an old t-shirt and bottoms from a bygone era of her life and both are full of holes. Or she sleeps butt ass naked with a gun in her hand.

Colin:

General thoughts: office dress code can kiss his ass. He's comfortable but practical, and I think he enjoys graphic tees. He has silver earrings and maybe a secret body piercing but doesn't wear anything else visible. He doesn't really bother with buying new jewelry but wouldn't care about mixing metals if he did.

He wears jeans to work, graphic tees, and a button down so he can call it business casual. Sneakers also. Programmer socks (gift from alice) The jeans are ripped (partially from crawling on his knees dealing with the computers so often) and he patched them up. I think he's big on mending. Also sews his name into items he may leave unattended (thank you merch drop for this idea)

Casual isn't much different. Maybe no button down, maybe he keeps it for flair. At home he wears pants/trousers as little as possible I think. The programmer socks stay on tho.

Nicer outside of work stuff. He owns like one suit.

Pajamas: butt ass naked. If he's cold he just gets more blankets.

Teddy:

General thoughts: thank you alice for pointing out that teddy wears shades of pink im gonna eat this. I also think he wears gold jewelry and those would look so nice together so I am Extra Eating This. Beyond this I don't have toooo many thoughts? I think he enjoys fashion. Knows what different cuts of items will do for him. He likes piecing together a solid Fit even if it's simple.

Work fits include button downs and sweaters, with the classic argyle vest. I think he would enjoy a fun pattern.

Casual fits are practical but stylish, and I think he considers himself legally required to buy anything with Teddy bears on it that fits him. I think he wears light jewelry even on more casual days, he likes to sparkle a bit.

Nicer out of work fits. I think he owns a couple shiny button downs. Does it up with the gold jewelry, chains, rings, a nice watch, the woiks. He has at least one funky patterned pair of pants.

Pajamas: usually sticks to old tshirts and comfy bottoms, has like one button up set that's Christmas themed (twas a gift) that he only wears that time of year, and one (1) legally mandated teddy bear onesie.

those are the vibes. They are subject to change as we learn more ofc but here they are <3

[kikiiswashere]

Children of Zaun Chapter 32 Sneak Peek!

It’s my 35th birthday today! And to celebrate, here is a little glimpse in to the next chapter. Domestic fluff abounds!

————

When Kat’s eyes cracked open, she saw the dim, orange glow of light outlining the jamb of Silco’s bedroom door. Signaling that Enyd was already up. If she had managed to sleep at all. Several nights over the past few weeks, the ferocity of her coughing and retching hadn’t allowed for more than a couple hours of sleep at a time. It left the already haggard woman exhausted, her throat raw, and her voice the soft crackle of a dwindling fire. Weak and smokey.

Kat shifted beneath Silco’s arm, and he grunted, muscles flexing and drawing her in closer.

“It’s time to get up, Silco.”

He mumbled something into her hair that she’d since learned was ‘Not yet’.

“There is going to be a delivery of supplies to the clinic today. I need to be there to receive it.”

His body stilled in consideration. Finally, his arm relaxed and she sat up, twisting to face him. In the shadows of the dark room, the angles of his face appeared sharper. They cut against the softness of the pillow beneath his head, hair an ink spill over the light color of the case’s fabric. She reached down and brushed some strands away from his eyes. It was getting so long.

A blue eye cracked open and squinted up at her.

“What?”

Kat smiled sleepily, and dipped down to kiss the summit of his cheekbone.

“Nothing. You’re just handsome.”

There was something about the mornings, when it was just them and a tangled-up sheet. Before they had to open that door and march into the world. Ready to live, lead, and fight. For a few brief, waking moments nothing else existed.

Silco shifted his head against the pillow, setting both eyes upon her. Even in the dark of the bedroom, she saw the color on his cheeks shift, and a careful-not-to-be-too-pleased smile on the edges of his mouth. Kat leaned down and pressed a kiss to it, before suddenly slipping away as his arms attempted to ensnare her and draw her back into the covers. Kat laughed quietly as his arms flopped on to the bed, heavy in defeat. She gently padded toward the dresser she’d left her clothes on and began changing out of her pajamas.

Silco untangled himself from the sheets, grabbed his cigarette tin from the bedside table, and shuffled to the window. The light that filled the bedroom as he drew back the ratty curtain was grey and watery. Soft enough that the brightness did not sting, clear enough that Kat could easily thumb the buttons of her trousers through their eyelets.

Silco cracked the window open, the sounds and smells of Zaun gently wafting into the room, and he struck a match against the sandpaper within the tin of the case. He lit a cigarette, and leaned out the window.

Kat shrugged into her blouse, fingers making quick work of the button-front. Her vest was next, the chain of her papa’s pocket watch catching the light in a joyful twinkle. Tying her hair up in a ponytail, she crossed over to Silco.

“You are going to have to tie this back soon,” she said, tucking his hair behind an ear. Goose pimples rose on his skin as her fingers traced lightly down his neck and shoulder.

He hummed in response, sucking a long drag from the cigarette. The paper was eaten away by a wriggling orange line, and the ash blew away on a soft breeze.

“You don’t want to get it caught in any of the machinery at work.”

Silco lifted his eyebrows in a ‘that’s true’ fashion. Leaning farther out the window, he blew a mouthful of smoke into the air and crushed the end of the cigarette against the bricks of the building. Standing back into the room, he pulled the window shut and turned to Kat.

“Any spares, perhaps?” he asked, reaching out and running his fingers through the thick waves of her ponytail.

“In my coat, probably. I’ll get you one before we leave.”

Kat left Silco in his bedroom to change, and ventured into the apartment. She heard Enyd before she saw her. A steady, wheezing drone whistling from the living room. She dipped her fingers into the pockets of her coat, searching for a spare elastic, before continuing.

The older woman was propped up in her rocking chair, pillow wedged behind her head, a large drop cloth spread over her lap. She held a section of the fabric up to the light at her side, stitching a long, red swatch to it with aching precision. Her eyes flicked over to Kat as she stepped into the room, a smile stretching her face.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Enyd.”

Kat’s eyes gave a cursory glance around Enyd’s immediate space. A water glass on the end table, her medicine (woefully low) next to it; no signs of bloody rags or a sick bucket. Then she looked at the project in Enyd’s lap. A flag. Zaun’s flag. She’d been working on it for a few weeks, desperate to keep herself busy as her ability to consistently leave the apartment lessened. Enyd had presented the idea to Kat and Silco one evening, along with a few rough sketches of a design and emblem.

“Every nation needs a flag,” she’d insisted.

And she wasn’t wrong. Kat couldn’t decide whether to inspect the drawings Enyd was showing them, or to stare at Silco’s utterly entranced face as he took in his mother’s work. Enyd had come such a long way from initially scolding him that one night at Vander’s, to creating the crest of their nation. He’d excitedly taken her sketches to The Last Drop the next day to confer with Vander.

The two men talked for hours, mulling over the scraps of paper, piecing together different facets of the drawings until the final draft emerged. The emblem for the Nation of Zaun. A ‘N’ and ‘Z’ artfully combined in a strong tower, against a backdrop of blue and red whorls meant to pay homage to Oshra Va’Zaun and Lady Janna.

“Did you sleep?” Kat asked, taking a step closer. It didn’t seem like Enyd had much progress from where she had stopped the night prior. Hopefully meaning –

“Yes. Better than I have the past few nights.”

“How long have you been up?”

Enyd blinked, rubbing at her eyes before glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Only about an hour. Is Silco up?”

“He is getting dressed. I’ll make you some tea and breakfast.”

“Oh, Kat. You don’t have to do that. I can – “

Enyd slipped her needle through the flag to keep from losing it, and began to carefully gather the fabric up.

“No, no,” Kat insisted. She placed a hand on Enyd’s shoulder. “Really, I got it.”

The older woman looked up at her, eyes simultaneously grateful and abashed. She settled into the pillow behind her head, and lifted up her sewing again as Kat went to the kitchen.

Enyd’s kitchen had become as familiar as her own. Kat moved swiftly between either side of the galley. The kettle went on the top right burner, as it was the one that got hottest most quickly. Tea was tucked away in the cupboard above the hood. Mugs were in the second cupboard that faced the stove, along with the plates. Bread was kept in the box below those cupboards. The bread knife and other silverware were tucked in the middle drawer beneath the butcher block counter. The drawer stuck if one did not lift the handle first and give it a gentle, but firm, yank. The marmalade was in the icebox door, next to the yeast.

Like seeing her and Silco’s clothes drying next to one another, the way Kat easily moved about the kitchen was honey-sweet comfort. A warm blanket that wrapped around her heart.

She heard Silco enter the living room as she began slicing bread. Then, gentle and loving ‘good mornings’ shared between mother and son, before Silco appeared in the kitchen, Enyd’s water glass in hand. He went to the sink and filled it. Kat thinly applied the citrus marmalade to the bread just as the kettle began to warble. Silco reached over and turned the flame beneath down.

“Go ahead and take the bread over,” he said. “I’ll make the tea.”

“I’ll take the water, too.”

Silco handed her the fresh glass before turning his attention to the box of tea and mugs, and Kat walked over to the kitchen table, and placed the bread and water glass down.

Enyd knotted off the thread, and slid her needle snugly into the drop cloth’s weave for safekeeping. Gently setting her work on the floor, she gripped the arms of her chair and pressed up onto her feet. Kat watched her carefully, body tightening like a spring. Ready to leap forward should Enyd look at all unsteady. But she managed to the table just fine, though the plop into her seat was a little graceless. Kat slathered a slice of bread with marmalade, set it on a plate, and handed it to Enyd. She murmured her thanks as Kat went to prepare her own breakfast. Silco appeared, placing a mug of tea in front of his mother and Kat, before returning to the kitchen to grab his own.

As he took his own seat, Kat frowned as she scraped the sides of the marmalade jar with the knife.

“Do you - “

“You can finish it up,” he said, sipping at his tea.

Enyd watched as Kat slid the scant amount over her bread, lips pursing.

“I can go to the market today to see if I can find more.”

“Don’t, mum. The marketplaces barely have staples, muchless condiments.” Silco gave her a reassuring smile as he tore a piece of bread from his slice and popped it in his mouth. “We’ll be able to get marmalade soon enough. And butter. And cheese.”

Enyd returned the smile weakly, before tucking her head into the crook of her elbow and coughing. It passed quickly, and she waved Kat off before the young woman could assist her in any way.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” With a quivering hand, Enyd grabbed for her water glass. She took careful sips, her face softening with each one.

“There is a delivery coming to the clinic today,” Kat said. “I will grab another bottle of decongestant. We - we could also try some anti-inflammatories, too. See if that helps at all.”

Enyd’s knee-jerk reaction was to turn down the offer. Out of humbleness, out of fear. But she’d since learned to not fight against Kat’s instance. Especially when Silco backed her up. Even if Enyd said ‘no’, she knew Kat would bring them to her anyway.

Kat’s eyes lifted to the wall clock, and she grunted, biting her bread. She took a few large gulps of tea and made to stand.

“That delivery will be there shortly. I should head out. Oh, here.”

She held out her wrist to Silco, presenting the black elastic wrapped around it. He blinked, then was jolted back to what she had said in the bedroom.

He peeled it off her arm. “Thank you.”

Smoothing his wavy hair across his skull, and gathering its bulk at the nape of his neck, he tied it off. Kat’s eyes were warm as she took him in. Sighing, she folded the rest of her bread and took it up in one hand, as the other went gently rest on the side of Silco’s neck. She used the contact as a counter-balance to hold her upright as she dipped to kiss him. She rounded the table and kissed Enyd’s head.

“Be safe,” Enyd called as Kat walked toward the door.

“I will be.” She twirled her coat over her shoulders, and opened the door. “See you both tonight.”

[owlwithanapple]

Bird & Fox

Chapter 2

When the alarm clock rang, you opened your eyes looked at the ceiling. The paint color of the ceiling was your favorite blue. You sat on the bed, raised your hands, stretched out, and yawned.

In the past, you didn't have a chance to get up on time in the "organization", always wake up by the sudden attack. The sudden tranquility made you very uncomfort, felt as if something was missing.

You get out of bed, go into the bathroom, pick up the toothbrush and squeeze the toothpaste to start brushing your teeth, squeeze some facial cleanser and rub it in the palm of your hand, apply it evenly to your face, wash the facial cleanser on your face with water, and wipe your face with a face towel.

You take off your pajamas and underwear, adjust the water temperature to warm water, which can release the fatigue on your body, turn on the shower head and let the warm water wash your body, squeeze some shower gel on your body and then wash it.

Take a towel to wipe every part of the body, dry the wet hair with a hair dryer, leave the bathroom and return to the room. The most distressing question every day is what to eat, what to wear and what to do.

Open the drawer in the wardrobe, which is full of all kinds of underwear. Choose a set to put it on, choose a simple vest and denim trousers to match, which can highlight the curve of your figure, and then tie your hair up. Today's matching is complete.

You posed to the mirror in front of you and appreciated your figure, but you were heard "Woff!" from the living room. Somebody interrupt you, your pet corgi, named Kirin, which barks outside the door.

As soon as he see you open the door open , he quickly run into your room. You see him jumping like a child in your bed. You lie on his fluffy stomach and absorb energy to heal you.

You pinched his fat cheeks. "Little bad boy, I'm going for a walk today. Don't make trouble. Do you understand?"

"Woff~" He ignore you and lie lazily on the bed. You open the curtains let the sun outside shine in. His cute appearance is really super charming and healing.

"If there is a bed, there is no master, you traitor corgi." You smiled at Kirin and touched his head, you took out your bag and mobile phone from the drawer and left the room. You went to the hallway and put on a pair of boots and left home.

The first time walked on the street, opposite of last night. In the morning, it was full of hardworking workers, and at night, a bunch of criminals were messing up the city. The buildings saw last night seemed like a horror city. But, the buildings in the morning were clearer.

Yesterday you only had a bowl of instant noodles, so today you must have a good meal, but facing a strange city and crowds, you are really a little scared, but you have to overcome these obstacles. Since you are here, you can't rely on others.

Told yourself that you must learn to be strong. You are a very experienced ninja. How could you give in because of fear? So you took the first step. Inadvertently, a motorcycle came from the right. Thanks to him braking in time, he didn't hit you.

You were so obsessed with self-thinking that you completely forgot that you were wandering at the intersection. You subconsciously stepped back two steps from the motorcycle. If the rider hadn't stopped in time, your death record in Gotham City would be crossing the road without looking.

When the news of your death reaches the "organization", they definitely make fun of you. You will die with eyes wide open and cannot be buried in country. Calm down first, don't mess up your thoughts, and apologize to him first.

You saw him get off and push the motorcycle aside park it. You went forward to apologize. As soon as you got close, noticed that he was tall. Before you could say anything, he had taken off his helmet. His face looked very handsome, cool and stylish motorcycle, a part of his bangs is white, smooth black jumpsuit, matched with a cool leather jacket, and a pair of combat boots, the overall look is cool and atmospheric.

You noticed that his handsome face was the type of man that was pleasing to the eye, and he also had a sexy temperament. I saw Batman last night and thought he was quite mysterious and sexy, especially his lips. Are the males in Gotham City all that good looking?

"Lovey, are you okay?" You were interrupted by him when you were thinking. You panicked and hesitated about how to answer. As a ninja, you are a very confident person. But now you just an ordinary person, so you have to give a relative conclusion.

Unlike before you could easily knock people out, hide in the shadows, or scare people. Since you are an ordinary person, you should play an ordinary role. You smiled slightly to show that you are kind, and then an idea came to you, "I'm fine, sorry, I didn't look at the road when I walked."

Jason POV

I have been busy on patrolling and fighting criminals for several consecutive nights, and I don’t even have enough time to sleep. I woke up early today with a lot of resentment. I ate fast food for three meals, and I made a mistake to schedule the maintenance of the motorcycle in the early morning. I didn’t even have a little free time.

There is no point in complaining more. Work is work. The motorcycle can help me at work, and can’t ignore it. Criminals won’t wait, and I can’t take it lightly.

"Hwah~, so fucking sleepy." I yawned, changed into clean clothes, went to the garage to start the motorcycle, picked up the helmet and put it on, rode the motorcycle and left home.

Morning of Gotham City, people come and go, busy office workers, and the bustling commercial streets. People never stop but flow away one after another. I stopped at the intersection waited the traffic light to turn on.

Accidents always happen. When the traffic light turns on, I continue to drive. I see a woman suddenly walk out of the road. I brake immediately. The thrill of a moment makes me completely sober.

I parked my motorcycle aside, making sure was fine, I spoke to the woman. She said "I'm fine." From the looks of her, apart from some old injuries on her arms, there were no signs of me hitting her, she didn't ask me for compensation. I was so lucky.

But look closely, although she is wearing simple clothes, she is particularly eye-catching, with a pretty face, a slim upper body, jeans that make her legs look long, and long brown hair. She is simply beautiful.

Perhaps can be said the bad luck of several consecutive days has finally brought a good thing. I wanted to ask her out, but accidentally trespassing on the road cannot be a reason for conversation. It is really distressing. I have done everything I should care about.

What should I do?

Y/N POV

You were lucky not to be hit, but why did he keep staring at you? Did he want compensation? That would be reasonable. There will always be such people in life. They suffer even though nothing happened. Gotham City is not short of such people.

It's just like what happened during the training. It was obviously not you broke the sword, but framed by others and punished. You knelt on the stone cut bamboo with a sword every night. The person who framed you, will definitely beat him up next time you see him.

With no choice, you reached into pocket took out your wallet, wanting to give him some cash as compensation, but plans can't keep up with changes. When you opened it, there was no cash in it, only your ID, driver's license and two bank cards.

You forgot go to the ATM to collect the cash you need for daily use. You took out your phone and checked your bank account. You found that you had not yet processed the online transfer procedure. You could not use force,"Ummm,I'm sorry, I don't have any cash on me."

When he heard what you said, he immediately shook his head to indicate no. You were confused. He noticed your expression showed confusion, and hurriedly explained, " No, Lovey ,I don't mean anything else. I just want to make sure you are unharmed."

You were stunned but relieved, thankful the situation didn't develop to serious level and didn't need to be resolved by force. You hesitated for a moment and pointed to the other side, "Then I'll leave first, bye."

When you said you were leaving, he had no reason to keep you, he had to let you go. "Yeah, bye sweetie." You heard his reply and walked across the street to the other side, while he got on his motorcycle dejected and frustrated.

Jason POV

"Fuck me! Why am I such an idiot and so timid! Ask her out for breakfast! Hey, Lovey , do you want to have breakfast together..., it's so simple! Why are you so stiff!

I complained as soon as I got on the motorcycle, regretting not getting her contact number. I hadn't even started chatting her up yet, and I, Red Hood, backed off when I met a girl.

But what's the matter with the scar on her arm...

Y/N POV

You left the intersection , on the way, you smelled a faint smell of coffee. You followed the smell to a cafe. It was the smell coming from the cafe.

The smell increased your hunger, you stepped into the cafe. There were many people in a hurry, perhaps office workers. You noticed the cafe was a counter ordering place, called the number and went to pick up the food.

You hurriedly followed the line waited for your turn to order. After a few minutes, finally it was your turn. You went to the counter read the menu. The menu was accompanied by pictures for reference. You wanted to try every food, but didn't order more just to avoid wasting food.

You ordered your favorite cup of cappuccino and a simple delicious English breakfast. The waiter gave you a number card, noting you were dining indoors. You found a seat by the window and put the number card down to reserve a seat.

While waiting, you listened to the lyrical songs playing in the cafe. During that free time, you took out your phone to check the news. Sure enough, there was content about Batman arresting criminals.

"The hell?" Something caught your attention. Last night, someone filmed a video of you doing parkour on the street wearing equipment and posted it on social media. But! What is "Gotham runner"? ! The title is so shit!

Let's pause the story content and make a simple self-introduction here. My name is Y/N, code name Kitsune, I just turned 20 years old, I grew up in the organization "SHINOBI" founded in Japan.

It is an organization that trains people to have super high-level combat capabilities. "SHINOBI" is divided into two groups, SHIRO and KURO. Even are divided into two groups, everyone's work style is completely different, but the purpose is the same, which is to contribute safety of public security for the country and produce social poisons.

No matter which group, there are levels, such as S, A, B, C, D, which are called "Cyber ​​Ninja". I am a ninja in A, which belongs to the middle and high-level group. I go on missions and take a break from my busy schedule.

For some reason, I was kicked out by "SHINOBI" and exiled here. Forget it, as long as they can continue to provide equipment and money, it won't be disadvantageous to me. For the time being, I will just watch and find something I want to do.

The above is my introduction, and the details will continue from the story.

When you hear the waiter calling your number, you take the receipt to the front desk to collect the food, and go back to your seat to eat.

Knock…knock…

"Huh?" You looked out the window. It was the motorcycle guy just now! Are you kidding? Why did him chase you here? Is he following you? You let your guard down didn't even notice that you were being followed.

He knocked on the window again. He stood outside the window and talked. His lips moved as he said, "Wait for me." Then he ran into cafe and stood in front of you. His forehead was a little sweaty. He put his hands on the table and winked at you, "Hi, Lovey."

What exactly does he want to do? You can't feel any murderous intent at all. You don't understand what his intention is. Does he know your true identity? Since he is in front of you, you can't back down.

"Can I sit down?" He asked politely. You were embarrassed to refuse him, so you nodded. He moved the chair back and sat down. You took a sip of cappuccino to your mouth. You took a peek and saw that his appearance was durable.

You put down the cup and looked at him, facing him with a very optimistic attitude. "What a coincidence, you are also nearby?"

He heard your question, and this time he decided to go for it. "Hahaha, yes, my motorcycle is being maintained nearby."

You nodded slightly "So...?"

He swallowed and held out his hand "Do you mind making friends? My name is Jason. What about you?"

You were confused. What is this? A scam? You held his hand "No, hello, my name is Y/N."

After letting go of his hand, you just looked at the plate of food on the table in silence. You didn't know how to send him away, but you felt bad to send him away like this, you took the initiative to start a conversation "I just moved to Gotham City recently, and I'm not familiar with this place. It's good to make some friends."

He frowned when he heard it, and you realized that his expression was different, but soon he returned to a smile, this time he looked more confident and charming "Wow, then I have the honor to be your first friend?"

He spoke with a sweet tone accent, you have met many men, but this is the first time you have met a man with such a personality. You are unconsciously interested in him. "Haha, of course."

At the moment you laughed, Jason felt an inexplicable warmth in his heart, an unprecedented feeling. Even though he had been with many girls before, your actions were attracting him step by step. He blurted out what he wanted to say most in his heart, "Y/N...Your smile is very beautiful."

The sudden compliment made you a little overwhelmed. You didn't hate it. There was a warmth lingering in your heart. He gave you a feeling that was a little difficult to grasp, but he was not a bad person.

In a strange city, you are alone without any friends. Maybe it is a good thing to make a friend. Since you have started a new life, you should move in a new direction and not stop at the same place.

The wonderful thing is you two can chat with each other. Through Jason, you know every bit of the city. He even recommends restaurants and supermarkets near the apartment to you, which are exactly what you need to know.

When you came to Gotham City, you didn’t know much about the daily life of this city. You didn’t even know where the supermarket was. Thanks to him, you finally know it. You can go to the supermarket to buy some things in your free time later, and then go home to cook.

When Jason learned that you immigrated here from Japan, he was very surprised, and you live alone. He heard you also have a corgi. Jason likes dogs very much.

Jason POV

Actually, someone just contacted me said the motorcycle has been fixed can be picked up, but I replied it would be later, because I want to continue spend my time with her. It will be too late if I don’t seize this rare opportunity now.

I didn’t expect to have such a good chat with her. I didn’t notice how much time had passed. At first, I was really afraid I would scare her away, but she was so easy to talk to. I was glad I didn’t miss the opportunity when I met her.

Suddenly a phone rang was interrupted us. I clicked on the phone and it showed "Dickhead". I hung up the phone and continued to chat with her.

The word "Dickhead" show again, the second call. I hung up the phone impatiently. The quiet time was interrupted by the third call again. It was that "Dickhead" again.

After a while, I received several text messages…

Dickhead: Good morning, Babybird😆

I muted my phone put it on the table. A few minutes later, it suddenly vibrated. I picked up the phone and saw that it was “Boy Wonder”. Even Tim called, but I hung up.

Y/N POV

His phone kept ringing, maybe it was something urgent. You two had been chatting for a long time, and it felt like it was time to find something else to do, so you said, "Jason, if you're busy, let's talk next time."

Indeed, you talked for a long time, and the phone kept interrupting the conversation, so he turned off his phone in anger, but you didn't know when would talk again. You got up walked to the counter to ask the waiter for a piece of paper and a pen, and then put them on the table.

"What's wrong?" He was confused and looked at you blankly.

You thought and wanted to know if he would have a chance to see you again, so you took a bold try. You opened the pen cap and wrote your private phone number on the paper.

After writing, you folded the paper and put it in the front pocket of his jacket, and said "Let's keep in touch." Jason was dumbfounded and quickly took out the paper. It was your phone number. He excitedly said, "Wait for my call!" and then left the cafe.

Jason POV

I ran to pick up the motorcycle that had been maintained. When paid the bill, I confirmed the paper was still in pocket. It had your phone number. I can’t lose it, otherwise the chance to see her again would not be so easy.

I happened to want to buy breakfast today, and then I saw her sitting by the window. Without thinking, I went to the window to attract her attention. Although she looked at me with a smile on her face, I knew she were confused when I suddenly appeared out of thin air.

I leaned against the motorcycle and took out my phone to turn it on. I found a bunch of missed calls and messages from "Dickhead". I was hesitant because very difficult talk to this guy. I had no choice but to call "Dickhead" again.

"Hey, idiot Dickhead, what do you want to talk to me for?"

"Hey, Babybird! You finally answered my call! ~"

"Fuck you..." I was about to hang up the phone.

"Pleaseeeeee~"

"Did you call me back for breakfast?"

"Right! So smart!" Dick said happily, and I was annoyed...

"Go to hell, Dickhead!" I yelled at him.

"WHAT!"

"Damn, you really know how to mess things up at the right time. Don't let Tim sit in my seat." I hung up the phone.

I saved Y/N's phone number and clicked into the chat room see your profile picture was a corgi face. This was the corgi you mentioned. The description said "Hello" in Japanese. What a simple style.

Looking at your chat room, I hesitated about how to start the topic, but I still put away my phone, put on my helmet, and rode my motorcycle back to the manor first. Bruce asked Tim to investigate something, maybe I could help.

Y/N POV

You are sitting alone in a cafe, looking at your phone, but you haven't received any message from Jason, which means he is really busy. You are a little lonely. Don't think about it now. Going to the supermarket to replenish food is the most important thing.

You walk on the street and feel that this city brings a strange charm. It is a scenery you have never seen before. This can be said to be your new beginning and new life.

Occasionally, miss your previous life.Practiced as soon as you woke up. Even the rest time was only ten minutes. Three meals were carefully selected and prepared. There was no day to go out and stroll around, just stayed indoors.

Now can walk on the street with a swagger, eat and drink casually, and see the sun. Even the shadow can be seen. It is no longer a dim room. You are now on the road of light.

Now there is a foul smell of alcohol coming from behind. It is conceivable that this smell has been smelled since you left the cafe and walked a distance. You walked into the alley decided to lure the wolf into the house. You stood there motionless waiting for him to take the bait. The prey always appears as the prey.

"Hey, beauty~ Come have a drink with uncle~ I'll treat you~" Sure enough, the good times didn't last long. A strange uncle with a strong smell of alcohol stood behind you and followed you all the way to the alley, even putting his hand on your butt without any hesitation.

Originally, I just wanted to shake him off and run away, but facing such a person who is mentally confused and addicted to alcohol, the more you resist him, the more excited he will be, indicating that the problem cannot be solved in an ordinary way.

You turned around to face him and observed that he was holding a bottle of wine in his hand. If you use force to solve it, he might hit your head with the bottle. At that time, you hand it over to the police, they will be treated as mentally confused and the matter will be hastily dealt with.

You looked around to make sure that there was no one around and no surveillance. You put your hands behind so that he couldn't see your hand, you clenched your fist and hit him on the chin at lightning speed to make him lose his balance. Then he fell to the ground and fell into a short coma.

You made sure he fallen to the ground then dragged him to the side of the trash can. You leaned over and whispered in his ear, "If you touch me again, I will break both of your hands."

"Ah..." You thought of the point. It was too late for you to say that he fainted, but this kind of person deserves a lesson. If he makes the same mistake again, you can only pray that he will not meet you again, otherwise it will definitely not be as simple as fainting.

The matter is resolved, you leave the alley and walk among the crowd as a passerby. This is a habit. Ninjas always act secretly and remain vigilant and cautious no matter where they are.

Ding~

Your phone receives a message. You click into the chat room to find out. It is a report from "Gotham runner" and there is a message send by your companion "So lame, bad name." You reply "Shut up!"

Put the troubles behind continue to carry out the main task, which is go to the supermarket to buy things and fill the empty kitchen with food. No matter whether you are a ninja or an ordinary person, it is never allowed to have no snacks at home!

Chapter 2 End.

Do you hope there will be Chapter 3?

Leave a message to let me know 😁

Other Chapter

[noelwife]

[English is not my native language so a lot of things are done with the translator, sorry for any errors]

(Prologue) - During the Easter holidays the Blue Lock facility was very crowded because for the holiday, Ego gave permission to invite one or two visitors to spend the holiday.

~

It was half past eleven in the evening, and Noel was training in the blue lock training room for the eminent match against PxG. Due to the late hour, the room was very empty and quiet. After his quiet warm-up Noel starts practicing his lateral throws. For him that day was a really shitty day as throughout the morning Kaiser and Isagi had been arguing all the time and the team's training had been less than productive. One shot, two shots, three shots and Noel missed on all three.

"Fuck"

He murmured as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He takes a deep breath, he repositions himself in front of the ball and he tryed again, failing again. He curses, and then walks nervously towards the table with towels and water bottles. He takes a towel and wraps it around his neck, grabs a water bottle and sips some water. Then he rested his back on the edge of the table while his foot clicked nervously from the frustration of the moment. Noel was lost in thought of him looking for a way to improve his exercises while he crossed his arms over his chest.After a while the quiet of the room was disturbed by the creak of the door opening, and Noel instinctively turned his head to the side to see who had entered, only to then recognize the familiar figure of his wife holding two cups of coffee by the handle,and then move towards Noel. She greets him sweetly, and he nods back, and then she hands him the coffee and he takes it with thanks. There's this moment of silence while the two take a sip of coffee. Meanwhile, she notices from Noel's attitude that he's a little frustrated.

"Is everything okay love?"

She asks in a sweet but worried tone, Noel shrugs and sticks his tongue in an annoyed manner, then answers.

"Nothing, It's nothing"

She tilts her head slightly and raises an eyebrow as a sign that she doesn't believe her words, but Noel doesn't listen to her, finishes drinking the coffee and places the now empty cup on the table behind him, sighing, and then passes by her without giving her any more attention to return to training. She moves closer to Noel, then gently places her hand on his bicep.

"Come on, tell me what's wrong, so maybe I can help you."

Noel sighs slightly and turns towards his wife, scrutinizing her from head to toe, noticing her pajamas made up of a pink long-sleeved silk blouse revealing the shape of her nipples, and pink trousers. This sight has a bit of an effect on him, leaving little to the imagination as he moves a little closer to her. He slowly passes his hand over her chest (not breast), sliding it until it lightly squeezes her neck (in a non-abusive way but sexual sense), looking into her eyes so as to allow her to breathe.

"I know a way to help me"

She makes a somewhat surprised face, but will not deny the mutual interest in her intention that he hinted at her sexual desires. Noel tightens his hand on his neck a little more, and then with his other hand pulls the collar of his pajamas a little further down, placing his lips on her collarbones, giving her wet kisses and every now and then a few bite not too deep, almost letting his anger vent. She places her hand in his hats in such a way as to bring him closer to her by moving his head to the side giving him more access to her neck, so his lips slide down the middle of her chest as he aggressively begins to open the first button but too impatiently he pulls the rest of the buttons revealing her bare breasts upon seeing this Noel goes full on one of her breasts nibbling them and wrapping his lips around one of her nipples sucking it and swirling his tongue around it.

Briefly in the room the silence is filled with whimpers from her who, to give herself support, clings with her hands to his shoulders, Noel continues to lower himself until he reaches the elastic of her trousers and suddenly lowers them, removing them completely together with her underwear, and then lift her up holding her with his hands from her thighs, and then slam her back against the nearest wall.She reflexively wraps her arms around his figure, squeezing him and wrapping her legs tighter around his waist, finding her back against the wall. Noel still keeps his lips on her neck, continuing to kiss and nibble but harder, with one hand he continues to hold her by one thigh and with the other he undoes the laces of his trousers, and then lowers the necessary of the trousers and boxers from which he releases his member, raising his head to meet the her face, she tries to use the moment to kiss him by bringing her lips close to his but as soon as he notices that,he is not in the mood for kisses due to his whipped state, he suddenly inserts his index and middle fingers into her throat, she remains a little surprised by his action, and her eyes widen in surprise, as Noel takes his wet fingers out of her mouth and inserts the same fingers into her pussy. At this action she arches her back and lets out a moan and tightens stronger to him.

"Noel~"

She whimpers in pleasure low and slightly trembling

"Shut up"

He says about her growling and starting to move his fingers faster inside her and he starts to feel some liquids leaking out and dripping onto her fingers. She holds him tighter and her legs start to tremble slightly and putting her head in the crook of his neck due to the strong sensation of pleasure. Her moans become a little louder and more frequent, while the sweet sensation of his release was approaching.

"I'm about to come~"

She says in a whisper suffocated by her moans, Noel at her words removes his fingers from inside her, leaving her unsatisfied, and then places the tip of his cock in front of her entrance, and then pushes it inside her in a single decisive blow.At first glance he grunts and whispers something under his breath and she moans loudly again throwing her head back. The two lose themselves in the sensation of the act, while Noel's thrusts become stronger and more decisive, and she clings tighter to Noel moaning trembling with pleasure. The room fills with the two's moans, and Noel's hips move faster by the minute due to the heat of the moment, she slides her hands into Noel's short hair and clenches them into fists and closes her eyes again with the head arched against the wall. I won't say much about their intimate moment because of their need and sensitivity, the first to come was her, and then Noel, cumming deeply inside her, stimulated by the walls of her pussy. Noel held the girl close to him as the two breathed heavily and tried to regulate their breaths. After they calmed down from their peak Noel let her legs touch the ground and without warning he kissed her passionately in apology for the kiss he didn't give her before. Noel cleaned you both up with some towels that were in the room and then let you leave with the now empty coffee cups, placed a kiss on your cheek, promised that he wouldn't stay up too long and went back to his evening training.

(FANFICTION FOR NOEL'S BIRTHDAY!!!🎉🎉🎈🎂🍰,And of course I thank my business partner for helping with the story)

[five-miles-over]

For All Time, It Was Always You

Chapter 3 - Happy to Keep His Dinner Warm

A/N: It's a series now! Thank you all for your positive comments, your likes, and reblogs. Click here for Chapter 2: Mrs. Laufeyson

(Pairing: Loki x Wife!Reader)

Summary: The best way to a man's - or a god's - heart is through his stomach.

Warnings: Fluff, silliness, an infomercial that's not meant to offend anyone.

You turned the knob of the television in the living room, letting a soap opera play in the background while you washed the dishes - including those from Loki's breakfast - and preheated the oven. Then, following the cookbook's instructions, you prepared the batter for an angel food cake, a dessert you were hoping to dress with whipped cream and strawberries for your - yes, you were really saying it - husband. If there were two jars of strawberry jam, maybe it meant that Loki really liked strawberries. Or there was some kind of two-for-one deal at the store. 

While the cake baked in the oven, you took a shower after tinkering with the hot and cold faucets. With a towel wrapped around yourself when you were done, you shuffled your feet into the master bedroom. You opened one of the large wardrobes opposite from the window, finding an entire rack of crisp white shirts and brown dress pants - probably Loki's uniform for work - along with tuxedos and pajamas. You didn't think about opening the drawers beneath the racks of clothing, assuming they would be filled with your husband's underwear and socks. 

Speaking of underwear…where was the laundry room? You made a mental note to find it at some point, so you could use the washing machine. Also, did Loki wear boxers or briefs? Biting your lip, you brought yourself to imagine which of the two it could be, thinking of the way you checked out his ass that morning while making breakfast. How nicely the fabric hugged the curve of his rear. It definitely had to be boxers, surely briefs would've left some kind of outline. Or…what if he wasn't wearing any underneath those pants? You bit the inside of your cheek and crossed your arms, still damp from your shower. 

The smell of vanilla wafting into the bedroom silently reminded you that the cake was done, like an invisible tap on the shoulder. You snapped out of your reverie, looked through the other wardrobe and found a flattering midi-dress to wear over a lacy bra and a girdle. Now dressed, you took the golden-brown, light to the touch, warm cake out of the oven and let it cool. Meanwhile, the soap opera on the living room television was now replaced by a vague infomercial for a fancy kitchen gadget made by Stark Industries. You didn't know what it really did, or how much it cost, but it was apparently 'life-changing', 'ground-breaking', and only made by Stark Industries. 

It didn't take long for you to find a few other gadgets laying around the house. Inside a closet within the hallway was a vacuum cleaner, which you used to clean the living room and the other carpets in the house. Not that there was anything much to clean, considering the house seemed spotless to begin with. While you moved the vacuum around the welcome mat, you looked over your shoulder at a new infomercial.

"Are you tired of playing the dating game over and over again? Exasperated by the lack of paramours unwilling to cuddle with you? Does the loneliness of the night bring you sadness? Tired of all the nights alone with you and your fingertips? Do you wish for an attractive sweetheart you can flaunt to your friends and family, and to all the nosy strangers who ask why you're still single? Introducing the newest product from Cambridge Technologies, TOM H."

The spokesperson gestured to a six-foot tall male with perfectly combed dark-blonde hair with a slight curl, wearing a navy blue blazer and a matching set of trousers with a light blue dress shirt underneath. "Look at him," the spokesperson beamed. "His cheekbones are so sharp, I could grate cheese on them!"

The male smirked. "I love cheese, 'specially when paired with wine. And the company of a lovely lady."

Wait…this man looked familiar. Where had you seen him before? Squinting, you turned off the vacuum and began to fluff the pillows on the couch, keeping your eyes on the screen.With a fake laugh, the spokesperson turned to face the camera.

"Short for Technologically-Optimized Male Humanoid, TOM H. is equipped with the ability to speak seven different languages, including French, Spanish, and even Latin. He can open doors for your, pull your chair out, hold an umbrella for you when it rains, and even apologize for calling you beautiful! That's right, ladies, he's got every single piece of etiquette mastered at the back of his hand. No more worrying about guys who laugh at misogynistic jokes, or guys who treat you like a piece of meat. Our new android will make sure you spend everyday feeling like a princess!"

You continued to reluctantly clean the living room while the spokesperson continued to brag about the abilities of this supposedly life-like android. How many other people were watching this advertisement right now? And were any of them actually considering buying this android? Moreover, how would one actually take care of an android? Did it require charging like any other electronic device? Did it pretend to sleep at night?

On-screen, the spokesperson showed the android relaxing in bed, wearing nothing but boxers, and droned on and on about the android's ability to give warm cuddles and recite poetry at the drop of a hat. Then the scene changed to the android standing in the kitchen, wearing a black apron over a three-piece suit and preparing some kind of pasta dish. The android gave a cheeky smile to the camera, as if it was perfectly aware that somewhere, some touch-starved single person would be watching and immediately reach for their checkbook. 

"Call the number on-screen," the spokesperson announced, "and for just four separate payments of $599.99, TOM H. can be all yours. And for a bonus payment of $49.99, we'll throw in a blue jumper!

Please note that all clothes are sold separately, including the boxers. Cambridge Technologies is not responsible for the android crying. The android may experience urges to play with puppies and babies, do kind deeds for strangers, or dance in public. For optimal performance, we ask that you refrain from raising your voice in the presence of the android, and to feed the android tea every six hours."

"Oh my god." You gulped, standing still for a moment. The commercial finally ended with an image of the android giving the spokesperson a shoulder massage, and smiling at the camera. You switched the channel, and put away the vacuum, shuddering at what you'd just seen.

The next thing to worry about was the spaghetti bolognese, another recipe from the cookbook you chose for tonight Luckily there was a pack of ground mince in the fridge, otherwise you would've had to either rush to the supermarket - wherever that was - or pick something else to make for Loki's dinner. With the cookbook propped open on the kitchen countertop, you flipped to the recipe and did your best to follow every instruction. Chop the carrots, the celery, the onion, and the bacon, it said…Then, heat the pot with a generous amount of butter, add bacon…Put the rest of the vegetables in the pan, along with the mince. While that cooked in the pan, you opened a can of tomatoes from the pantry, poured it into the pan, causing it to sizzle loud enough to overpower the television for a moment. The final ingredients to add were dried herbs, a splash of red wine, and for some reason…milk. 

After moving the cake to the center of the table, you stirred the pot with the Bolognese mixture until the alcohol from the wine boiled off. The final step, according to the cookbook, was to place the entire pot in the oven at one-hundred eighty degrees Celsius for…well, enough time to stew everything. 

You closed the oven door with a sigh, wiping a trace of sweat on your forehead before taking a box of spaghetti out of one of the cupboards. Yes it was true that you'd only known Loki for a few hours, not even a whole day. And yet, you found yourself wishing and hoping that he would be pleased when he walked into the door. That when he opened the door, the smell of dinner would entice him to the table, and the sight of you would entice him into your arms. Maybe it was because of the way he looked at you this morning, with affection in his eyes as if you were the most priceless thing in his life.

As the noodles cooked in a pot of boiling water, you dressed the cake with whipped cream and chopped-up strawberries, and then chopped cucumbers, tomatoes, olives, and red onions for a side dish.  Within about thirty minutes, you had a pot of cooked spaghetti dressed in bolognese  sauce, a lettuce-free salad dressed with olive oil and red wine vinegar, and an angel food cake reserved for dessert. And just as a finishing touch, you set the dining table for two and lit a few candles. 

"Darling, we're home! Something smells amazing." At the doorway with a large grin on his face was Loki, standing in his work clothes with his dark curls slightly messy, dirt caking his fingertips,…and a black kitten in his arms.  Tagging: @anukulee @smolvenger @pineappleandro @lotsoflokilove23 @talklokitome @rumin8ting @12-pm-510 @painedfever @iambetterthanbefore @princess-ofthe-pages @thenotoriouserg @lokischambermaid @lokiismineforever @lokidbadguy @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @wolfsmom1 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life @huntress-artemiss @itsdoni @gruftiela @ellooo0ooo @ireallyneedtherapy @jennyggggrrr @turniptitaness

[gullei]

Indulge in Matching Silk PJs Couple Sleepwear Set for Two by Gullei.com. Experience the epitome of comfort and sophistication with our curated collection. Make your nights extra special together! Visit Gullei.com now and treat yourselves to the exquisite luxury of matching silk sleepwear.

[copperbadge]

Now that I’m home and avoiding work, notes from the Europe trip in terms of travel and...for lack of a better word self-care, but it’s really more like, accessibility centered around being a) anxious and b) over forty. 

-- The ability to do laundry was nice. I’d anticipated it would be helpful but not nearly as helpful as it was. Also having a fridge was super convenient, and having an oven was a nice perk in London and Rome. 

-- I planned to be able to do laundry so I only brought five days’ worth of clothes, and some were ‘disposable’ which was also convenient -- I brought my oldest underwear that I would have thrown out soon anyway, an extremely old pajama shirt, and at least one pair of trousers that was, as it were, on its last legs. That all worked fantastically; when I ran out of room in the suitcase on the last day of the trip I just tossed the trousers, and I’d already thrown out most of the underwear. 

-- I was more self-conscious than anticipated about my language limitations, which led to a lot of avoidance -- not anything I really wanted to do, like museums and the football match, but things I could have done, like eating out or going into shops. It was mostly to do with the look people got on hearing English out of my mouth. So either I need to learn more basic phrases or be more prepared for the look. (To be fair, in Rome I would say mi dispiace, sono American and they’d immediately be cool.) 

-- My stash of granola/protein bars was clutch, and going to a grocery store for staples was also very helpful. Turns out wherever you go, even if they don’t have Diet Coke, they almost always have babybel cheese.

-- No day trips between cities. Going from London to Cambridge and back for the day was great; going from London to Amsterdam to Paris in a single day was not. If I’m going somewhere new and not going back somewhere familiar at end of day, I need to get there, sleep, have a full day there, and leave either that evening or the following morning at minimum.

-- Relatedly: I don’t have to do this thing anymore where I book early departures or late arrivals because they’re cheap and don’t use up my vacation time. They only make me anxious. From now on even if it ‘wastes’ a day, I only book travel that departs and arrives during daylight hours. It’s always fine, nothing bad happens, but the anxiety is Too Much.  

-- The tablet and bluetooth keyboard in lieu of a laptop worked well. It wasn’t much lighter or more compact, but I was less worried about theft and because it charged via USB I didn’t have to wrangle an extra cord, I could just unplug my phone and plug the tablet in. That configuration also fit in my very small bag where a laptop wouldn’t, so I could carry it in my bag while in transit and not have to get my luggage out of the rack. 

-- The Very Small Bag (a map case) worked fine but while I didn’t need a bigger one I could have used one with more pockets. I was always losing the exact thing I needed in the jumble at the bottom of the bag. I think for longer trips I prefer a small messenger bag that has both a reasonable main cargo compartment but also pockets for stuff like passport and spare battery. 

Overall, a lot of the stuff I’d planned went off well, so at this point it’s less about logistics -- what to pack, how to pack it -- than it is about arranging things to lower anxiety and make transitions easier. That kind of thing sometimes you just need to experience in order to know how to handle it, so that’s fine. Next time I won’t be angry about Amsterdam when it’s not Amsterdam’s fault, or stuck waiting for a bus late at night at Rome Termini.  

[zottower]

Scribbles : how do you dress, Sir Cecil Harvey ?

What does Cecil wear under his armor ? Is he naked (that would be uncomfortable but this would explain why he sleeps and swims with it, because he doesn't want to change for pajamas or swimsuit), or does he wear some shirt and trousers under ? His arms seem to be bare, so he's got either some sort of tank top (like bartz in dissidia) or a shirt with very short sleeves ... I kind of prefer the shirt option, tank top seems a bit to relaxed to match his personality. That made me want to imagine how he dresses in civilian clothes ... Like Kain without armor in this disheveled art by Amano, with multicolored asymmetric clothes or in a more "official" suit like Edward ...

[exhaustedpirate]

competitive much?

welcome, friends, to my first attempt (of many?) at smut writing! let's all collectively thank @kmomof4 for making this as satisfying as possible for all of you to read!

rated E | 5634 words

also on AO3

summary: Emma Swan had been pining for Killian Jones for years. Who knew that all she needed to take that next step was having to share a bed with him?

Of course there was only one bed. The universe truly hated Emma Swan. And now, Emma Swan was doomed to share a bed with Killian Jones - the man she’s been pining after for years.

He had been a gentleman about it because that’s who he was - offering to sleep on the floor or find another motel. But it was late, and they had been driving for hours with a few more still ahead of them before they reached their destination. So she had refused, telling him that they were adults and deserved a proper night's rest and she was sure they could keep their hands to themselves.

His smirk told her that he probably didn’t believe her but she ignored it, not wanting to let it slip that when around him she had plenty of experience containing herself. Even if he often made it hard on her, flaunting his chest with his barely buttoned shirts and his legs and backside with the impossibly tight trousers he liked to wear.

Bad train of thought, Emma. Don’t think about Killian’s bulge in tight trousers before you get into bed with him.

Share a bed with him.

She shook her head as she finished her nightly routine in the bathroom. He was likely doing the same in the room and nope, she wasn’t going to think about Killian Jones stripping a few feet away from her. Nope.

Emma cursed herself for her choice of pajama set. Not only was she sharing a bed with Killian Jones but she was doing it in a thin white tank top and sleep shorts. This was a recipe for disaster.

Maybe he’d like what he saw. Her hands ran over her hair, pulling sections over her shoulders and noticing the way goosebumps rose on her chest at the sensation. Would he notice that she wasn’t wearing a bra?

Bad Emma. Focus.

God, what was this man doing to her? They had known each other for years and she knew he was hot, and that his hands felt amazing on her skin and that he was warm when he hugged her and-

Focus!

She took a deep breath and stopped herself from fluffing her hair by gathering it up and tying it with a hair tie instead. Emma walked out of the bathroom coming face to face with Killian’s bare chest. She held back a groan by making eye contact with him. Well, his eyes were several inches away from hers but she wasn’t going to complain at the way he blatantly looked over her body.  

“No shirt, Jones?” She was proud at how steady her voice sounded and she covered her chest with her arms, wanting to do everything she could to make this less awkward.

Her voice seemed to bring him out of his thoughts as he shook his head and finally looked at her, his cheeks reddening. “Apologies, Swan, I didn’t plan to ahh… share a bed with you tonight, so I didn’t bring a sleep shirt.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, nodding at his matching reasoning. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, we’ll just keep to our sides.” She gave a final nod before approaching the bed to pull the covers away.

He followed her to the bed and stood on the other side. “I’m not responsible for what might happen, should you invade my space.” A slow, sensuous smile stretched over his lips, a smile full of danger and promise on the face of a man who, she knew, wouldn’t touch her without her permission.

She smirked in response. “Right, like you could handle it.”

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Her eyes stared into his, at the desire telegraphed in his stare, at the way his tongue ran over his bottom lip. But no, she couldn’t. They couldn’t. Right?

They were coworkers and friends and she trusted him. What if it went wrong? Yeah, even that excuse was sounding weaker and weaker the longer she stood there staring at him.

But friends don’t share beds and she was sure that this was breaking any and all rules she forced herself to comply with. Truth was, she wanted him. More than wanted him. Had fallen for him years ago and she was… 90% sure he wanted her, too. 

He was waiting. 

Waiting for her.

Not the right time. 

He could plainly see her shut down as they faced each other, his understanding eyes and compliant sigh hurting her more than if he had simply walked away. 

Would he get tired of waiting? 

“Just stay on your side of the bed,” she huffed before she laid down on her side, her back to him, hands trapped under her pillow.

“As you wish.” 

The words echoed in her brain as the bed dipped and the covers fell more comfortably over her. The room fell into darkness when he turned off the lamp on the bedside table. Emma felt the bed dip and move as Killian got comfortable on the uncomfortable bed and waited, waited to hear his breathing even out. It seemed to take forever, but once it did, she laid on her back, watching his moon-lit face as he slept on his side. He looked younger in his sleep. The frown that had been on his face before they went to bed disappeared and his lips were parted, looking so tantalizing she wanted to run her finger across them.

In the silence of the room, she heard the door from the next room open and close followed by the sound of giggling. Of course they had to share a wall with a happy couple. A very happy couple if the loud sounds of kissing reaching their room were any clue.

The springs of the bed next door creaked as the couple likely fell together on it and she felt Killian’s breathing hitch and she closed her eyes worried he’d wake up to find her staring at him. But he didn’t and she waited as his breathing returned to normal. The hand not currently under his pillow lay flat on the space between their bodies, his fingers twitching minutely every now and then.

Emma’s chest was tight and she wanted.

She inched her hand towards his with the sounds of soft moans as background noise until she slithered it under his palm. They had held hands before but she knew this wouldn’t be like any of those other times, not when they were both in sleep clothes and sharing a bed. She inhaled sharply as his hand immediately covered hers, holding it as tight as a sleeping man could.

Their hands fit together like puzzle pieces and her thumb began to caress his skin. She heard him sigh at her touch, his eyes still closed. And she wanted more. Needed more. 

Letting the couples’ noises in the next room inspire her, she slowly moved her body close to his, turning over so that her back was facing him, then even more slowly wrapping the arm she still held around her waist. She sighed deeply as she fit against his warm body, especially when he pulled her closer to him and they occupied the same space on the bed.

His other arm moved from under the pillow to slither under the curve of her neck giving her a different type of pillow. His hand, his empty hand, in her eyesight looked lonely and she used her free, empty hand to hold it. This wouldn’t be manageable for long but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of him, not when she could feel his chest rise and fall against her back, his breath on her neck and the heat of his hands on both of hers.

Emma shut her eyes in contentment. She must have fallen asleep at least for a little while because, when she opened her eyes after a loud thump, she was holding his hand with her two hands, while his free arm was fully wrapped around her waist. His thumb was rubbing her torso in an absentminded manner and she wondered if he was awake.

As she became aware of her surroundings, she also noticed the progressively more passionate noises from the next room - their words of encouragement and moans electrifying every nerve ending in her body. The headboard began thumping on their shared wall making Emma’s imagination run wild. The woman screamed and she felt Killian’s hand grip her hip tightly. Were the same images running through his brain?

She pushed her hips back and barely contained her gasp at the feel of his erect cock against her ass. His grip on her hip faltered as a stuttered moan passed his lips, his obvious desire fighting against his good form that she knew governed his actions at all times. 

But she didn’t want good form. She wanted him.

Her hips moved in a slower rhythm to the thumping on the walls and his hand found her stomach. He clenched the hand she was still holding and she thought he might be asking her to stop, saying no but when she clenched back, she heard a relieved sigh behind her and felt his hand inching up until his fingers touched the underside of her breast. Her breathing hitched at the soft touch and she gripped the sheets with one of her hands, her hips losing their rhythm against his. A groan, louder than the others, his groan, sounded in her ear. The hand at her stomach moved up, cupping her whole breast. An impulsive moan escaped her lips as the rough thumb began to rub against her hardened nipple. 

“Emma…”

Her hips stuttered again against him at the wrecked voice in her ear. A soft whimper fell from her lips as the hand at her breast pinched her nipple before melting into a sigh when his lips began whispering kisses to the skin of her neck.

The sounds coming from the next room grew louder, the thumping faster and Emma followed, a tightening in her lower belly at the unmistakable sounds of pleasure coupled with the ministrations on her body from the man she couldn’t stop thinking about. His lips grew greedier, switching between open mouth kisses and nibbles on her sensitive flesh.

The lovers in the next room climaxed and Emma hoped her moan of Killian’s name had been lost in their screams. But the sharp pinch of his fingers on her nipple and the insistent grind of his length against her told her it wasn’t. His responding moan had her tilt her neck back to give his lips more space.

“I want you, Emma.”

His whisper in her ear had goosebumps rise all over her flesh. Shivers ran down her body as his hand left her breast, slowly caressing her stomach on its way down. Her whole body itched, yearning for his touch. 

“May I touch you?”

She wanted to respond with sarcasm, wanted to tell him that he was already touching her but she knew what he was asking, especially as his pinky inched its way under the elastic of her sleep shorts. Her hips moved, greedy for his touch, but his hand remained unmoving, waiting. He would always wait for her.

“Please…” It was all she could say. She felt as though she would break if he didn’t touch her.

“Please, what?” His lips were on her ear, his teeth on the skin of her earlobe. “Do you want me to touch you?” 

Her nod was vigorous as his ring finger followed his pinky. He flexed his fingers, scratching her skin and fanning the flames consuming her body.

“I need to hear you say it.” 

Her mouth opened as he pulled her earlobe into his mouth, nibbling it and taking her breath away. He pulled her hips closer to his with the hand at her lower belly and she couldn’t think. Couldn’t think of anything else but him and the promises she knew he would fulfill.

“I want you to touch me, Killian. I need you to tou-” 

Her words were stolen from her mouth in a gasp as his hand covered her mound, his fingers running up and down her wet folds. His groan washed over her whole body as he used his other arm to pull her closer to him, their bodies flush from shoulders to hips. His hand found the breast he abandoned and her mouth opened in a low, drawn out moan, her head tilting into his shoulder.

“You’re so wet,” Killian whispered against her ear, his voice sounding completely wrecked, her hands gripping the sheets, wanting more and more but unable to ask for it. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this, to feel you like this.”

Gathering the wetness between her folds, his fingers moved up to circle over her clit, her hands shaking in desperation, her breathing quickening at the ecstasy taking over her body.

“You feel so good, Emma. I knew you would,” he continued to whisper, his lips pressing soft kisses on her neck while his other hand played with her breast. His touches were soft, meant to bring her up slowly, to draw out her pleasure. “I’ve dreamed about this, about you, for so long.” His scruff scratched against her jawline as he began to whisper in her ear once more. “Dreamt about hearing you, kissing you, touching you.”

She gasped as his teeth nibbled her jawline, causing a quiet moan to slip out. Her brain was full of him, full of his touch, his words, his voice. But she wanted more. “I dreamt about you, too, Killian. I’ve wanted you to touch me for so long. I-”

Her babbling was interrupted by her loud moan when his fingers pinched her nipple and the fingers on his other hand sped up on her clit with tight circles. He didn’t stop even as she reached back to grab onto his hair or when she interlocked their fingers at her breast. He didn’t stop as she writhed against his hand or when her moans grew louder and louder as her orgasm crested and rippled over her from head to toe. He didn’t stop until she finally came down, breathing heavily against his chest, feeling her fast beating heart against their interlocked hands. She became aware of his lips kissing up and down her neck, keeping her body on edge and desperate for more. 

“You’re so beautiful when you come, Emma,” he whispered in her ear, her hand in his hair less harsh as she combed through the soft strands. “I’ll forever remember the way you moaned my name. May I hear it again?”

Her body shivered as his fingers continued to move slowly and carefully up and down her folds. She gasped each time his rough fingers touched her clit. 

“Killian…” she moaned, drawing it out almost obscenely when he put pressure on the area above her clit.

She’d never forget his responding growl as his lips latched onto her neck. She was sure that he was marking her skin, and her heart raced at the idea of having proof that this wasn’t another dream. But it wasn’t enough. 

She moved her hand to the back of his neck, pulling until he lifted his head from her neck. The grip she had on his other hand loosened as she moved to her back, looking up to find his eyes. She could clearly see fear, worry, and desire battling for dominance. He kept his hand over her mound, unmoving, waiting as he watched her, the desire finally winning out, overwhelming the other emotions in his eyes. The same desire she was sure he could see in her own.

She pulled his head down to join their lips in a slow, passionate kiss. A kiss that served to keep the fire between them simmering as they got acquainted with every corner of their mouths. His hand flexed on her back and Emma arched into him. She didn’t want him to hold back. She needed him not to hold back.

“I need you to touch me, Killian,” she repeated against his lips, her hand grabbing onto his bicep, nails digging into his skin.

She would have to add his responding moan to her memory files, never wanting to forget the desire in his voice. His wet fingers gripped her hip as his other arm wrapped around her body to bring her closer to him before he captured her mouth with his. She let him take the lead, using the hand on the back of her head to position her in the best way to deepen the kiss.

The hand at her hip slid over her ass and she moaned against his lips at the way he gripped it, her leg hooking over his hip in response. She could feel his hard length pressed right where she wanted him. With her leg hooked over his thigh, Emma moved her hips against him, moaning at how good he felt but also at the way he held her tighter against him, their bodies now touching from head to hips.

Kissing him brought with it its own kind of pleasure, the way his tongue caressed hers, the feel of his lips on hers. She wanted more, craved more. Would never be satisfied no matter how long he kept touching her, how long he kept kissing her. She needed more.

Her teeth caught his bottom lip and she pulled carefully, relishing the vibration of his moan against her lips. Her fingers slid into the strands of his hair keeping him in place while her hand found its way inside his pants. He pulled his lips away from her to prolong his moan, the sound washing through her body. 

“Emma…” 

“Say my name again,” she whispered, wrapping her fingers around his length and stroking him slowly. His eyes opened sharply to look into hers and her breathing hitched, the blue gone as the black promised everything she ever wanted and more.

His hand moved under her shorts once more, slipping under her underwear. “Emma,” he moaned and her hand moved in time with his as he slipped his fingers between her folds once more. “Emma, Emma, Emma,” he moaned between kisses to her neck, her collarbones, the tops of her breasts.

“I need you naked, Jones.” 

He groaned and she bit her lip at the lustful sound of it. She almost whimpered at the loss of his fingers, but she moaned instead as he licked his fingers clean, his eyes closing in pleasure.

“Gods, but you taste divine.” His nose rubbed against her neck and his lips followed, laying a kiss on the sensitive skin behind her ear. “I want to taste you.”

Her fingers clenched around his cock, imagining his dark head of hair buried between her thighs putting that talented tongue to work. But his hard length in her hand made her realize what she wanted first and foremost. 

“Next time.” She smirked as his head pulled up sharply to look into her eyes, scrunching in pleasure at the way she tightened her hold on him in response.

“Next time?” he whispered and she could hear the uncertainty in his tone behind the lust, the way he was still waiting for her, still following her lead.

He’d allow her to keep this dalliance as a one-time thing, let her hide from this, from him, in her fear. But she would miss his touch, his kiss, his warmth and the fear that threatened to overwhelm turned into yearning. Deep, burning yearning, stronger than before, now that she knew how it felt to be held in his arms.

“Next time.” She nodded and smiled softly at the awe on his face. She ran her index finger over his slit, gathering the precum there and bringing it to her mouth. She closed her lips over her finger, closing her eyes as well and humming in pleasure at the taste of him. “I want you inside me now.”

Emma bit her lip in anticipation as he grabbed her wrists and trapped her hands on either side of her head. Her thighs rubbed together under his piercing gaze and she tilted her chin to welcome his desperate kiss. Almost immediately, Killian slowed the kiss, surprising her, softening his lips, even as his hips pressed urgently against hers.

He broke the kiss and she opened her eyes to find him watching her, his lust pushed aside. “Are you sure, Emma?”

His thumbs rubbed against her wrists and she could clearly see the vulnerability in his eyes, not sure he could believe her promise of a next time. He needed more. And she wanted to give it to him.

“Yeah.” She nodded, her lips curving in a smile. “I’m sure, Killian.”

She barely finished saying his name before his lips took over hers once more, the slant possessive, branding her as his. He laced their fingers together, and Emma realized this was already far better than any other encounter she’d had before. She wondered if it had anything to do with her feelings towards Killian Jones.

Any contemplation was erased from her mind at the feel of his thigh rubbing against her where she needed him most. “Please, Killian…” she moaned, moving her hips against it.

“I need you naked, Swan.” The grin was clear in his voice even with her eyes closed and she laughed delightedly. 

She missed his hands on hers as soon as they were gone but she moved quickly to pull her top off. He watched her from where he sat back on his heels and an impatient growl burst from him as he pushed his sleep pants off. She did the same, just as impatient as he. She pulled her hair from the band slowly, running her fingers through it to loosen it.

His fingers replaced hers as soon as she finished, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling carefully but commandingly. She bit her lip then let it go with a moan as his lips connected with her exposed neck.

“Hmm, I love to hear you moan.” She can’t help but let out another one in response to his deep voice in her ear, her hands taking hold of his hips. “Do you like it when I pull your hair?”

“Yes.” A wave of lust gathered in her center at the clench of his fist, pulling her soft strands, the sting of pain bringing her more pleasure. “Do it again.”

His arm wound around her to pull her body against his, both of their breath hitching at the feel of their finally naked bodies against one another. Her hands found the skin of his back, digging her nails in when he pulled on her hair once more. She took hold of his perfect ass, giddy to finally being able to touch what he teased with every tight pair of trousers he wore. He pushed his hips forward, his length sliding against her wet folds, their matching gasps and sighs of pleasure loud in the otherwise quiet room.

The desire in his moan was overwhelming and she was sure hers matched his. Her hands ran up his back as he loosened his grip on her hair. She met his gaze and found an understanding and acceptance there that took her breath away.

“Next time?” 

“Next time.” 

They smiled in unison and this time, she initiated the kiss, melting in his arms as he maneuvered them into a lying position on the bed, his body covering hers. His hips ground against her as he kissed down her neck, his hand finding her breast, his fingers playing her like an instrument.

“Are you clean? I didn’t exactly pack condoms for a work trip,” Emma breathed, pulling on his hair when she didn't get an answer.

“Aye, sparkling.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed as he returned to her neck.

“Me, too.” She answered his unasked question and ground her hips against his length, an ecstatic moan pouring from her lips. “I also have an IUD, so…” He groaned at the implication in her words. “Don’t keep me waiting, Jones.”

“Wouldn’t dare.”

He took a deep breath, obviously aware of the monumental step they were about to take together. He met her gaze as his hand moved down to her most intimate place, his fingers running up and down her folds before two of his long fingers entered her at once. She bit her lip and began to ride them, but she wanted more. Just when she was about to ask, he added a third.

“Please, Killian, please.”

She was babbling, she knew it, and his chest was heaving above her. “Just wanted to make sure,” he mumbled.

Emma held her breath as he removed his fingers and stroked himself once, twice, three times, coating his cock with her wetness. She watched his hand for a moment longer before meeting his eyes. She nodded and he nodded back. 

He positioned his hips against hers, guiding his length through her folds again, with more pressure this time. He was going to drive her absolutely mad, her moans loud every time the head brushed against her clit. “Killian…”

Her hands shook where they rested on his chest when he finally entered her in one slow thrust, her long moan matching his as he dropped his head to her shoulder. He held still for a moment, allowing her to adjust to this new feeling, to his size inside her. Her muscles clenched around him when she was ready for him to move and his groans reverberated against her skin. “I don’t know how long I’ll last,” he whispered, utterly wrecked. “You feel amazing, love.”

“Amazing,” she repeated, barely aware of his words, focused only on the way he filled her up.

He pressed soft kisses to her shoulder as his hips began to move with slow deep thrusts inside her. Her ankles wrapped around his hips as her hands grabbed onto the back of his neck and his bicep. His hips stuttered at the sensation, his teeth rasping against her skin.

“More,” she moaned, nails digging into his skin. Killian gave one hard thrust causing them both to moan loudly. “Yes, just like that.”

He growled and pulled his knees to rest on either side of her hips, the new angle having Emma grab onto his arms tightly. He continued the hard rhythm, his hips grinding against her clit with each thrust, her body shaking each time he found that place deep inside her that made her see stars. It had never felt like this before. So good, so full, so perfect. His arms slithered under hers to grab onto her shoulders, his groan loud against the skin of her shoulder. Distantly, she heard him spouting babbling praise, the squeaks of the bedsprings under her body, and the thumping of the headboard against the wall but it meant nothing when she felt it. Felt the imminent orgasm taking over.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders wanting to keep him as close as possible. It wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough. His fingers digging into her skin was the only warning she had before he spilled himself inside her, his orgasm triggering hers as she clenched around him. Her moans joined his in a decadent display of ultimate bliss. Time stood still and the world held its breath. 

“Fuck,” he sighed, softening inside her and loosening his grip on her shoulders. But she wasn’t ready to let him go, forcing her body to keep him there, keep him close. “Emma…”

She hummed at the sound of her name, digging her fingers in his hair, shivering at the feel of his lips on her neck. 

“Stay,” she murmured quietly. 

His lips curved up against her skin at her request and she would feel embarrassed at her desperation if he didn’t tighten his hold on her just a little bit more.

“I’m not going anywhere, love,” he promised in a whisper against her ear. “But we should move.”

She whimpered in reluctant agreement, drawing it out into a whine when he slipped out of her. He kissed her temple and she tilted her head up, hands on his neck. He chuckled against her lips. 

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered before pressing their lips together again in a quick kiss.

Emma wanted to protest but she could barely move. She only managed to turn her head and open her eyes to watch his bare ass as he walked to the bathroom. She was right, she thought with a smirk, better out of his tight jeans. She bit her lip as she watched him walk back, wet washcloth in his hand.

He grinned at her. “Don’t look at me like that, Swan.” He knelt on the bed, his eyes on hers while he carefully ran the warm cloth on her sensitive area, causing her to shiver and sigh.

“Come lay with me for a bit?” she asked, her hand running languidly up and down his arm.

“As you wish.” 

She let out an uncharacteristic giggle as he huffed in faux reluctance and laid down next to her. Emma sighed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around her, her head pillowed on his chest. She could hear his heart beating under her ear and she felt like she could stay in this moment forever.

“Me, too,” he sighed, making her realize she’d spoken out loud. He really did a number on her. “Never thought I’d have the opportunity, but I always imagined it’d feel like this.”

“Me, too.” She felt him tense underneath her and frowned in confusion. She set her chin on top of her crossed arms on his chest, and watched his wary expression. “What is it?”

His chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “I know we spoke about next time, but I don’t want us to just have this, love. I-” She waited for him to continue. It took a moment, but after a sigh, he spoke again. “I want more, I want everything with you. If you just want sex, I-I-”

She stopped him with her thumb on his bottom lip, unable to watch him worry, or despair, or to feel anything other than the happiness and pleasure they had found themselves in before. She replaced her finger with her lips, placing a soft chaste kiss there that had his arms wrapping tighter around her. 

“I want everything, too,” she confessed, forcing herself to look into his eyes. And when she did, she was rewarded by the pure happiness that lit them up. “I’ve wanted it for a long time but I was afraid.”

“You’re not anymore?”

“I never had to be,” she answered with a frustrated sigh. “I was hiding behind my walls but it made me so unhappy.”

“What made you change your mind?”

She shook her head and bit her lip. “I don’t know. I saw you laying there, so peaceful and your hand was just there, so empty.” She felt his hand clench her hip and sighed at how full it must look now. “I was just tired of pushing my desires aside.”

His smile was as bright as the sun and he took hold of her jaw to lay a hard kiss on her lips, making her moan. “I’m glad you did. I have been waiting for you.” 

She smiled back. “You always did.”

Her hands cupped his cheeks, bringing him up for a passionate kiss, designed to ignite her nerve endings, to bring back that telltale spark to her veins. She hummed against his lips as his other hand traveled down her back before stopping at her ass, his large hand cupping one cheek.

The thumping on the wall above their heads restarted causing both of them to break the kiss to look at it. Killian laughed before looking down at her, his hand squeezing her ass and causing her to wiggle against his touch. 

“What do you say, love?” His grin was dangerous again but now she knew the promises it held and oh, that knowledge made it even more dangerous. “Think you can handle another round?”

“Question is,” she smirked, her thigh rubbing against his soft member. “Can you?”

She felt the warmth inside returning at the glint in his eyes. His hand reached below her ass to run a finger over her wettening folds, before bringing it back up to his lips. 

“Maybe not now, but…” She shrieked in surprise when he quickly flipped them around, her back now against the mattress. “It’ll give me time to properly taste you.” 

She rubbed her thighs together at the darkening of his eyes but he stopped them by forcing a knee in between. Emma bit her lip to silence a moan when he rubbed against her clit, igniting that fire once more. His thumb pulled her bottom lip from her teeth.

“I want you to be loud, love. Can you do that for me?” She inadvertently obeyed when he put more pressure against her most sensitive spot. “Just like that, let’s show them how it’s done.”

Her laugh was interrupted by a moan when his fingers replaced his thigh. “Competitive much?” she panted.

His grin split his face in half as he winked. “Oh, absolutely.” 

Her breathy laughter followed his slow path down her body until all she could see was his dark hair between her thighs and all she felt was his mouth kissing her folds like he would her mouth. Any thoughts of competition flew out of her brain as she moaned and groaned and gripped and ground when he showed her just how talented his mouth really was. 

They won, though.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Fall Wardrobe Essentials

Staple Tees:

**Purchase in Modal, Pima cotton, or a cotton-cashmere blend**

Fitted crewneck tees (long-sleeves/tees & tanks for layering)

Relaxed fit long-sleeve tees

Turtleneck long-sleeve top (fitted & relaxed fit options)

Contour bodysuits

Blouses/Shirting:

Silk button-down blouse

Cotton button-down blouse

Silk shell top/t-shirts/camis (for layering)

Sculpt knit top(s)

Self-tie wrap blouse

Shirred boatneck, mock neck, or cowlneck silk blouse(s)

Leather button-down

Knitwear:

Thin cashmere/wool crewneck sweater (fitted/relaxed fit)

Thin cashmere/wool turtleneck sweater

Chunky relaxed-fit cable knit sweater

Knit polo-neck sweater

Cashmere sweater vest (crewneck, v-neck, and/or turtleneck)

Mockneck cashmere/wool sweater

Cashmere long-sleeve sweater dress

Cashmere/knit skirt (mini, midi, or maxi - depending on your personal preferences)

Sophisticated coordinating knit set (top/pants or skirt of your choice)

Casual knit set (top/pullover and relaxed fit pants)

Cashmere cardigan

Cable knit cardigan (doubles as a light jacket)

Bottoms:

Black straight-leg jeans

Black bootcut/flared jeans

Black straight/bootcut trousers

Wide-leg trousers (I love a solid black, black pinstripe, and black with lace-up detail selection)

High-waisted leather pants

Split hem trousers

Stretch jersey/cashmere pants (straight-leg or flared)

Quilted leather/tweed mini skirt

Knit/wool mini and/pencil skirt

Leather skirt (mini or midi)

Silk midi skirt

Dresses/Jumpsuits:

Knit/sweater dress

Little black dress (shift dress/A-line cuts are great)

Blazer dress/jumpsuit

Slip dress (for layering)

Minimal black jumpsuit ("LBJ")

Leather and/or denim dress or jumpsuit

Jackets & Outerwear:

Black tailored blazer

Leather blazer

Tweed jacket

Trench coat

Leather moto/cropped/bomber jacket

Black wool coat

Raincoat ( I like Rains for high-quality options on the affordable side that are still built to last for several seasons)

Statement jacket/coat

Footwear:

Sleek flat/low-heel black boots with a pointed-toe or square-toe silhouette (I love Vagabond, Jeffrey Campbell, Vince Camuto, and Sam Edelman for more affordable, high-quality options)

Black loafers/sleek black flats

Black lace-up boots

Black heeled boots

Black pumps

White sneakers

Rain boots (I recommend the Melissa Shoes Welly/Grip/Step boots or a stylish, sustainable, and more affordable option)

Accessories:

White/black ankle & crew socks

Black control top tights

High-waisted shapewear shorts

Chunky/small chain necklaces & bracelets

Simple pendant necklace(s)

Pearl necklace

Simple diamond studs

Crystal drop earrings

Minimalist bangles

Stackable rings

A sleek, minimalist black tote (can fit a laptop for work/travel)

Black shoulder bag

Small black bag (top handle, crossbody, etc.)

Statement bag/evening bag

Cashmere scarf

Silk/decorative scarf

Fingerless/touch-screen friendly, lightweight gloves

Lingerie/Loungewear:

Seamless bra/underwear

Lace bra/underwear

Matching pullover cotton sweatshirt/sweatpants

Knit or jersey cotton top/lounge pants set

Luxurious pajama set (silk, Tencel, cashmere, etc.)

A to-die-for piece of lingerie like a lace slip/silk teddy

Silk or cozy robe

Cozy open-back slippers

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

The Man From Y.I.L.I.N.G.

Chapter 8: "You Can Trust Me, I Swear"

--//--

SUITE 191 - 监理处 LUXURY RESORT

Jin Guangyao wakes abruptly, as per usual. He’s got a hand under the too-loose waist of his borrowed pajama bottoms to grab for the knife strapped to his thigh quicker than thought, because it’s far too early to be awake on his own which means something’s wrong, and he’d rather face it armed—

“Shh, it’s just me,” Xichen breathes, a restraining hand curling around his forearm. Jin Guangyao grips the hilt of his knife a little harder for a second before he lets go and exhales, a little unsteady. “I’m sorry I startled you, I just needed to move. Go back to sleep, it’s alright. I’ve got you.”

That shouldn’t be as soothing as it is. That shouldn’t make Jin Guangyao’s eyes grow heavy again, it shouldn’t calm the rabbiting of his heart in his chest, it shouldn’t make him feel safe. He’s never safe.

Lan Xichen brushes his thumb back and forth against his forearm to match the steady rhythm of his breathing, and Jin Guangyao feels the heaviness of sleep dragging at his limbs again entirely without permission. He can’t remember the last time he was able to sleep with someone at his back, but Lan Xichen tucks up against him, a warm pressure from knee to shoulders, and Jin Guangyao falls asleep again between one stroke of Lan Xichen’s thumb and the next.

When he wakes again it’s because he’s suffocating, and when he grumbles and pushes at whatever it is that’s smushed up against his face it doesn’t budge an inch. He squints his eyes open against the sunlight coming in through the curtains to find himself staring at a patch of tightly-woven cotton, and when he jerks back it’s to find that said patch is in fact a very small part of the greater whole of Nie Mingjue’s white undershirt he’d worn as pajamas.

“Not a fuckin’ word, A-Yao,” Nie Mingjue mutters out of the corner of his mouth, eyes shut and face relaxed, looking for all the world like he’s still asleep. “Doesn’t count if ’s in our sleep.”

Jin Guangyao sits up — dislodging Nie Mingjue’s arm from around his shoulders in the process — and ruffles a hand through his hair with a yawn, looking blearily around the room for Lan Xichen.

“Don’t worry, I already have evidence,” he pipes up from the sofa. Jin Guangyao squints at him and he lifts a folio of papers from his lap with a smile and a little waggle of the pencil in his other hand. “I sketched you together, I couldn’t resist.”

“A-Yao, burn that when he’s not looking,” Nie Mingjue grumbles as he turns over onto his other side and promptly goes back to sleep deeply enough to start snoring every few breaths.

“How long have you been awake?” Jin Guangyao asks around another yawn, nodding towards the folio in question. It can’t be much later than midmorning judging by the light, yet Lan Xichen looks like he’s been awake for hours already. He’s bright-eyed and dressed for the morning in something soft and luxurious, clearly meant only for lounging around in and looking devastatingly handsome (mission accomplished). 

“I couldn’t sleep past dawn — too many things on my mind.”

That admission wakes Jin Guangyao up a bit more and he hauls himself out of bed with a groan for all the aches and pains last night’s activities left him with, his legs a little stiff as he crosses to the sitting area with quiet scuffs of his ridiculously long pajama trousers across the floor. “Are you worried about seeing your uncle today?”

Lan Xichen returns his gaze to his lap, hand moving slowly, almost thoughtlessly across the page. Jin Guangyao takes a sleepy moment to admire the way his long fingers curl around his short scrap of a pencil, his hand completely dwarfing it until it almost looks like the lines are appearing as if by magic.

“I don’t think I would say that I’m worried, necessarily,” he muses. Jin Guangyao leans against the back of the couch to get a better look at the page and finds that whatever incriminating portraits Lan Xichen may have drawn earlier, right now he’s working on a landscape, something with rounded mountains and trees blended together beautifully under the faint wisps of clouds he’s sketching in. “My uncle is an honorable man, whatever he has to say to me will be in my best interest. But I find myself coming up with too many possibilities as to what the day could bring to be entirely comfortable with not being certain of what he plans to discuss with me.”

Jin Guangyao hums and leans a little more heavily on the back of the couch, laying his head down on his folded arms to watch Lan Xichen continue sketching, mesmerized by the way the side of his hand smudging across delicately laid lines can turn them into swirls of smoke, or hazy summer clouds.

Before he can be lulled into falling asleep standing up, he pushes himself fully upright again with a sigh and a squeeze to Lan Xichen’s shoulder in silent comfort as he passes behind him to the phone over on the bar.

“Room B203, please,” he requests of the receptionist, and he waits with, he feels, the patience of a saint as the line rings. Rings. Rings.

Connects.

“Good morning, Zixuan-ge,” he greets, poisonously polite. “I trust you slept well?”

“Oh god don’t look at me like that,” Zixuan groans despite the fact that they are (mercifully) in different rooms. “I know you’re doing that creepy smile thing. Stop it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jin Guangyao says through his patented most unsettling smile. “I’m calling about a bit of a business we need to wrap up this morning, you and I.”

“…Go on.”

“I’m meant to have a meeting with Jiang-guniang and her brother sometime today at Jiang Shipping, but something has come up for the morning. I’m assuming she won’t object to holding the meeting after lunch?”

“Ah…no, she won’t mind. She’s not uh…feeling very well this morning. You know how it is. Is that all, A-Yao? I should really be helping her.”

Jin Guangyao turns to survey the room only to find Lan Xichen turned at the waist to watch him with an irrepressible little smile on his lips and Nie Mingjue beginning to stir, little more than a suspicious lump over on the bed that rustles around every few moments.

“That’s all. I do need to get back in my room at some point before noon to change my clothes, though, so when your girlfriend’s bout of morning sickness has passed and you’re both fit to be seen in polite company again long enough to leave my room, could you please ring suite 191?”

“Yes okay fine, A-Yao, fuck. Stop with the smiling, I get it!!”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he smiles and hangs the phone up to the sound of his brother huffing at him in that fussy way he has (that does him no favors when combating the frequent assumptions that he’s a haughty brat). “Good news, Jiang Yanli is currently indisposed and so I am free to help Mingjue play guard dog during your meeting with your uncle.”

“Behold, the miracle of life,” Lan Xichen teases with a widening smile that crinkles up the corners of his eyes before he returns to his sketching. Jin Guangyao drifts over towards him again only to stop in his tracks just behind the arm of the sofa Lan Xichen is propped up against when Nie Mingjue sits up in a flurry of rumpled bedding, his unfocused glare trained somewhere in the middle distance between the bed and the sitting area. Jin Guangyao blinks as he abruptly yanks his undershirt off over his head and chucks it toward the closet with an irritated grumble that sounds something like, “ ‘S too fucking hot for this.”

Jin Guangyao gets a shockingly nice view of heavily scarred, deeply tanned skin, a not inconsiderable amount of chest hair, and dense muscles flexing across Nie Mingjue’s chest and shoulders as he stretches his arms over his head in the moment before he collapses back down into the sheets, arms outstretched as he sighs long and slow…and promptly starts snoring again.

“Good god,” Lan Xichen breathes. Jin Guangyao must reluctantly but wholeheartedly agree.

“Hardly seems fair, does it?” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth before he can think better of it, lingering sleepiness and the sudden shock of realizing that he’s comfortable here, with these two men of all people, loosening his tongue.

“Hm? What does?”

“That we got stuck with the Nie brother who’s morally opposed to honeypots.”

Lan Xichen covers his mouth to try to hide his startled laughter but it escapes anyway. Jin Guangyao smirks to himself as he crosses the room again to stand next to the bed and start poking Nie Mingjue’s bare and stupidly firm pec with a fingertip.

“Hey. Wake up.”

“You’re not the only man here capable of stabbing someone, you know,” Nie Mingjue threatens without any heat, just sleep-mushed mumbling and a little pinch between his brows.

“Yes you’re very scary Big Red, consider me properly chastened. Come on, wake up.”

Jin Guangyao stops his poking only because Nie Mingjue’s hand darts up to wrap around his wrist, fingers overlapping with the strength of his grip. Nie Mingjue cracks one eye open to glare at him but his heart doesn’t really seem to be in it, which Jin Guangyao is going to pretend he can’t see for the sake of their little…whatever it is that they’re doing. Pestering each other? But in a way that Jin Guangyao has never pestered anyone else before in his entire life.

Now’s probably not the time to examine it too closely.

“Good morning,” he says instead with a dimpling smile, not nearly as unsettling as the one he’d had for his brother. “What’s the plan?”

Jin Guangyao yelps as Nie Mingjue tugs on his wrist and somehow manages to get his other arm far enough around Jin Guangyao’s waist to flip him straight over him and back into bed with a downy-soft fwump. He blinks up at the ceiling, momentarily disoriented, and then turns a betrayed glare on Nie Mingjue chuckling next to him.

“What the hell was that for?!”

Nie Mingjue, infuriating monster that he is, doesn’t give him an answer but instead just sits up and rolls out of bed with a few pops from his joints and a satisfied sigh as he stretches his arms over his head again. Jin Guangyao takes only a moment (or three) to admire the pull of equally well-defined muscles across his back before he sits up and raises an eyebrow at Lan Xichen, seeking a, ‘Are you seeing what I’m seeing?’ sort of solidarity. It goes tragically unacknowledged, seeing as Lan Xichen is blatantly staring at Nie Mingjue with a slack-jawed laser focus. (Though he supposes that’s answer enough — yes it would seem Lan Xichen absolutely does see what he’s seeing.)

Lan Xichen thankfully snaps his mouth shut again when Nie Mingjue turns away from the window to trundle across the suite and into the bathroom, looking like nothing so much as a grumpy bear emerging from hibernation.

“Well then,” Jin Guangyao says, for want of anything better. He clambers out of bed again (seriously, what the hell was that for??) and sits down at the other end of the couch opposite Lan Xichen, one knee up on the cushion to turn and face him as the man returns to his idle sketching.

“I assume you two will want me to wear a tracker,” Lan Xichen muses a few moments later with a small pucker of a frown between his brows. “We’ll need some time to ensure it’s working before my uncle arrives.”

“Mhm, that’s true. I’ll let Big Red handle that, you know how fond he is of invading people’s privacy.”

“I heard that,” Nie Mingjue calls, muffled through the bathroom door.

Jin Guangyao raises his voice just enough to call back, “Very good, you were meant to.”

“A-Yao stop teasing him, it’s not even 11 yet.”

“I don’t see what the time of day has to do with anything,” he sniffs but magnanimously does as asked, lapsing back into comfortable silence. Nie Mingjue re-emerges from the bathroom and heads for the phone to order room service, and then seems to find himself at something of a loss. Jin Guangyao, for all that he’d like to pretend like they have nothing at all in common, finds that he sympathizes. Lan Xichen seems perfectly at ease with sitting around to wait for their next move in the chess game they’re playing with their motley collection of highly dangerous people, but Jin Guangyao is far too used to…doing. He hates to sit still like this, and doing nothing with two other people makes it feel worse somehow.

Nie Mingjue wanders off to fiddle around with something from his suitcase, Jin Guangyao does his best not to fidget sitting there in his borrowed pajamas, and Lan Xichen hums a soft tune to himself as he flips to a fresh page to start a new sketch like he can’t sense the restless energy starting to build.

It’s a relief when the phone rings, shattering the quiet, and Jin Guangyao hops deftly over the back of the couch to beat Nie Mingjue to it with a little smirk up at him and, not for the first time, the urge to stick his tongue out at him.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Zixuan says, sounding slightly less harried than he had earlier. Jiang Yanli must be done getting sick for the time being.

“Oh good, may I return to my own room then?”

“Yes, we’re heading off. She said it’s fine to meet with her later; Wanyin apparently had to hurry off on some urgent errand this morning and he won’t be back until later today, so you’d just have to wait around for him anyway.”

Jin Guangyao stands up a little straighter, all his restless attention narrowing down between one heartbeat and the next. Nie Mingjue instantly clocks the change in his posture and comes to stand right next to him (ugh, personal space?) to peer down at him, too close, too intense.

“Oh?” Jin Guangyao asks as nonchalantly as he can as he motions for Lan Xichen to pass him a scrap of paper and his pencil. He accepts both when Nie Mingjue passes them between them as he adds, “That seems like awfully short notice for an important errand, where’s he going?” He scribbles a quick note, ‘Wanyin is gone,’ and brandishes it for the other two to read as Jin Zixuan muffles himself to say something away from the receiver.

“A-Li says he had to go do a pick-up, something high-priority that can’t be delayed, but it isn’t very far. He should be back sometime after lunch and you can meet with them both at the office around 3.”

“Mm. 3 will work just fine,” he says as he scribbles quickly on the backside of the scrap to hold it up again.

‘Moving something.’

Nie Mingjue spurs into action to start getting dressed for the day in a rush as Jin Guangyao finishes saying goodbye to his brother and hangs up again.

“Our priority is Xichen,” Jin Guangyao reminds Nie Mingjue as the man fumbles his way into a pair of trousers, only barely hidden behind the jut of wall that separates the bedroom from the rest of the suite. “Whatever it is that they’re getting, it’s too late for us to stop it and we need to be here for Huan-ge.”

“They’re receiving something? Not delivering?” Lan Xichen asks. Nie Mingjue stops dressing long enough to poke his head around the wall to look at him, his expression tightly controlled, concentrating.

Jin Guangyao meets both of their eyes in quick succession then nods. “Zixuan-ge said Jiang Wanyin is off doing an urgent pick-up, not a drop. I imagine it’s some..material for the warheads or perhaps it’s got nothing at all to do with their nuclear project, I’m not sure. But whatever it is, they’re bringing it here, to us, so we don’t have to worry about chasing it down to find out. We’re in Yiling for a reason — this is where everything will happen, they won’t send anything important away without us hearing of it first.”

“I think A-Yao’s right, da-ge,” Lan Xichen says after they both take a moment to think it over. “And if both of the Jiang siblings truly do intend to meet with A-Yao this afternoon then what they’re retrieving will be somewhere you should be able to reach here in Yiling to investigate while he distracts them.”

Jin Guangyao meets Nie Mingjue’s eyes with a little tilt of his head that he hopes communicates that he’s thinking about how well that sort of plan had gone for them last night. Nie Mingjue smirks at him (not like he’s amused, but more like tentative camaraderie) and turns back to the closet, continuing to get dressed with less urgency, just his usual brusqueness.

“Alright, fine. We’ll focus on A-Huan for now and worry about the rest after the meeting with Lao Lan.”

“Good,” Jin Guangyao says and turns without further ado to retrieve his own clothes from last night with a little wrinkle of his nose in distaste for the fact that they’re still vaguely clammy and reek of brackish river water. Still, it’s not like he can go traipsing through the resort in Nie Mingjue’s pajamas, so it’ll just have to do. He changes in the bathroom, and when he reemerges to give Nie Mingjue his clothes back he’s pretty sure he spots a flush in the man’s ears as he takes them without quite meeting Jin Guangyao’s eyes.

“I’ll be back before Lan Qiren arrives,” he promises them, and when he slips out he holds the elevator doors open with a smile for the porters bringing up the room service Nie Mingjue had ordered.

His room is mercifully empty when he arrives and he goes through all the motions of the morning with his mind turning all the pieces of their little puzzle over and over, checking for anything he’s missed. Last night aside, perhaps, this is all going a little too well for his liking.

Case in point: The Jiangs were remarkably easy to get to. Lan Qiren doesn’t seem to suspect anything at all strange about his eldest nephew’s sudden engagement, or his escape from East Yunping. Every close call they’ve had has been just that, a close call, and nothing worse. Jin Guangyao is very good at what he does — the best in Jinlintai by an enormous margin — but Jin Guangshan just uses that as an excuse to send him on missions that regularly require him to cheat death, and very rarely does he walk away from his assignments unscathed. Sure, he’s got a few knocks and bruises from last night, but he’s willing to blame Nie Mingjue for that with his reckless speedboat driving rather than the inherent danger of his mission.

So — it’s going too smoothly.

Something must be wrong, but his restless examination of the evidence so far leads to nothing he can put his finger on. He gives the exercise up as futile with an irritated huff and just focuses on getting ready for the day in time to head back upstairs and steal whatever’s left of Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue’s breakfast rather than bothering to call anything down for himself.

“Are you sure it’s not working?” Nie Mingjue is asking when Jin Guangyao lets himself back into their suite and his eyebrows creep up towards his hairline to find Lan Xichen standing in the center of the living room, his foot popped up on the coffee table to expose the entire length of his bare leg. And it’s quite a bit of length to put on display, as it seems Lan Xichen’s considerable height is nearly all leg.

“Shouldn’t the light be on if it were?” Lan Xichen counters with a gesture towards something high up on his thigh, just below the hem of his boxer briefs exposed by the silken drape of his trousers hanging straight down from his hip, the slit in them is so high; Jin Guangyao tears his gaze away from the marble-sculpture-perfect curve of his calf to look at where he’s gesturing and honestly that’s even worse, because what he’s pointing to is a lacy white garter stretched taut around his thigh with a clunky transmitter clipped to it.

He clears his throat to announce his presence but the other two barely glance at him before they go back to examining the problem at hand. Jin Guangyao allows himself exactly three seconds to stare at how good Nie Mingjue’s strong, sure hands look wrapped around the pale expanse of Lan Xichen’s thigh before he forces himself cross over to the writing desk in the corner opposite the bar, upon which rests Nie Mingjue’s ‘I don’t care about anyone else’s privacy’ hardtop case sitting open and attempting to locate the transmitter.

Jin Guangyao pokes curiously at a few dials under the portable radar screen pinging nothing and confirms, “It’s not sending a signal, Mingjue.”

Nie Mingjue sighs and rubs his thumb against his forehead. Jin Guangyao drifts over to the room service cart next to the bar to pick up a fluffy steamed bun and watch the show being so kindly put on for him.

“Alright, get up there and let me take a look at it, then.”

“Up..there? On the table?”

“Yes? What’s the big deal, you’ve already got your foot on it anyway!”

Jin Guangyao stifles a laugh around a bite of his bun at the scandalized look on Lan Xichen’s face. (He can only imagine, having met Lan Qiren for approximately two entire minutes yesterday, that standing on the furniture was a big no-no in their house when Lan Xichen was growing up.)

“It’s made of glass!”

Nie Mingjue snorts and shoots Jin Guangyao a glance, though he doesn’t get why until Nie Mingjue smirks at Lan Xichen, shrugs, and says, “Well it survived me and A-Yao rolling around and knocking into it a few times the night before last, so I think it can stand your weight for a minute.”

They did not do that! But…Jin Guangyao’s indignant protest dies before he can even voice it, killed by the memories from yesterday morning, so hazy that they barely qualify as ‘memories’.

(Warm weight between his legs, the clatter of xiangqi pieces strewn across the glass tabletop and the floor around it. And, perhaps most telling of all, the beginning of Nie Mingjue starting to treat him with a begrudging sort of cordiality rather than irritated disdain.)

Jin Guangyao finds that in the face of the ‘evidence’, such as it is, he can only shrug when Lan Xichen looks at him, his confused expression a silent request to know if what Nie Mingjue said is true.

“Well…alright,” he sighs. Nie Mingjue steps closer and curls a hand firmly around the back of Lan Xichen’s thigh to help boost him up, which Jin Guangyao can’t help but feel is thoroughly unnecessary considering the tabletop is roughly two feet high. But then again Lan Xichen’s got a hand curled over one of Nie Mingjue’s shoulders, thumb brushing against the side of his neck, and that doesn’t really seem all that necessary either, so it would seem that neither of them mind.

Once up on the table and looking thoroughly discomfited about it, Lan Xichen stands still and looks down to watch Nie Mingjue do something Jin Guangyao can’t see with the transmitter on his thigh, and really, do they need to stand that close?

Jin Guangyao picks up another bun and ignores the urge to offer them privacy for whatever the hell this is; they know he’s here. If it bothered them, he’s sure they’d tell him to leave, so he might as well just stay. For no reason whatsoever.

-... .-. . .- -.-

Lan Xichen’s skin is soft under his hands, and all of Nie Mingjue’s attempts to ignore that little fact feel pointless when the man is barely giving him space to breathe. He lets Lan Xichen keep up the charade that he needs to prop a hand up on his shoulder to hold his balance in such a way that he isn’t putting too much weight on the table, and he does his best to focus on the task at hand even under such circumstances. 

Lan Xichen is wearing another flowing pair of trousers like what Nie Mingjue had put him in in Hong Kong, though this pair is slit up to the thigh — a daring choice, in Nie Mingjue’s opinion, for a lunch with his uncle, but since it makes it easier for them to reach the tracker he keeps his thoughts to himself. Without his foot propped up on the table, Lan Xichen’s leg is once again hidden under fluttering layers of silk chiffon and it somehow feels more…just more as he has to slide his hands under the lining fabric to get at the transmitter, rather than when Lan Xichen had rather boldly displayed it for him.

It doesn’t help that as soon as he brushes his fingertips up the front of Lan Xichen’s thigh, attempting to find the garter by touch alone, Lan Xichen jumps a little bit and asks him, “What are you doing down there?”

“Trying not to get lost.”

Nie Mingjue ignores Jin Guangyao’s poorly-muffled snort in favor of clicking the reset switch on the underside of the tracker, and within a moment there’s a muted ping from the receiver on the desk. With that problem solved, though, another immediately becomes clear and he tightens his grip on Lan Xichen’s thigh without thinking, eyes darting up to attempt to get a look at his face.

“You’re trembling,” he notes. Jin Guangyao is beside them in a heartbeat.

“I’m afraid.” He says it so plainly that Nie Mingjue’s heart squeezes in his chest. They’ve asked so much of Lan Xichen these last few days, and they’re going to have to ask more of him before this is all over, for good or ill. He looks up at Lan Xichen glancing between them anxiously, Jin Guangyao, to him, and back.

“It’ll be alright,” he attempts to comfort. Judging by the way Jin Guangyao steps very deliberately on his toes, the platitude wasn’t the correct choice, even though he really meant it.

“How can you know that?” Lan Xichen asks with a slight tremble in his voice. Jin Guangyao reaches up to brush his fingertips across Lan Xichen’s knuckles and Lan Xichen turns that fretful gaze on him again instantly.

“We’ll be close by, Huan-ge,” Jin Guangyao says. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Lan Xichen still doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he lets Nie Mingjue help him back down off the table anyway. He sticks close to let Nie Mingjue fuss over getting the leg of his trousers to hang right again to hide the tracker while Jin Guangyao crosses the room to step out onto the balcony.

“Lan Qiren just arrived,” he calls back into the suite, and Nie Mingjue glances out the window himself to spot the man’s sleek car pulling to a stop in front of the steps down at the street. Nie Mingjue feels Lan Xichen stiffen at his side. 

“Are you ready?” Nie Mingjue asks him, because if he’s not, if it’s too much, he knows they can come up with some excuse not to let him go. They can try something else, they can..they can readjust their plans, there has to be something else they can do.

Lan Xichen looks at him and manages to dredge up a smile that actually reaches his eyes. Rather than receiving an answer, Nie Mingjue stands perfectly still in shock while Lan Xichen leans in to kiss his cheek. It’s little more than a soft brush of warm lips against his skin, but it stops everything in its tracks (besides Jin Guangyao, who steps back into the room and raises both eyebrows at him as if Nie Mingjue is at all in control of anything that’s happening right now).

(And then it’s a moot point anyway because Lan Xichen steps away from his side to cross to Jin Guangyao and kiss his cheek as well, ducking down and lingering there until Jin Guangyao’s cheeks turn pink and he doesn’t seem to know where to look or what to do with his hands at his sides. So there.)

“I’ll see you both soon,” Lan Xichen tells them and sweeps out with his head held high.

Jin Guangyao clears his throat when the door clicks softly shut behind Lan Xichen’s retreating form. “Going soft, Red Blade?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Nie Mingjue ignores Jin Guangyao’s skeptical look up at him in favor of retrieving his case off the desk. He breezes past Jin Guangyao still watching him and holds the door to the suite open with a gesture with the case for him to go ahead. “Let’s go, I know we’ve got the tracker but I still don’t want to fall behind.”

Jin Guangyao rolls his eyes at him but at least he doesn’t try to talk about it again, he just strides out of the room with Nie Mingjue on his heels.

The one — one — good thing about working for Wen Ruohan is that he never wants for resources, no matter what he wants or when. He sends Jin Guangyao outside to ensure they part ways before they reach the lobby, and all he has to do is ask the Wen agent on duty at the reception desk for a car for a valet to pull a powder blue Fenghuang right up to the curb by the time he’s joining Jin Guangyao on the front steps. They pile into it without a word and Jin Guangyao directs him through Yiling with Nie Mingjue’s case open in his lap to keep an eye on the glowing dot that marks Lan Xichen’s location.

They skirt around the bulk of the historic district (at an entirely legal speed that puts Nie Mingjue’s teeth on edge) and wind up at the foot of the mountain that marks the western boundary on the opposite side of the city from the river. Nie Mingjue spots Lan Xichen and his uncle stepping out of Lan Qiren’s car at an inn still decorated in the old style up on a bit of an incline, just a few streets further up the mountain than the narrow road they’re trawling down.

“There’s a teahouse just over there, Mingjue,” Jin Guangyao murmurs as they draw up closer to the inn a mere two streets below it, and Nie Mingjue parks in the alley behind the building in question to try to keep the car out of view. They hurry inside and seat themselves at a table in the back corner of the restaurant, tucked away from any potential prying eyes and the majority of the rest of the patrons. Jin Guangyao orders them something Nie Mingjue doesn’t pay close attention to in favor of popping his case half-open beneath the table to begin fiddling with the radio transmitter beside the radar screen. It’s a bit of a risk to stake out just a few streets beneath the inn, but it at least means that when Nie Mingjue tunes his radio to the signal that should be coming from the bug he’d had put in Lan Xichen’s replacement engagement ring it connects immediately with a burst of static.

Nie Mingjue passes Jin Guangyao an earbud and wrinkles his nose at the other man’s judgmental little huff as he takes it — yeah yeah, no privacy, blah blah blah. It’s useful, so whatever!

Their pot of tea and a small selection of savory snacks arrive as they listen to polite smalltalk while Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren are led to a table in the inn’s restaurant, some of their conversation lost amongst the background noise as they pass through what sounds like a crowded dining room. Nie Mingjue frowns and turns the volume dial a few notches, but it doesn’t help clarify anything before the noise abruptly cuts off with the closing of a door.

“Private dining room,” Jin Guangyao mutters to him. Nie Mingjue just nods and turns the volume back down.

“You told your Mingjue that I apologized?” Lan Qiren asks after they order and their waiter leaves them alone.

“Yes, Shufu.”

“You understand my reluctance to approve of your consorting with one of Wen Ruohan’s pets?”

Nie Mingjue breathes through his ever-simmering anger and tries to focus on the feeling of Jin Guangyao’s hand covering his fist on the table between them to distract himself from the ringing in his ears.

“Of course I do…But Mingjue can be trusted, Shufu, I promise you. He’s been nothing but kind to me.”

“Hmph. Very well then.”

Nie Mingjue forces himself to sit back and nibble at a snack he doesn’t identify before he picks it up, if for no other reason than he’d really like to do something to help dissipate the adrenaline pumping through him. Across from him, Jin Guangyao sips calmly at a cup of tea and only the fact that his knuckles have gone white with how hard he’s gripping the cup betrays that he’s just as impatient as Nie Mingjue is for Lan Qiren to get to the point.

“There’s someone here that I’d like you to speak with, Xichen,” Lan Qiren says after an agonizing five minutes of nothing but the sound of tea being poured, sipped and poured again. Nie Mingjue glances up sharply to meet Jin Guangyao’s gaze.

“Oh?”

Nearly too distant to be picked up by the listening device, there’s the distinct sound of wood sliding against wood as the door to their dining room is opened once again.

“Tian ah, I love a dramatic entrance,” the newcomer laughs, bright and carefree. Nie Mingjue frowns — it isn’t a voice he’s heard yet on this mission, but that doesn’t necessarily mean much. “Lan-laoshi, who knew you’d be so good at this!”

Lan Qiren scoffs over the sudden clinking of jostled porcelain and a heavy thump against the wood floor. “How many times have I told you to sit up straight? You dare call me Laoshi and yet you retain nothing of what I attempt to teach you!”

“Aiyah, yes, yes, this humble student apologizes,” the newcomer teases, his indulgent smile clearly audible. “So — Lan Xichen, it’s good to see you.”

“Wei-gongzi,” Lan Xichen replies smoothly. Nie Mingjue nods his acknowledgment of the way Jin Guangyao’s eyes light up. “May I cut straight to the point?”

“Ah?? All business so soon! But — of course, of course, what would you like to say, then?”

“I know Wangji arrived with you. I want to see him.”

Wei Wuxian exclaims again, laughs lightly, and Nie Mingjue wonders (not for the first time) just what kind of a man this Yiling Laozu really is. Every photo of him from his days with the Jiangs shows nothing more than a carefree boy, happy and laughing and clearly a bright spark amongst the Jiangs’ glittering social circle. No proper photos exist of him since those days, as far as Nie Mingjue is aware, only rumors and blurry wisps of a ghost barely captured on film, but if he’d really become such a violent mastermind during the war as they’d been told during their briefing, then surely he wouldn’t still be…like this? He wouldn’t laugh at everything, he wouldn’t tease someone as strict as Lan Qiren, he wouldn’t sound so…young.

It would hardly be the first time Wen Ruohan spun him a story that was only partially true.

“Oh, is that all?? Of course you can! Lan Zhan!!”

Nie Mingjue jumps a little for both the sudden shout and the ease with which the request was granted. He meets Jin Guangyao’s equally startled gaze and leans in close.

“It can’t possibly be that easy,” he mutters. Jin Guangyao shakes his head sharply in agreement.

“No, it can’t. I had the same thought this morning — about all of this.”

Nie Mingjue thinks that’s maybe a bit rich considering Jin Guangyao hadn’t nearly died last night choking on smoke and scummy river water, but now’s not the time to argue.

The dining room door in the restaurant slides open once more just as there’s a burst of noise from what sounds like a large party entering the main room of their teahouse with much scuffling of feet and the scrape of chairs against the floor. Nie Mingjue presses his earbud more firmly into his ear to better listen to the approaching footsteps, the rustle of cloth as a fourth person joins the inn restaurant table and sits down much more quietly than Wei Wuxian had.

In contrast to the bright clarity of Wei Wuxian, the new voice is deep and cool, nearly monotone save for the slightest inflections where necessary as he says, “Xiongzhang. Shufu.”

Nie Mingjue watches Jin Guangyao nod to himself in confirmation — he would know Lan Wangji’s voice, after all, considering he’s been working for the Jins for years.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen breathes, the relief in his voice palpable. “Is everyone in place nextdoor?”

“Mn.”

Wait.

Nie Mingjue is already looking across at Jin Guangyao, which is probably the only reason he sees it in the gasp of a second between Lan Xichen’s question in their earpieces and the sudden flurry of activity around them. He wishes he hadn’t had to see it, the betrayed, raw anguish in Jin Guangyao’s eyes. He wishes it didn’t make his chest ache. He wishes he didn’t suddenly want to protect Jin Guangyao from ever having to hurt like that again, but now isn’t really the time to examine the new feeling.

By the time Jin Guangyao is sliding off his seat to sink to his knees with his hands held up shoulder-high in deference to the guns being pointed at them by every single person in the teahouse no longer minding their own business, he’s wiped his face of all expression save his blandest smile. Nie Mingjue would know from that alone, if nothing else, that his pain is somehow deeper than Lan Xichen’s betrayal, but he doesn’t have the luxury of trying to figure it out or, heavens forbid, ask Jin Guangyao why he’s so viscerally upset. 

He obeys the order shouted at them from somewhere in the crowd for him to get on the ground as well. He skirts around the end of the table to kneel close enough to Jin Guangyao’s side that he can feel the other man trembling, and raises his empty hands to shoulder-height in a mirror of his partner.

“If you have the chance to get out, take it,” Jin Guangyao tells him out of the corner of his mouth in the agonizingly long moments between their surrender and the door to the teahouse banging open.

Nie Mingjue already knows that he will do no such thing unless it’s a chance for both of them to escape together.

“You know, I have to say it — you two ended up being much better players than I’d expected! What do you think, Lan Zhan?”

Nie Mingjue looks up from the floor to find that (amongst the round two-dozen or so pistols pointed at them) Wei Wuxian himself has strolled into the cafe calm as you please, the same wide grin on his face that he’d worn in the photo of him with the Jiang siblings when he was still nominally a ward of the family. It’s the same grin they’d heard so clearly in his voice mere minutes ago.

“Wei Ying accurately predicted their commitment to their goal and set his expectations accordingly.”

Lan Wangji is standing just behind Wei Wuxian’s right shoulder, his icy calm a perfect counterpoint to Wei Wuxian’s (entirely inappropriate) sunny brand of enthusiasm. The difference between them is even more striking in person, accented by the fact Lan Wangji is dressed entirely in white next to Wei Wuxian’s head-to-toe black.

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan, you flatterer. I guess I have been doing this long enough to know how these sorts of things pan out. I mean honestly, I’m a little insulted that you think you’re the first ones to try to come after me and my research in all this time! Don’t you think I know the signs of someone trying to use the people close to me? That’s the oldest trick in the book!” Wei Wuxian tuts at them and shakes his head, as if their attempts to undermine his work aren’t worth more than the sort of scolding one would give a child.

Nie Mingjue risks a glance down at Jin Guangyao next to him, but his face is still terrifyingly blank, eyes fixed somewhere on the floor as Wei Wuxian paces closer, his black military-issue boots thudding across the wood floor. Nie Mingjue doesn’t bother trying not to glare as he looks up at him again.

“Ah ah ah!” Wei Wuxian chides. “Don’t look at me like that Chifeng-Zun, it wasn’t even my idea to doublecross you! I’m a very busy man you know and a scheme like this takes so much planning to execute properly, I was just going to kill you both and be done with it.”

“Wei Ying.”

“Alright fine, I’m reformed so maybe I wouldn’t have,” Wei Wuxian huffs, pouting. Nie Mingjue has no idea how much of this is a bluff, but judging by the unhappy pinch between Lan Wangji’s brows it’s not as much of one as he would hope. “But still! I don’t normally have the patience for all this…back and forth. So really it’s lucky for you that we’re working with the Lans on this one, they’re the ones willing to play the long game.”

Nie Mingjue can’t help but curl his hands into fists, though the sound of at least a few guns cocking is enough to convince him to relax his grip again and grit his teeth instead.

“The long game,” he repeats.

“Sure,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “You think this all started when you two walked into Yunping? We’ve had Lan-da-ge doing fieldwork for years already! Actually you very nearly ruined everything we’ve been working on for so long, so I was doubly tempted to just get you out of the picture before you could get as far as a li beyond the Wall. Say thank you to Lan Zhan for convincing me otherwise.”

Nie Mingjue stays resolutely silent, but his refusal to play along doesn’t seem to make much of a difference one way or another. Wei Wuxian is still smirking, still pacing back and forth like he hardly realizes he’s doing it, gloating so obviously Nie Mingjue is growing more and more tempted to stand up and see if he can land at least one solid punch to the man’s nose before one of the goons surrounding them guns him down.

“Aiyah, I’ll forgive your manners under the current circumstances I suppose. A-Ning?”

Nie Mingjue watches a pale, mild-looking man step forward out of the crowd, unique mostly for the softness of his features and the fact that there’s no gun in his hands.

“Get them ready for transport, will you?”

“Transport?” Jin Guangyao asks, hollow enough that Nie Mingjue nearly shivers. “Where are we going?”

“Not far,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “As much as I like this part of town it’s not really the best place to have the sort of meeting we need to have. Better to do it somewhere we can have all the shidimei keeping lookout, hm?”

“Why the fuck do you think we’d go anywhere with you?” Nie Mingjue spits and tries to shift a little closer to Jin Guangyao, to offer any kind of support the other man may find in his presence at his side; on his side, when nobody else seems to be.

Wei Wuxian, already heading for the door, turns enough to smirk at him over his shoulder. He raises an eyebrow as he asks, “You don’t want a happy reunion with your brother? He’s been so excited to see you.”

Nie Mingjue’s stomach drops to his knees and he knows in a burst of clarity that his number’s up. He doesn’t resist as his wrists are tied together behind his back. He watches numbly, head buzzing, as Jin Guangyao is similarly restrained.

They’re frogmarched outside, Wei Wuxian calling instructions back to the agents left behind in the teahouse as Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao are ushered into the backseat of a car. He tries to get comfortable with his wrists pressed between his back and the seat, and when he’s managed it well enough he checks in on Jin Guangyao again to find that nothing’s changed. He’s still sitting there in silence, perfectly (worryingly) docile as he’s guided into the car.

“A-Yao?” he finally tries, pitching his voice too low to carry as this A-Ning climbs in behind the wheel.

Jin Guangyao sucks in a deep breath and turns that horrible blank smile on him, not quite raising his eyes to meet Nie Mingjue’s searching gaze.

“I’m safer for now in their custody than if we escaped,” Jin Guangyao says. “My father will likely hear that I’ve failed within the hour, and he’s already made it clear what my punishment will be if I do. I won’t try to run.”

That’s not at all what Nie Mingjue was trying to ask, but it does still answer his unspoken, “Are you alright?” strongly enough in the negative that he doesn’t try to ask again.

They pull away from the curb to start heading for the river, and Nie Mingjue glances over his shoulder to find another car trailing close behind them, Wei Wuxian in the passenger seat, Lan Wangji and Lan Qiren in the back. He makes eye contact with Lan Xichen looking perfectly calm and collected behind the wheel for the briefest moment before he faces resolutely forward again and tries not to think about just how easily he’d fallen for it all, in the end.