#not to mention setting up the relationship the two have. particularly by using the golden rule of show don't tell. excellent

[hoshigray]

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫! | t. fushiguro + k. nanami

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Taking your daughter to a sleepover with her best buds is easy peasy; ending up staying over at said sleepover to have some fun of your own with the two single dads you're crushing on? Not so much...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: dilfs! Toji + Nanami x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; single parents au - implied you + Nanami are in early 30s; Toji is in late 30s - Tsumiki (age 10), Megumi, Yuuji and Nobara (8) - mutual pining/crushing - fluff then SMUT then fluff - kissing/making out - mutual masturbation (m! + f! receiving) - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - Daddy kink - threesome - double penetration; anal and vaginal - spoon/sidesaddle dp + reverse cowgirl dp positions - clitoral play (swiping) - praise - breeding kink - cervix fucking - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy; don't be silly) - pet names (angel, baby, good girl, love, mama, sweetheart, sweetie) - Nobara is your daughter; Yuuji is Nanami's - mention of drool/spit and tears.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.8k (Christ almighty...)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on this ask from one of my anons; so happy to be writing an actual fic after a month, yippeee!! and tysm for 7.7k, my loveliesss!!

“Hahah, I win again!”

“No fair, I used the aerials like you taught me, what!?

“Yeah, but there’s no point using them if you’re just gonna let Itadori counter.”

“Shut up, Megumi! Hey, Yuuji, one more time!”

“Hey, keep it down, you three.” You warn the children who cause a ruckus in the living room from the dining table. 

There’s nothing wrong with hanging with friends or going to someone’s house to play. Children are highly encouraged to do so to form deeper relationships! It’s what you’d want for your child, your sweet daughter poking out of her public shyness now that she’s playing video games with two of her best friends at a playdate.

Your daughter, Nobara, heard your warning and swerved her head back to apologize. “Sorry, momma! Itadori’s just cheating!”

“No, I’m not!” The pink-haired boy sitting next to your brunette daughter on the living room floor retorts. “She just sucks at playing!”

“Why you…” The two kids glare and argue to themselves while another sits on the living room couch and sighs at the interaction before him. Megumi was his name, the raven-haired boy putting his attention back on the animal encyclopedia he was reading. 

You chuckle before speaking again, “Well, cheating or not, keep your voices down, okay? Tsumiki is trying to do her homework.”The kids nod and return to their fun on the television; the sounds of controller buttons mashing and clicking fill the absence of their voices, and you go back to what you were primarily doing. “Need any help there, Tsumiki?”

The fourth grader perks up from using her name, flashing a weary smile in your direction. “I’m trying to find these countries for my quiz on Monday, but where are Colombia and Guyana…?” The paper before the little girl exhibited a blank sheet with a map of the North and Southern American continents; a word bank is provided to the side with a list of countries. 

Getting up from your chair, you walk to the vacant side where Tsumiki is and sit alongside her. “Hmm, let’s look at this together…”

This wasn’t your home; it belonged to the father of Yuuji Itadori. Staying during your daughter’s playdates was a rarity, particularly in another parent’s house. Yet today is a Friday, and you didn’t really have much to do other than clean the apartment and maybe catch up on a show or two. Besides, it didn’t hurt to watch the kids play and laugh now and then.

Luckily, you aren’t the only parent here; two other parents are taking out of their day to monitor the kids with you! The only problem is that…they make your stay a bit difficult.

Footsteps are heard descending the hall from the bedrooms, and your eyes peer to find a man walking into the kitchen area. “How’s studying going?” Golden blonde hair was the first you see, followed by the pleasant look of his chocolate brown eyes. A slim-fit grey long-sleeved shirt hugs his frame well, accompanied by dark-fitted jeans and dress socks. Kento Nanami, Yuuji’s adoptive father, has entered the scene and has made your heart skip to an irregular tune.

Thankfully, saving you from making a fool, Tsumiki answers the man. “Good, Auntie Y/n is helping me remember countries of South America!” She says with a blinding smile. 

“Is that so?” Nanami opens a cupboard to pull out a glass to pour water. “You think you’ll be okay for the quiz?”

“Mmmm, if I remember five countries out of ten, I should be fine. I know more, thanks to Y/n!”

“Good,” your breath hitches when he walks to stand behind the chair you were sitting on. “And how are those three?” 

You cough before averting your gaze to the living room. “They’re fine,” you watch your daughter exclaim in glory after finally beating Yuuji in the video game. The salmon-haired child groans in defeat, standing up to switch with Megumi so the other can play. “Nobara loves playing with the boys; they make her competitive spirit wild. It’s funny because she’s usually quiet and soft-spoken around me and others. However, that doesn’t explain her track record with terrorizing the boys of the school…”

Nanami chortles at your observation, the sound almost hypnotizing you. “Children bring out a different side in each other, helps them grow.”

“Wise words—“  

Grrooorrr!

You both stop at the sound of a rumble, glancing at Tsumiki to see that it is her grumbling stomach. The child chews her quivering lip and hides her face by looking back at her homework. You giggle, “You hungry?” She nods slowly. “Me too, sweetie; the pizza should be here any minute.”

“That’s odd,” Nanami takes a sip from his glass. “He said the food would be done by the time he’s off work. It’s almost 7 o’clock, is there traffic on—“

KA-CHA! CLACK-CLINK!

“Yo, I’m here with the pizzas,” another voice, a lot lower and gruff than the blonde’s, enters the space. Your heart skips again, and you instinctively turn to find the source — you know who the source is. 

Giant steps draw near the kitchen area, keys rustle as he stuffs them inside his jeans pocket, and the other hand holds three pizza boxes. After putting the food on the kitchen island, the man scratches his onyx head and stretches. His loose-fit cotton sweatshirt slips for a peak of his abs to be seen, and your eyes pull back before they hook onto the tanned skin for too long. Green eyes capture yours, and a smirk uproots the scar on the right of his lips. “Hey, Y/n,” the way he says your name pulls you in. “Good thing I caught ya before you could leave.”

You gulp to wet a dry throat. “It’s good to see you, too, Toji.”

Toji Fushiguro, the father of Tsumiki and Megumi, strides from the island down to where you three are, ruffling his daughter’s brown hair as a greeting. “How’s homework goin’?”

She swats her father’s hand away, fixing her ponytail. “It’s okay, I’m just hungry now.”

On that note, you decided it was time for everyone to take a break and eat. “All right, kids, the pizza’s here; come over and eat!” Nobara wastes no time springing out of the couch and sprints for the dining chair next to Tsumiki after you stand to grab the paper plates. 

The boys don’t move, eyes glued to the screen and fingers moving across the controllers. Nanami tries to get their attention again, only for Yuuji to excuse themselves for a few minutes. The golden-haired father looks to the other before giving him a curt nod, a signal for Toji to walk to where the boys were sitting and turn off the television. They groan in unison before the black-haired man picks them up effortlessly and waltzs back to the dining table. “Time to eat, squirts.”

You have known Nanami for a long time, meeting him around when Nobara was still aged by months and could barely walk. Being a first-time parent is no easy task, especially since the man took Yuuji as his own after the death of the baby’s parents and grandfather when he was just a newborn. The transition from sober salaryman to committed fatherhood wasn’t an gradual one. But you know what they say: it takes a village, no matter how big or small. You found Nanami at the perfect time while you took care of Nobara, lending a helping hand to the single guardian whenever he needed advice or help looking after the pink-haired babe. He’d return the favor, of course, having you two spending and getting to know more about each other throughout the years. So, as the babies grew and became friends, so did you and him. 

Toji entered your life around the same time as well; a single father of two was just as [if not more] challenging as your scenario. Not to mention – the poor man had to work ungodly hours, sometimes calling up a friend to look after his kids. You felt for him, even Nanami, so you’d help him out as well whenever he needed it, whether it be picking up Tsumiki and dropping her off at daycare or rocking three-month-old Megumi to sleep and waiting for the father to return home safely deep in the night.

Without the hood of parenthood, you three wouldn’t have become such good friends. Although there have been rough moments, at least you had the two to share and relate with if necessary. You’re so thankful for both fathers being in your life, serving as dependable outlets as you three grow along with your children. And it’s an even bigger blessing watching the kids have become great friends — practically inseparable! Words cannot express the gratitude for Nanami and Toji, treasuring the men so much that you’d love to maintain this mutual relationship with them as long as possible.

Being friends is more than enough; however, a tiny piece of yourself wishes something more to come out of this friendship. Admitting that to yourself is enough to have your ears heat up in shame. Crushing on the two fathers like some school girl, how embarrassing…

But can you blame yourself? As you all sit down and eat around the dinner table, you find it hard to restrict your eyes from wandering to either side of the table where the men sit. 

Don’t get it twisted; you’ve always thought of the dads to be attractive men. However, the more time you’ve spent visiting and getting to know them, you’ve found that they’ve become more and more charming as the years go by. Now, it has gotten a lot worse.

Nanami is so entrancing to the eye — damn near looks as if he walked out of a movie set. His mocha eyes were so soft and perfect with his mellow tone. The charismatic blonde easily played with your heart with how attentive he was, making sure if you and Nobara ever needed anything or ever wanted someone to voice with. God, he was too good to be true, it was hard not to fall in love with him — you were honestly mesmerized the moment he first said your name. Now, solely seeing him is enough to make your ears hot and your heart race. Your admiration for him threatens to dwell into that of a childish crush — how mortifying! 

And Toji — fuck, that man. Aside from having a body literally sculpted like an Olympic athlete, the dark-haired man was somebody who knew how to wind you down. Maybe it was the baritone voice that always captured your attention or the mischievous jokes and flirts he’d throw your way; whatever it was, Toji knew how to draw you in. Sure, you were a little intimidated by him at the start, but that’s long been substituted with feelings of trust and mutual respect from seeing how much of a good father he tries to be for his children. Although, the more you hear his gruff laugh, see his smile pull the scar, or forest green eyes drilling holes into your very being, the more you want to slap yourself for thinking about him day by day!

Goddamn it! As you sit at this table chewing on your pizza slice with the others, all you can think about is how pathetic you must be for falling for the two heartthrobs of your life. It’s appalling how these two fathers have yet to snatch up somebody, knowing there would be lines of people wanting a piece of them. And you sigh heavily, thinking if there’s ever a possibility you’d be lucky enough to be on the receiving end with either.

Probably not…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Annnnd BAM! UNO!”

“What?? You’re cheating!”

“Am not! You can put draw twos on plus fours!”

“Hah!? That’s not in the rules!”

“So? That’s how my mom plays.”

Why am I being brought into this… You shake your head as you observe the kids play their final card game before bed. All the children are dressed in their respective pajamas, sitting in a circle around couch pillows as they draw and place cards down. The sunset has long been set as the hour hand touches the eleventh number; the kids usually go to bed at eight or nine. But it’s the weekend and meant to be a sleepover, so one or two more hours of fun shouldn’t hurt anyone.

“UNO Out!!” Except for the heavy groans shared with Megumi and Yuuji as Nobara finishes the card game with an enthusiastic slam, turning around to give the older brunette a high five. “See, Tsumiki? I told you I can handle it!”

“Man, that’s not fair,” Yuuji throws his card pile to the floor in exasperation. “Wish I knew about that rule beforehand.”

Megumi does the same, “You should’ve made the rules clear before we played the game.”

“Wahh, keep complaining, loser,” Your daughter annoys the boy with a blown raspberry. “Fine, we can try again; if I win, I’ll have Yuuji's bed to myself and Tsumiki.”

“Not happening!” You and the salmon-haired child deny the winner’s request, and the girl only snickers mischievously while Tsumiki deals the cards. 

Saved by the sound of footsteps approaching from the hall, Nanami is now here to dismiss the bunch. “All right, kids, time for bed.” Every one of them mourned at the statement; Yuuji quickly requested five more minutes, only to be shut down by his father. “Nope. I’m done with my shower, so you four must get to bed — that was the deal.”

“Aww man…” The four begrudgingly get up from the living room floor after putting the cards away and setting the pillows back on the couches. Before they leave, they wish you a good night. “Goodnight, Mom!” Nobara comes rushing to you for you to kiss her cheek.

“Goodnight, sweetpea,” you let go of her so she could run back. “And you three — where are my kisses?” Yuuji and Tsumiki happily come for you to place a goodnight kiss on their cheek. All that’s left is the silent child of the bunch who, unfortunately, doesn’t slip past your eyes. “That means you too, Megumi. Or else I’ll chase you down and kiss you up a storm like last time, you hear?”

The black-haired one fights a smile creeping his face, slowly taking steps to where you sat and fidgets as you kiss his cheek. You wish the boy goodnight, and he follows the others down the hall to the bedroom after doing the same. 

“Fushiguro’s in the shower now.” Now that the children are gone, Nanami sits on the left side of the couch before dimming the ceiling lights. He turns on the television, “Seems like they’re having fun.”

“Mmm, they are,” you settle by the middle to be close to him. “I can’t believe they’re all so big now. Didn’t Yuuji just turn eight years old last month?”

“Mhmm, he’s now the same age as Nobara and Megumi,” he says with a smile. “For a little while, that is. He is the youngest, after all.”

“You’re right, poor thing.” You giggle with a stretch. “Nobara’s gonna be nine this August, and Megumi at the end of the year…”

“Hmm. We are old.”

That made you laugh hysterically as the delivery of the comment sounded so defeated yet true. It’s okay, though, since Nanami was laughing himself with a shaken head. “Don’t say it like that! They say you get sexier during your thirties.”

“Are you sure about that? My grandfather had photos from his thirties, and he was balding and getting chunkier before turning thirty-five.” More laughter seeps through your lips. “I don’t know, Y/n; not all of us can keep fit like Fushiguro; he still works out while halfway approaching forty.”

“Now, hold on, Nanamin,” you grin while pointing to Nanami, and you can see him try to fight a smile after using the nickname he supposedly doesn’t like. “You can’t say shit, either; you still look like a model coming straight out of a Men’s Vogue magazine!” That made him laugh more, the sound warming your heart. "You still got it, Kento; a real prince charming."

“Why thank you, Y/n,” he appreciates the compliment.

“Of course.” 

The silence following that felt unsettling and had you fidgeting with the bottom of your halter top. Five uncomfortable minutes of nothing but the lowered volume of the television to fill the space. Come on, Y/n, keep the conversation going. “So, almost ten years, huh? A whole decade.” You watch Nanami nod along through your peripheral. “I remember the first time I met you; you looked like you barely got any sleep for the past month.”

“Because I didn’t. I was hassling with back-to-back meetings, on the cusp of finding another job to take outside of being a salaryman, and then had little newborn Yuuji to come home and put to sleep after feeding. Thank God you could babysit for him with Nobara; I’m forever grateful.”

“Oh God, I remember when you came home so tired while I was rocking both to sleep. I think that was the first and only time I’ve ever seen you fall asleep on the couch; so tired you forgot to greet me!” 

“We don’t talk about that,” he scratches his ear. “That wasn’t so bad when we promised to watch over Megumi and Tsumiki during the weekend while Fushiguro went to take up so many jobs. He fell to his knees once he passed the threshold, and I had to walk him to his bed.” 

You tittered at the recollection — all the memories mentioned made you feel warm and glad, all the years coming back to you with a happy memory. “We’ve done good, though. We managed, and the kids are growing to be good friends.”

“Before you know it, maybe Nobara will come to you about liking the boys—“

“That isn’t happening; I asked her the question like three weeks ago, and she said if she and the boys were the last people on Earth, she’d kill herself.” Nanami gasped and stifled a laugh, but you could see his shoulders bounce. “A third grader — an eight-year-old – telling me she’d off herself rather than be with one of the boys. Talk about radical...At least she loves to hang with them; she loves those boys like they’re her little brothers.” 

The blonde hums to your words. “Them being close is a blessing. I guess that’s thanks to us, having each other’s backs all these years.” 

It’s your turn to nod to him. “True, and I’m just glad they like being with each other.”

“Same here; Yuuji likes being with you guys,” he throws his head back. “…Just like I do.”

You blink. “What do you mean?” Suddenly, you feel as though you shouldn’t have asked that question because the way Nanami turns his head to look at you nearly paralyzes you. Oh my God…

“I like being with you.” He says it tenderly, only for your ears to pick up. “You make me feel at peace when you’re around, and I’m not as close to anyone as I am with you. A decade of you being in my life has made it more serene and…fun. So, I like it when you’re with me.”

You didn’t breathe a single puff of air during his speech. The worst part was that these were Nanami’s words — they were genuine. You could feel it in his bronze gaze, your heart unable to control itself. 

And it doesn’t help that your eyes took in every detail of him; his hair, usually neat and styled, is now down and damp from the shower, strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His home wear comprised a loose sweatshirt and dark grey sweats, but you snuck a glance of his collarbone that peaks from the opening collar of his shirt. You move your gaze to the floor to stop yourself from looking any further, or else more fuel for indecent fantasies will be stored for later!

Fingers fiddle with each other as you chew on your lip. God, Y/n, just fucking say it! “I, uhh…I like being with you, too, Nanami.”

“Do you really have to go?” He scoots in. “You know I don’t mind you staying over.”

“I—ahem—I think, yeah…I wouldn’t want to intrude on you and Toji; I’m sure you two would wanna catch up on stuff. I’ll just come back and pick Nobara up in the morning before—”

You stop uttering more once you feel a sudden hand on your right shoulder. Turning to your left, you didn’t even realize Nanami scooting to be so close to you, his face a hand’s length away from yours. Once again, you have forgotten how to breathe. And when he places his left hand on your right that lies on your lap? You don’t move a centimeter.

“I want you to stay,” his tone low and sincere. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I like you being around me. I…” He brings your hand to his lips, and a soft kiss makes you gasp faintly. “I love it, actually.”

You gulped. There’s no way this is happening right now. There’s just no way! “Kento—“

“I mean it.” He kisses your knuckles again, his eyes locked in with yours. He chuckles, “You were right.”

“About…what?”

“As you grew older, you have changed quite a lot. You’re…Well, no, you’ve always been pretty. But, all these years, you’ve become a lot more beautiful,” he draws his face in closer. “Breathtaking,” you instinctively close your eyes when his nose brushes yours. “Sexier.”

Nanami’s lips land on yours on the final word, and you don’t move a muscle when he does so. They felt soft against yours, perfect for the mellow kiss. It doesn’t last long, only a few seconds. Yet you quivered as he withdrew, placing his forehead against yours as his hand weaved with your fingers. 

“Ken…” Fuck, this is too much. The hand on your shoulder exhibits no interest in getting off. “I can’t, I have to—“ he shushes you with another kiss. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” What the fuck!? Did he just use a pet name on you? “You know I can take care of you, right? Even for one night,” you tremble when he licks your bottom lip. “Stay for tonight, okay?”

“Kento..” He pauses when you hesitantly remove your right hand from his grasp, thinking you’d push him off. But then you bring both hands to cup his sunken cheeks, caressing him with your thumbs. “…More.”

He doesn’t wait a second, accepting your request and bringing his back on yours. Small pecks to the lips gradually become more arousing and tilted heads to achieve a better angle for entry. You moan to his mouth, and so does he. Tongues slowly become adventurous, twirling with each other and exploring the other’s mouth. It feels so good; you lean into Nanami’s hold with every kiss. And he happily accepts you as he gives you more. 

Jesus Christ, something straight out of a dream. And if it was, you only hope to indulge in it for a little longer. More, more—

“What do we have here?”

However, you can’t indulge if another person comes into the frey unsuspectedly. 

Two bodies retreat from each other, sitting awkwardly on the couch appropriately as Toji walks into the living room. Your lips shook with anxiousness, stealing a glimpse of Toji’s smirk as he walked to your right. You sneak a glance at Nanami, seeing the shade of pink rise on his skin lightly, and you cover your face to shield yourself. Fucking fuck, this is embarrassing!

“Don’t act all shy on me now, you two.” Toji’s weight dents the right side of the couch, extending his arm to be behind you. “Don’t be scared, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Did you check the kids?” Nanami fakes a cough.

“Out like a light,” he answers, creeping his hand from behind onto your shoulder. You shudder at his calloused touch and gruff laugh. “What’s goin’ on, Y/n?” You meekly turned to look at him. Same with Nanami, Toji’s dark hair was damp from the shower, substituting his day outfit with a blank tank top and grey sweatpants. It took everything in your power not to peek at his pecs or exposed biceps. 

You avert your eyes from his. “Nothing…” You saw his chest jerk from a scoff. 

“Wow, you two are really gonna act like some kids, huh.” His snark remark has you both flattening your lips in shame. “Act all quiet when somethin’ happened.”

He prompted you to question. “How much…did you see?”

“I saw the kiss — you looked like you were enjoyin’ it.” He purposely said that to make your cheeks hot, the brazen bastard. “But I heard Kent here say he means it when he likes havin’ ya ‘round.”

Nanami speaks up while scratching his brow. “Y/n was, uhh, just about to leave.”

Toji lifts a brow. “Leave? When the night is still young?” He subtly shakes you. “Why so soon, hmm? It’s the weekend; I just got outta the shower an’ hoped you’d be here a lil' while.” He spoke to you slowly. It was a dangerous approach with that husky voice. He squeezes your shoulder when you’re not answering. 

“I just….You and Nanami probably have some ‘guy stuff’ you wanna catch up on, and I don’t want to come in between that, you know?” It’s here you muster the courage to look at the raven-haired man. Big mistake; now he has your attention where he wants it.

“So considerate, huh,” his free hand comes to your cheek, and you’re frozen as he plays with the flesh of it. “I think you should stay, Y/n. What kind of friends would we be if we let you drive out late." 

It’s hard to remind your body to breathe when Toji is surveying you intimately. What the fuck—why is this happening all of a sudden!?? “You–Toji, it’s okay, I’ll—“

“Besides,” he teases you by rubbing your earlobe with his thumb and forefinger. “I like you bein’ here, too.” You’re too distracted from him bringing his face to your neck to kiss, evoking an unstable gasp. “Lookin’ all pretty fr’ me…”

“Toji…—Ahh!” You didn’t notice him slide his hands down to the chest area of your halter top, his large palms groping your breasts affectionately. His kneads are rough yet pleasing, having you whimpering for him. “Don’t touch so…Hahhh…”

“Bad girl,” he chuckles to your ear after placing a kiss on your cheek. “Over here lettin' Kent touch you and think you can leave without me havin’ you for a bit, especially when you were eyein' us up earlier today...” He kisses your lips to take in your silent squeaks from fondling your chest, and you mewl for him. “Daddy wants you, too, baby…Heh, so does Kent.”

You peer to your left to see the mentioned man, and you’re taken aback to see him close to your side again. Holy shit. You literally questioned about this earlier, wondering if you’d ever be on the receiving side of these two. You did NOT expect this answer to come out of the blue within a few hours! And now that it’s here, how could you leave now?! This is what you wanted. And – to your surprise – so did they. 

You swallow spit and lift your left leg to the couch. And Nanami notices the initiative, coming between your legs to kiss your lips again. Your back pressed against Toji’s chest, you’re caged between the two men who seek to pleasure you in this proximity. You moan to Nanami sucking on your tongue, coinciding with the satisfying kneads of your breasts. 

Suddenly, Nanami breaks the kiss with a groan, and Toji chortles close to your ear. Curious, your eyes venture down to find that Toji’s hand grasps the tent of the blonde’s sweatpants. “Enjoyin’ y’rself, huh, Kent?” Toji strokes his hand on the boner, evident through the clothes.

“Toji, st—Hnnn…!” You watch this, eyeing Nanami’s composure slip away as his cock is being touched. The older man willingly massages his friend’s dick, and you observe how he effortlessly makes the sand-headed man hornier with his hand alone. It makes you feel hot, sensing a throbbing sensation in between your thighs. So, you silently bring a hand to sneak inside the hem of your wide-leg jeans. 

But you don’t go unnoticed because Toji kisses your cheek. “Like what ya see, sweetie?” He rests his chin on your shoulder. “Want me to take care of you? Here,” he then takes your hand to swap with his, your fingers feeling the rough skin of Nanami’s cock as you hold it. “Make him feel good, ‘kay?” 

You couldn’t believe it — Nanami’s hot, living cock was in your grasp. And as you have begun to stroke him, the noises he made turned you on even more. His veins are felt in your very palm, and precum exuding from his urethra lubricates the pretty fingers around his length. You can’t help but imagine how it would feel to have him ease the aching pulses between your legs, how good it would feel to have his girth massage your insides.

But your crude thoughts are interrupted by Toji’s left hand skillfully unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans, slithering inside your panties, and meeting your wet cunt with his fingers. You jolt, but he’s right there to coo, “Relax, mama,” his free hand squeezes your chin to turn and face him. “Daddy’s gotcha…So fuckin’ beautiful,” Toji slams his lips into you for a steamier kiss, and you lose yourself.

Your hand on Nanami goes faster, eliciting extra precum to escape and stain the material of his sweats. Nanami leans forward to lick and suck the skin of your neck, forcing you to break the kiss with Toji to wail inaudibly while his fingers brush up on your soaked folds with unforgiving speed. Not to mention his bulge grinding against your back…

“Ahhnn, wait, guyss, we can’t—Mmmm…!” Toji kisses you again, grinning at your expression as he sucks and nibbles on your tongue. “We can’t do this…Not here…”

“Why?“ Nanami blows on your ear. “What’s wrong, love?”

CREEAAKK!!

That’s what’s wrong!

Like a flipped switch, all three adults unscrew themselves away from each other and sit back into their original positions. Nanami immediately pulls his pants back up, using a couch pillow to hide the situation that shouldn’t be present as he’s sitting in the living room. Toji follows suit, leaning on the couch arm. 

Sounds of tiny footsteps draw near, and they belong to none other than your daughter, who sleepily rubs her eyes coming into the space. You are the first thing she sees, “Momma? You’re still here?” 

“Mhmm,” you hoped you didn’t sound too off. “I’m just watching a movie with Uncle Toji and Kento. What are you doing up?”

“I thought I heard your voice,” Nobara walks to you and puts her head on your shoulder, and you voluntarily pick her up to have her sit on your lap. You smile; even though she’s growing day by day, she’s still your baby at heart. “Didn’t you say you’d leave after I go to bed?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to,” the two men sitting on either side of the couch say nothing. “And I can’t go now, seeing you’re still up.”

Nobara nuzzles into your neck. “Does that mean you’ll spend the night, too?” 

“Mmm, I wish I could, sweetpea,” you kiss her forehead. “But I didn’t bring any change of clothes or pajamas. I don’t even have my toothbrush – I’d be walking around with stinky breath.” You hear the girl giggle at your words.

What you just said gave the two fathers an idea, the men giving each other a look before saying anything. “I have some unused travel-size toothbrushes and toothpaste I’ve kept from business trips.” Nanami inquires; you put your foot in your mouth on that one.

Toji adds, “You can use the sweatshirt I wore today as PJs. I don’t mind.”  

Of course, you don’t.  Shaking your head, you knew what the two were insinuating. The adult language is too nuanced for your daughter to pick up on. It’s not like you’ve never slept over Nanami’s place before; you’ve done it dozens of times — even Toji’s! However, this time was different; you three have crossed a line you didn’t think was possible. What happened minutes ago was a mere taste of what could happen if you three decided to change this relationship into something more intimate. And now, after revealing the curiosity, the men were all in to see it through.

…And yet, you can’t say you don’t feel the same either. Are you kidding? You have goosebumps just thinking back on how close you three were, how their hands and lips felt on your skin, and their attention placed on nothing – on no one else – but you. It made your heart beat uncontrollably, knowing that your decade-long crush on them was being favored in more ways than one — like a dream come true!

“Mom?” Snapping back to reality, you peer to Nobara, who awaits your answer. With a smile, you boop her nose with a finger.

“Only if you go back to sleep, sweetpea.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The hour hand had finally met the twelfth number, the midnight hour designating the quiet neighborhood into a calm slumber. Light posts automatically turn on to display the sidewalk, yet the darkness of the night serves as a blanket to cover the silent homes. 

Nanami’s home was simple — a one-floor house perfect for the blonde man and his son. Aside from the living room and kitchen, it had a hall that harbored the bedrooms, Yuuji’s guest bathroom, and closet. The children were all resting in Yuuji’s room, the first door to the left you’d meet when entering the hallway. Other than the master bedroom, there was no other room besides the living room couch for you to sleep in. 

Being by yourself is something Nanami wouldn’t want, and Toji would’ve primarily taken the couch since you had no plans of staying. But since that’s been changed, the two men took this opportunity to enjoy their sleepover with your company, using the master bedroom at the end of the hall to further themselves from the ears of the snoring kids. Tonight, you’d finally have your answer by being spoiled by your crushes all night.

“Dahhh, Toji, yer tongue…fingers…Ohhh!”

“Fuck, Y/n, you look so gorgeous…Here, kiss me, angel.”

“Mmmm, fuckin’ shit, y’ taste so good…Waited so long fr' this..."

You were practically stuck with them the moment they locked the door. After borrowing Nanami’s shower, your nude body was met with hungry hands and hot kisses, drowning your senses with their overwhelming presence. Three naked bodies lie on the bed, you with your back to the sheets and legs spread. To your right was Nanami, making out with you lovingly while a hand cups and massages a breast. Toji had his face nestled between your thighs, his tongue licking around your labia and fucking your vagina, inspiring you to cry for the blonde next to you. The older man also pleases you by fingering your asshole with lube, conditioning it for future use.

You melt into Nanami’s kiss, and soft tweaks on your nipple make you mewl into his lips more. But you withdraw to scream, “Ahhaaa! Kentoo, touch me more…”

“Hmm? What, baby?” He presses his lips to your cheek, kissing your chin to the outlet between your neck and shoulders. “You like it when I play with your chest?” A low snicker humors him from watching you nod, and he brings his mouth to your nipple to suck on. 

You grip the sheets, “Ohhh, hooo…! Tojiii, y’re gonna make me c—Uuuhh!”

He separates his mouth from your soapy folds, and your liquids stick to his chin. What an obscene sight with the grin he has on his face. “Yeah? Ya wanna cum on my mouth, mama?” Unlike Nanami, Toji doesn’t take a nod; he’s a bit of an asshat, so he licks your clitoris to tease. “Use them words, baby; wanna hear you say it fr’ me.”

“Y–Yesss, yes, I do,” a hushed howl after Toji sucks on your pearl and the other rubbing on your nipple to the roof of his mouth. “Pleaseee, I wanna cum…!”

“Heh, well, don’t go cummin’ on me just yet,” he kisses your slit before straightening up and pats your inner thigh. “All ready fr’ ya, Kent.”

Nanami then releases your nipple with a ‘pop’ and maneuvers to lay on his side. “Come here,” he asks,  resting your head on his arm and lifting your leg. You hum at the contact of his glans meeting your cunt, “So wet for me, huh?” He pushes his cock to the entrance, and you gasp at the tip inserted into your vagina. “Relax, angel,” he coos to you with a kiss on your nose, gauging your reaction as he slowly snugs your vagina with every inch of his cock. 

Your mouth goes agape at the stretch of you taking him in; the feeling of his cock feels too good and surreal. And the brush of his dick on your sweet spots has you squeak, same with him poking on your cervix. He throws in a few thrusts to start, but you didn’t expect that. No, fuck! He rubs on your walls at a precise angle, prompting your orgasm to come a bit too quickly to comprehend. So, you have to bite your lip to keep your scream hushed, letting the flutter of your cunt speak for you. 

And Nanami notices it, hissing at the contraction. “—Hnnm! Shit…Did you cum, sweetheart?”

“Oh, did they?” And here comes Toji, straddling both the bodies below him. He leans into your face, licking your ear. “Felt that good, huh, baby? We haven’t even started.” He kisses your forehead before uncurling back up and aligning his dick to your lubed anus. Then, he pushes the tip to be swallowed by your puckered hole, and you mumble small prayers as his fat length is pushed inside. “Shit, this tight ass…”

The older man begins to move into you, his shaft churning the inside of your ass. Nanami does the same, his cock scraping your insides synched with Toji’s rhythm. The movement has you immediately making noise beyond your control, wails bouncing around the space between you and the men. 

It isn’t long before the two find a groove; Toji pistons his cock with every pull of Nanami’s, and sounds of skin slapping lasciviously against each other are picked up by your ears. How could you not tighten more around the limbs inside you, especially when they scrape on against your tender wails so accurately? Especially after coming, your nerves have not yet recovered from the wave earlier. 

“Ohh! Hoooh fuuuck,” your back arches a bit, helping the sand-haired man to find a better angle to scratch the upper wall of your vagina. Your vision is screwed shut, making it easier to indulge in the sensation of their cocks ravaging your insides. 

Toji sees you from up top, his eyes traveling down to your ass and whistling at the sight of you taking his and the other’s dick. “Damn, ya feel so good, Y/n. Ass so tight, act like ya don’t wanna let go.”

God, why’d he have to say it like that? Your face was hot enough; did he want to make you melt on this bed? And Nanami doesn’t make it any better. “Heheh, they twitched,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, felt it, too…What’s goin’ on, sweetie?” Toji pulls his cock until his cockhead is on the verge of coming out, and he slams it back down to have you moan aloud. “Ya like bein’ fucked like this? Takin’ Daddy’s cock like a good girl…?”

“They’re gripping me again.”

“Ken, stoop!!” The fair-headed man laughs at your protest, your resilience still present even if it’s wiped away in seconds when Toji quickens his pace. “Nnhhh…! N-Not too fast, I’m sensit’veee—Ahhh!” 

“You say that, but your body says otherwise, love,” Kento brings a hand to your hip to massage. “—Nnnn! Jesus…wanna cum so bad…”

Oh, fuck, imagine: being filled to the brim by Nanami’s come? Being stuffed by both of them? It turned you on so bad. “—OhhhGod, please, cum inside me!”

Gold eyebrows furrow. “I can’t, baby; don’t got a condom on—“

“It’s okay, I want it…!” The thought of getting pregnant again should be the very last thing that should pop into your mind right now. And yet, being knocked up by these two has you craving Nanami’s release even more. “Pleaseeplease, I want you to fill me up…! Don’t hold back for me, Ken.” You can tell he’s still on the fence about it. But with a kiss on his nose and a soft hand on his cheek, you convince him otherwise.

“Wanna be the mother of my child so bad, huh?” He says with a chortle, “So beautiful…” Before he snaps his hips into you, Nanami brings you in for one more kiss and wraps his hand on your shoulder to keep you close. He ruts into you with purpose, making sure he’s balls-deep with every push and reaching the deepest he can. You howl at the brush of your cervix again, allowing him to use you to chase his climax.

“Oh? You got him going, now,” Toji comments from above with a smirk, still maintaining the pace with Nanami despite the younger male going erratic. Your screams go higher and higher, so you bring in a hand to cover up the noise. This was not the time to test how thick the bedroom walls were, despite the kids sleeping a closet and office away. 

Nanami groans into your lips; his length relentlessly rubs your silky texture. And when his orgasm does reach him, he grinds his pelvis, stirring his length so deep that you can’t help but writhe with him. You can feel his penis pulsate with every pump of his load inside you, satisfying your excitement as your hand massages his skull. He keeps you like this until his body has calmed down, sluggishly removing his pillowy lips from yours with a sigh. 

Chocolate brown orbs are fixated on yours, the hand on your hip coming up to wipe spit from your face. “God, you drive me crazy. Making me cum inside, one child’s not enough?”

You titter, “Well, wouldn’t hurt to have another, you think?…Mmmm,” you almost forget about Toji. The raven-haired man removes himself from your ass, his shaft still standing.

“Don’t forget ‘bout me, now,” he reminds you two of his presence, getting his frame off you both so you can move around. 

You stand with your knees between Nanami’s legs while he sits upright. “Come here,” he places his hands on your hips and leads you back onto his cock. This time, he’s the one entering your asshole, and you both moan at the union of your sexes. Once your ass meets the base of his pelvis, his arms wrap around your waist and carefully bring you down with him. Your back to his chest, his lips to your ear. “So tight and warm…Hmmm.”

This position is new to you – in fact, this was all new! You can’t remember the last time you had your body this close and intimate with another figure. It’s been so long – damn near bizarre - especially when your heat is transferring with the gold-haired man behind you. The aroused hums to your ears have you throb involuntarily; you could melt into his arms right about now.

That thought goes out the window when Toji’s weight has you looking in front of you, and your brain nearly shuts down at the sight of the older man coming in between your legs to lift them, his emerald eyes locked on yours. Jesus, fuck! You had to turn away – it was all too much! 

“Ah ahh, don’t go turnin’ ‘way from me,” he gives your legs for Nanami to hold from the back of your knees, and then he cups your cheeks and moves your face back to him. “Waited almost ten years to have you like this, so I wanna see all of you, mama.” Just when your face couldn’t get any more unreasonably hot, this handsome bastard just had to say that while fondling your chest! And it doesn’t help the other charming face is placing kisses on your neck. 

Toji uses this position to spread your folds; he can’t suppress the ardent smirk lifting his scar. “Kent did his thing on you, and ya still want more, huh?” You press your lips together when he slaps his glans on your leaky chasm. “Watch...” Your eyes follow down to the tip of his dick, vulgarly using the come seeping out of you as lube. You gasp sharply at the insertion, “Breathe fr’ me, baby,” he coaxes you through every inch of him, burrowing inside your inner channel that you almost forget to blink from the display. The girth of him has you wail beneath him, and you cry at the poke of your cervix again! Christ, you don’t know how long you can do this. 

“—Hnngh…! Fuck, good girl,” the dark-haired one praises, grinding his pelvis down to churn more friction inside you. “So good fr’ Daddy...”

Slow ruts to your chasm begin the second round, three bodies rocking within a mutual cadence. You throw your head back with shut eyelids concentrating on the two dicks that push to and fro from your holes and scrape your walls. And a choked scream leaves your frame at the jab of your cervix again. 

“Ohhhshiit,” eyebrows furrow with a chewed lip, and the two men begin to quicken the pace. “HooohGod! F’eel so good…Ahahhn!”

Toji puts his hands on the headboard as leverage, using his hips and the flex of his abdomen to take control. Fuck, seeing his nude physique so up close was too marvelous; it couldn’t be true — it shouldn’t be! 

And Nanami is no better while whispering to your ear. “Feeling good, Y/n?” He teases your lobe with a lick, “Gripping on us like crazy as if you’ve been waiting for this, hmm?” You try to protest, but all that comes out are sobs when he jerks his hips unexpectedly. He chuckles, “So cute…Hmm? Heh, you are feeling good, huh, love.”

Can you believe it? Being fucked by these two attractive men, and you’re fingering your clit in the midst of it all? Embarrassment rings your ears as your fingers swipe and grind around the neglected pearl. Toji and Nanami share a look for a split second, and then Nanami switches his hands with the other. Instead, an arm snakes around your waist to keep you on him, and the other silently moves yours aside to play with your clit. 

That only has you crying even harder. Pinches to your clit and kisses to your leg accompany the increased speed of their thrusts. Tears well up at every jolt of your body from the frequent jabs to your vaginal walls, scraping your G-spot so precisely. And the length in your butt keeps feeling so fucking good! Grazing your velvet texture that you can’t think straight.

“—Gaahhh! Mmmph!” Your hand finds Nanami’s wrist to hold on to as his middle and ring fingers swipe on your clitoris. You scream his name when he pitches it softly, “Kent—Ohhh! Shhtop, ish too much!!”

“Yeah, too much?” He toys with it gently. “But I don’t hear you telling me to stop…”

The two of them go at a sporadic pace, skin slapping onto yours harshly in sync. They nearly take your breath away, thanking God they have a hold on you before the momentum steers you away. “Hahah, ohhh, ohmyGod, guys,” Toji bends down to add more of his weight, making you howl from the angle of his fat cock. “I cannn’t; again, I’m about to cuuhmm agaiinn!!!”

“Really? You wanna cum, baby? Mmph! Fuck, this pussy…” He groans. “Gonna be a good girl and let Daddy finish here, yeah?” You nod, and Nanami pinches your clit again on Toji’s behalf. “Words, sweetie, words.”

“Yesss, Daddyyy!” 

“Gonna lay there and look cute while I knock ya up, right?” Again, the thought of having another baby should not have you excited. But again, there’s no way your head could be right during all of this. “Hmm? Want Daddy to give ya a baby?”

“Mmmm! Please, Daddyyy, fill me up…!” You were spouting out nonsense, but who cares? “Make me a mama again…Ohhh!”

And he does just that, pounding his shaft at you so harshly that it rocks your entire body, especially with how he brings your legs up to your chest to have your slit fully exposed for him. “Holy shit,” he bites his lip as he eyes your nude frame before him. “Look so fuckin’ sexy like this, Y/n.”

You couldn’t thank him for the compliment, your lips busy with Nanami’s as he takes you in for a steamy kiss. Both men drill their members into you in erratic unison, leaving you a squealing mess for the fair-headed one to deal with. His hands continue to tweak and grind on your clitoris, and your orgasm hits you before you can prepare yourself with a tear trickling down. 

And the flutter of your walls around their cocks eggs them onto waves of their own, groaning along with your cries as they piston you with the final ruts of their hips. Their pulsating lengths exert their loads inside your holes simultaneously, filling you up with their essence as their sweaty bodies heave and shudder. Nanami releases your clit from his grasp, the same with your lips. 

He hums pleasantly, his brown orbs hooded yet comforting. “Told you I love having you around me.”

“Bet y’re glad you stayed over,” Toji’s hand finds its way to your chin after putting your legs down. He scoffs when you bashfully nod, bringing you in for a kiss. “Did so well, mama…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Mornings are typically a thing you share with your daughter in the comfort of your home. From the moment she came into your world to having her own room and bed, Nobara would always be the first thing you’d see when waking up. Coming into your room to greet you, pulling you out for something, or get dressed and ready for the day with you – it was a routine the two of you shared, a sacred thing to enjoy between parent and daughter. So, to wake up in a room different from yours or see a different face has been a rarity ever since she became your top priority.

This morning, though, was one of those rarities.

“Good morning, Y/n.”

Your eyes flickered open from birds chirping and the sun peaking from the bedroom curtains. Drowsy eyes scan around to see that you are not in your room, already being alerted that something had happened last night of the change of scenery. And when you look to see who lies beside you, it all hits you like a slap.

It was like a scene from a romance movie, waking up to Nanami’s stunning face that was highlighted by the sunlight. Fair blonde hair that matched the softness of his russet eyes and a kind smile to match. And your breath hitches when he brings a hand to caress your cheek. 

“Mornin’, Y/n.”

And, of course, he wasn’t the only one who’d be greeting you. You sheepishly turn around to see the other man looking at you, viridian orbs ready to meet your pretty face. The smile on his face pulls the scar on his lips, the man effortlessly shooting an arrow into your heart. 

Everything that occurred the night before flashes, and the heat returns to dance on your cheeks and ears. Waking up in a different bed with two handsome men is one thing. To wake up to your crushes greeting you good morning, all three of you nude and comfortable after a night of mutual passion? Oh, you had to be dreaming still.

And yet, you couldn’t look at either of them in the eyes, averting your gaze modestly. “…Good morning,” you say quietly, almost squeaking your heart out when they both move to be closer. They kiss you, embrace you, and give you attention as if your decade-long crush has finally been lifted for them to spoil you. It’s kind of suffocating in a way. But, God, it felt so good.

Eventually, you got up and threw on some clothes to make food for everyone, Nanami joining you after putting his sleepwear back on. Toji had to leave for a moment to grab stuff from the store, his daughter waking up to the sound of him slamming the front door close. Then came Megumi, then Yuuji, who greeted Nanami with a hug, and now Nobara. The children sit around the table and mingle while you and the blonde fix some blueberry waffles, eggs, and bacon.

“Isn’t that my dad’s shirt?” Megumi was the first to notice it, pointing to the sweatshirt that went with your loose jeans — the same sweatshirt that Toji wore yesterday.

You flatten your lips before coming up with an answer. “Yes…I had nothing to wear for sleeping over, so he gave me his shirt. He didn’t mind; he brought an extra one.”

“You stayed over, Auntie?” Yuuji inquired after taking a sip of his apple juice. “Where did you sleep?”

“On the couch.”

Brown brows scrunch together before Nobara asks, “But wasn’t Uncle Toji the one who’d sleep on the couch?” 

You open your mouth, but words fail to exit out. Sharing a glance with Nanami, who coughs while putting waffles on plates, he covers for you. “He slept in my bed with me.”

“You slept with my father?” Tsumiki interrogates, trying to stifle a laugh. “He snores a lot, so I’m sorry if you couldn’t sleep, Uncle Nanami.”

As if on cue, the front door opens and closes with the arrival of her father, walking to kiss Tsumiki’s cheek and ruffle Megumi’s hair before entering the kitchen. He pulls something out of the plastic grocery bag and hands it to you. Putting the mixing bowl down, you take what seems to be a box, and your eyes widen to Toji’s amusement. “I’d take those before leaving if I were you.” 

“Jesus Christ,” you put the box of birth control to the side with a flustered face. “Thank you…” And before you can process it, Toji sneaks a kiss on your cheek with you distracted. The older man cackles to himself when you slap his arm and push him off. Thankfully, none of the kids notice.

“Uncle Toji,” Nobara grabs the man’s attention. “Is it true you slept with Uncle Nanami?” 

The question takes him aback, but Toji’s quick on his feet to reply. “Yeah, I did. Your dad looks like a dead man when asleep, Yuyu.”

The pink-haired child nods along to the nickname. “Mhmm! Even when he comes home from work, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks, like some kind of vampire.” You snuck a glimpse at the sand-haired man, who rolled his eyes before bringing plates to put on the table. 

“Anyways,” he diverts the conversation to a different subject, placing a plate full of food in front of the boys. “Be ready for the zoo after breakfast, Yuuji. Didn’t you say you wanted to see the new tiger cubs?”

The Fushiguro siblings brighten with interest at the mention of the zoo, turning to their father, who instantly shuts them down with crossed arms. “Don’t even think about it. I’m already takin’ you two to the aquarium tomorrow; you want me to pay for more tickets for some animals?”

The joy in their eyes diminishes in seconds. “Cheapskate,” Megumi mumbled under his breath, earning a blueberry to be thrown at him by Toji. But the siblings smile when Nanami says that they can come along. 

“Momma,” you dreaded hearing your daughter’s voice during this conversation, hesitantly peering at the dark-haired girl after being given her breakfast. “Can I go, too?” 

Oh, goddamn it. “I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t keep going back and forth from the house and wherever. Besides, you have karate today.”

“I can skip!” Your mouth drops at her enthusiasm. “Besides, we can just sleep over again!”

This girl! “Nobara, you can’t just go making those decisions like this is your home. Did you ask Yuuji’s father if it was okay to stay another night?” You probably shouldn’t have said that, as the girl immediately asks the blonde father the exact question. And to your shock, he says they’re free to stay another night. You’re not helping! “You don’t even have an extra pair of clothes!”

And to make it worse, the onyx-haired man beside you says this, which makes you facepalm with a groan. “I can drive you two home and back. Saves ya some gas.”  You’re not helping either, and you’re just losing gas for my sake!

Mornings were supposed to be an easy thing to deal with. And yet here you are, dealing with a predicament. Shit like this is precisely why you don’t stay for too long during Nobara’s playdates and sleepovers; now you’re backed into a position where saying no seems futile. Nothing wrong with the children wanting to hang out more, but fuck does it throw the routine off. However, it wasn’t all bad. Because the whole point of this was for the little girl to have fun with her friends, who are you to be a Debby downer on her parade?

Plus…you’d get to hang out with Toji and Nanami for another day; that alone has your stomach running laps right now. Not only did you have your feelings reciprocated by the two men within a single night and then some, but you’re now invited to stay another day and enjoy the weekend in their company. You can sense their gazes on you, awaiting your answer – your approval to spoil and please you for one more night. And what makes your heart skip into flips is that there would probably be more days and nights to deepen this relationship between you three…

So, with a heavy sigh, you slide your hand down your face.

“…Can we at least go get some spare clothes first?”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi morgera + dividers by @/cafekitsune.

[yaekiss]

#Mailroom Open!　─ Hello Qi! I hope I am able to get this letter in before the cutoff 😖 May I send a love letter to yan!Jing Yuan, and have him address a Foxian!reader w gn nicknames?

\\\______\\\\________\\\

To my dearest Scoundrel,

You are quite the terrible influence my dear general, are you aware of this? How am I supposed to resolve this trade agreement with our fellow Xianzhou flagships in a timely manner, when you have more or less conditioned me to take naps during most hours of the day?

Truly despicable of you really. And on top of that, your "parting gifts" you left on me are still very tender; very distracting from my work. Efficiency and diligence, I fear will be strangers to me during this trip.

Regardless, I hope you are doing well and are not causing to much trouble for the commission during my absence. (Please try to not stress Fu Xian too much, I don't need further distractions from her blowing up my phone because of your shenanigans.) Maybe if you are on your best behavior, I might even give you a reward. Perhaps even something of your choosing if you are especially well behaved~.

Before I sign off and leave you to return to my work, I have sealed a gift for you. Consider it...my own unique "parting gift" to you until I return to you. Which I know in our vast lifespans will be over before you know it my beloved.

-Sincerely, your sleepy vixen

(Enclosed in a small red and gold box, is a simple blue collar with golden accents and filigree with a note that says "wear it until I come back ;)" )

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Jing Yuan, no gendered terms for reader, Jing Yuan calls you "my tranquility", unhealthy obsessive relationship from Jing Yuan, lightly implied drugging, mentions of reader topping and edging Jing Yuan, quick mention of biting and blood, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: You have quite the roster of guards at the door of your hotel room huh? Looks like nothing's going to slip past them if they were chosen by Jing Yuan himself! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

As you return to your temporary quarters after sitting through a particularly arduous trade meeting, you’re alerted by your guards assigned to you (by none other than Jing Yuan) about a suspicious delivery left for you while you were away.

Inspecting the box, a laugh escapes you when you catch the ink paw prints of a lion stamped haphazardly on both sides of it. After explaining that this was a personal delivery from the Xianzhou Luofu’s Dozing General, it seemed to dissolve any remaining apprehension your guards had and they handed the box over to you. Thanking them for dutifully carrying out their work, you step into your room.

Your room is spacious, ridiculously so. Why would one person need such a massive room for themselves? It’s the kind that only a general could manage to procure. The open sliding window leads to a balcony that showcases the bustling lively environment of the streets below and a cool evening breeze fills the room. Settling down on the edge of the bed, you set the box in your lap.

Upon opening up your delivery, it seems that Jing Yuan had prepared a pair of gifts in return for you. The first of two is an intricate small glass spray bottle set within a satin-lined box. The small tag tied around it says, “Some of the fragrance that I often use. For you to spray on your pillows when you sleep. :3”

Spritzing a fine mist onto your wrist, the scent of your lover wafts from the area; not too strong such that it’s unpleasant for your keen sense of smell, nor too faint that it’s hard for you to pick up. The fragrance is soothing and familiar, a thoughtful gift that will no doubt improve the quality of your sleep, as evident from the yawn it draws out from you.

The second gift you retrieve from the box is a soft sleep mask in your favourite colour. Sliding it over your eyes, you find that the fabric is smooth against your skin and the mask manages to completely block out all light, fully blacking out everything. The elastic strap isn’t overly tight but secure enough that it ensures that the mask doesn’t slip off too easily. Perfect for tossing and turning. 

Finally, laid at the bottom of the box, is the reply from Jing Yuan, concealed in an elegant envelope. The quality is top-notch and flawless, and it’s sealed securely. Running your hand over the envelope, you feel the crest of the Cloud Knights embossed lightly on the surface. You break the seal and remove the letter contained within. 

His handwriting is steady and dignified, each and every brushstroke on the page graceful. At the end of his letter, is his own name seal, stamped in red ink. Jing Yuan’s reply reads:

“For my dreamlike haven,

My apologies, it seems that Mimi got its paws on the box while I was out of my office and left a couple of paw prints on the sides. Sigh, you should’ve seen how much ink I had to clean off the surfaces, truly troublesome. Perhaps it knew that the box was meant for you and wished to leave something for you as well, haha!

I have to admit, Mimi is not the only one missing you, my tranquility. I find myself looking over to my side to ask for your wise input on things, only to realise that you’re away. Fu Xuan laughs at me whenever I do this. :( 

It's just not the same to take afternoon naps without you by my side. Nothing is as comforting as your warmth in my arms, or for me to jokingly complain about the tips of your furry ears tickling my nose when we cuddle together. My slumbers are no longer restful when I can’t spend them with you, my tranquility.

The things I would do to have you next to me again. Are the marks and scratches I left on you still visible, my tranquility? Judging by how the ones you left on me are fading, I assume my parting gifts left on you are doing the same. Would you let me mark you up again, and won’t you extend the same generosity to me too? I yearn for your searing touch, my tranquility, for your fangs to pierce my skin and bring forth the vivid red beneath. Whenever I close my eyes, the only thing I can see is you, as if you linger in my every thought and dream.

Speaking of dreams, it seems that lately, my dreams have taken quite a raunchy turn. The starring role for all of them is obviously, you, my tranquility. You’d have me pliant and satisfying your every whim. In one, you had me bent over my office desk, fucking me hard as I rocked back against you. In another, you were edging me mercilessly, over and over again, until I could do nothing but beg helplessly for my release. That look you had in your eyes still sends a shiver down my spine. I’m hoping that soon, you can help turn these dreams of mine into reality.

Additionally, thank you for the collar, my tranquility. I’ve taken the liberty of adding a charming little bell at the front of it, I think you’d find it quite endearing. (And perhaps deserving of a reward? :3)

Do take care of yourself, or else I might just have to come and do it myself, haha. I’ll try to be on my best behaviour but no promises! I miss you dearly, my tranquility, come back to me soon.

Your rascal of a general,

- Jing Yuan -

P.S. Remember to use the fragrance on your pillows and the sleep mask!”

Rising from your seat on the bed, you pack everything back into the box before stepping into the shower to… cool off after reading Jing Yuan’s letter. In the bathroom, you find yourself relaxing as the water patters on your skin. Your ears flicker slightly whenever they pick up noise from beyond the locked door. A shout from the busy streets below, a soft sigh and the tinkle of a bell, the water splashing onto the floor around you.

Whilst clothing yourself, you lift your wrist to your nose and sigh when the scent of Jing Yuan has expectedly, (begrudgingly), been washed off. However, when you return to your bed, the scent of him still lingers, one that wasn’t here before. 

Your heightened foxian senses can just about make out where it’s concentrated the most, and it points towards your pillow. It’s saturated with the smell of him, to a disconcerting degree. Lifting it up, you’re greeted with the sight of the usual red ribbon he has tied around his hair.

The world falls silent around you.

He was in your room.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[kirjavas]

lyra and her death: on overcoming mental illness

tw: mental illness, depression, suicide mention

after rewatching all of his dark materials, i wanted to touch on something i noticed in the final season that i hadn't picked up on before, and that is how lyra's journey to the land of the dead reflects her mental health.

in the secret commonwealth, lyra is likely dealing with depression as well as recovering from her trauma of separating from pan, which has clearly taken a toll on their relationship. and i think there was a deliberate choice to bring this character arc forward into season three of the show, when it wasn't really there in the books. the amber spyglass highlights the theme of loss of innocence and and moving away from childhood, which was made even more explicit by lyra being an older teenager in the show. this was also depicted by a more obvious change in lyra and pan's relationship that we didn't see in the books until the secret commonwealth. the two of them argue much more than usual in the first few episodes, and they don't seem to be on the same page, particularly when it comes to the land of the dead.

since lyra and pan are one being, this shows us that lyra's mind is divided and she is not at ease with herself as much as she used to be—a feeling that is very natural as she awkwardly transitions from child to teenager. but i also think it goes deeper and may reflect a level of self hatred we haven't seen from lyra before. she's always been sure of herself and this is reflected by how much she loves and cares for pan. but in season three she becomes more dismissive of him and guided by a different part of her that is leading towards roger. there are obvious parallels to be drawn between her and mrs coulter, who in contrast has gone from abusing her dæmon to becoming more allied with him. mrs coulter's treatment of the golden monkey represents her discomfort with herself/her soul, but when both their intentions match that is when their relationship is healthier.

in the land of the dead, pan and will both seem to be afraid/cautious of the idea of death, whereas lyra shows no fear in summoning her own death and making a journey she may never return from (cue an incredible shot of lyra's death standing between her and will... till death do us part anyone?? but i digress).

it's really interesting how this slightly different dynamic kind of sets up their inevitable separation, as the episode foreshadows that there will be a heavy price to pay for bargaining with death. rather than it coming as a complete shock like in the books, it feels like a punch to the gut with the realisation that lyra and pan are no longer on the same path (and haven't been for a while). lyra chooses roger, a symbol of childhood, but ironically she also chooses to grow up in leaving part of herself behind.

i might be reading too much into these scenes but i think there's a strong suggestion that a part of lyra wants to die—perhaps to join roger, perhaps because her guilt makes her feel like she deserves it. later on, lyra's hallucination of pan and the scene with the harpies only emphasises this. the harpies target the thoughts at the back of her mind, telling her that she has ruined the lives of those she loves and she is in the land of the dead only to soothe her own guilt.

i also strongly suspect that upon freeing the ghosts, some part of lyra was healed knowing that she helped roger. she seems to bring a bit more of herself back after she reunites with him, in taming the harpies and telling stories. ultimately i think this accomplishment gives lyra enough strength to make another devastating sacrifice when she is separated from will forever. i honestly don't think she could have done it if she hadn't had the closure and relief of completing her mission to make amends with roger.

like... GOD. lyra is such a tragic character and i both love and loathe the show for introducing some of these elements. bring on the book of dust adaptation.

[bugeater101]

Stop Hitting Yourself

Synopsis: After four years of high school, you were sick and tired of Yang Jeongin. However, your inexperience with relationships combined with his persistence have you questioning your feelings towards him. Now, in the final stretch of your secondary education, you've somehow been paired up with that brute in a project. Yet, your study plans in the library take a different turn when you let your curiosity (and his perseverance) get the better of you.

Content: bully!Jeongin x nerd!fem!reader, plus size!reader, virgin!innocent!reader (doesn't know anything besides basic biology), dom!Jeongin, big dick!Jeongin, Jeongin is a dumbass (also oscillates between like cold bad boy and golden retriever boy), hand kink, reader has small hands, Jeongin has huge hands (duh), enemies to lovers, school AU, the reader is a bit insecure and endures a lot of bullying by Jeongin (teasing, mocking, comments related to glasses, no other negative comments related to appearance), mentions of smoking, 0-100 kind of plot, groping, spanking, pain kink, oral sex (male!receiving), crying, degradation, slight size kink, public sex, unprotected sex (please where a condom!!), mentions of breeding, vaginal penetrative sex, a hella cute epilogue.

Word Count: ~16.9 k (I AM SO SORRY)

Author's Notes: This fic is for my lovely and patient followers and hte amazing anon who sent in this request! Also, even though this AU takes place in a high school setting, please note that both Jeongin and the reader are 18+ in this fic. Minors, do not interact! This work also follows a lot of stereotypes about like "nerds" and "bullies" but bear with me y'all. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, trussss that it is not because the bully is harbouring some crush on you. This fic uses such dynamics to simply build towards the smut and power dynamics. To quote Tyler the Creator, "Hey, don't do anything I'm about to say." Also, I would eventually love to do another and much shorter part two, but that is an idea for another time. Thank y'all as always!

Taglist: @scribblemetae @mygsis, @9900z @taekbokki,@imtoooyoungforthisshit, @jihanlovic, @compersian

You had three goals once you entered high school: get good grades, stay out of trouble, and try to have fun.

Yang Jeongin, however, seemed hell-bent on destroying any semblance of peace in your life. In fact, you bet that his whole schedule was dedicated to manifesting your misery. Or, possibly, he just brought torment with him wherever he went.

Nevertheless, it was accurate to claim that his purpose (in your perception) was to make you miserable. For the past school year, you had seen more of Jeongin than you ever wished to: your schedules put him in at least two classes with you every semester for four years and you also lived relatively close to one another. So, your encounters were frequent, expected, and... "memorable", to say the least.

Every day since freshman orientation, you have been forced to acknowledge Jeongin's existence on a daily basis. Almost immediately, he adopted a particularly cruel stance toward you. When it all first started, his taunts were just for fun and to seek attention, to say the least. Now, he just seemed mean. Not to anyone in particular: Jeongin was just a generally disagreeable person, and especially to you.  And it hurt.

Obviously, it hurt, who would not be hurt if they found themselves in such circumstances?

It was embarrassing to admit it, but Jeongin's indifference toward you was often offset by your more "cordial" feelings toward him. Actual motherfucking cordial feelings. In other words, you had harboured a small, tiny, minuscule, microscopic crush on him that even his meanest days could not challenge. So, you've had a crush on Jeongin since you first met him and it has been the dumbest thing you've ever done.

You remember when you first saw him. It was orientation for high school, the first day of the semester. You were a freshman and he was too. However, your appearance alone separated you and him into two distinct social categories. Like the delinquents that were his so-called friends, he wore his uniform messily: tie loose, shirt untucked, sneakers, and messy hair. Everything he did was with an insufferable air of nonchalance and disrespect, almost aggressive in the languid, lazy movements he made. Even his walk reeked of a cockiness that altered the milieu of the room. You couldn't believe how intolerable he was, nor could you believe how your cheeks flushed at the mere sight of him. High cheekbones, a fox-like face, slender build but definitely on the muscular side. God, not to mention he was big. He was tall, at least taller than the other boys in your grade. His height alone made him stick out like a sore thumb, not to mention his clothing. He had immediately caught your eye and it made you sick.

And then there was you: you were just as out of place as he was, but for entirely different reasons. Your hair was proper, your glasses were well polished, and your uniform was always ironed. Of course, the uniform rarely fit properly as you were bigger. The shirt never buttoned right and the skirt was too short in the back, making you feel much more out of place than you would have liked. Other than your rather ill-fitting uniform, your propriety and intelligence made you the odd one out. You contrasted much of the student population in those respects, especially Yang Jeongin.

For lack of a better word, you were a fucking loser. And so was Jeongin. But at least he owned it. Maybe that was what you liked about him, that he knew he wasn't much and didn't have to prove himself through school or other activities. Either that or how fucking attractive his jawline was or his messy hair.

Jeongin and his friends managed to sit somewhat near you during orientation. He couldn't see you from his position, but you could see him. His confident stare, the flirtatious grin he flashed, and the troublesome giddiness in his eyes would normally make you well annoyed. But, with him, it was somehow different, like he wasn't just another stupid boy you couldn't wait to ignore and forget. God. It was like some trope where he was the bad boy and you were some know-it-all who was desperate for some freedom, which he could offer you.

The entire assembly went over your head as your eyes transfixed on the boy who sat in front of you with his giggling gaggle of friends and troublemakers. You swore he thought he was one of the cutest boys you'd ever seen.

That all quickly changed once you got to know him.

You only had two classes with him that year but they were unforgettable due to the sheer torture he put you through. He would tease you, take your notes, copy off of your tests, and sometimes right his name on your homework (and he would still manage to get shitty grades). Needless to say, your fondness for him obviously and quickly diminished.

Yet, you still knew that those feelings hadn't entirely disappeared. They were still there, just somewhere deep down. However, some nights, those feelings were quite shallow and you didn't need to search so deeply to find them, as if you could reach out and touch them with ease. It happened late at night and only in the shroud of darkness. Your head would either be too busy or too slow, as if the overbearing presence of thoughts or their complete absence somehow created a tunnel to your most shameful yet needful desires. Though you wouldn't like to admit it, at these moments you find yourself pining for him. And then you feel those feelings, the ones that you don't really understand but you're too embarrassed to even type the words into the search bar and figure out what's going on so you just deal with them. And then you spend the night lying in your bed, tossing and turning to your memories of Jeongin, wondering what he would be like if he were here with you now. 

Fuck. You need a boyfriend, or to at least get laid.

Yeah. You're inexperienced, but you know the basics. At least, you think you do. When it comes to Jeongin, all logic gets thrown out the window. You often find yourself wondering what you actually want to do with him: to kill him or… God, you couldn’t even think of the filthy things you wanted him to do to you. Maybe it was because you were too embarrassed to think such things, or maybe it was because you truly didn’t know what to think. Despite acing AP biology and understanding how everything physiologically works, your lack of experience has made you rather ill-equipped when it comes to anything romantic or "alleviating" those feelings you have when you think about Jeongin. Either way, your mind was blank when it came to him, especially those feelings that make you toss and turn and pray that weird giddy feeling goes away.

Now, after four years, you can practically taste your liberation from him. However, it's becoming increasingly difficult to ignore his teases. Not only is he becoming more annoying by the second, but it also seems like he is just getting fucking hotter. Especially when he magically starts paying attention in class and you finally have a chance to stare at him uninhibited, as if being free from his constant attention finally gives you a chance to admire him. It looks like you are staring off into space, but really you are studying him. His pretty face, how good he would look if he cleaned himself up a bit more, or even admitting to yourself how good he looks all scruffy. You would study his body, how slender he is, how you want to feed him good desserts, how you think he would be the type of boyfriend to never resist eating his partner's food. Then you would acknowledge how he keeps his nail beds clean. How nice his hands are, overall. How nice they would be to hold. How big they are, how veiny... how that insinuates he is big and veiny in other places. 

...Okay, so you weren't completely out of the dating sphere. You were naive, but you knew how everything worked. However, you also knew that there was more than just strange feelings and vaginal penetration and orgasms and pregnancy and yada yada yada: there was more beyond sex than just sex. But, of course, you never worked up the courage to simply type lewd searches into Google or bother to ask any of your friends about it. Except for the hand thing, which is just that: a hand thing. A thing you have for hands, Jeognin’s hands, and yeah. Just a hand thing. Nothing else. Yeah.

Anyways, you remained—more or less—in the dark about sex. Though you would like to know more, you know that you've only felt certain feelings towards Jeongin, and only him, of all people. For any logical person, it is better to bury those feelings deep inside than let yourself accept that they are awoken by a ghastly man who cares little for you or your well-being.

You'd rather stick to your studies, anyways.

Today, however, was a particularly irritating day. Normally, Jeongin enjoyed following you around, jeering rude chants at you with his friends (your favourite was the classic and unoriginal "Hey four-eyes!" followed by a chorus of giggles), or trying to wrap his arm around you as you walked down the hall. Every time, you brushed him off.  However, Jeongin's irritability was off the charts since he decided that today was the day to dress in a particularly irritating fashion. He had completely disregarded his school uniform altogether. Why did this of all things make you mad, exactly? Because he looked fucking amazing.

Wrinkled white shirt. Loose tie. And sweatpants. Not just any sweatpants, but grey sweatpants. God, it was like he was trying to annoy you. How could he look so good while wearing something so informal? He was borderline infuriating in his presence alone, now you had to cope with how his sweatpants left little to the imagination. Though you wished that someone would put a stop to this reign of terror, you knew that the school administration had completely given up trying to control him at this point. This institution had become Jeongin's domain and you were intended to suffer through it as well as your rage-based attraction to him. Nevertheless, you pushed those feelings below your impermeable layer of school-related anxiety and ignored them. You found this trick especially useful to you when he was your lab partner in chemistry last year. It is an especially useful tool now considering you were seated across from him.

While you tried to keep your eyes focused on the board in front of you and not on the hunk of the man to your left, the task immediately became easier once your teacher announced the first big project of the semester.

"This project will weigh at around 20% of your grade and will replace this module's exam." Sighs of relief passed through the class in waves, the whole class happy to know that they just have to make a powerpoint rather than study all night for a written test that they would likely fail. Peace, however, was momentary.  

"However,” your teacher continued, “since this project is a large amount of work, it will be done in groups of two." You gave a quick smile to your friend and desk partner to your right, who smiled back.

"The groups, however, have been randomly assigned." Your faces both dropped. Actually, everyone stopped smiling. Then, waves of groans moved through the class.

"Stop complaining," the teacher sighed, rubbing her eyes. "To create a conducive learning environment that limits your amount of fun, I randomly assigned each of you to someone in the class who you likely do not talk to. I will post the partners at the end of class and I suggest that you start working on the project ASAP and throughout the weekend because it's due in a week." Another wave of groans rolled through the class and was immediately followed by complaints, questions, exasperated sighs, and a particularly harsh exhale from you. You hated assigned group projects. Due to your reputation, you were usually expected to carry the project along with whoever you were assigned. You never really minded the work as long as you got to choose your partner. Essentially, if the partner was your friend, you would happily and easily do all the work. But now that the teacher has “randomly selected” your partners (she surely just put them through a random assigning program), you felt your blood boil. Jeongin, however, was surely silently rejoicing at the announcement of a group-based project: it meant that he could coast by like he normally did in group projects.

The rest of the class drudged on with great exhaustion. Everyone loathed the prospect of seeing who they were paired up with at the end of it. The worst thing was that it was the Friday of a long weekend. School was meant to be the last thing on anyone's mind until Tuesday came around. You all should have been blessed with the freedom of three days off and whatever it entailed: drinking, parties, staying out late, suspicious excuses given to your guardians, small friend groups loitering at the park at night, getting high then going to the 7/11, and hangovers that you thought were terrible but would seem like small headaches when you're 22 and trying to keep up with college-level drinking. This was what the weekend was for. However, this teacher obviously loved to ruin everyone's time and force them to study and work on this project. 

With the final bell, the teacher headed out first followed by a mass of same-dressed students who were eager to see the possible stranger that they would be paired with. Jeongin left first, keen to leave but also being able to leave easily as he had brought nothing to class. After a few minutes, you and your friend followed behind the crowd, watching the mass of students as they shoved to look at the list of partners on the corkboard. Some sulked away, others jeered as they had been blessed with the partnership of a friend. Jeongin was one of the first to walk away, smiling smugly and playfully shoving his friend as they sat idly by, waiting for their partners to come to them.

After a few minutes of struggle, you and your friend finally made your way to the list.

"Who'd you get?" You ask as she studies the list first.

"That kid that sits behind us," she says.

"Oh, that's good! His name is Seungmin, he’s sweet."

"Yeah, but..." her voice trailed off.

"But... what?" You inquired, her voice making you uneasy. 

"You're gonna... your partner... just, see for yourself." She steps out of the way as your finger traces down the list to find your name.

And there it is. Next to your partners. And, frankly, you can do nothing but slowly turn and look at Jeongin leaning against the lockers behind you.

He gives you a small smile and raises his eyebrows.

"We'll meet at 5 in the library! I'll see you then!" He states with a twisted grin. With those few words said, he and his friend saunter off, leaving you dumbstruck with your friend praying for your well-being beside you.

“Y/n,” she asked with a soft touch to your arm, “are you okay?” You gave a stiff nod as you watched Jeongin walk away. 

God. Those fucking grey sweatpants look so good on him.

---

"You're lucky that you know the librarian well enough that we can be left alone here," Jeongin teased, looking up at the high ceilings and clearly impressed by them. His arms hung low as he carried the stack of books he had slowly accumulated in his arms. Well, you place them in his arms, he just took them because he didn’t really know what to look for or how to study or what this class was even about. 

You guessed by his expression (and from your past four years of being his victim) that Jeonging had probably never even set foot in the library. In fact, he had little to no intention of doing so for his whole high school career. Yet, thanks to you, here he was.

"I don't 'know the librarian,'" you groaned. "I volunteer here. Some of us need extracurriculars on our university applications. I just have the privilege of going here enough that I get an extra key to help lock up." You placed the book you were carrying on the wooden table and Jeonin copied your action, dropping the stack of texts with a sigh.

“In other words,” Jeongin taunted, “you know the librarian well enough to come here after hours”. You shot him a look before turning to the mess of textbooks and binders in front of you.

"We wouldn't be alone after-hours if we had just started immediately after class," you stated angrily as you sorted the books into piles for you and him. "But somebody had to go smoke with his friends outside, so now we've had to come after hours to study."

"Just know that it was a really good smoke break," Jeongin replied with glee as you divided up his and your reading materials, placing the books with a hidden rage that only came from years of bullying or sexual frustration. Or, in your case, a horrid cocktail of both. After you were done, you took a seat on one side of the table and gestured for him to sit opposite you. He got the hint and sat, immediately flipping through his books and shuffling them around, not even trying to look busy. 

"All I know is that we're here, alone, with no one else around and that I could trash this place if I wanted,” he continued with an air of cockiness you wanted to destroy.

At this point, you were really starting to regret everything that has ever happened to you. Sure, having a key to the school's immense library was a bonus of being a diligent student: you knew you could always escape here and it was entrusted in your care. Many times you had retreated to this place in the hopes of peace and quiet from the troubles of school. It was your sanctuary.

Now, an early library closing, a nicotine addiction, and a late study session had forced you to bring him here.

"I know you won't do that,” you shot back, “and I also know that I could just lock you in here if I wanted for the whole weekend.” Your response made his eyes go wide with what seemed to be shock and worry. However, when a smile broke out on his face, you knew that he thought your threats were empty. 

"You're fun!" He cheered. 

"I will lock you in here, Jeongin." You restated in a serious tone which he didn't seem to take as seriously. "Now,” you continued, “get started on studying. We have a lot to do and I have no intention of doing it alone. You need to look through the blue book. Read sections 2 to 4 and take notes on anything related to the assignment. Check the study questions, too: there could be info in the answers that could help us out."

"I hate that you're making me work," he complained in an obnoxious tone that could only be embodied by a teenage boy who had never been put in his place. "Normally I do nothing and the person just lugs me along."

"Well, I'm tired of carrying group projects, so you have to carry your own weight," you sighed. "Now. Start studying."

Jeongin gave you an eye roll before quietly retreating to his book. The silence quickly engulfed the library and you flipped through your book, looking at where to begin and fearing how much you had to tackle. 

Although this was a less-than-ideal situation, it did have its perks. To be honest, you never knew Jeongin could be quiet. It was nice to take quick glances at him while he studied, his face contorted as he analyzed the text and focused on his work. Just these few moments of silence seemed to give you hope. Maybe you could make the best of a bad situation. Maybe you could use this time to make Jeongin shut up for a few seconds and let you study his handsome face before being rudely disrupted by whatever dribble he decided to shoot out. Maybe this partnering was a blessing in disguise.

Your hopes were ruined as the silence was broken.

"God!" Jeongin groaned, leaning far back in his chair. "This is so borringgggggg!" Your annoyance immediately returned to your body. He was hot, but god did he like to pester you.

"Please, Jeongin, read the passages, I beg of you," you groaned as you looked through the books to find out the sections you were meant to study.

"Ughhhh..." he sighed. Suddenly, he loudly arose, chair screeching back as he picked up his books.

"What are you doing?" You asked, annoyed and barely looking up from the books you were still sorting through.

"I'm moving next to you," he responded as he waddled towards you, moving like a child who was purposefully aggravating a parent just for the fun of it. 

"Please, God, tell me why," you groaned.

"Because I'm lost!" He sighed, "I'm gonna sit by you because I hate being this far away and this lost at the same time. You have to help me Y/N if you're gonna make me carry my weight on this project."

As he slid himself and his books beside you, you prayed to every God you knew of—Jesus, Demeter, Allah, YHWH—that you would be vaporized then and there.

There was no escaping this irritation. Normally, you'd parry any advancements Jeongin made. Oftentimes, you would even take a different path home or avoid certain wings of the school altogether just to get away from him. To be clear, Jeongin didn’t actually frighten you. You weren't scared of Jeongin, you were just horribly, dreadfully annoyed with him. 

However, today was not a normal situation. There was no avoiding him: you were stuck with this fucking idiot on a group project with no hope of deflecting his pokes or prods.

"Oh, wait, before you start reading you should fix your glasses. They’re falling." He mumbles, "lemme… lemme just..." he then placed his pointer fingers on the center of your lens and pushed them up, readjusting the frames but dirtying your eyesight in the process. You shot him an angry look as he giggled, hating the smudge on the glass.

"If you must know," you seethed as you wiped your glasses off and placed them beside you, "I never wear them to read and study—two activities I still hope to do, despite your presence."

"Ah!" Jeongin dramatically fell back on his chair and grasped his heart as if he had just been shot straight through it. "Words hurt, y/n! I can't believe you would say such things to me! How dare you suggest I distract you!" He cried with a great fabricated sentiment.

Again, you rolled your eyes at his giggles and flirtatious fucking smile that made him look so damn dreamy that it made you want to punch a wall.

"Jeongin, please let me get back to studying."

"Call me 'Innie,'" he responded coolly.

You let a beat pass as you tried to process what he just said.

"...What?!" You hissed at him. That certainly got your attention.

"Call... me... 'Innie.'" His smile widened and he leaned forward, his face inches from yours and moving closer as he enunciated each syllable with mischief. 

Part of you wanted to push him away. You wanted to leave the library, march straight home, and write a strongly worded email to your teacher telling her that, despite her requirements, you desperately wanted to complete the assignment by yourself.

The other part of yourself, however...

Shamefully, that part wanted him to lean in closer. It enjoyed his playful smile and tone, and thought about how wonderful it was that you two were together, alone, uninterrupted. It thought about all you could do behind closed doors. It thought about things that made you anxious and confused and, frankly, made you want to turn your brain off.

So, you agreed with the former part.

"Jeongin," you stressed, leaning back. "Please go back to studying. I don't have time to play your silly name games." His exaggerated groan to your response almost made you crack a smile. Almost.

"Come onnnnnn, Y/n!" He wailed, voice echoing throughout the archives. "You don't even have to say it in public! Please! Only once!" Suddenly, he leaned in again and his face was now mere centimetres from yours. His voice was hushed and his eyes had a strange look in them, something that was serious and tempting. It seemed like he was trying to be playfully urgent in his words, but his voice made each syllable come across as languid, as if he were edging you on, almost daring you to obey him.

 "Just say it to me. Now, in private,” he pleaded.

Uh oh. That part of your brain that you tried to ignore was coming at you with a vengeance. You hardly noticed that your cheeks were starting to burn. Gathering all control, you tried to put an end to this foolishness. 

"We won't ever be alone together after next week,” you replied calmly. 

"What... what makes you say that?" He asked with a discouraged curiosity.

"Well... I can't imagine you'd want to hang out after this... after all..." you trailed off.

"After all...? What?" He continued, "After all 'I'm the smartest person in the district and intend to graduate top of the class so I don’t have time to hang out and do scumbag shit with my bestie Innie?"

Okay. Maybe Jeongin actually could humour you. After all, that impression is spot on. The blush on your cheeks had cooled now, but you had not noticed: your mind was too busy malfunctioning over the fact that you were smiling at something Yang Jeongin said to you. Jeongin had genuinely brought a smile to your face, and he seemed to notice, too.

"Woah! There's your smile!" Jeongin jeered, "I've been trying to get you to smile for like three or four years! 'Bout time!"

And just like that, your smile had disappeared without a trace. Your facial muscles even relaxed immediately, feeling no lingering strain from the act. How dare a fucking man tell you to smile, and to try and say that he has been wanting you to do so for four fucking years after bullying you for those same four goddamn years?! You felt like your chest would explode.

"What?! Where did it go?!" Jeongin whined, defeated and pouty because of it. "Pleeasseeeeeee smile again, y/n! You look so adorable when you do! I mean, you always do, but your smile! And I know you need your glasses and you look so cute with them, but I can finally see your whole face without them! Come oonnnnnnnnnn! Smileeeeeeee!!!"

Woah. Okay. Those words had sent that stupid, gullible, optimistic part of your brain into a frenzy. However, you clenched your jaw and kept a steady breath. You couldn’t let yourself get carried away as you knew it was all just a game to him. Everything was a game to him.

If Jeongin was telling the truth and that he thought you were “cute” or “always looked adorable”, you would have truly allowed yourself to believe his words. You would have beamed knowing that he thought it was beautiful if you did or didn’t smile, unable to hold back a response to his affection. If he was telling the truth, you were even ready to blush, beg, plead, flirt—whatever it took to keep him talking about how pretty you looked.

Yet, you are a pessimist, through and through.  Before your imagination could run off with the idea that Jeongin’s words were honest and genuine, your heart twined knowing that whatever he was saying was likely far from the truth. What Jeongin said was likely rooted in some foolish, mean-spirited, and twisted way of teasing you. He always did something like this after annoying you: poke the bear then tell it how lovely it looks before it has the chance to chase him down. It was just like those boys in junior high who would yell across the class claiming that “his friend liked you" while the very same friend made disgusted faces. The boys would laugh then, as if the very idea of loving you was a joke. The girls, however, would share a solemn silence, a solidarity only experienced by the victims of female adolescence and the macabre.  A

After all these experiences, you knew two things: boys were assholes and they were bullies. And Jeongin was part of them. 

So, at this moment, you felt dizzy from the sheer humiliation of his words and your  bubbling hatred. You couldn’t believe that Jeongin had the audacity to tease you like this, to say you were pretty when you knew that he had nothing positive to say about you. Saying such sweet things to you with nothing but ill intent behind them made you want to tackle him. Fuck his good looks or his conceited yet insanely attractive attitude. 

So, instead of letting yourself be hopeful and toy with the idea that he may actually be saying a nice thing, you did what you did every time: move past it and try to suppress your anger.

Clearing your throat, you returned to your book.

"Affection and coquetry won't work on me, Jeongin," you stated, eyes burning into the pages to try and ward off the pain in your stomach from his words. 

"Oh, really?" 

God. When will he learn to give up?! He leaned playfully on his hand and swiftly placed his elbow on the table, simultaneously and seamlessly nudging your book out of the way with a coy smile. The act made you huff through your nostrils and dignify his presence with a glare. He didn’t even register the pain his words had caused you. 

"They won't," you respond emotionlessly. All your emotions, however, became quite clear as you pushed your book back to its rightful place and shoved his elbow out of the way in the process, making him hiss from the pain. "And I doubt anything you do to me would count as flirtation."

Jeongin's sour face from the ache in his arm quickly changed to a wide-eyed, agape look. Oh no. The face of mischievous curiosity.

"I take that as a challenge!" He boomed.

"Oh, God, please smite me now," you mumbled, anxiety and rage rising. 

"I just gotta figure out what you like about me and just really capitalize on it," he pondered aloud.

Well. That statement made you scoff.

"I like nothing about you," you dryly stated.

“Oh, come on!” He responds, hoping your words were of off-beat humour rather than born from frankness. Your annoyance was boiling over, unable to contain it.

“No, it’s true,” you stated with malice. “You tease me about my looks and try to make me feel pretty just to tear me down. It’s honestly sickening and, frankly, after four years, it’s kind of unoriginal, Jeongin.”

“Y/n, what?”

There was no humour in your voice in the next words you spoke, no inkling that what you said could be taken lightly. You had let yourself speak freely and felt the burn of horrid words as they dripped from your tongue. 

 “In fact, I would say I’d rather hate you. Extremely so.” 

Silence engulfed the room. Not even the squeak of the chair as Jeongin shifted could be heard. You glanced up at the boy beside you. Jeongin was still and silent: two things he never was.

"...What?" you asked, your words met with no response but the cold echoes of the library. 

“Y/n, how could you say that?” His voice almost cracked as he asked the question. You glanced up at him and caught his eyes. They were glassy, empty.

Oh no.

Oh no... that dreadful empathy inside of you made your heart ache and your stomach churn. How could you feel so horrible after saying one mean thing when he's been nothing but disrespectful to you for four years?!

"I, umm... I—I mean" you tried to defend yourself without seeming like an asshole, which was becoming increasingly difficult as your mind raced to fill the space. However, you realized you had nothing positive to say at all. “Ah, fuck it,” you whispered under your breath. “Jeongin, be serious. Why would I like anything about you when you are nothing but mean to me?"

"Mean to you?!" He spat back, breaking from his hurt trance and turning to anger, simultaneously exacerbating your rage. "When have I ever—!" 

"You've been mean since the moment we met!” You shot back, “"You taunt me, tease me, and even follow me when we run into each other. It is hard enough dealing with academic stress, then I'm paired with the bully that makes my life a living hell and—"

"Bully?" He repeated with some distaste in his mouth and a saddened look on his face. "Is that what I am to you!?"

"What else would I call someone who's followed me every day for four years and has done nothing but jeer at me with his friends?! It is hard enough wanting to please everyone and excelling at school despite what I tell myself. But then I get some guy harassing me every day like it's his fucking day job. What else would I call him if not a 'bully'?! What, Jeongin, what?!"

The library walls repelled your voices again and let its old age absorb the hateful things you spat at each other. Slowly, the sound waves dissipated and silence consumed the wooden room. As the quiet settled, Jeongin let a beat pass, nothing to be said as he, too, let your words sink in.

"I... I just wanted..." His voice was hard, stern at first. Then, he sighed, cleared his throat and darted his eyes away, tone changing to a nervous and humble one. "I just… I'm sorry, y/n. Please know that, okay? I never meant for it to be like that or to go this far or even in this direction. Please know that."

The library had never seemed so unsettling to you until this moment.

Your mind dissected his words, prodding them and pulling them apart and trying to find if he was being malicious. Strangely enough, his words seemed... genuine. 

Great. This meant two things: 1) that he was genuinely sorry after bullying you for four years, and 2) that, if you wanted to be the bigger person, you had to accept it. Worst of all, your brain came up with the perfect way to accept his apology and also humble yourself, and you really hated how perfect it was and how humiliating it would be. Sometimes, your really fucking hated how your brain worked.

"Innie,” you said softly, “Thank you.” 

Jeongin's eyes went wide, so wide you swore they would pop out. The gasp that followed made you believe that he would consume all the air in the room. 

"Say—say it again!" He stammered out excitedly.

"No," you replied as you cracked a small smile. "Take it as a peace offering. I, the person who spoke so ill of you, am extending an olive branch to you, the man who has wronged me."

"I understand so little of that metaphor but just know that I'm happy," he smiled. You rolled your eyes at his idiocy and smiled.

However, before you could conclude the discussion and finally, finally, finally, return to your book, Jeongin raised his hand in a half heart.

Hand. Jeongin's hand.

"What... what are you doing?" You mumbled out, studying his digits.

Pretty, big hand.

Fuck. Not these thoughts. Not now.

"C'mon, y/n! I'm making a heart for you to finish! As a peace offering or a tree branch or whatever you want to call it! Like this, yeah?" He demonstrated by making the shape with both hands, making a complete heart and showing it to you with a boyish grin.

Big, soft, veiny hands.

"Uh, y-yeah, Jeongin," your hand was shaking as you raised it to his own. Fuck, they were even bigger in comparison to yours. 

Hands. Hold. Touch. Big and veiny and... big...God, what well is big?

That fucking part of your mind needs to shut the fuck up before you lobotomize yourself with a #2 pencil. Luckily Jeongin’s giggles as your hands briefly met to form a heart between the two of you snapped you away from such thoughts.

"Guess we're friends now, huh?" You muttered, trying to distract your perverted inner monologue.

"Aw, y/n!!!" He boyishly cheered. His impish smile was contrasted by his low chuckle. However, your own joy was challenged when Jeongin quickly interlaced your fingers in his.

Oh no. 

My tiny hand in his.

"Wait, your hands are so small!"

So big... so big compared to me... so soft, so warm...

"Y-yeah, I've heard that before."

"They’re so adorable! My hands look so big compared to yours, yeah?" His other hand lightly traced your wrist before grabbing it and forcing you to spread your fingers to compare hand sizes.

So, so big. Could barely wrap my hand around him. Could barely wrap my hand around his—

“Wow you’re right,” you responded nervously. 

You started to feel that strange feeling, the one you only experienced in solitude in the dead of night, not sitting across from a man who may or may not be your bully anymore and is using you like a plaything. God, why did that thought make these feelings even stronger? You crossed your legs and hoped to squash the voice in your head.

"Like woah! I knew my hands were big but this is crazy!"

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it—

"Do you have anything else that’s big that I should know about?"

...oh fuck.

This library has gone through too many auditory extremes today. You know that this has got to be the loudest goddamn silence you have ever or will ever experience in your life. Both of your eyes were wide, your stare locked in with his as you sat engulfed in shock.

For the first time today, you felt just how hot your face was.

It felt like an eternity was passing within these seconds of horrifying, dreadful awkwardness. You prayed that once you would finally blink that he just be gone. Sadly, he still sat there, face unchanging and unforgiving.

His hands still held your own.

Breaking the silence, he let out the driest of coughs.

"Well, it's—"

"I-I'm sorry," you stuttered out. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's—It's no worries, truly," he stammered over. The silence came again, but less horrendous this time. Or maybe it was worse, you couldn't decide. All you noticed was the fact that his hand still hadn't left yours. 

Jeongin decided to speak again, quieter this time. His eyes were wide, but glancing around frantically, trying to search for the right words. A harsh blush was forming down his ears and hard turned his honeyed skin into a scarlet red. You were strangely comforted knowing that he was just as mortified as you.

"I-It's wrong you know." He hesitated to continue. You, however, were all ears.

"Jeongin," you said slowly, "whatever do you mean?" He sighed, embarrassment consuming him.

"My friends looked it up and... apparently nose length is a more accurate measure.... but... you know..." Though you were fascinated to learn about this new little tidbit of info and that Jeongin actually knew something, you were way too focused on what he wanted to say.

"But what?" you asked in a small voice. His palm was sweating against yours as heat radiated from him.

"Well, just that.. you know... it's not like a rule. There are exceptions. It's just like a theory, yeah?" You nodded, glad to understand what he meant by that. Yet, you swore, that as he finally dropped his hand, exposing your skin to the bitter air of the dusty library, Jeongin uttered a brief  "I should know." Though you wanted to poke and prod, you opted to just nod and turned with him towards the table, staring at the stack of unread books. 

“Anyways…” you said, breaking the silence, “let’s get started.” Still, you couldn't help but sneak quick looks at Jeongin's face, trying to decide whether or not his nose was longer or shorter than average.

This had to be your least productive and positively worst study session ever. 

"What section do I have to read again?" Jeongin asked.

Oh, thank God he said that. You much preferred harassing him about not paying attention than whatever the hell you just experienced.

"I told you," you sighed, flipping open his book and pointing at the contents. "These sections! 2 to 4! Please! Start!"

"But what if I get borreedddddd?" Jeongin groaned. There he was! There’s the annoying Jeongin you know. "I can barely see what you pointed at anyways! Can’t you just help me out?"

"Ohmygod," you muttered, tired but willing to do anything if it meant he shut up and study. "If I were to help you for a bit, do you swear to properly study and leave me alone after?"

"Pinky promise!" He smiled gleefully and stuck out his extended, large pinky finger. After staring blankly at the digit, you linked your smaller pinky around his and slung your head in defeat.

"Okay," you muttered. "Let's begin."

For a bit, this plan worked perfectly. After only 20 minutes, you read through section 2 together and helped point out the more important parts of the text. The 20 minutes were difficult, however. Being this close to him, being able to smell his cologne—which was nice and smelled expensive, contrasting his scruffiness—and brushed shoulders with him was almost too much. Wow. You really were touched starved. Nevertheless, your own lameness was virtually undetectable to you. You were more focused on how well Jeongin retained the information and how neat his words were. You guessed that his utter stupidity was most likely due to his inability to focus, which was still a struggle even as you helped him. Nevertheless, as you began section 3 and were about to return to your own work, you knew that he had already come a long—

"HOW LONG HAVE WE BEEN DOING THIS?" Jeongin cried.

Ah. There he is.

"Just a little more, Jeongin, okay? Please, just be bearable. I have my own work to do," you whined, stomping your feet from exhaustion. Even when he was trying to be polite, he still knew how to get on every one of your nerves.

"Can you please just keep helping me? Just this section and then I swear you can get back to your work?" He pouted. Was... was giving you puppy dog eyes?

You sighed. Again, defeated.

"Yeah, sure," you replied, "let's start here—"

"Y/n?" He interrupted. You rolled your eyes.

"Yes?" He let your snark reply hang before smirking.

"Come closer," he nudged playfully with a smile you would almost consider flirtatious if you hadn't been constantly reminded about his disobedient behaviour for the past hour.

"Why?" You asked genuinely.

"You're squinting! You said don't read with your glasses on but it's straining your eyes! Just..." he thought for a moment, glancing around. "Ugh, whatever! Here—"

Unexpectedly, his hands found their way around your body, slinking under your legs and around your back, sliding under your thighs and brushing the exposed skin.

"Jeongin! I can just put my glasses on—" you blabbered out nervously as he continued to lift you.

"Just come here, fuck!" He shot back, finally raising you from your chair and sliding you onto his lap.

"Jeongin!" You yelped.

Normally, anytime someone picked you up made you want to scream. This, however, this made you want to die.

As if by some magical swiftness, you had now found yourself sitting on Jeongin. Well, not on him. Just between his legs. His long legs were spread out, your thick thighs barely fitting onto the chair as he caged you. And he hadn't remembered to tuck your skirt in when you sat down, so now it splayed open. It had ridden up, exposing everything but your white cotton panties, and was surely flipped onto Jeongin's pants at the back. You just prayed he couldn't see anything. However, he probably couldn't considering how close he was. Worst of all, he kept you close by resting his hands on your hips, making sure you sat still. The pads of his long fingers held your tummy softly, dipping into the fat as his thumbs rubbed slowly up your lower back.

You swore you had never felt so warm in your life. As you broke out in a sweat, you feared that his wolfishly big hands were paired with a keen sense of smell.

"There!" He giggled, resting his chin on your shoulder and leaning his head against yours, studying the book with intentness that starkly contrasted the intimacy of how he held you. "Now you can see well!"

You opened and closed your mouth a few times trying to find something to say. Though his completely nonchalant demeanour was to be expected, you were still shocked but the literal position you were in. Not to mention the way his thumbs slowly drew circles on you while his hands shifted to hold your stomach. Your stomach for godsakes. How does he know exactly where to hold you to make you feel so secure and so goddamn embarrassed at the same time?! You pressed your thighs tightly together, trying to smother the weird feeling building between them that you tried so desperately to avoid. While you squished them your legs, your thighs were simultaneously crushed on either side by Jeongin's own, which were incredibly muscular: a feature you had never noticed until you were stuck between them.

"How..." you asked, "How did you do that? Aren't I heavy?"

"Am I complaining?" He asked back, a smirk in his voice. He wrapped his arms around your waist now, tugging you closer and pressing his chest fully into your back. "If you were ‘too heavy’, you wouldn't be sitting here right now, hm?”

"I-I suppose..." You start, not knowing what to say next.

"Now," he sighed with an air of exaggerated contentment, "if you want to finish this project sOooOOoo bad, then help me study!" God, how could he have you in the palm of his hand— literally— and still manage to pester you?!

"O-okay," you stuttered unsurely. "Well, let's start here and—"

"Mhm," Jeongin hummed, still massaging your fupa lightly and pressing his chest firmly against your back. You tried to burn a hole into the bookk—a feeble attempt at trying to distract yourself.

"A-as you can see," you coughed, "this section is more about analyzing the um..."—one of his hands started to rub lower—"the events t-talked about in the previous section a-and"—the other starts moving up, ghosting over your chest and playing with the top button of your shirt, leaving your tie untouched despite how you desperately wanted to loosen it—"t-trying to c-contextualize the previous section and… p-provide some background and… umm…."

"Gosh, y/n," Jeongin chuckled as his fingers rubbed the column of buttons, "I thought you were such a good student, but you seem so distracted. It's funny really."

Maybe he’s just distracted, you tell yourself, trying to reason what in the hell was going on. After all, he can barely sit still in class and often toyed with loose hems or drew on the margins of his papers. Therefore, it was perfectly reasonable to assume that he was just doing the same now: toying with your uniform as a means of distraction. He always played with you anyways, so it was safe to assume that it was some attention deficit that caused him to trifle with you. That's all it was. Or, at least, you prayed that would be the truth. As his hand fiddled with your skirt’s hemline and the other began loosening your tie, you were just hoping that this was all some absent-minded game for him. If that were the truth, then hopefully this dreadful pressure from between your thighs would disappear. It was building with every second and your panties were now so tight, so straggling, and so wet, latching onto your folds and aiding in your growing shyness.

"J-Jeongin," you began, "c-can you—"

"Innie, please, y/n," he teased in a low voice against your ear. "To you, it's Innie." Though you wanted to scream at him for uttering that petname again, you decided to push your pride aside. You needed him to stop, and you needed to utilize every tool in your arsenal to do so.

"I-innie," you stuttered out, shivering from the warmth that lingered on your ear from his breathy voice. "Can you please stop... you know... t-touching me?"

Again, Jeongin laughed. But, this time, it was drier, with less playfulness behind it and less mercy.

"Aw, y/n," he whispered into your ear, causing you to squirm a little, "I thought we were just having fun. Are you really getting all worked up over a few little touches? I thought you would like it more, you know, considering it's my big hands doing it." His last words were strongly enunciated by his hand tugging on your tie to gain access to your collar buttons. He started to play with them as you huffed, undoing them teasingly.

You were fuming at his words, knowing that: 1) he was just doing this because—at his core—Jeongin was just a fucking asshole, and 2) he was, sadly, correct. Still, you were determined to not let him know that he was right. Knowing him in the way you do, you couldn't let him take this victory

"I-is that really what this is about? Are you really hanging on to that! I had a lapse of judgment f-for one second and—" another button was undone and he began working on the next. After this next button, your bra chest would be exposed. It was only covered by an ill-fitting bra and you silently cursed your frugal self for not investing in better undergarments. Still, you continued. You had to. "I-I just fucking hate that you'd bring it up again! You just love to make fun of me d-don't you?! God, Jeongin, it is so typical of you to t-tease me like this and—Ah!" 

The sound of clattering buttons across mahogany and the sudden exposure to air frightened you. Jeongin, however, didn't seem to mind.

"I told you," he stated in a voice you had never heard him use before. "It's 'Innie'. Yes?"

Clearly, he had gotten sick and tired of you talking. He just wanted you to finally be quiet, much like how you wanted him to do the same. To accomplish this, his hands found the opening of your shirt and ripped the fabric open, scattering the last of your buttons, ruffling your shirt, and exposing your chest to him. In exposing you, Jeongin gained the upper hand. It was obvious that all pride, all power you had disappeared. However, his action had also done something else: the sensation you tried so desperately to conceal was making you hopelessly needy. You unconsciously began to twist your hips, rubbing your thighs together in hopes of eliminating the feeling.

The book in front of you was long forgotten.

"Yes..." you replied back in a small voice. "Yes, Innie. S-sorry." You could almost feel Jeongin smile behind you, but, if you truly could, you didn't notice due to his hands returning to their place on your collarbone and stomach. His fingers now languidly traced your clavicle while the other massaged your tummy, fingertips slowly digging into your skirt and pulling out the parts of your shirt that were still tucked in. 

"What a good baby," he chuckled, paying no mind to the nickname, though it made you redder than blood. "So fucking horny and no way to ask it. Such a fucking pervert. I bet you wanted this, didn’t you? You're even rutting back into me. Trying to get me worked up, hm?"

"No," you gasped with deep embarrassment, "never!"

"Tut tut, y/n," he tsked. "I know you're up to something."

"If anyone is up to something, it's you!" You protested. Your exclamations only made Jeongin laugh.

"Now, now," he giggled, "you wouldn't want anyone—say, a janitor or a lingering teacher—to hear us and come in? Wouldn't it be bad to see their star pupil being fondled by the school delinquent? Wouldn’t it be bad for them to notice that you liked it?"

Fuck. He knew how to shut you up. You turned your head to catch his gaze, shame and that peculiar feeling spreading all over your body into a delightful mix that only exacerbated your guilt. He knew he had you.

"That's what I thought," he laughed. "Now—"

Quickly, his hands moved toward your chest, dragged your bra down, and began to pinch your nipples, massaging your breasts and causing you to moan. Your hips increased their shallow rolls in an attempt to alleviate the pain. As you did, you felt what you could only suspect to be Jeongin's growing erection pressing into your ass. He definitely hiked up your skirt sometime before and was enjoying the sight of his clothed cock rubbing against your panty-clad behind.

"Innie! W-what are you—?"

"Oh, baby," he laughed and he rolled your buds between his fingers, making you whimper, "You say I'm distracting you from studying, but now your acting like such a little slut from only a few touches. You're so sensitive. I swear, you could be a virgin, hm?"

You dared not respond, only offering him a shy look as he continued to rub your chest.

"Oh," he giggled, "oh, of course you are. My sweet little goody-two-shoes hasn't had anyone touch her pussy yet, hm? My little virgin baby, yeah?"

"P-pussy?" you repeated, knowing that the word was dirty from the way it left a delictable taste in your mouth.

Jeongin mused, "My my, you are inexperienced." He let out a laugh that brought tears to your eyes, though it wouldn't be the first time he had made you cry. You were so frustrated and felt so strange and your panties were so wet and surely see-through and fuck! While your mind raged. Jeongin let one of his hands slip down your body and down your stomach, moving his other hand to grope the tit it had abandoned.

"Your pussy," Jeongin continued, ignoring your squirms and internal war, "is this right here."

Everything clicked as his fingers rubbed the damp white cotton into your pussy, rubbing up and down your folds with his middle and ring finger, slowly stopping to rub your clit and make your head spin. You glanced down, noticing how large his digits were and wondered how much he could stuff inside of you.

"Such an innocent fuck toy, never been used," he rambled, tongue licking the conch of your ear and making you whimper.

"J-Jeongin—I mean, Innie," you corrected. You could tell he was pleased by the way he hummed into your ears while he nibbled on the lobe, an action that should not make you want to moan as much as it should. "P-please stop touching me, it isn't appropriate.”

"But I thought I was helping you study, y/n," he pouted in a pouty tone, fingers never ceasing their motions. "Isn't this keeping me distracted? Isn't this helping you study? I need something to fiddle with, and you’re the perfect fucking stress toy for me." A particularly harsh rub into your panties and a tight grasp on your chest made you yelp. "Aren't you liking this, y/n? Liking me touching your soaking cunt? Fuck, you even soaked through your panties, how pathetic. " He spoke humorously through gritted teeth. He returned to slowly groping you, kissing down your neck loudly and rubbing his erection into your backside. You felt like you were going to explode. 

"You are, aren’t you?" he panted as he rocked back and forth into you, drooling down your neck. "I thought you were a better student than this. I thought you were such a good girl who was put off by teasing. What did you call me again? A bully?" He said the word with joking vehemence; teasingly but backed by a viciousness that made you crumble. "Would a bully do nothing but defend you for four years? Would a bully beat up any fucking nerd who insulted your intelligence? Would a bully praise you and call you pretty only to be given the cold shoulder just ‘cause you didn’t believe it? Fuck, I wonder what the school board would think if they saw you like this, being fondled by a fucking bully." His words turned to mush in your head, your brain frenzying at his confession and his touches. 

"Jeongin, please, I didn’t know! P-please, I just thought you didn’t l-like me, Jeongin. I thought you were m-mean and—ah!"

Your pleas were cut short as Jeongin stood up and shoved you forward, bending you over the table as his chair loudly scraped. He ripped—literally, ripped off your shirt at the seams, the sound filling the room along with your cries, with your bra being pulled off next. You were left in nothing but your shirt and tie: Jeongin wanted you to be at least a little dressed up for him when he claimed you. He grabbed your hair by the root and pulled your head up, making you release a sound that was a mixture of a cry and moan. The pain was unbearable, but the suffering mostly came from the absence of Jeongin's hands on you. At this point, you had realized that this feeling was some disgusting, perverted form of horniness directed at a man you hated. It made you feel dirty and desperate. But, most importantly, it made you feel in dire need of relief.

"I told you, y/n," Jeongin growled in that angry voice which didn't suit your impression of him, "that isn't my name." He released your hair and let your head fall to the table.

"I'm—I'm sorry," you begged as he moved the discarded books out from under you and threw them off the table. "P-please don't do anything mean!"

Funny. It was really funny to see you beg for him. It made him chuckle dryly before he hung himself over your back, once again pressing his chest into you—which you could feel was bare, meaning he must’ve removed it in the midst of things, leaving him in only his sweats.

"Oh, my innocent little baby," Jeongin panted into your ear, "you will be sorry." Jeongin's playful and perverted voice was matched by his hands slowly tugging down your panties, an action that caused you to chant a mantra of "no's" as your pussy was exposed to the cold air. Eventually, he had gotten impatient and tore the fabric up, an act that made tears fall from your eyes.

"Aw, don't worry, y/n," Jeongin humoured after seeing your lip tremble when he returned on top of you, caging you in and rubbing his clothed cock into your exposed cunt. "I'll take such good care of you after you learn a little lesson, yeah? Don't you just love to learn knew things, you fucking inexperienced little know-it-all?" You squirmed under him, begging for more and praying that he would give it to you. Yet, it seemed that patience offered itself to Jeongin when it pleased, and now he seemed to have all the time in the world.

Slowly, he rose his body from yours and rested his hands on your ass, rubbing the flimsy skirt and toying with your fat.

"Such a dumb fucking little virgin," he groaned as he let your pussy dampen the front of his sweats, pressing his throbbing dick into your needy cunt and making you whine. "Needs to learn a lesson."

Swiftly, his hand pulled away and slapped your ass.

"Innie!" You cried from the feeling, tears continuing to fall as his hand reached up and spanked you again, filling the library with lewd sounds to accompany your moans and his grunts.

"Say my fucking name again," he whispered with venom as he continued to spank you, enjoying how your ass reddened with each hit.

"Innie, Innie! Please stop!" You sobbed, making him laugh.

"Just—a few—more," he stated, marking every few words with a repeated spank. His other hand toyed with your ass, enjoying the softness and how your untouched flesh contrasted the growing blush on the other cheek.

"Y-yes—fuck! Yes, Innie!" You whimpered.

"God, such a fast learner," he grunted, continuing. "Aren't I helping you study, now? What if I helped you study every day, yeah? Licked your little cunt every time you got an answer right and then spanked you when you get one wrong? Maybe that'll help with your studying. Do you want a study buddy, y/n? Hm? Do you?"

"Yes, fuck I do!" You sniffled in defeat. "Only Innie, only Innie can teach me. Please!"

Finally, after a loud and particularly harsh spank from Jeongin accompanied by a satisfied grunt, he decided that your study session was over. He settled his large hand on your ass and rubbed the scarlet skin to try and coax you back down. Your back rose and fell while your knees buckled from the torture he had just put you through. You let out a sharp hiss and every time Jeongin's hand lovingly fondled the abused flesh. Jeongin, however, was beyond elated and relished your pain. In another demonstration of his strength, he flipped your body over like a ragdoll and pushed you onto the table so your legs hung over the edge. He then slotted himself between his legs and greeted your puffy face with a broad grin.

"Such a good little student for Innie," he teased. Pushing into you further, he let his cock press against your soaking cunt and further drench his sweatpants in your juices. The warmth of your bares chests pressing together made you smile while the squish of your breasts made Jeongin rejoice in being able to indulge in the plumpness of your body. He placed a layer of kisses from your forehead down your face, licking away your tears and shushing your sniffles.

"Did I do good?" You sniffled. Jeongin held his body over yours, blocking the light above with his broad, bare shoulders. He looked down at you with a mixture of emotions behind his eyes which were hard to discern, but were surely good-natured, regardless of his previous actions.

"Of course, y/n," he hummed, "so good." He let his hands roam up and down your bare thighs to reassure you, coaxing a smile out of you.

"Really?" You asked with a lightness you didn't expect as you reached up to cradle his face

"Absolutely," he chuckled while only moving to lay his hand over yours. He leaned down again and resumed his trail of kisses down your neck towards your chest. Your hands helped pull him down to you. You played with his thick locks before trailing your fingers down his back muscles. 

"Such—a—smart—and—pretty—girl,” Jeongin cooed between every kiss to your chest. Each kiss between his words only increased your sense of pride and the neediness between your legs. The feelings only worsened when Jeongin finally attached his mouth to your nipple while he groped the other, suckling on you with a ferocity you didn't expect.

"F-fuck," you mewled as spit trickled down your chest.

"Are you ready to continue our lesson?" Jeongin asked while moving to suck on your other breast. 

"Yes, Innie" you purred as you arched your back to meet his mouth. “Always ready for you.”

He chuckled and continued to satisfy you a bit longer, caught up in your moans and almost forgetting the pain of his erection as it desperately kneaded your cunt. Despite your small protests, he finally pulled himself away. Smiling at your pouty expression, he sauntered backward and stared at your limp body before speaking. 

"Stand up."

It was embarrassing how fast you rose to the ground. You were only focused on following his orders, obeying him, needing more and fearing that you would get nothing if you were disobedient. You barely even noticed how naked you were until you felt the cool air meet your spit-covered tits. Yet, when you moved to cover yourself, you stopped when Jeongin gave a look that said “I am not afraid to bend you over my lap and spank you again.” He smiled when you let your arms drop to your sides.

"She's such a good girl," he muttered aloud, reaching out to pull you forward by your tie. Your eyes were only on him and his sweat-covered chest and dishevelled hair and raw lips that kissed your body so perfectly.

He let his thumb slide up your jaw as he tugged you to him, hand sliding up your cheek and holding your face before tilting your head up. Then, as if the punishment didn’t happen, as if this annoying study session didn’t happen, as if these past four years were just a fever dream that you had finally awakened from, he leaned down and captured your lips in his. He kissed you—truly kissed you—for the first time, but, surely, hopefully not the last time.

When he finally broke away, he studied your soft eyes and offered a small kiss to your forehead, as if he were sealing you as his and promising that "Yes, I am sorry for the way things were. I'm sorry that what began as meaningless teasing just for fun turned into a fucked up crush. I am sorry that I haven't told you until now. I'm sorry that I'm such a fucking perverted loser that I couldn't just tell the beautiful girl that I had a crush on for four years that I liked her. I'm sorry that it took four years just to kiss you. I’m sorry I kissed you under such circumstances. Just know that I want you. I want you, so deeply and so passionately, so please just drop to your knees and fucking suck my cock and let me kiss you and fuck you and hold you and let me be yours and you mine." Instead of speaking the words he wished, he simply changed his stare and licked his lips, catching the lingering taste of you on them.

"Wanna learn something new?" He asked rhetorically, thumb gliding on your lower lip. You didn't even respond to him. Not a nod or a hum. You simply just allowed your mouth to open and have his thumb slip in, immediately rubbing the digit with your tongue and soaking it in spit. You didn’t want to respond or even acknowledge the act, not when you waited four goddamn years to suck his fingers. 

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Jeongin mused. "I think you can assume what I want you to do." In response, you just gave your head a slight shake, still warming his thumb with your tongue.

"Really?" He asked in a mocking voice that made you wildly embarrassed and red. "You really are just a dumb little toy waiting to be used. Such an eager baby that wants to learn, yeah?" This time, you gave him a slight nod. Your hand traced his abs and stroked each line, unsure of what to do but unable to remain still.

"Okay then. Guess I’ll have to give my baby step-by-step instructions, yeah?" he sighed. "Get on your knees."

Needless to say, you were shocked by the request. Though you were glass-eyed at this moment and almost choking on just the length of his thumb alone, you still had a working mind; one that was not distracted by Jeongin's eagerness pressing into your lower abdomen or how he looked at you or how much he wanted you or how fucking good his chest felt or how he shivered when your hand traced over his nipples. Despite all of this, you still had a conscience, and it told you to leave. It told you that this was an embarrassing turn of events that could only end badly and that you should run away, leaving him with his cock still hard and unsatisfied, then report him to the principal for bullying or public indecency or something! You knew that you should go.

Instead, you simply sank to your knees. You still suckled on Jeongin's thumb while he shakily exhaled a chorus of "you're such a good girl, such a good student, so smart, so sweet, so soft". Your hands trickled down his abs before rubbing the soft fabric of his sweatpants that you wanted so desperately to be removed. They hung off him proudly and lowly, kept up only by a measly tied knot and displaying his adonis belt that drew your eye line downwards. When you finally settled on your knees, your fingers and eyes traced down these lines and fiddled with the top of his sweatpants. Your fingers then traced lower until your hand palmed his heavy erection, unsure of what to do as you massaged the length. He was so stiff and long and big and—

Oh. He was big. Even in your inexperience, you knew it. It must have been a good few inches above average. You gulped at his size, in awe of his length that he was done so well to hide. 

"Remember what you said earlier?" He asked, removing his thumb from your pop mouth so he could cup your jaw. He tried to tilt your head up, but it was too difficult with your eyes fixated on the heavy, large bulge that protruded from his pants.

"C'mon baby, remember what you said? Use your big girl memory and tell me," he cooed. Your hands rubbed up and down his thighs while your hips rutted against nothing, the pressure between them building exponentially due to neglect. He tilted your head again, meeting your big doe eyes and forcing your focus away from his strained hard-on.

"Innie," you choked out, fingers teasing the hem of his pants. "Hands... so big... so you must be..." He let you trail off and allowed your faze to return to his pants as they transfixed on the prominent outline of his cock and the stain on the fabric right at his tip.

"That stupid fucking theory about noses being indicators of size," he continued with a smile on his face, "is just that: a stupid fucking theory."

As if answering your prayers, he used his spare hand to slip the knot off. Then, with a small tug, he slowly lowered his pants enough, just enough to let his cock slip out. In turn, you were blessed with the picture-perfect image of his cock.

"Don't I prove that what you say about big hands is true, y/n?"

You just gave him a dumb nod, too needy to formulate proper words. However, he didn't need you to speak: he knew he was correct.

You always had a thing for his hands, but they were nothing compared to his cock. But together, when his large hands held his immaculately big, veiny, pulsing dick made your mouth water and dribble fall down your lips. His tip was red and leaking precum, begging to be touched or fucked or given some goddamn attention. He offered himself a few pumps, hissing as his heavy erection dripped fluids that you tried to catch desperately on your tongue. It wasn't enough. You needed more.

"Innie," you mewled, catching his attention. 

"Y/n," he gasped as he stared down at your teary-eyed expression that was so cute and obviously needed to be rewarded.

"Please," you mumbled with embarrassment, "teach me." Your hand then went overtop of his and tightened around it, subsequently tightening the grip on his dick and making him moan a little louder than what he was comfortable with.

"Y/n, f-fuck," he whimpered as he pinched his eyes. With your eyes still transfixed on his hot tip, you pulled his hand off his cock and allowed both of your hands to hold him, heat radiating off of his length and precum coating your hands until they were glossy. You pumped it slowly, just as he did, mimicking the motion and unknowingly teasing him more than he would like.

"B-baby, please just suck it," he panted. You glanced up at him again and felt the drool pooling out of your mouth and collecting on your tongue. Then, with great hesitation, you pressed your tongue against him and licked up his slit, causing Jeongin to release a shaky grown that was soaked in pleasure.

"J-just like that—fuck!"

Your hands kept a steady pace while stuck your tongue out, giving him persistent and repeated licks. Each time you re-coated his cockhead in slobber and coaxed more profanities out of him. Still, you maintained a steady pace and dared not to increase your speed. You wanted to hear him beg and cry and whine like this forever.

"Fuck, y/n, take more of it in your mouth," he begged as his hands rested on your head and tangled in your hair. Yet, due to your dumb state and how good he sounded, you struggled to obey him

"Oh, right," he panted out, "you need to be shown how to do everything. My baby is just a little dumb student who needs to be taught. She needs to learn how to suck Innie’s cock like a good girl, right Y/n?" You simply hummed in response, continuing to pump and milk him. Jeognin’s hand found stability on the back of your head and balled your hair once again. The pull made you moan and the strain burned just as delectable as it did before.

"Now, open your mouth wide," he chuckled. You obeyed him like the dumb fucking slut you were and allowed your jaw to go slack, still rubbing your tongue on the underside of his tip and making him swallow back a moan.

"Good," he praised in a strained voice. "Now, take it." Suddenly, he pushed your head forward and forced your mouth to take his cock, gagging on his girth and soaking him in warmth. The intrusion made you hum loudly and for you to tighten your grip on his pulsing length Jeongin, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to your teary-eyed gags and continued to shove himself into you, inch by inch.

"G-good job," he whimpered in a low voice that he hoped he couldn't hear, "so warm." Though you could barely breathe and your mind was shocked by the act, you still felt yourself dripping onto the hardwood floor below you. Despite your confusion, your tongue and hands seemed to know what to do. As you gagged on him, the wet muscle rubbed up and down on any part of his cock it could reach while your hands pumped what your throat couldn't take.

"J-just like that," Jeongin hummed. He pulled your head back then and allowed you to take a deep breath in before pushing you down again. Shallow thrusts allowed him to push deeper into you and fluids to leak from your mouth onto the floor below you. Lewd, wet sound accompanied your gags, making Jeongin beyond elated.

"Y-You're the best student, y/n," he hoarsely whispered. "So smart and you've learned to let me fuck your mouth so easily. Such a fast learner, such a g-good, good girl for her Innie, yeah?" You could do little but hum along.

"Aw, does my baby want to breathe?" He asks through pants, to which you replied with an eager hum. He pulled you off his cock and you immediately gasped for air, hands leaving him to wipe the drool off your face and dry your tears.

"Better?" He asked, a mixture of sincerity and domineering sadism coating his voice.

"Y-yes, Innie," you responded feebly. He smiled at your answer.

"Good." He then changed his expression to a stern look and released your hair, letting you settle on your knees and take a few deep breaths.

"Next step," he began as he lifted his cock up and harshly grabbed your wrist to hold it up yourself. After placing the heavy cock in your hand, Jeongin then grabbed the other hand and forced you to cup his balls, unchanging in his expression or demeanour. He stared into you and you stared into him. He tutted and cooed at your expression which eagerly awaited instruction, begging to know what to do.

"Suck them. Now."

The order was processed in your head and left you spinning. Yet, you immediately obliged. After all, you didn't want to disappoint Jeongin. He thought you were a fast learner and he wanted to train his stupid slut as best he could. If you wanted him to be proud of you, then you had to prove him right. As such, your tongue left quick kitten licks his balls and the underside of his cock. Jeongin, through whines and moans, began to pet your head and encouraged you, s if he was begging instead of trying to dominate you.

"N-now," he stuttered out, "Pump me, fuck my cock with your hand, y/n." Your hand picked up a fast pace that glided over his slick cock and only deepened the desperation in Jeongin's voice.

"Shit.” He gaped at how well you did it, how well you obeyed him. You even began to take control, going back to suck his tip while your hands fondled the parts your mouth couldn't satisfy.

"M-missed the taste of my cock yeah? Missed how my pre-cum tasted on your tongue?" He rambled as you pumped him eagerly and sucked harshly. Sweat dripped down his forehead and a blush spread down his chest from you. He couldn't help but speak when he got like this: he praised everything you did and began to tell you everything he wished to say.

"Oh, y/n, I w-wished you knew why I teased you," he confessed through pants, "I wished you realized how much I like to annoy you, to get your attention, to tease you—mmh, fuck! All my friends know why I do it... every day they ask why I don't just go up to you and tell you why. But I could never seem to." Your mouth parted from his tip, your hand quickly replacing it, so you could properly look at the man who towered over you.

"Why... why didn't you do it, Innie?" you asked, voice still hoarse from when he made you take his cock. 

"Because," he gasped out as he tried to steady himself. "Because... I like to tease you, to make you notice me. I just w-want you to notice me, you sweet thing, and take care of me like you are now. And you know what? I think that—f-fuck—I think you like it when I tease you, too." He was not wrong, and the ruined floor with the clothes and books on it was evidence. But, you also knew that he was right because here you were, sucking his cock and balls and choking on it with the greatest pleasure. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. You wanted him to do things to you that you were too embarrassed to think about even in solitude. 

You impatiently returned to his length, each lap of your tongue and stroke of your hand making his moans louder.

"Y/n," he groaned. "Y/n, y/n, y/n—" His voice got quicker as your motions increased in speed and determination. "Fuck d-don't stop, such a good girl! Perfect fucking mouth for me, perfect, so smart, such a tease—god!"

Suddenly, his hand pushed your head and his cock was shoved down your throat, mouth hugging him as his hips made shallow thrusts into you and gags erupted from your stuffed throat.

"Y/n, y/n, baby, y/n, swallow, swallow, please—" his chants were high pitched as he continued to rutt into your mouth, "—so tight so warm, I— I—I can't—hmph!" Jeongin pressed himself into you as far as he could while his hips twitched, causing you to choke but not dare pull away, not now, not when you were doing such a good job. Your mouth—reddened and swore from Jeogin's abuse—now leaked his cum that couldn't be swallowed.

"That—that, I—" Jeongin stammered unintelligibly. Ever the gentleman, Jeongin pulled you off his cock and watched the remaining liquid gush from your mouth. The cum trickled onto your tits and worn tie, making you squirm and for Jeongin to take a shaky breath.

"So, so precious," he muttered through exhausted pants. You stared up at him, coughing from the misuse of your throat and the need for air. Still, you felt strange: needy, unsatisfied, like you needed the same release Jeongin did.

"Innie, I need—"

"Please, rest, baby," he cooed, stroking your hair absent-mindedly as his still-hard cock pathetically dribbled out cum. You licked your lips at the sight: the taste of his juices still lingered on your mouth.

"No, no, I..." You pawed at his hands and gripped his wrists lightly. The act took him out of his trance and look down at you. You were sleeked in sweat and cum, your thighs were pressed together tightly and coated in slick. You bounced with impatience, wanting more and more and not knowing how to ask for it. However, Jeongin may be stupid and a jerk, but even he slowly pieced together what you wanted.

"Y/n, you—"

"Innie," you urged as you started to pull him down towards you. As you pulled him lower, you laid on your back, bringing him down with you. "Innie, please."

"Y/n, you should rest—" Jeongin tried to argue while he sank to his knees and placed his palm on the floor to steady himself.

"No." When he tried to argue again, you placed your mouth on his and pulled him fully on top of you on the library floor. When your lips finally parted, Jeongin stared at you with hopeful eyes.

"Please," you sobbed. You grasped one of his hands and slowly guided it down between your bodies, rutting against it as soon as it was close enough to your cunt. "Innie, please make it go away."

Jeongin smiled. Who was he to say no to you?

His hand immediately found your clit and began rubbing tight circles on it, making you writhe and whimper.

"F-Fuck, it feels so good," you mewled.  Your pussy was gushing from the contact and it only became wetter when Jeongin licked his cum off of your chest. Bite marks and bruised skin were left behind in their stead, eager lips nipping at untouched skin. Though you hated being marked up and worried that it would show, you couldn't protest. Not when it felt this good, not when he was doing it.

Jeongin relished touching you, as well. He rubbed his cock onto your thigh while whimpering into each kiss. It was as if kissing you brought him to life, as if all of those years of teasing and picking on you had been worth it because he could fucking finally express his passion for you in a way that satisfied you both. Ever since he first saw you in the tight, ill-fitting uniform, he knew he wanted to be yours. Soon that feeling developed into the perverted dire need to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you from behind. Now, as he was kissing down your chest, and fingered your perfect, tight hole, he knew he was so close to what he wanted.

"Fuck, I," he gasped out between kisses, "I can't." Unexpectedly, he sat up and fully slotted himself between your legs. Before you could protest, however, you found your knees pressed to your chest, your skirt bunched around your waist, and Jeongin was rubbing his cock through your folds.

"Jeongin!" You yelped.

"J-just the tip," he whined. "Innie is gonna put just the tip in and then he is gonna take such good care of you. He just needs the tip, just a little bit, just needs to feel his precious little baby, just needs the tip just—hmph! Fuck! Y/n, baby, t-take it."

Even if it was just his tip, you knew you were too tight for him. Just his cockhead alone was stretching you out. But, the pain, just like how he pulled your hair or spanked your ass or choked you, was amazing. Though you protested, it was all just for show: to rile him up or to maintain some semblance of propriety. Truly, you never wanted him to stop.

"I-Innie! It's too big! I can't— I can't it's too big— fuck!" You stammered as continued to push himself into you, filling you with more than he had promised. Your voice made him whine and push his face into the nape of your neck. Immediately, he began to nip and kiss your neck in a feeble attempt to control himself. Yet, as he plugged you, he knew that he couldn't resist. You just felt too good, too sweet, too soft, too warm, too wet, and too perfect to just put his tip in. With every shaky breath, he tried to control himself, but he just couldn't. After only a few seconds, he began to stuff you full.

"Innie! What are you—"

"It's j-just the tip, just a little more." His muffled stutters vibrated against your skin, "I just n-need you, just need my g-good little baby to fuck this cock and be good for Innie and take what I give her. Let me fuck your perfect cunt and fill your pussy with my cum. You'd like that, to be filled with my c-cum?" Jeongin was almost fully inside of you and viciously rubbed your clit with every centimetre. You had never felt so full in your life.

"C-cum, Innie's cum?" You repeated naively.

"Yeah, just my cum. Only mine, only Innie's. You're m-mine, just mine only I get to fill this with my cum. Yeah?" He rose and looked down at you, lips ghosting over yours. As he stared down at you, it was hard to pinpoint what he felt. Sure, there was the deliciousness of corrupting your naivety, being the first one to fuck your cunt, and how every inch that entered you made you moan louder and with more desperation. However, at that moment, as he glanced down into your eyes which were always so sweet, he was overcome by the dire need to protect you. He wanted nothing more than to love you and have you as his, more than he'd ever wanted before. His cock eased into you, your breasts were covered in his slobber, you had swallowed his cum, his dick was twitching from overstimulation, and all he could think of was how lovely you looked.

"Yes," you sniffled, "only for you, Jeongin, my Innie."

"Oh, y/n," he panted. His lips captured yours and kissed them softly, contrasting the quick friction against your clit and the stretch of your cunt accommodating his cock.

Then he pushed himself into you, impatience getting the best of him.

"Fuck!" You both whined at the same time: Jeongin from the feeling of your tight cunt hugging him so well, and you from how you were filled to the brim with him. His hands moved to your inner thighs, spreading them to allow himself to rest between them and hug his waist. He eagerly gripped the soft flesh to try and control himself. Softly, his thumbs rubbed your skin and he let out strained moans. Your eyes were pinched shut and, with your legs free, you wrapped them around his torso and pulled him into you. As you did, he pushed a little deeper, only a little, but you rejoiced in the sensation. You feared that if pulled out of you, you would crumble. It was all too much too soon, too fast and too good to let it end too quickly. Clawing at his back with tears streaming down your cheeks, each breath brought you closer to him.

"It's too much... Innie I-I can't I—"

"Please, please, y/n." The desperation in his voice made your eyes open and stare at him. His face had reburied in your chest and it took everything in him to look up at you. As soon as you saw the look on his face, you knew that it was too much for him too.

"Let me make you f-feel good," he panted as he pressed his forehead into yours, "j-just a little, just take it, p-please." He didn't wait for your response as he pulled out a little, clamping his eyes shut from the feeling of dragging his cock out of you and hissing to refrain from immediately pounding back into you.

"Shit, it f-feels so good," you sniffled as he eased back in.

"Yeah? I told you. S-such a d-dumb baby, so dumb for my cock." His voice made you whine and your hands go up to knot themselves in his hair, pulling it slowly as his hips found a peaceful rhythm that contradicted the merciless lust it made you feel.

"So dumb," you mindlessly repeated, "such a s-stupid fucking baby for Innie." Your words hitched as he made a particularly harsh thrust into you. 

"Innie,” you asked in a small voice, “d-do you like it when I say that?"

Jeongin panted, trying to control himself, "Y/n, I—"

"You like to know I'm dumb, yeah? My stupid little pussy n-not know how to handle your big, veiny fucking c-cock?"

"Fuck, please, don't edge me," he strained through gritted teeth and with fingers dinging harshly into your thighs.

"T-teach me, teach me to how to fuck your cock." 

He didn't intend to pick up the pace as quickly as he did. Nor did he mean to make his thrusts so harsh with such a lack of control that you moaned with each push and pull of his heavy dick. But, when it came to you, he couldn't control himself.

"I'm—gonna—fill—you—with—my—cum," he growled as he pistoned into you. His hands moved to your outer thighs, occasionally spanking them and enjoying each jiggle of fat with every thrust into you.

"Fuck, slow—please s-slow down," you sobbed as your tits dragged across his chest, your overly sensitive nipples. Jeongin, however, just chuckled, his laughs dying out quickly as they were replaced by quick breaths. His eyes became dark again and his grip on you tightened, sweat mixing with your own as precum made a white ring around his cock.

"Just know that it's gonna spill out of you, that I'm g-gonna fill you up every day and keep you stuffed with it," he whimpered as his hips rolled faster, making his eyes pinch shut. "So warm inside of you, leaking out and just waiting for me to stuff it all back in and cum again and again and again and again."

"Innie, it's too much, " you responded dumbly. Jeongin didn't care. He just loved to hear his petname come out in little whimpers. His eyes opened again slowly, taking you in. Fuck, you looked so cute and fucked out, so close yet still begging for more.

"What's my name? Say it," he demanded with a stern glare.

"I-Innie..."

"Say it again—fuck, say it again, baby," he gasped.

"Innie!" You responded on command, like a dog being asked to bark.

"F-fuck, please, y/n, one more time just once more please!" He panted as his cock dragged and drove into you at an unforgiven pace.

"Innie, Innie fuck me, please baby, Innie, fuck!" You whimpered

"Fuck, it makes you blush. Getting all embarrassed and flustered... I make you blush, huh? My pretty baby, my innocent y/n, so cute—shit!" Jeongin's voice suddenly caught in his throat as he felt you tighten around him. While his veiny cock pulsed with each thrust, your warm cunt throbbed as you felt that strange feeling build and build inside of you. One of his hands moved back to your neglected clit and started to circle it quickly, making you pant like the needy bitch you were.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—ah! Y/n, baby, s-stop clenching or I'll—I'll—"

"Innie," you sniffled softly, your voice soaked in desperation. "P-please, make me cum. P-please, for me? Please!" You couldn't believe the words that left your mouth. Neither did Jeongin.

"Y/n, I'm—fuck—I'm gonna—" his thrusts became sloppy and your jaw went slack as you felt lust building to an inordinate degree.

"I'm gonna— Innie— fuck!"

"Y/n, my baby, my sweet b-baby I— cum, cum!"

"Innie!"

Your cunt began to pulsate and your back arched. The feeling was unimaginable, like nothing you could ever describe. It came over you quickly and suddenly, in a tremendous wave that you wish would last forever. Jeongin, in a brief moment of clarity, pulled out of you and rubbed his soaking cock quickly, letting out occasional and short grunts as he fucked his hand. Then, his hips stilled and cum began to spill out of his tip, coating your stomach and cunt in his cum. Yet, you hardly noticed: you were too-fucked out to care.

Riding your orgasm, you sank to the floor and Jeongin collapsed on top of you. Both of you took deep breaths and he dropped his head against yours, eyes shut in ecstasy. His hands lazily dragged up your body before resting on your face. He pet the sides of your jaw and drew your eyes open to meet his. Seeing your eyes was like seeing a home dock in a storm. He pressed his lips into yours and stole your breath away again.

The kiss—unlike the moments leading up to it—was slow, soft. It took its time and ended only when you two were satisfied. After being brought down to reality, Jeongin pulled away and brushed some hair out of your face.

"Y/n," he softly said.

"Jeongin, Innie," you said back, twirling with his sweaty locks and massaging the nape of his neck.

"We..." he panted out before taking a look around, "We gotta clean this place up and get the fuck out of here."

You stared at him in awe before cracking a smile.

---

You felt weird walking in with Jeongin and his gang on Tuesday. Gang? Maybe like "gaggle of friends that constantly annoy you but you are now stuck with and quickly learning to love." Needless to say, it felt like all eyes were on you. Actually, it was true. Teachers, students, faculty, everyone: no one could believe that the top student was now walking hand-in-hand with someone who held the reputation for being the school's worst student.

Despite being an outspoken and confirmed hater of Yang Jeongin, here you were: walking in next to him, with his arm slung around you, and blushing at his cute jokes. God, when did Jeongin become cute?! What a horrid thing to think, let alone believe. Yet, you knew it. He was cute. And now, the whole school knew that you thought so. Or, at least, that's what your giggles insinuated.

Maybe you always thought he was cute and now you allowed yourself to believe it, like those intrusive thoughts were actually right all along, and, yes, you did actually think he was incredibly sweet and handsome, and likely the best boyfriend. It's only been four days but he already has promised to walk you to and from school every day and has dates pre-planned with you up until graduation. He hasn't told you about the latter part yet, but he will soon enough. He just needs to wait until you're a little more comfortable with him before he confesses how much he absolutely adores you.

Being an "it" couple was not on your goal list for high school. Come to think of it, being stared at when you walk with your boyfriend and losing your virginity to him a mere four days before in the school library was not on the list either. Oh, how plans change. Somehow, however, you didn't mind the stares. Though most were shocked at how Jeongin had bagged the school's nerdiest (and hottest) girl, how that girl—who hated the man—now gleamed at him with adoration, and how they ever managed to get together in the first place, the most shocking element was the fact that your uniform was not up to code. Every day for the past few years, you were a picture-perfect student with pressed dress shirts, even ties, and cleanly pleated skirts. Now, your tie was loose and you were even wearing a hoodie—fuck, his, hoodie?! Jesus.

As you walked to class, you couldn't care less. Jeongin escorted you to first period, giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek and almost smiling at how cute you looked all wrapped in his hoodie. Your fellow students—hell, even the teacher—seemed bewildered by the interaction.

You, however, barely acknowledged them. You just noticed the man in front of you in a light that was so starkly different from the past four years.

"Got everything, yeah?" He said with a straight face.

"Yes, Innie," you smiled, making him glance away.

"I told you—" he started in a voice that was a little too loud, making him dart around to see if anyone was looking his way. And, of course, everyone was looking at you two because how could they not? The eyes on him made him uneasy, but when he turned back to you, all those uncomfortable feelings disappeared into nothing. He licked his lips anxiously and leaned in, adopting a hushed voice to try and retain a morsel of privacy. "I told you not to call me that in public, baby," he blubbered, "it ruins my image. Please, baby."

God, was he blushing? Fuck, he was perfect.

"Okay, Innie," you teased, making him ever redder. You stressed his nickname and relished in his embarrassed demeanour.

Huh. Maybe Jeongin had been right all along: teasing was fun, especially if it was done on the person you liked the most.

"Promise me you'll go to class, okay? I'll see you in last period, then we'll keep working on the project," you said.

"Ugghhghhhhh.." he groaned with a long-winded exasperation. "UGH... Okay."

"Great!" You smiled mischievously, "And we'll actually have to work on it. Unlike all those other times we... 'worked on the project' together this weekend."

"Y/n." His blush grew from his ears down his neck, still unable to make eye contact with you. You'd think that years of teasing you made him impervious to sly remarks, but when they're coming from you, well that's a different story.

"Why are you acting like this?! It was your fault in the first place!" You huffed with an air of playfulness. "I just wanna remind you that we won't be alone in the library this time!"

"Just... g-get to class, okay?" He stuttered, "I'll see you later, baby."  Extending his hand out in a half-heart shape, you completed it with a giggle, adoring how small your hands were compared to your boyfriend’s. Then, Jeongin softly wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you in, offering you a kiss to your forehead. When he pulled away, he readjusted your glasses as they had slipped down your nose bridge.

"Perfect," he said with a small voice. With a final giggle from you, he watched you go into class.

Now there was the issue of what to do with his day. Normally, he'd spend first period smoking outside with his friends, wait until second period for the cafeteria to start serving pizza, go to third just to eat, then go to fourth period just to see you.

Now.. fuck. He was actually going to class. He hated how you were already having an effect on his lifestyle, but rejoiced that you operated in a position that dictated his life. If he was to be controlled, he would want you to be the one pulling the strings. Jeongin seemed to see you for who you really were: determined, intelligent, and perfect to coddle. Looking at you even had an effect on him, one that he could now proudly display instead of hiding behind bullying and teasing (not to say he’ll stop teasing you anytime soon).

As he slung himself into his assigned seat for first period, his surprise was mirrored on the teacher's face. God. Despite having only a few days passed since you two got together, you were already changing him to a noticeable degree. Yet, it was for the better. And he smiled knowing that if he was changing, that it was for good and that it was for you.

[munchkinmarauder]

Let's talk Magneto's letter!

I'm not marking this as spoilers because we've probably all seen the panels from Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver floating around the internet at this point (but I do apologise if I do accidentally spoil it for someone - take this as your warning to scroll past and not read this post).

So after many months of speculation as to what the letter could be and if it has big reveals the contents of the letter is not a lore changing or retcon inducing reveal but .... Drum roll please.... that Magneto thinks the twins should stay apart, that they are dangerous together (particularly that Pietro is dangerous to Wanda and Wanda coddles Pietro) and that Pietro should have stayed dead after Magneto murdered him.

Wow isn't Maggie father of the year? What a girldad!

Jokes aside and let's get this out of the way because I know a lot of the Magneto is right crowd have been calling for Orlando's head over this character assassination or trying to argue Magneto is in fact right about the twins (despite the story and the twins themselves saying otherwise) - Magneto being an abusive douchbag to his kids is the norm, we only have 60 years of their relationship in the 616 verse alone to prove this. Yes there is nuance to this that makes it all very interesting, one of the most interesting dynamics in Marvel, and I personally never expected to hear Magneto saying the silent part out loud because I do think cannon shows that he loves all his kids Pietro included (but is incapable of loving them the way a parent should), but this is simply an over exaggeration and not out of character. Its no surprise he says this to his son. It's also of note that Magneto never actually intended for the twins to see the letter or Storm would have given it to Wanda when she visited in SW#2 to deliver the news of Magneto's passing, it might have been Magneto trying to work out some feelings and opinions rather than protect them as he claims (cause again he didn't actually intend for anyone to see the letter, he sealed it shut in a box). He is justified in feeling frustrated that his last words were weaponised against his children (lol Mags being like how dare my own hurtful words were used to hurt my kids - no one hurts them but me)

Magneto is one of those genderbended boymoms that is jealous of their daughter and views then as competition. Only in this case it is with his son and the competition is for Wanda's affections. The fact is, Magneto is always going to loose that fight and he knows it.

The more I think about it the more I like that this letter wasn't a big reveal (though I'm sure the recton everyone is hoping for will come some day -I'm glad it wasn't today) but something that played into the themes of this series. Their father, the Wizard and the Giver are all saying the twins should stay apart and the story and the twins say no and prove them wrong. A lot of the twins greatest feats are reactive and evolving, tying back to the red queen hypothesis mentioned in issue 4.

On a side note if the Giver really wanted to deal with the twins she should have gone to dear old daddy Mags and he would have nipped that problem in the bud in a jiffy seeing as he and the giver are of a like mind when it comes to the twins. Technically you just need to get rid of one of them seeing as the Givers worry is about the twins together but let's see what the new Scarlet Witch solo has to say about that (I hope Pietro's role in this isn't forgotten but you can never tell with Marvel)

What the letter is is a classic case of a narcissist parent setting up a golden child and scape goat dynamic. Seeking to isolate the twins from each other. It's very clear he's self projecting onto his son (and Lorenzo Tammetta deliberately emphasises the similaries the two have in appearance to drive this fact home) and blaming Pietro for moments that happened that can apply to himself and are in fact caused by his actions for example his willingness to abandon his daughter to die and murder of his son in HoM. Both the major trigger points for the creation of the HOM verse and no more mutants. I'm not saying Magneto is souly to blame here but he does have a big contribution to what happens that he never has taken accountability for (along with the X-Men who play as victims and the avengers who did own up to what they did but otherwise keep silent about the blame the twins get from the X-Men).

A lot has been said about the impact of the letter on Pietro and I don't think I can add much more other than to emphasise how crushing that has be to hear from a parent and abuser even if you hate them. The twins helped each other survive for a very long time and we're each others everything parent, twins, best friend, protector, etc. You've spent time and energy and dedicated a portion of your life to protecting someone to the degree of making it your reason for living for a long time (please note I am not saying this is a healthy mindset for Pietro- hes taken it too far sometimes) and in a hypocritical tyraid are told it's all for nothing. Pietro handles it really well and comes out this with his head held high. Reacting calmly, expressing his love for his sister and throwing Magneto's words back at him. I think as a Quicksilver fan we can be reasonably happy with this outcome (but I do understand some fans frustration to hear Quicksilver be degraded that way and told he's bad for Wanda while she gets forced to interact with men that did treat her like shit like Vision and Magneto - however the point is that Magneto is WRONG and Wanda herself reiterates this point).

Now the one person who's screwed over by the writing and out of character in that scene is WANDA. Sure she tells Magneto he is wrong but that gentle response (even if she does react with a degree of unhappiness to see Magneto back) and effort to be neutral is so odd for her given that she sent the Wizard to a hell dimension for hurting her brother a few pages prior and has been even more vocal than Pietro in calling her father out in the past. She's as protective of her brother as he is her and I can't believe she would be written as a daddies girl and standby while a man who abused them both continues to abuse her brother.

The contents of the letter is also not great for Wanda. And I would argue is a subtler abuse tactic. Like a lot of the focus is rightly on how shitty it was for Magneto to say what he did in his letter to Pietro but we're also not considering the the negative implications it has for Wanda as well. Wanda has been working to establish herself as independent and not defined by the men in her life for so long and here is her "father", infantalising her and saying he knows better than her about her own life and what keeps her safe, that is seeking to take away from her the one pillar of support she's always had and one of if not the important relationship to her, a lot of Wanda's lowest moments did happen when Pietro wasn't even around, when everyone including Magneto abandoned her, her brother was there. The twins do have a codependency and that codependency does have it's toxic elements, Magneto touches on it but doesn't go into detail. Wanda is codasended to and told she is "coddling" her brother and everything else is Pietro's fault. The letter is worse for Pietro but it's shitty for Wanda too, she is a grown woman& a mother here is a man that abused her talking down to her, saying he knows best for her and her opinions are wrong, seeking to isolate her and undermining her authority.

The twins are right for saying Magneto is wrong but wish Wanda would get more angry at this undermining. Maybe like Pietro she is just very jaded and tired of the whole thing with Magneto. These words would be upsetting if they didn't in their own way love their father too as fucked up as it all is.

Now to be fair - does Magneto's letter have any merit? That isn't to easy to answer but in the interests of equal analysis let's try!

So I think one think that Magneto touches on but doesn't go into or outright say is the twins codependancy. He is a few years late to the party but he's been dead and their not dad for a while so well give him a small amount of leeway in his old age. I don't think the twins codependency is necessary a wholly bad thing but it does have it's nagative elements and in some cases has held the twins back. If we are to adopt a charitable approach her Magneto in his own twisted and emotionally constipated way may be trying to encourage the twins to be independent, to discourage his son from defining his self worth around his ability to protect his sister. Ofc I am reaching a bit here as Magneto could have just said this (though we'll never see the full contents of the letter - both Wanda and Mags may be summerising the worst parts of it) and done so in a way that wasnt cruel.

I also do believe that Magneto in writing those words to a degree did believe or convinced himself that he was not writing those words out of Malice and that it was an attempt to protect the twins (though I will reiterate how much it was actually intended to protect them when Magneto didn't actually intend for the twins to see the letter but at least he owns up to the fact he did write those words). In his mind he was being cruel to be kind but the narrative makes it clear that even if he had "good" intentions - he is nevertheless still fundamentally misunderstanding his children and self projecting onto his son. I'm not mad about this -its in character and I feel this letter is set up for a longer plot thread and I hope it's explored but let's see!

It certainly makes me feel that Pietro's lack of mention in RoM was extremely deliberate as was his lack of appearance in last week's FoX issue despite his cameo in the previous one to save the Magneto and Pietro reunion for this comic (the Xoffice are collaborative)

Is the writing for this scene perfect? no! Is Magneto potentially a tad one note? Yes but being a dick to his kids is in character and it's unsubtle but sometimes it needs to be.

[voiceofsword]

do you have any brotps/friendships for rinne or niki ( since they seem to be like . the ones you think about most ) that you particularly like ? aside from the other bees ofc

YEAH!! under a read more bc its a little long :'3

roommates are a given, i think hikari dorm is perfectly balanced (chaotic) in its own way and that even tho the 3 of them are so different they also manage to get along really well. i cant take them seriously at all and i think thats part of their charm lol. they're all such Characters individually that together it just feels Normal. i can imagine the three of them sitting around the bathtub, kanata splashing around while hiyori paints his own nails and rinne gossips. its like if the golden girls were anime boys but theres 3 instead of 4 and none of them are divorced or widowed. so really nothing like the golden girls but im sure u understand...maybe

nihihi dorm is actually tied for my fave with gender dorm god i love them a ton, i think in part because i love nikis relationship with hiiro and how hes adopted him as his own younger brother, but also hinata. i think about niki cooking for them and having them try new dishes and them having movie nights or staying up all night playing games and even tho niki has work the next morning hes like (exaggerated sigh) fine ONE more game...but he loves it

i love both rinne and niki (and crazybs in general honestly) doting relationship on 2wink and im so happy they keep getting collabs .. in case they decide to give us more crumbs... plz. they feel like younger siblings to them. rinne especially makes me so soft because past his initial impression of being a bad influence and generally just pushing his luck on how much he can tease, it always feels like hes looking out for the two

otherwise i also rly enjoy how they both interact within their own circle (i feel like ive been wanting a nikis kitchen tour for the past 2000 years. i hope we get framed picture of izumi in one of the 3*s).

i rly like how rinne gets along with his kouhai both in asobi and craftmonster bc of the attitude he takes on, ive mentioned it in another post but w/ the former especially he rly just allows himself to be playful so much so that it almost takes the kids off-guard bc theyre like what..hes not as scary as we thought he'd be at all. i think the best rinne friendships are the ones where they set those prejudices aside and dont take him seriously at all lol bc that's when he rly starts to feel comfortable. this grown ass man running around playing games and doing arts n crafts with a bunch of 15-17 y/os (and shu i guess) is a funny mental image and it rly feels like he can let himself loose. conversely i also love when he's exasperated with his juniors bc then hes like oh right im an adult i need to set an example.. this is about U chill yellow

on the other hand i like how niki interacts with ppl a lot more "serious" than him i.e ibara, natsume bc he tends to like..soften them? ppl cant help but let their guard down around niki hes just.... himself. like even if theyre initially wary they grow to be like "oh wait this guy's really nice what the fuck"

i particularly like nikis kitchen circle bc its ppl you usually wouldnt see interact with niki but u can tell they want to impress him. its so sweet nikis just some guy who wants to share his love for cooking. also thinking about the difference between how ibara would interact with rinne and niki (harsher with rinne bc hes his Boss whereas with niki he's more accommodating, that one gordon ramsey meme thats like u donkey vs oh oh dear) is funny so even if theres not a lot of interactions for them i want to think ibara would let niki get away with just about anything

AND NIKI AND TETORA...IVE ALREADY DISCUSSED THIS A FEW TIMES THOUGH... i have a huge soft spot for them. ritsu too. they get like 2 interactions (sweets hunter story, craftmonsters recent gacha) but ritsus humor is just so DRY and u can see niki be like (cogs turning in his head) Whar? its really silly ALSO HE CALLS HIM NIKIPYON....IS THAT NOT PERFECT... i need them to be friends

i like niki and mayois friendship, but its admittedly not my favorite; i like how niki feels like he can trust mayoi implicitly and how he tries to make him comfortable too — i think theyre both quite similar irt self image/esteem although they both go about it in different ways. their interactions can be sweet but one thing that stops me from enjoying them fully is how mayoi always seems kind of uncomfortable (and niki seems unaware of how/why he's uncomfortable) ;_; i hope that in the future the writers can let mayoi be more at peace around him, it'd be sweet!!

and atp i feel like ive talked enough about hiiro and rinne for it to not warrant having its own little ramble section here 😭

[blue-mint-winter]

Reading "A Thousand Worlds" stories by GRRM - Part 3

Nightflyers - I read it once before, so this was a re-read with a fresh perspective of knowing more about A Thousand Worlds universe. A team of scientists hires a ship to meet and study a mysterious, space travelling alien race called Volcryn. However, soon the story turns into a murder mystery as the scientists start dying on board the ship. The events become very horror-like. I'd say the main theme of the story is the pursuit of the truth, the human curiosity that guides the characters' actions as well as their fear and distrust which leads to the escalation of violence. I quite liked the main trio of characters - Karoly D'Branin (leader of the expedition), Melantha Jhirl (augmented human from Prometheus) and Royd Eris (the mysterious captain). The solution to both of the mysteries was quite interesting. 8/10

Starlady - a story that warns you about its lack of heroes, it's set in a criminal underworld, the titular Starlady and her companion Golden Boy are attacked by a gang and in order to survive accept the help of a local pimp, Hairy Hal and become his employees. The theme of this story seems to be unrequited love as Hal is in love with Starlady who loves Golden Boy. The story unfortunately is full of weird, made-up slang, which makes it harder to read. I didn't find it particularly enjoyable or interesting. Preston Jacobs mentioned in his video about this story that it's possible Golden Boy was manipulating others' feelings and thoughts so they would act in ways that aren't typical for themselves. I think it's hard to prove, though something that's definitely possible in writings of GRRM, which often use psychics and telepaths. Starlady receives 3/10 from me.

This Tower of Ashes - another story I didn't like, the main character had his heart broken by his wife who left him for another man, so he moved to an abandoned alien tower in the unexplored mainland of Jamison's World, where he hunts dreamspiders (and probably sells their hallucinogenic venom to a drug dealer). The ex-wife and her new man visit the MC and he decides to show them the beauty of the forest at night and possibly impress his ex-wife so she'd return to him. The ending makes you think that MC is a delusional man and even start to question how much of the story was true. The message is clear: don't do drugs and move on after a relationship ends. 4/10

And Seven Times Never Kill Man - a story about Arik neKrol, a trader on a planet inhabited by Janshae, strange furred aliens worshipping pyramids. Janshae are killed and ran off by human settlers belonging to a religious military sect called Steel Angels. NeKrol wants to sell weapons to Janshae so they could defend themselves against Steel Angels. The conflict is between two religions (with some colonialism added to the mix) and both of them lead to tragedy, with a non-believer neKrol caught up in the middle of it. I think the ending is subtly trying to say that religion is a form of mind control. 6/10

The Way of Cross and Dragon - an inquisitor is sent by the interstellar Catholic Church to fight a new heresy that believes in Saint Judas. The creator of this heresy made up a whole fantastical, detailed tale of Judas having dragons and how he became one of the apostles. It's another story talking about religion, though this time it's presented as a lie that makes people happy and gives them comfort. Inquisitor loses his faith but remains dedicated to his pursuit of truth. 7/10

Ratings are based on my personal enjoyment of each story. Next, I'll be reading a novel, Dying of the Light.

[thorongil82]

Total Drama: Destination Stardom

Fandom: Total Drama series

Chapter: 1/?

Chapter Word Count: Roughly 20,000 (yeah, you read that right)

Can also be read on AO3 and FFN

Summary:

30 competitors. 3 teams. $5 million dollars on the line.

Who of our returning cast members will walk away with a sizeable fortune? Will it be from Gen 1? Gen 2? Gen 3? Or one of the few from The Ridonculous Race? Will friendships be tested? Will anyone fall in love? Will any lovers bite the dust? And will Chris McLean stop asking all these pretentious questions?

Find out the answers to all of these, plus more twists and surprises here, on Total Drama: Destination Stardom!

----------

A/N:

Hey, all! I'm back! If you're new, nice to have you here.

This is my first Total Drama fic, though not the first one I've planned. Although, once I'd gone on a bit of a deep dive back through the series and fanworks, this one came to my mind. A mix of old ideas (from coming up to 6 years ago) with a blend of new ones.

Couple of short things to address before we kick off. Firstly, I haven't seen the reboot yet, so there's going to be very little reference to it. I am aware that they do address some timeline and there's some weirdness around that, but that'll be mentioned right out of the gate.

Secondly, I don't have things particularly set in stone just yet. I have an idea of when people will get eliminated, but things can be moved around depending on how I'm feeling at the point of writing and how things end up linking together. Why is this important? Well, it means that things aren't set in stone until they're posted, so there could be every chance for a surprise. If nothing else, I do aim to make it all work logically and make sense, so don't think I'm just going to pull some nonsense out of nowhere. It also means that there's no set schedule for uploads. I'll try to get things out as quickly as I can, but I make no promises.

Finally, because it does link in, I am more than happy for you to make suggestions or predictions or anything like that, whether that be for challenges, eliminations, commercials (yep, I'm writing those), alliances, relationships, etc. If I do end up using your idea (and it wasn't one I was already cooking up) then I'll be sure to extend credit where it's due.

Now, without further ado, let's get on with it!

----------

Chapter 1 - Wish Upon These Falling Stars

The camera opens up on a choppy mountainous island vaguely similar in look to those that have previously hosted Total Drama competitions, but not matching – a legally distinct island.

“After two successful seasons featuring a brand new cast, we at Total Drama knew that all you rabid, loyal fans would be starving for any glimpse of our former contestants."

From out of shot, one Chris McLean jumps into view, his iconic look having been maintained with no signs of Slowtox in sight.

“So we, meaning I,” he innocently points to his own chest, before bringing his hands together as his eyebrows furrow heavily, “thought what better time to bring back some of our former competitors – along with some new surprises – to duke it out for a massive cash prize.”

An image of a closed briefcase before a revolving golden background is shown as Chris' voice continues, “They will be competing for not one, not two, but …”

The briefcase opens, showing a massive amount of green notes that spill forth from the metallic confines, with some landing outside the briefcase.

“Five! Million! Dollars!”

An angelic chorus sounds out at the reveal, before the shot snaps back to the case in Chris' hands as he stands on a wooden dock, a couple of interns dressed in plaid crimson shirts crawling at his feet to retrieve the fallen notes.

“Who will snap under the stress?” Chris asks, dropping the heavy case onto one of the interns with a solid thud as the host flexes. “Will friendships be shattered?”

Straightening back up, he reaches down off camera to retrieve the now closed briefcase, holding it up as the priceless prize that it is.

“And who is willing to risk it all for what could be their last shot at fame and fortune?”

The intern initially crushed by the heavy cash-filled briefcase shakily limps back up into shot before Chris drops the briefcase on top of them again, both disappearing off-screen as the host points to the camera.

“Well, you'd better stay tuned to find out here, on …”

The image jolts back to a view of Chris standing on the dock with arms wide open, one intern crushed under the briefcase while the other is slowly crawling to pick up the remaining fallen notes.

“Total!”

The image jolts back even further, showing a more zoomed out view of the dock and the island beyond.

“Drama!”

The final shot jumps out to the initial view of the entire island from afar as before.

“Destination Stardom!”

----------

Opening Sequence

Two production lights swing into shot in two quick cuts, before a third cut as a camera pops up from a hole in the ground. A fourth and final cut shows a second camera shooting out of a tree burrow with the edges of a bird's nest poking out, startling the two squirrels chittering on the branch and pushing out a three-eyed blue bird from its nest.

A clapboard snaps shut as the view changes to a wide shot of the main camp area; including the main lodge and the three cabins. One of the cabins looks just like the old musty rickety shacks of Wawanakwa past, the second is a rather beautifully crafted log cabin, while the third is far more luxurious akin to the reward cabin from All-Stars.

“Dear Mom and Dad I'm doing fine,”

The view quickly darts through the campground, catching Chris sitting on the top floor balcony reading a newspaper with a mug of coffee in his hand.

“You guys are on my mind.”

Zipping away from the facilities, a sky shot shoots up the sharp forested rise before panning round and plunging down the cliff, catching three rings set up in floats of green, yellow and red respectively in the lake below before diving beneath the water.

“You asked me what I wanted to be,”

In a rush of bubbles, the view shows Scott swimming off to the right before freezing up and letting out a silent scream as a rush of bubbles billows out. The dirt farmer quickly scampers to the top left of screen as the mutated shark Fang chases after him with a toothy grin.

“and now I think the answer is plain to see,”

Surfacing, Shawn and Jasmine are paddling a canoe out on the lake when Scott jostles their craft in his panicked swim. With Fang's arrival swiftly afterwards, Shawn jumps back while Jasmine stands up and smacks the mutant shark away with her oar. Both their sudden movements help further unbalance the canoe as it capsizes, taking the couple with it.

“I wanna be famous!”

As they tumble into the lake, B zooms by overhead wearing his own makeshift jetpack. As the silent genius rises up into the clear sky, some sort of projectile slams into him and makes him careen into the ground with a big rumble. He pushes up from his wreck and glares over at the smirking Scarlett, standing besides her own launching contraption looking a little like a small trebuchet tapping a wrench against her crossed arms.

“I wanna live close to the sun,”

The shot shifts away to Amy and Sammy riding in an inflatable raft down a river, being carried along by the water flow. The evil twin is facing away from the current yelling at Sammy through a megaphone as the nice twin looks quite resigned as she paddles them along as well. Neither cheerleader notices the waterfall coming up until too late as they tumble over the top.

“Go pack your bags, 'cause I've already won.”

Underneath, Alejandro walks across a thick log spanning the length of the valley as he glances up, before reaching out and catching the falling twins. Amy squeals and snuggles up to the Latino, before kicking Sammy out of his other hand, the nice twin barely managing to cling to the log.

“Everything to prove, nothing in my way,”

From out of shot, Sierra comes swinging by on a vine, one hand up to her forehead as she searches round in the opposite direction she's swinging before suddenly slamming into the outhouse confessional, causing Cody to spill out. Cody dusts himself off before looking back in horror as the giggling Sierra staggers round the outhouse, before dashing off as the super-fan stalker chases after him with arms stretched out ready to grab him up, the two running past the main lodge.

“I'll get there one day.”

The camera slides in through the dining hall window, showing DJ at the stove looking extremely pleased as he takes a deep whiff of the soup he's brewed, only to flinch back as Chef barrels his brew off the hob with his own gurgling sickly broth, glancing back at Cameron, Jay and Mickey all sat in the dining hall. Cameron flinches while the Adversity Twins seize up, Mickey falling off his seat from his shuddering.

“'Cause, I wanna be famous!”

Next to the scrawny horrified boys, Eva and Jo are using the dining bench to arm wrestle one another, with Noah glancing up from his book monitoring the bout. Both competitive women quickly throw their other hands into the fray, still unable to win the match as they push with all their might. Both Jo and Eva grit their teeth and growl at one another, while Noah's eyes widen as he glances between the two.

“Na na na na na na, na na na na na, na na na na!”

Coming out of the dining area, Jacques is laying down on the sand sunbathing before Lightning runs into shot ahead of Sky. The two run over the Olympian before Sky vaults up onto Lightning's shoulders and flips forwards, gaining the lead while Lightning looks wide eyed. Jacques glares at the two.

A hand reaches over and drags the camera over to show Dakota as she gives the lens a kiss, smearing her lipstick as she does. The cameraman wipes the lens down as Dakota steps back, leaving her to pose again and again with Jen and Justin, Jen in the middle of the two.

“I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be famous!"

With each “I wanna be”, a vengeful Sugar dumps a bucket of rotten fish onto Dakota and Justin respectively. As the two models cower in anguish, Jen is spared from the third bucket as an umbrella pops up to shield her from the sickening mixture, with Brick having jumped in to protect her.

“I wanna be, I wanna be,”

The fashionista smiles and grabs the umbrella, holding it aloft and twirling before she leans up against the now blushing cadet, one arm rubbing the back of his neck as he gives a sheepish smile. Jen tosses the umbrella up into the air as the camera follows, catching it flipping round following the shape of the sun before the blue sky fades to night in time with the umbrella falling, a full moon taking the place of the sun in the sky.

“I wanna be famous!”

As day falls to night, the glowing embers of the campfire float up as the camera pans down to Duncan on the left of screen, Courtney and Gwen on the right, and Dawn placed between. All bar Dawn glares at the other side as the moonchild's turns between the three, placing her hand on Duncan's shoulder. Suddenly Chris jumps up between the four with arms raised and a massive toothy smile, while the other contestants sit round the fire whistling the end of the tune.

----------

The camera cuts back to Chris standing on the docks, with no sign of the interns or the cash prize in sight.

“Welcome back to Total Drama Destination Stardom! Set here, on the Starfall Archipelago,” Chris states, holding his arms wide open. “It contains the usual commodities of old; same disgusting cabins ...”

The interior of one of the cabins is shown, showing off the rickety wooden floor, the scratchy rough sheets atop the wobbly bunk beds, stains on the windows at the far end, and cobwebs spun in the corners of the room. As a mouse crawls across the floor, Chris continues to speak off off-screen.

“Same reeking outhouse confessional …”

The view cuts to the familiar confines of the outhouse confessional, with the mouldy seat top flipped open and flies hovering around the disgustingly visible green odour emanating from the loo. The view suddenly blurs as a purple haze is all that's caught by the opening door, before revealing a sasquatchanakwa crammed into the confessional moving to sit down on the toilet and opening up a newspaper.

“Same ruthless wildlife.”

The sasquatchanakwa is now shown walking across the campground, a rolled up newspaper tucked in under its arm and a takeaway cup of coffee in its hand. The camera pans with it, till Chris comes back into shot. The camera on Chris, while the sasquatchanakwa keeps walking away.

“Plus a few new surprises.”

A loud bellowing roar sounds out in the background, shaking the camera and seemingly the very island itself. Chris glances over his shoulder and laughs, before turning back to the camera.

“Got them shipped in special,” the host points his thumb over his shoulder with a chuckle, before clapping his hands together. “But, more on that later. I'm sure you all just want to see who will be competing for our grand prize.”

Chris walks back out onto the docks, moving up to the edge.

“Well, as the old saying goes, 'age before beauty'. So without further ado, let's introduce our first generation victi- I mean, campers.”

As Chris chuckles, a white boat sails by the docks, stopping ever so briefly as a couple of grunts are heard off shot, with the camera focusing in on Chris' celebrity mug.

“First up, giant animal lover and full-time momma's boy, it's DJ!”

DJ picks himself up and walks up to Chris. While he's still dressed in an outfit nearly identical to the one he's known on the show for, DJ himself has gotten a bit bigger. His muscular bulk fills out his shirt even more, while his skull-cap has gone in favour for showing off the tuft of hair curling round the top of his head.

“Hey, man, did we really need to be thrown off the boat?” he asks, rubbing his back.

“Did you really need to ask that?”

DJ slumps a little at that. “I guess not.”

Chris smiles and looks beyond DJ. “Next up, the perennial snarker and lousiest assistant in showbiz, it's Noah!”

The snarker in question comes into view, not only with his iconic outfit but also not really showing any signs that the years have physically changed him.

“Nice to see your material's as outdated as your films, McLean,” he quips as he walks on by, getting a glare from the host.

[Outhouse Confessional – Noah]

“Seriously? I only took that dumb job to try and get an entry into the business,” Noah grumbles, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “That maniac is easily the worst boss I've ever had to work for.”

The snarker sighs as he slumps back in the confessional, before giving a deadpan look to the camera.

“I'd rather take a deal with the devil.”

[Confessional Ends]

“Next, looking to strike gold after crashing and burning in just one season, it's Eva!”

Eva stomps across the dock completely straight faced and radiating her intensity, making the softhearted DJ shrink back while Noah just raises an eyebrow. Appearance-wise, other than her gained muscular bulk, Eva's ponytail has gone as the stunt woman now opts for a spiky pixie cut.

“Well, Eva, what do you think? Think you'll make it any further this time round without us bringing you back?”

DJ lets out a little whimper and shrinks back even further. Eva just gives a small grunt and walks by Chris without giving him an answer.

“Ooo-kay …” Chris stretches out awkwardly before recomposing himself. “Anyway, here's our next competitor! Our first season runner-up, and stealer of boyfriends, it's Gwen!”

Similarly to Eva, the goth stomps her way across the dock up to Chris. In the few years that have passed, Gwen has grown her multi-coloured hair out letting it brush past her shoulders with a slight wave. In addition, she now has on a couple of striped arm sleeves matching her colour scheme that cover most of her forearms, along with a dark moss green skirt that sits over her shorts, the back studded belt holding it up sitting at a slant.

“Is that really all you have, Chris?” she presses, getting a shrug back.

“Pretty much.”

“Fine. Whatever,” she huffs as she stomps off. “If it wasn't for this stupid contract, I wouldn't even be here.”

[Outhouse Confessional – Gwen]

“Seriously?!” Gwen growls as she kicks the side of the outhouse. “Four seasons on this life sucking show and that's still all I'm known for?! I'm not even dating Duncan anymore!”

She puts her head in her hands and draws out a long sigh, before finally looking back up.

“At least he managed to mention me being a runner-up …”

[Confessional Ends]

Chris watches her stomp off with a smirk. “And speaking of contracts …”

Gwen comes to a sudden stop as her eyes go wide. “Oh no!”

“A former CIT with a gaggle of bloodsucking lawyers at her beck and call, welcome back Courtney!”

Courtney steps up to Chris with her arms crossed as the boat she arrives in sails off. Her beautiful brown hair has grown longer, similar in length to Gwen's, though hers is completely straight. In addition, a rather expensive looking watch adorns her left wrist, along with a pearl-like ball earring poking through her locks.

“No loopholes in our contracts for you to try and weasel your way out of, McLean?”

“You know, you'd think a law school graduate would actually read what she's given before signing it, right?” Chris jabs back, getting a huff from Courntey.

“Hmph! Well, if there is anything wrong-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, lawsuit, lawyers, yada yada, we get the drill,” Chris cuts her off, pointing over towards the other arrivals. “Go stand with the others.”

Courtney's eyes narrow as she walks by Chris and gives the already arrived campers a once over – giving what actually seems like a genuine smile to DJ and getting one in return – before freezing up as she notices the goth.

“G-Gwen … h-hi …” stammers Courtney before trailing off.

“Courtney …” Gwen tries to start before she too falls silent, rubbing her arm.

[Outhouse Confessional – Courtney]

Courntey lets out a loud groan as she rubs her temples. “Why? I just wanted one last shot to try and repair my standing. Why did Gwen have to be here?”

There's a slight pause as Courtney keeps massaging her temples, before throwing her arms up in the air.

“Oh, who am I kidding? Of course Gwen would be here. It's Chris.” A pause. “Why does this have to be so hard?”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional - Gwen]

“Oh god, this is awkward …” Gwen groans with her head in her hand. “At least it's not Duncan.”

[Confessional Ends]

Courtney takes her place amongst the currently gathered original cast, taking a spot as far away from Gwen as she can.

“Hmm … seems a little tense, eh? Well, why don't we fix that?” chuckles Chris as he rubs his hands together. “Quite possibly the most conniving competitor in Total Drama history, yet only the runner-up in World Tour, it's Alejandro!”

“What?!” exclaims all four campers.

The handsome Latino gracefully slides off the boat railing onto the dock below, giving a smirk and a raised eyebrow at the group. Not too much has physically changed about the devious Spaniard, although a rugged five o'clock shadow accompanies his well groomed soul patch. The top of his locks have been pulled back and tied into a man bun, while the base of his hair hangs free.

[Outhouse Confessional – Alejandro]

“Twice this hellish show has managed to disgrace the honour of myself and the vaunted Burromuerto name,” Alejandro states, one knee drawn up so his stylish boot rests on the wooden platform. “Three times if you include the shameful display put in by my brother José during his little cameo. This is a travesty – one that must be righted.”

[Confessional Ends]

“Hola, mi amigos. It has been far too long,” Alejandro waves as he walks up to them. “Especially for the hermosas flores.”

“The what?” asks DJ.

Alejandro winks at the three female competitors as he replies, “The beautiful flowers.”

Both Courtney and Gwen's eyes narrow as they look at him, though they do also carry the faint fluster of a blush on their cheeks. Eva, on the other hand, looks quite transfixed.

[Outhouse Confessional – Gwen]

“I know. I know! He's-”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Courtney]

“-a snake! It means nothing!” Courtney closes her eyes and turns her head away with a look of indignation. However, after a pause, her eyes open back up. “But-”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Gwen]

“-why does it have to feel-”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Courtney]

“-so intoxicating?” She giggles, before freezing up and smacking her cheek hard. “No!”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional]

“I mean, why would anyone ever want to kiss the lips that have been kissing Heather?” Gwen finishes with a smirk before pretending to gag.

[Confessional Ends]

“You know, I wasn't sure where I was going to find a greased eel for my new unadon recipe, but now …” Noah decides to speak up with his signature level of sass.

“Ah, Noah, I see getting a free meal ticket into society still couldn't improve your manners,” Alejandro shoots back, seemingly unfazed by Noah's obvious dig.

“Well, you know what they say. You can't teach a dead donkey new tricks.”

That one, however, got under the Latino's skin as his eyes narrow, shooting daggers at the snarker who simply smirks back before getting a nudge from DJ

“Meal ticket?”

“Don't worry about it,” Noah shrugs him off and looks the other way, only to see Eva still in a bit of a daze. “What's with you?”

[Outhouse Confessional – Eva]

“Soooooo dreamy …” Eva swoons with a dreamy expression, before jerking upright and – like Courtney – hitting herself to snap herself out of it. However, instead of a slap, it's a full on punch.

“No! The girls at the gym already rubbed my face in for letting Justin talk me out of all that money back in season one. No pretty boy is going to make me lose focus again.

[Confessional Ends]

Eva catches Noah's look at her before rapidly shaking her head to clear it as Alejandro takes his place amongst the arrivals.

“Well, seeing as how one handsome devil seemed to turn the heat up to eleven, let's see what bringing in a second will do,” Chris continues on. “The supermodel with hypnotic good looks and a twelve-pack to match, it's Justin!”

Justin rides in on the front deck of the boat as it speeds in, the sun shines from behind, birds fly overhead, and the model gets a glint that sparkles from his pearly white teeth as his signature music plays behind him. He has managed to maintain his undeniable good looks despite the many physical traumas he has undergone during previous seasons – particularly Action.

[Outhouse Confessional – Eva]

The confessional camera shows no-one inside. However, a loud cacophony of destruction sounds out off-screen and the outhouse shakes, all while Eva can be heard screaming and raging.

[Confessional ends]

Justin walks across the dock in front of a grinning Chris, before he gestures to another boat coming in.

“And rounding out our heart seekers, he placed third in World Tour and thinks himself a casanova ,” Chris emphasises this with air-quotes, before following with a mocking laugh, “let's welcome back Cody!”

The boat comes to a stop at the dock as Cody walks down the path, wearing a puzzled expression. He has undergone the greatest transformation of any cast member introduced so far, having undergone quite the growth spurt. He now stands around the same height as Alejandro – perhaps even being slightly taller – while his skinny frame has bulked out to a more lean build, filling out his clothes. His hair has also grown a bit thicker, while he maintains a small bit of scruff on his chin.

“Hey, what do you mean 'thinks'?”

Cody spares a glance at Chef who nonchalantly walks past towards the boat, before looking back as a few poorly contained snickers can be heard from various sources – a quick look showing them coming from Justin, Alejandro and Courtney.

“You're kidding, right?” the host asks.

Cody sighs and scuffs the dock a little with his foot as he walks up to the others, picking himself up a little on the way to put back on his 'charming bravado'.

“Hey guys,” he says, shooting finger-guns at the group. Eva rolls her eyes at his act, though he doesn't notice. Instead, his eyes widen a little and his smile gets bigger as he notices the goth already in the group. “Hi, Gwen.”

Gwen winces a little as she gives a little finger wave before rubbing her arm. “Cody, heeeey … What brings you back?”

“Honestly, I still feel like I need to make my mark. Even in finishing third, I don't feel like I deserved to be there. I want to prove myself, even if it's just to myself.”

There's a slight beat as several look surprised by his answer.

“Huh, that's actually pretty mature of you.” Gwen notes.

“Plus, I really needed to get away from Sierra,” he adds on. “I've gone through five different phone numbers and thirteen new email addresses. My family even moved to a different province. She still kept finding me. At this rate, I may need to change my name.”

Noah and DJ share a look.

“And in wanting to get away from Sierra …” DJ starts.

“You thought this would get you that freedom?” Noah finishes.

“Yeah, kinda. At least until this episode airs. Why?”

Cody barely finishes asking the question before a harsh squeal comes out of shot and Cody is tackled to the ground, somehow skidding across the dock as Sierra grips onto him tightly. Her appearance hasn't changed much, though where she had one long braid she now has two. Her hair is also a little frayed with strands coming out in various spots, while if you look carefully you could maybe see the slight markings suggesting a tattoo on her back covered up by her shirt.

“Ah! Ah! Codykins!” Sierra giggles madly, nuzzling her head up against his. “It's been so long and so lonely but now we can finally be together properly after all this time!”

“Oh, I don't know ...” deadpans Noah.

“Nooooooooooooooooo!” Cody flails around in her grip. “Why?!”

“Sure, Sierra, ruin my intro, why don't you?” Chris huffs as he watches on, before catching Chef walk back from the ship. “Weren't you supposed to keep her contained till the cue?”

[Outhouse Confessional – Chef]

“I've dealt with enough of the crazies thanks to Izzy to know that there ain't no way anything was gonna stop that creep,” Chef notes, tapping a finger up against his tree trunk arms. “Sierra'd already woken up early from the tranquilliser, broke outta her chains, and busted open three of the four safes she'd been locked in by the time I got to the hold.”

He pauses, looking off to the side before adding on, “I almost feel sorry for that kid.”

[Confessional Ends]

“Well, whatever, super-crazy superfan fandom fanatic, Sierra everybody.”

Sierra is still pinning down Cody underneath him completely unfazed by Chris' lacklustre introduction for her, while everyone else watches on uncomfortably.

DJ is the first to speak up as he asks the others, “Should we help him?”

“Do you want to get rabies?” Courtney whispers back.

DJ lets out a little whimper as Sierra finally stands up, holding a struggling Cody tight against her while everyone else scoots a little away from the 'couple'.

“Anywho, our final member from our original cast, give it up for …” Chris trails off as he notices that the boat he was expecting to have arrived already is nowhere to be seen. “Seriously? Is it too much to ask for my intros to go as they should?”

A ringtone calls out as the host pulls out a phone from his shorts with a click.

“Yeah? Hey. You know we're on a schedule, right? Fiiiine …”

Chris tosses his phone away in a strop before spinning back round to face the original cast.

“Well, looks like someone's being troublesome,” he explains, before glancing at a watch on his wrist, “and the timing for the next gen was set to their arrival … So, guess it's time for a commercial break! You've seen the first gen slackers we've had to pluck back from obscurity.”

“Hey,” Courtney shouts back to no reaction from Chris as he continues on.

“Has this season's winner already appeared? Who else will join this hopeless lot? Find out when we return after this break!”

----------

Commercial Break

“Are you tired of being ignored by the one you want?”

A female voice plays over footage of a pimply teen girl waving at a jock in a school hallway, only for the jock to completely ignore her. Her lip quivers as she sags up against the line of lockers.

“Do you want to be the one they all drool over?”

A new scene comes in of an adult standing at a bar, absentmindedly stirring her drink as she watches a handsome hunk chat up a younger woman wearing rather revealing clothing.

“Does your body sabotage you with its icky smell?”

A third scene plays as a panting woman in a heavy sweat stained tracksuit takes a smell of her armpits before gagging and passing out. A voluptuous woman clad in a form-hugging blue cocktail dress steps over the fallen lady and points to the camera.

“Then you need Desperado; The Fragrance of Last Resort!”

A close up of the fragrance bottle is shown, crafted to look like the drumstick of a roast chicken.

“Our company utilised the same cutting edge research shopping centres found to attract customers to their stores and bottled it ready for you.”

A scene plays of the teen spritzing herself with the fragrance as the jock walks by her again; though this time he does stop. Sniffing the air, he turns around and comes face-to-face with her with a wide smile.

“Let the irresistible smell of roast chicken do the work for you.”

The teen girl winks at the camera as the object of her affection leans in with hearts in his eyes and a small line of drool leaving his mouth. The image dissolves back to a close-up of the bottle.

“Desperado can be found in all good stores. Or you can go to our website and order from there.”

It zooms back to show the bottle being held by the voluptuous model, still standing over the fallen – and now twitching – third woman.

“Desperado! Just one spritz and he'll be finger licken' smitten!”

She sprays the lens in a cloud of fragrance, the cloud parting away as clips of Beth feeding the liquid fragrance to Owen in Total Drama Action is played with a big red X over the top.

“Warning; Desperado is not meant for consumption. We are not liable for any poisoning caused by ingestion. Please report to a hospital if you have any health problems.”

----------

“Welcome back to Total Drama: Destination Stardom!” Chris says, still on the docks with the nine already arrived campers. “We've already re-introduced the returning cast members from our first three seasons – minus one who's late. So, we're just going to move right on to the next generation of campers. And, because I need some cheering up …”

He pulls out a remote and looks out across the water at the incoming boats before pressing the button, making the vessels explode one after another, with a bunch of cries coming from the destroyed ships.

“Ah, much better,” Chris laughs as he wipes a tear from his eye. “Nothing like an explosion to lighten up my day. And, without further ado-”

“Sha-score! First to the island!”

“From second place in Revenge of the Island to second out in All Stars, it's Lightning!”

Lightning stands up dripping wet on the dock with arms raised. The uber-jock has bulked up even further in his time away from the competition, his definition showing clearly as his soaked training top clings to his body. There is also now a rather prominent lightning bolt tattoo on each of his biceps. His white hair still remains from being struck by his nickname-sake, though his sideburns have been grown out a little further with lightning zig-zags shaved into it. He pumps his fist against his chest a couple of times just as Jo pulls herself up out of the water.

“Followed up by the competitive triathlete who got out-schemed by a bubble-boy, it's Jo!”

Jo's appearance doesn't appear to have changed much, though it is difficult to tell underneath her drenched clothing, with her water-logged hoodie still retaining a lot of its bulk – even picking up more with the absorbed liquid. The most telltale difference to Jo is that her hair is shorter, though what she would naturally keep it as cannot be known as it has all been flattened down from her swim.

“Whatever,” Jo scoffs, slicking her hair back. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Brightning, 'cause I'm the one winning this thing.”

“Sha-na-uh! Lightning retorts as he flexes his muscles. “Lightning's in it to sha-win it! Ain't no way he's leaving the winner's circle!”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Lightning.”

Chris jumps as he suddenly realises Dawn is standing behind him. The other campers also jump after noticing her there as well, with the moonchild being completely completely dry unlike Jo and Lightning.

Dawn hasn't seemed to change much since her last and only season on the show, with the only noticeable differences being shown with her hair. A few strands from each side of her hairline have been braided together and looped round to the back of her head, with flowers threaded throughout, while the long mane of hair running down her back has been tied up with a sky blue ribbon. There's also a light green band running round the top of her head with another larger flower holding it in place.

“I could've arrived later if you'd preferred,” she adds.

“What? Lightning wasn't first? Lightning's always first!”

Lightning drops to his knees with his head in his hands, while next to him Jo slumps forwards, staring at Dawn incredulously.

“How?! Why are you not wet?! Again?!”

“Oh, there was a shortcut.”

[Outhouse Confessional – Jo]

“What shortcut?! Jo exclaims, raising her hands up before crossing her arms as they fall back down. “How does Pixie keep doing this?!”

[Confessional ends]

“So … uh …” Chris stumbles a little, visibly trying to recompose himself, “animal whisperer and seer of your deepest darkest secrets, welcome back Dawn!”

Dawn purses her lips at him with narrowed eyes, while everyone else gives her a weird look save for Cody and Sierra.

[Outhouse Confessional – Sierra]

Sierra squeals loudly as she stomps her feet.

“It's Dawn! Perhaps the biggest fan favourite in Total Drama history! Oh, except for my Cody-Woady, obviously.”

She pulls out her communications device and presses a few buttons on it, before showing the screen to the camera and revealing an image of Cody's face poorly edited over the body of a bodybuilder.

“All his blogs got so much more traffic after his performance in World Tour. The fans were going crazy! There were also a whole bunch of crazies who kept trying to get his attention.” Sierra growls at that, getting louder and angrier. “All over his socials. Sending unwanted emails. Trying to steal my man!”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Cody]

“Wooooow … she's preeeety …” Cody swoons, rocking back and forth before leaning back and cracking his knuckles. “Guess it's time for the Codemeister to get back into gear.”

He flashes a grin to the camera and clicks as he shoots his finger guns.

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Sierra]

The superfan gasps loudly as she sets her device down on her laps, leaving her hands free to clap frantically.

“Oh, I wonder if Dawn could help identify if anyone here is a threat to my Codykins? I need to find out just how her powers work – it's such a huge mystery!” Sierra picks her device back up and starts to type. “None of my extensive research techniques could gleam any answers.”

[Confessional Ends]

Jo rings out part of her hoodie as she walks up to the original cast, eyeing down the contestants she faced in All Stars.

“If this is all that Chris has brought back, there's no way that prize won't be mine,” she scoffs as a large stream of water is wrung from her hoodie. “Time to put you fallen stars back in your place – behind me.”

Gwen raises an eyebrow. “Uh, didn't you get kicked off before the rest of us All Stars?”

“That's only because dumb Old Heather interfered with my capable leadership. If she'd just followed my lead, everything would've been fine.”

“You lost,” Eva speaks up rather bluntly. “Get over it.”

Jo scowls and steps up to Eva – the stuntwoman doing the same – as the two size one another up. At least, until Chris leans in between them.

“Look, not that I don't mind the tension – actually, I love it – but can you all get back into position at the far side of the dock? We've got … something … coming in on the water.”

“Whatever,” they both snarl, jostling each other as they rejoin the other contestants, with Dawn and Lightning joining the group. Lightning ends up standing next to DJ, giving his fellow dark skinned a nod and fist bump, while Dawn stands off to the side on her own, glancing at some of the others. Cody tries to make his way over to her, only to be squeezed even tighter against Sierra.

Out on the water, three people are positioned on a floating jumble of debris pieced together into a rather solid and buoyant raft. Brick and B are on the sides of the makeshift raft rowing it in with warped scraps of metal, while Cameron stands at the back edge hacking up water.

Of the trio, Cameron is the one who appears to have changed the most physically. While he's still rather scrawny, he has at least put on a few inches. His hair has grown out a little, adding a bit more fuzz to the top of his head, while he has also grown a thin moustache that twists down to his slight beard covering his chin. Brick's hair has been buzzed even shorter, while he now displays a couple of medals proudly on his chest. B's only real difference appears to be the signs of a ponytail poking out from under his cap.

The three men glide up to the dock as it hits the wooden support beams, with Brick jumping up first and reaching out to help B up. “Excellent job crafting such a fine raft so quickly, B. I've trained on ships that were far less stable.”

B smiles and nods before both turn and offer a hand to Cameron, the bubble-boy easily being hoisted up by the two stronger men.

“I agree,” Cameron adds. “It never seemed like we were going to tip over once.”

[Outhouse Confessional – B]

B puffs some air onto his fist before wiping it down on his jacket, basking in the praise.

[Confessional Ends]

“Lookie lou, a three-for-one special,” Chris pipes up, getting back into shot. “First up, the soldier who still sleeps with a night-light …”

“Sergeant Brick MacArthur, reporting for duty!” the soldier jumps in with a salute, before his eyes widen as he realises what Chris said. “Hey!”

[Outhouse Confessional – Jo]

“Great. First Jockstrap and now G.I. Joke?” Jo groans, rolling her eyes. “What, Chris still needs me to prove I'm the most dominant competitor here? At least with Soldier Boy here, I can at least use him as an asset for a time, till I crush him like all the rest.”

[Confessional switches – Outhouse Confessional – Brick]

“It's great to be back! Especially since I was unable to compete in All Stars.” states Brick as he rubs the back of his neck. “It was a shame, but this time I'll be sure to represent my platoon honourably. Of course I'm searching to win, but I also aim to prove to Jo that I am a worthy competitor even if she wants to mock my code. And if I can outlast her, all the better.”

His fist comes down into his palm at that.

[Confessional Ends]

“Next up, a genius of few words – or, rather, none at all, Beverly !”

B glares at Chris not just for using his actual name, but also the heavy emphasis placed upon it.

“And third, graduating from being a bubble boy to a bubble-man with his win in season 4, only to have his reality burst by being medevaced out in All Stars, it's Cameron!”

Cameron gives a little wave to the contestants, only to shrink back a little as some of the more villainous competitors either glare at him, or eye him up like a lion eyeing a fresh carcass.

[Outhouse Confessional – Cameron]

“While my injuries have fully healed, my mom was still rather hesitant to let me come back out here,” Cameron gingerly admits. “Ultimately, I believe it was the optimal decision to compete once again. I would like to prove that my win was completely earned and deserved. Plus, I feel as though there's still so much more for me to learn – things that I may only learn being out here.”

[Confessional Ends]

The three new arrivals walk up to the gathered campers and start to interact – mainly to those from their same generation. B ends up walking towards Dawn, while Cameron and Brick move towards Jo and Lightning.

“It's so lovely to see you again, B!” Dawn greets as she puts a hand upon his arm. “Your aura is radiating your confidence. Have you been doing well?”

B nods and gives her a thumbs up.

“Jo, Lightning, how have you been?” Cameron asks politely, getting cold looks in return.

“Never you mind, little boy. Lightning's still owed his championship rematch with you.”

“Wha- rematch?” Cameron steps back, although Lightning fails to notice as he keeps going.

“And Lightning's gonna make sure to crush you when that happens. Sha-bam!”

Lightning punches his palm hard, causing a hard crack to sound out which – coupled with his declaration – brings Cameron to give a very audible gulp.

“Much as it pains me to say, what he said,” Jo adds on, jabbing a thumb in Lightning's direction. “You'd better stay out of my way, Toothpick. You won't stand a chance against me this time.”

“Hey, that's no way to talk to a potential teammate,” Brick interjects as he Brick marches up to Jo, standing between her and Cameron.

“Well, well, well, Sir Leaks-A-Lot. Ready to fall once more to my superior strength and leadership?”

“Negative, ma'am. This time I will make sure to lead my platoon to victory.”

“Yeah, right. The only team captain that'll be winning will be me. That is, unless Chris is dumb enough to include a pants-wetting competition.”

Cameron slowly backs away as the two rivals continue to bicker, before jumping at the slight touch on his shoulder.

“Gah!”

“Sorry, Cam!” Gwen apologises as she takes a step back. “Didn't mean to scare you.”

“Oh, Gwen. Don't worry about it. How have you been?”

“Eh, so-so. Art college has been a bit of a pain. Not that I don't love it, but still … What about you?”

“Oh, I've been wondering what to study for my next Masters. I've already covered Astrophysics, Biochemistry and Psychology, but I'm not sure what else to cover.”

“Wow, that's incredible! Hey, maybe you'd like to join me studying Art History. Could be nice to have someone who can help.”

Cameron taps his finger against his chin. “Hmm … It could be nice to study something a bit more unusual to my tastes. I'll think about it.”

Gwen chuckles a little at his seriousness. “You know it was a joke, right?”

“Well, even then, I'll still consider it.”

They laugh, until Cameron catches Courtney looking at them through the corner of her eye.

“Hello, Courtney. How have you been?” asks Cameron.

“Fine,” Courtney curtly replies as she looks away.

Cameron and Gwen's eyebrows raise a little as they glance at one another.

Seeing how all the others have started talking to one another, Noah takes it all in before looking over at Eva. “You ever get the feeling you're being ignored?”

Eva shrugs before pulling out her music player and putting in her earphones.

“Of course not.” deadpans Noah.

“Don't worry,” DJ says as he puts a hand on Noah's shoulder. “I'm sure it's just because we haven't competed against them. It's nothing personal.”

Noah raises an eyebrow, before looking the other way as Justin is seen to be too busy admiring himself in a handheld mirror. The snarker's eyebrow lowers at that as he drones, “Perfect.”

[Outhouse Confessional – Noah]

“Look, DJ may be right, and normally I wouldn't care about this at all. But, having only been on two seasons – and one not for very long – this is the sort of thing that could cost me allies, especially with that snake Alejandro around.”

Noah's eyes narrow as he brings up the Latino.

“If I'm going to show what I'm really capable of, and eliminate that greased eel while I'm at it, I'll need some help. And frankly, there's not that many candidates right now.

[Confessional Ends]

“Excuse me, Chris, but is this everyone competing?” queries Alejandro.

“Not at all,” he answers as Chef takes off to the skies wearing a jetpack and some protective gear. “In fact, there's still some-”

The host is cut off by the sloshing of water, with B's raft being smashed apart as it's scattered into the air. Bursting up from the wreckage is a large shape dripping with water – larger than any normal human. With tail protruding, a vibrant orange tinge to her skin, and a glowing green hue to her hair, the mutated form of Dakota bursts out from beneath the water and lands on the deck, growling loudly. Everyone else scrambles back with most screaming in shock, while Chris yelps and trips up over his own feet, collapsing to the deck.

“WHERE'S CHRIS?!” Dakotazoid roars.

The other competitors quickly point in his direction, with Chris glaring at them until Dakotazoid stomps towards him.

“Uh ahaha!” Chris freaks out as he crawls backwards. “The uh … th-the heiress of a vast h-hotel chain a-and inheritor of mutant powers … Da-da-dakota-a!”

Dakotazoid continues to stomp up to the host, before Dawn suddenly appears between the two with arms outstretched.

“Dakota! Please calm down!”

“BUT CHRIS!”

“I know. This heinous man must pay the price for his deviousness. And karma will strike her fury upon him for his crimes towards Mother Nature.”

“I fail to see how diversifying nature with a sprinkling of toxic waste is a bad thing,” Chris pipes up. “Look how well it turned out for Dakota.”

The mutant snarls at him, making him yelp and shrink back, forcing Dawn to continue her appeal.

“But it would not do for you to tarnish your hopes and dreams by attacking this villain. What if it leads to you being kicked off?”

“BUT. DAKOTA. SO. ANGRY! CHRIS BLOW UP SHIP!”

“Here, try sitting down with me,” the moonchild says as she sits down in a lotus position, with Dakota reluctantly following along.

Dawn: (smiles and closes her eyes) “Close your eyes,” she instructs with a smile as she closes her eyes, Dakota following along. “Now, think about what makes you happy.”

“SAM!” Dakotazoid says with a toothy smile. “DAKOTA MISS SAM.”

“I know, I know.” Dawn pats the mutated knee before continuing. “Now, breathe in.”

Both do. “And out.”

Both do. “And keep Sam in your mind.”

As Dawn continues leading Dakota in some calming breathing exercises, the mutated heiress slowly starts to transform back into her far more human figure. Save for the still vivid green hair, her appearance looks just like when she first appeared on Total Drama cameras. The moonchild opens her eyes and brings her hands together as she takes in Dakota's reversion.

“Better?”

Dakota nods, “Better.”

[Outhouse Confessional – Dakota]

“Chris better watch his step. Part of the reason he can be back at all is because of the settlement between the show and daddy because of my mutation,” Dakota explains as she pulls out a phone and holds it off to the side, posing with a peace sign as she snaps a selfie. “They improve their medical facilities and response, their liability clauses, and get my adorable self back on for more camera time – I still need my spin-off series, after all – and daddy won't sue the show and Chris for everything they're worth because of my mutation and treatment.”

As she goes down the list, she takes a few different poses – pausing each time as the shutter effect sounds each time. Following the pout, the duck lips and, lastly, running her free hand through her hair, she pockets her phone before finally giving the confessional cam her full attention.

“Still, that doesn't mean I'm going to let Chris get off that easily. I'll be sure to run that tired old momma's boy into the ground.”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Dawn]

“I really don't think it's a good idea for Dakota to be back on the show,” Dawn says, sitting cross-legged as she holds out a finger for a butterfly to perch on. “While it can certainly be a good idea at times for victims to face the source of their trauma, I sense that Dakota's rage towards Chris is only going to regress any healing she may have already faced. Not to mention being away from Sam …”

The butterfly flutters back up off her finger as she lets out a sigh.

“Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions.”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Jo]

“While Daddy's Little Princess can really grind my gears, I honestly wouldn't mind wrestling with Dakotazoid,” Jo admits with the crack of her knuckles. “It's about time I got a nice challenge from someone, and it's not like anyone else here's going to give me that.”

[Confessional Ends]

Chris picks himself up as Dawn and Dakota walk back past him, with the host pausing briefly as Dakota glares at him. Getting to the rest of the combined casts, Dakota pulls out a handheld mirror and makeup brush as she quickly touches herself up, before blowing a kiss to the camera – a fair amount of the contestants giving her uneasy looks. Chris finishes brushing himself down before returning to his usual bravado.

“Alright, now that that situation has been sorted out, it's time to …” Chris pauses and looks over to the gathered cast, eyes flicking over each person. “Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen … huh, seems like we're missing one.”

As he finishes saying that, a loud scream comes from offscreen as a blue shoots out of the water past Chris. Stuck to Lightning clinging desperately to the uber-jock's muscled biceps is Scott, breathing rapidly as he jitters with shaken arms.

“Dude, get your arms off the Lightning!” Lightning fusses as he tries to pry Scott off his arm to little effect, as Scott continues to cling on with a vice-like grip.

“F-F-Fa-Fang!”

Most of the gathered contestants who'd competed in Revenge Against the Island and All Stars gasp and look into the water as the top of the mutated shark pokes up above the surface. He gives a wide toothy grin at the lot as he eyes up his favourite chew toy, before disappearing back down into the lake. Lightning, being one of the ones not phased by – or perhaps even noticing – Fang, starts to rapidly shake his arm up and down, finally managing to fling the dirt farmer from his arm as Fang submerges.

[Outhouse Confessional – Lightning]

“Man, Lightning don't judge, but he does not want dude's clinging to him outside of competing,” the gifted athlete protests with his hands on his knees. “Lightning gets it, he's irresistible.”

At this, he flexes his biceps, adding, “After all, look at this sexy beast,” and giving one bicep a kiss, before folding his arms. “But the Lightning does not swing that way. Now, the ladies? The ladies can join him whenever they please.”

[Confessional Ends]

“Ah, there you are,” the uncaring host beams, loving Scott's visible terror. “The final returning member from the second generation, the challenge throwing dirt farmer loved by all kinds of sharks, it's Scott!”

“Why the hell is Fang here?!” Scott demands as he picks himself up off the dock, getting a shrug from McLean. In the few years since he was last seen, the dirt farmer has grown out a short scraggly beard, mostly covering just his chin, while a tuft of chest hair is poking up from the cut of his tank top.

“Why not?”

Chris has a nice chuckle before stopping as he realises the farmer is growling quite angrily.

“What sort of show do you think we'd be running if we didn't bring that killing machine back?” he continues. “Especially with you back in the game?”

Scott scoffs and crosses his arms over his hairy chest, looking to collect himself. “Whatever.”

[Outhouse Confessional – Scott]

The ginger farmer leans back against the left outhouse wall, bouncing a rock against the right.

“It's not like it'll matter whether that F-F-Fang,” he seizes up at his own mention of the vicious mutant shark, “i-is around.” 

He looks side to side before relaxing a little.

“Papi didn't raise no wuss. I'm winning the money this time, and ain't no m-m-mutant sh-shark …” Scott seizes up again as he stammers through the words before bringing himself back under control, “o-or anyone else gonna be able to stop me.”

He gives a smile to the camera, though it is obvious that it is not reflected in his eyes.

[Confessional Ends]

Chris shoves Scott back, the ginger sliding back into the rest of the contestants. He comes to a stop as he bumps into B, with the silent genius glaring at him along with Dawn.

“Anywho, now that you're all here and I've had my fun,” the host starts as he peers down at his phone, “and a certain someone is still being a hassle … guess it's time to bring in our returning campers from Pahkitew Island!”

McLean turns to the sky and holds a megaphone to his mouth. “Chef!”

The current arrivals all look up at the sky to see a large military helicopter hovering above them, with what looks like a shipping crate attached underneath. From within the cockpit, Chef pressed down a big red button. With that, the bottom of the crate opens up, and several contestants shriek as they're dropped out of the sky.

“Introducing the Aussie Amazon with a giant fear of tiny places, Jasmine!”

Jasmine is shown plummeting with her arms flailing, a parachute pack strapped to her back. It doesn't appear like the survivalist has changed much during her time away, outside of a rather long scar running down her right cheek.

“Not this again!” she cries out, clenching her eyes shut as she pulls the cords for her parachute. The pack opens up and the white chute unfurls above her, the dark skinned Aussie looking up in relief.

“You bloody ripper!” she sighs in relief before glares at the ground. “Not funny, Chris!”

“I beg to differ,” the host retorts as the camera cuts back to him. “Especially seeing who's next.”

Back in the sky, Jasmine's glare disappears as a different scream comes from above her. Quickly panning up, Shawn is plummeting at quite the rate. The zombie fanatic's hair has grown even thicker and wilder over time, unkempt even while being contained under his beanie. Otherwise, he also shares a scar similar to Jasmine – though his is on his left cheek.

“Don't be a zombie, don't be a zombie, don't be a zombie …” Shawn winces, clutching onto this parachute cord before pulling it. The pack opens, letting a mix of acorns, almonds, cashews, hazelnuts and pecans come spilling out. “Ah, nuts.”

Shawn comes to an abrupt stop as he is now hanging upside down. Confused himself, he looks up to see Jasmine holding onto his leg, having caught him mid-fall.

“Jasmine! Thank goodness!”

“Her zombie obsessed boyfriend and winner of Pahkitew Island, Shawn!” Chris introduces from off-screen.

“Please don't let go!”

“Wouldn't dream of it!” his girlfriend says with a smile.

The two quickly right Shawn back head up as he now clings onto Jasmine's waist while the survivalist wraps an arm around him.

[Outhouse Confessional – Shawn]

“Of course this happens after I choose to forgo the wingsuit,” he complains. “Being able to glide up and over the zombie hoard makes getaways much safer – especially if you get cornered up high. But, with the reduced funds I had after splitting the million with Jasmine, it was either the wingsuit or the UV light panels to cover the ceiling, walls and floor of the path to the entrance of our bunker.”

He pulls out a notepad and pen before scribbling something down. “Well, guess that's now going to the top of the necessities.”

[Confessional Ends]

The couple continue their much slower descent down to the ground with a bit more peace of mind now. That is, only until both Amy and Sammy plummet past them, screaming all the way.

“Next, it's the drama inducing cheerleader, the better twin, it's Amy!”

“You better break my fall, Samey!” the evil twin shouts as she plummets, looking over at her ever so slightly younger twin.

Back on the ground, McLean's expression drops as he slumps a little, his enthusiasm vanishing. “Oh yeah, and the cheating lesser twin, Samey.”

Back in the sky, Sammy gives a worried glance to her sister before pulling on her cord. The pack on her back opens up. It stays open. And yet, nothing comes out.

“Nothing but air! How very not surprising!” jabs Amy with a nasty grin. “Useless as always!”

Sammy screams and reaches out, clinging to her twin as they continue to fall. That is, until Amy pulls on the cord to her own pack which brings forth a parachute. The quick change in velocity causes Sammy to slide down her sister, managing to keep herself clinging on to Amy's legs.

With the two no longer plummeting as fast, their hair and outfits no longer buffeting through the air – the camera can reveal the twin's changes far more easily. Amy's hair has grown a little longer, including a long portion of her bangs that have been swept over to partially cover the right side of her face – obscuring that eye and her beauty mark. Her red and white-trimmed cheerleader uniform also appears to hug her figure a little snugger than before, in turn showing off a touch more skin than before. Whether this is down to the outfit being a size or two smaller, or the mean twin having grown in more areas than just her hair remains difficult to tell.

Sammy has opted not to adopt the sweeping bangs that her sister has, instead keeping her hair back with a red hair ribbon – adding one more difference between the twins besides the beauty mark. Unlike the other contestants who have arrived, Sammy is the first to have any difference to her iconic outfit. While still in a matching red and white-trimmed cheerleader outfit to her sisters, the sleeves of the nice twin's uniform are long, covering her arms completely. She also has a pair of black stockings covering up the skin that would be on display between her skirt and knee high boots. With these changes, it is a little hard to see if she's physically developed in the same way that her sister potentially has, although at a glance any difference between the two is not obvious.

“Ha! See?! Clearly I'm the better twin!” Amy gloats as she looks up at her parachute, though with the slightest touch of relief threaded through her tone. “Like, obviously they'd want to save me over you!”

Samey can only whimper as she responds, “Yes, sis ...” with a downcast look, though that is overcome with panic as she's suddenly rocked back and forth by Amy swinging. “What are you-?!”

“Well, you're clearly not needed now that I'm safe.”

“N-No! Amy! Please!” Sammy screams.

Amy keeps swinging trying to fling her sister off her legs. Chris watches their fight – if it can be called that – with a satisfied grin.

“She can't really make her fall, right?: Courtney steps up to Chris, looking up with him. “She's got an emergency parachute?”

Chris gives her a strange look. “What kind of show do you think we're running?”

Courtney's mouth drops open as Brick dashes up to the two. “Shouldn't we do something? In case she does fall?”

“Not my problem,” the host replies with a shrug. “Contract's already signed.”

Many of the contestants gasp, their eyes wide with shock.

Dakota starts to stomp forward herself, the rough edge of a growl building at the back of her throat. “Chris, you better not-”

“I'll have you know, Dakota, that I'm not breaking any part of our agreement with your daddy,” Chris interrupts. “So zip it!”

Dakota's eyes seem to blank a little at that before she lets out a rather dangerous snarl.

“But you can't just do nothing!” the soldier pleads.

The host focuses on the three who stepped forwards with a rather unamused expression.

“Alright, fine. You want me to do something?” he asks, before putting his host-face back on. “I can introduce our next competitor!”

Brick looks stunned, along with a few of the campers in the background. Although the camera does catch B at the back of the group appearing to run off from the others, his quick departure seemingly unnoticed by anyone else. Instead they are looking at the soldier who sputters at a loss for words, only managing to find his tongue a few beats after.

“Wait, what?! No, that's not what-”

“She's an aspiring Olympic gymnast and the runner-up of Pahkitew Island,” Chris pushes on, completely ignoring Brick's protests, “give it up for Sky!”

Sky's cries are heard from up above, the camera quickly panning up to see her with her parachute already open and working, instead having to deal with being buffeted by the wind. Sky's hair has grown out more in the few years since Pahkitew Island, with the gymnast keeping it tied back in a ponytail. Otherwise, she appears to look the same, though her lower half may be slightly thicker than before – a subject discussed on various fan sites and blogs, including a couple of Sierra's.

“Woah! Wo-o-o-o-ah!” she cries out as she grips onto the straps of her pack rather tightly, continuing to be knocked around by gusts of wind. Her nervous look quickly morphs into horror as a tearing sound is heard, with Sky glancing up to see some holes forming in the fabric.

“Oh no! Nononononononono!”

The parachute continues to tear apart as her descent speeds back up much to her distress, having already been blown over land instead of water. Desperately looking around, she manages to correct her course ever so slightly before taking off her increasingly useless pack and falling towards a fir tree. Tucking her legs into herself, Sky manages to catch the tree trunk at just the right angle that she rolls off a rather strong and curved branch, launching herself towards another tree. Reaching a branch on the next tree, she comes out of her tuck and lands on the edge of another branch, using it to springboard up and over towards the beach. As she comes down onto the sand, she once again tucks her legs in to roll across the beachfront, only to then turn the rolling momentum into three forward flips hand over feet followed by a corkscrew flip that – thanks to her momentum – sends her up onto the dock, landing with perfect form. She looks around at her surroundings for a quick moment, before sagging into herself with great relief.

“Oh, thank goodness!”

Several contestants look surprised and impressed with Sky's recovery, in particular Jo's stunned look with her jaw hanging open, and Lightning's wide-eyed gaze with his mouth caught somewhere between slack-jawed shock and a broad smile. Of all the group, the only one who can muster up any words at all is Eva.

“How the hell?!”

[Outhouse Confessional – Lightning]

“Sha-wow! That girl's got skills!” Lightning complements, a rare display of genuine appreciation considering it's not for himself. “Of course, Lightning doesn't need a team – he is a team of one!”

In a return to form he kisses his flexed bicep once again.

“However, if Lightning must be part of a team, then he guesses that being with her wouldn't be too bad. Better than that sha-traitor Jo, anyway.”

[Confessional Ends]

As Sky starts to walk up to the large group, the continued bickering of the twins causes everyone to look back up.

“Like, you've been weighing me down all your life, Samey. Let go!” Amy barks, still swinging back and forth.

“No! Please!” her sister pleads, getting even more panicky as she does appear to be slipping down.

“I. Said. Let. GO!”

With one final swing forwards Amy delivers a kick to knock Sammy off, the younger twin shrieking as she falls while taking one of Amy's white boots with her. The cast members gasp and yell, except for the returning B who grabs ahold of Brick and DJ and brings them out into space on the dock. He hands each of them a corner of a rope net and takes the other two for himself, before quickly positioning the three of them while glancing up above. Sammy comes falling down but lands in the net, held with enough give that it doesn't bounce her back up like a trampoline. While the gathered campers mainly seem relieved, Sammy still screams a little as DJ and Brick lower their corners and help her to her feet.

“Calm down, soldier. You're safe!”

Sammy still lets out some anxious breaths as DJ holds onto her shoulders and Brick stands beside them, the nice twin eventually calming down.

“I-I'm alive?” Sammy breathes, patting her body with her hand – and Amy's boot held in a vice grip – in a need to check that it is true. When it finally sinks in, she lets out a shaky laugh and a disbelieving smile. “I'm alive! Thank you! Thank you!”

On each 'thank you' she gives first DJ and then Brick a tight hug – her sister's boot still held fast in her grip.

“No problem,” DJ returns her hug with a gentle one of his own, before letting Sammy dash to Brick who also gives a gentle hug to her.

“Of course, ma'am. Though you should also thank B.” Brick releases Sammy and turns to B with a salute. “Excellent thinking, soldier!”

B pauses rolling the net up to give a thumbs up with a soft smile, before his eyes go a little wide as Sammy comes up and hugs him too, the genius holding his arms wide of her along with the trailing net.

“Thank you!”

B gives a smile and a couple pats on her shoulder before they look up as Amy comes down. “Ugh! Fine! I guess you can stay.”

Amy touches down, putting most of her weight on her remaining boot while she ignores the glares sent her way. Sammy, meanwhile, quickly detaches herself from B.

“Even though you're so useless you couldn't even break my fall,” Amy tacks on with a slight shrug as she undoes the straps for her parachute pack Once it's off she glares down at her boot-less leg, before glancing back as Jasmine cuts in.

“Are you kidding me?!” Jasmine yells as she and Shawn land onto the docks, Shawn letting go of his girlfriend as the Aussie wastes no time removing her pack before storming up to the evil twin. “What the bloody hell was that?!”

“Um, what was what?”

“You could'a killed her!”

“Ohmygosh!” the mean twin huffs, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Like, what is your problem?”

Shawn now steps up to Jasmine as the Amazon towers over the mean twin. “What's my problem?! What's yours?!”

“Why do you even care? It's not like she's your parasitic twin.”

Jasmine growls as Shawn gets in the middle of the two, trying to hold Jasmine back. Meanwhile, Sammy shrinks into herself further, almost hugging Amy's loose boot. The rest of the cast watch on with rather wide eyes, save for Justin looking into his hand mirror and Chris who's watching on rather pleased.

“Easy, Jaz,” Shawn warns, making an effort to try and pull Jasmine away from Amy.

“No, she's my friend!” Jasmine replies to the mean twin, seemingly ignoring her boyfriend – who's efforts to pull her back also appear to be ineffective. “And clearly I care about her more than you do! You tried to kill your own sister!”

“Oh my god! I did not! I was just helping Samey get down so she could do her job as the lesser me and break my fall.” Amy spits out before pointing behind her at the remaining campers. “Besides, it's not like this bunch of bozos tried to help her anyway.”

“What?!” a bunch of them exclaim.

“Clearly they all thought Samey would be fine,” she continues. “Or didn't care if something happened to her.”

“How dare you?!” a visibly cross Courtney yells back.

[Outhouse Confessional – Courtney]

In comparison to her fuming visage just before, the Courtney present in the confessional looks oddly nonchalant.

“I mean sure, I'm not too fussed what happens to Samey. If she got injured, then that's one less competitor standing in the way of my million dollars,” she explains. “Still, I'm not an idiot. At least by making a show that I do care, it puts her far, far below me on the list of who'll be sticking around. You know, in case I get the great misfortune of being put on her team.”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Sierra]

“Death warrant, signed and sealed,” Sierra bluntly puts, pretending to squiggle a signature in the air. “No one alienates the majority of the competition and lasts long. That is, unless she's managed to inject herself with Heather's unusual knack for survival along with her attitude.”

She pauses with that, suddenly switching to a thoughtful expression as she taps a finger against her chin.

“Then again, Chris may just try to keep her around for the sake of drama ,” this she puts with added air quotes, “by having her swap teams during an elimination ceremony. TL;DR, by my calculations, she won't last long.”

[Confessional Ends]

Brick steps forwards as B gently pats Sammy's shoulder, shaking his head as she looks up at him trying to convey how he thinks what her sister said isn't true.

“Begging your pardon, miss, but my comrades and I did all jump in to protect Miss Samey,” Brick points out, though he misses the slight wince Sammy makes when he calls her the wrong name. He's instead busy gesturing over to B and DJ, both men standing by Sammy and glaring at the evil twin.

Amy gives them a look for a beat before sighing and rolling her eyes. “Whatever.”

With that, Chris walks back into shot with a clipboard in his hands. “Yeah, much as I'm enjoying this fantastic spat, this looks like it's turned into all chatter with no splatter.”

“Splatter?!” Brick repeats with wide eyes.

“Whoops, sorry,” the host says, sounding like he's trying to keep a laugh down. “I meant splashing. Anyway, mind joining your fellow campers?”

“Fine,” Amy whines, though she first heads towards her sister. “Just give me back my boot. I am not getting a splinter from this awful dock.”

She snatches her boot back and puts it back on before marching over and standing in front of the large group of campers with a huff. Having folded her arms over her chest again, she taps her fingers against her bicep for a few moments before shouting out to her sister.

“Well what are you waiting for, Samey? Get over here!”

Sammy just whimpers and nods as she walks over to her sister's side. Jasmine looks concerned and shares a look with Shawn, before sharing another with B, Brick and DJ. The five head back over together and join the gathered cast. The camera focuses on Sammy's very downcast look and poise and Amy's very smug expression as they stand in front of the others, seemingly ignoring the many glares sent Amy's way and the few sympathetic looks to Sammy.

“After all that, it looks as though we've only got one competitor missing. I was kinda hoping for more,” McLean admits as he pulls out a walkie-talkie and starts speaking into it. “Chef, we're missing one down here.”

A slight burst of static sparks out before it cuts to some indiscernible chatter.

“What do you mean 'a hanger on'? How did that happen?”

Some more indiscernible chatter comes through.

“Well, did you try the crowbar?”

Another burst of feedback, which then brings Chris to suddenly beam brightly.

“Excellent.” he puts away the walkie-talkie and turns his focus to the cast. “Looks like she's on her way down.”

Everyone looks to the skies as Sugar comes plummeting down, screaming loudly and clutching what looks like half of a cushioned seat, with a couple of bits of fluff coming loose and getting caught in the air. It doesn't appear as though she's had any obvious physical changes over the last few years, though it is a little tough to tell.

“Please welcome the pageant queen whose play style comes with lots of spice, and has never been accused of being anything nice, it's Sugar!”

“Save me, wizard!” Sugar hollers loudly, squeezing the cushioned seat a little tighter and pushing a little more stuffing out.

Hearing her cries, Noah looks around before asking Sky, “Was Leonard on the helicopter?”

“No, but she was convinced he was.”

“She thought he was invisible,” Jasmine adds on.

“Wizaaaaaard!” the pageant queen screams, her pitch causing many of the cast to wince and cover their ears with their hands.

“Pull your cord, Sugar!” Shawn eventually shouts up with his hands cupping his mouth, getting a weird look from his girlfriend for his actions.

[Outhouse Confessional – Shawn]

“Hey, I may not like her, but it's not like I want her to die. Besides, she could be carrying a dormant zombie virus that'll activate upon her death. You can never be too careful.”

[Confessional Ends]

“No way!” Sugar angrily yells back. “You're just trying to stop the wizard's magic from working!”

“N-No, no! It's … uh … It activates a magic cloak that'll amplify Leonard's spell!” Sky hesitantly joins in, though it seems to convince Sugar as her anger fades away.

“Oh, well in that case …”

Sugar flings the torn half-seat away from her and pulls the cord. However, with the force of her action she spins round so she's now falling back first as her parachute opens, causing the fabric to spill out and engulf the falling commercial model.

“It works! Leonard's wizard cloak-!”

Sugar is cut off as the falling ball of fabric and pageant queen bombs into the water, causing a large splash that brings a slight drizzle to shower the other competitors – other than Chris who's managed to pull an umbrella out from somewhere to keep himself dry.

“Finally! That was perfect! Chris cackles, wiping a tear from his eye. “Will anyone else make a splash on the scene? Who else is waiting in the wings to compete?”

“Aww, there's more?” Dakota moans.

“Seriously, just how many of us are there?” Scott adds.

“Ahem!” McLean loudly interjects with a glare at the two before returning to looking down the camera. “Find out these questions and more in the most stacked season of Total Drama right after this!”

----------

Commercial Break

“Ever wonder what it's like to have a rotten toddler ruining your life?”

A scene plays of a young toddler wailing loudly, banging his drinking cup against a coffee table while his parents grimace, their hands pressed up hard to cover their ears.

“Want to see what it's like to have a child before taking the plunge?”

A new scene plays of a young girl running around the house with a freshly broken vase left behind her, her father's face turning a bright red as a vein bulges on his forehead.

“Or do you just like to laugh at parents having a miserable time?”

A third scene plays of a mother completely drained of energy while two toddlers run around bouncing off the walls. One wears a pot like a helmet while clanging two pans together, while the other smears some brown … something … on the carpet.

“Well, no matter what your answer, come watch as Dr Jill gets these mental patients-to-be through their new teething problems on Tan-Trauma Center; airing new episodes on the Total Drama Network at 8pm Pacific on Terrible Twos-days!”

----------

The camera cuts back to a long shot of the docks with all the currently introduced competitors, Sugar having been fished out of the water and still dripping wet – her soaked hair a testament to this as it hangs heavy over her face.

“Welcome back to Total Drama: Destination Stardom!” Chris says. “Before the commercial break, I may or may not have alluded to the idea that there would be more people joining you here on the island.”

“But the show's never been this stacked before,” Sierra notes. “We've already broken the most cast members, unless you want to count each individual racer on-”

“Zip it, Sierra. I wasn't done,” the host cuts her off, leading her to cross her arms in a huff. “Although, that does segue quite nicely to our next group. A little while back the Total Drama machine was behind a different type of competition; a race around the world!”

“Different formula, better host,” Noah pipes up with his usual deadpan tone.

“Different host,” Chris stresses, “not better. Besides, I had other obligations to fill.”

“Maybe the wizard's curse got all up in Chris' insides and made his tummy gurgle something fierce?” Sugar theorises, gripping her own belly and giving it a shake. “Y'know, because of his screwy elimination?”

“I wouldn't be so smug, Sugar. It was the crummy ratings and reception Pahkitew pulled in that forced us to look in a different direction.”

“That's because they all knew should'a been the one to win that pageant,” snaps the pageant queen, whipping her hair back over her head and getting a few complaints from the campers standing behind her who are given a bit of a spray.

“Nah, you lot just weren't all that good,” Chris quickly shoots her down. “Why do you think there's less of you than the other gens?”

Those who competed on Pahkitew Island give him a glare, except for Sammy who's still miserable. Scott is shown smirking at their reactions.

“Yeah, don't be too glad, Scott. All-Stars sucked hard too.” McLean jabs again. “Dunno what happened, you all kinda lost your marbles.”

The All-Stars cast now join in on glaring at the host. Who just continues on with his speech.

“Anyway, in order to help get that different show up and off the ground for its first – and so far only season,” Chris looks quite pleased at that last bit, “a number of our Total Drama contestants were accepted onto the show to compete. In exchange, we could use the same number of racers on a proper Total Drama season. Five for five.

“Guess your mind is slipping in your old age, because there were only four of us on there,” Noah points out before counting them out on his fingers. “Myself, Owen, Geoff and Leonard.”

“Actually, my mind is perfectly fine in my youthful vigour,” McLean smugly retorts. “You see, while it was indeed you four that went along, a certain surfer chick and Aftermath host was also supposed to compete before she was cut at the last moment on special request for a charity run. But, because she was already contracted, the five still stands. And so … Chef!”

The military helicopter that had been flying above the island that dropped off the Pahkitew crew comes descending quickly, stirring up a bit of vapour from the surface of the water. At the press of another button within the cockpit, the shipping crate detaches from the base of the vehicle and plunges into the sea below. Several contestants gasp, though some for different reasons.

“Ah yes, because the mark of a better host is trying to kill your contestants outright …” Noah drones, keeps up his sarcastic backchat.

“Don't you know it!” Chris replies with a beaming grin, one that quickly withers under the scrutinising looks thrown back at him. “Relax, they aren't in there. Makes it easier to land and get rid of the crate at the same time.”

[Outhouse Confessional – Dawn]

“I'd hoped that Chris would've learned not to dump his waste unsafely after his encounter with toxic waste. Unfortunately, he is still committed to his wasteful ways.”

The moonchild brings her hands together in a praying position as she looks upwards. “Oh, I pray to the Earth Mother that her aquatic life can survive this desecration to their beautiful home.”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Cameron]

“While it's certainly problematic, I've read about many scenarios where the creatures of the sea claim shipwrecks and sunken goods, transforming the ruins into new reefs for them to live amongst.”

Cameron's eyes lighten up at the thought.

“Perhaps this will be a chance to observe the changes myself!”

[Confessional Ends]

As the shipping crate sinks beneath the surface, Chef flies the helicopter over the dock before coming down onto the beach that Sky had previously flipped along, the rapid whirl of the rotors picking sand up and blowing some over to the contestants who enter a coughing fit along with Chris. The whirl of the blades power down before Chef walks out of the cockpit, standing over by the sliding door on the side of the vehicle while McLean walks over, letting out a last couple of coughs and brushing his outfit down of any clinging sand.

“First up,” he starts as he holds out a hand which Chef puts a file into. The host opens it up and quickly gives it a once over, his eyes lighting up with each line scanned. “She's a glamorous diva with style, fashion and athletic ability to boot, give it up for Jen!”

Chef rolls open the sliding door as the fashionista and one half of the Fashion Bloggers steps into view, getting into a few different poses as camera flashes light up the view. She practically looks the same as she did back on The Ridonculous Race, her gorgeous image having been meticulously maintained thanks to her dietitian and beautician. A group of paparazzi kneel before the docks on the sands taking picture after picture, while Dakota glares down at them.

“Um, hello?” the heiress whines. “You're supposed to be taking pictures of me!”

The paparazzi don't turn around, causing Dakota to pout with her hands on her hips. Turning her head away in a huff, she suddenly freezes up as she notices a good percentage of the single male contestants are transfixed on Jen's posing, watching with interest.

[Outhouse Confessional – Justin]

“Wooooow,” the male model swoons, “she's gorgeous.”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Cody]

A rosy-faced Cody clears his throat a little as he tugs at his collar, his eyes darting from side to side.

“I-Is it getting hot in here all of a sudden?”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Justin]

“Couldn't you just imagine it? A diva like her and my beautiful model looks?”

He pulls out a handheld mirror and leans back, admiring his own handsome visage.

“We'd take the world by storm.”

[Confessional Ends]

Jen holds a couple more poses before finishing with a kiss to the cameras. Her posing finished, she gracefully exits the chopper – taking Chris' hand as he holds it out to her to help her down.

“Thank you, Chris. By the way, I love your hair. The windswept look totally suits you.”

“I know!” the host boasts looking extremely pleased.

“The rest of your ensemble works too …” the fashionista continues, placing a couple fingers on her chin as she looks Chris up and down scrutinising his appearance. “Although, it looks a little too ruffled, like you're trying too hard to make it look like you're not even trying.”

He takes a look down at himself at her observation. “Yeah, the chopper kinda did a number on it.”

“Hmm … maybe … guess I'll just have to see later.”

Jen leaves him behind, not noticing leaning over to Chef and cupping his mouth with his hand.

“Remind me to call my stylist once we wrap up here,” he whispers to Chef who nods and hums in confirmation.

Ignorant to this, Jen struts across the beach over to the rest of the contestants.

“Oh, hey guys, it's so great to meet you all!”

Dakota just sulks while the others give her relatively friendly looks at worst, save for a glare from Amy and Sammy looking down at her feet.

[Outhouse Confessional – Jen]

The fashionista starts off by waving to the camera, using both hands vigorously.

“Hey hey hey, to all my fashion blog followers! I was so surprised to get contacted by Total Drama asking me to come over. Of course, it would've been great for Tom to join me here, but don't worry! He'll be maintaining our blog and posting while I'm competing here. That's Now Trending with Tom and Jen for all you newbies out there looking for some fashion tips.”

[Confessional Ends]

“And with that ...” Chris flips over to the next page in the file before trying to hold back his snickers. “Ok, ok …”

Chef leans in and has a look, catching a snigger himself, before both men start howling with laughter.

The camera switches to focus on Noah watching with an eyebrow raised, before turning as he gets a nudge from DJ who leans in.

“Any idea who it could be?” DJ whispers.

“Not really,” he shakes his head with his answer. “I can't really think of anyone those two would be that amused to see except ...”

Noah trails off as something seems to be nagging at him, the snarker mentally going through The Ridonculous Race teams. It isn't long before his eyes widen, as if the answer suddenly clicked into his mind.

“Oh no!”

Chris and Chef wipe their tears from their eyes before Chris composes himself somewhat.

“Yeah, this is going to be good!” he beams before finally bringing himself back to his 'professional' self. “Next up, two contestants with the most problems anyone's ever heard of, with the determination to face everything the world throws at them, it's Jay and Mickey! The Adversity Twins!”

Stepping into sight this time are the two identical twin brothers, both looking rather similar to when they previously competed. Both brothers have gained a few inches in height and have had their mops of auburn hair get thicker. They had also gained a few pimples on their faces, with Jay also gaining a small blotch on his neck. Mickey also still wears his protective helmet, helping to tell the two apart.

“Um, hi …” Mickey tentatively waves, with his brother stepping in.

“It's nice to meet you-”

Jay starts to walk forwards only to trip up and fall out of the helicopter, collapsing down on the sand.

“Oww!” he cries out as he hits the beach before bringing out a sniffle. “Uh-oh ... ACHOOOO!”

Jay's sneeze kicks up a cloud of sand which partly obscures his brother.

“Jay!” Mickey calls out, jumping down in order to aid his brother. That is, until his eyes go wide as he stands in the sandy cloud.

“S-So i-itchy …”

“ACHOOOO!”

Jay's next sneeze kicks up another cloud of sand, leaving Mickey to start furiously scratching himself.

“ITCHY! AHHHHHHH!”

Mickey quickly starts running away, scratching himself as he goes, with Jay struggling to pick himself off the ground.

“M-Mi- ugh ... Mickey! ACHOOOO! W-Wa- ACHOO! Wait! Ugh ... Up!”

Jay starts running off after his brother, still continuing to sneeze as the two run off-shot. Chris and Chef start crying with laughter yet again – Chris even falling on his back, before the camera pans across the faces of the other contestants who are all either wide eyed or wincing.

[Outhouse Confessional – Noah]

Noah draws out a long sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose before looking up and looking down the camera.

“Those two are just a glutton for punishment, aren't they?”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Alejandro]

Alejandro just lazes back against the outhouse wall wearing a blank expression.

“Ok, that's just sad. Funny. But still sad.”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Cameron]

“Wow. Seems a bit harsh to subject those two to this kind of competition if they have such varied disadvantages.”

Cameron pauses, his eyes widen as it seems like something clicks in his mind.

“Wait, was that what everyone thought when they first saw me on this show?”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Mickey & Jay]

The Adversity Twins are sat together, Mickey absentmindedly scratching his arm and Jay holding a tissue to his nose.

“Yeah, at first glance this doesn't look like we should be here,” Jay sniffles.

“But, that's what everyone thought about us competing on The Ridonculous Race as well,” Mickey adds on. “And look how we went then.”

“Yeah! So no matter what they can throw at us, no germs-”

Mickey freezes up at that. “Germs?”

“Bugs-” Jay continues on, not noticing his brother's reaction.

“Bugs?!” Mickey whimpers.

“-or monsters they throw our way, we'll face it head on.”

“Monsters?!” Mickey squeaks out.

“Huh?” Jay finally glances over at his brother, curled into himself with his eyes twitching and teeth chattering. “Mickey?”

“GET ME OUTTA HERE!”

Mickey runs screaming from the outhouse confessional, the view pushing out with a loud crash before panning back in with the door closing revealing Jay all on his own. The remaining twin looks blankly for a moment before his shoulders drop and he sags forwards.

“Yeah, this was a terrible idea.”

[Confessional Ends]

Chris picks himself up off the sand as he and Chef start to come down from their laughing fits.

“Boy, am I glad those two get to compete! Let's see who else we've been sent.”

He reopens the file and takes a look, quickly adopting an impressed expression.

“Well, well, well! Looks like we get a real competitor,” the file snaps shut as the host looks down the camera. “He's a professional athlete who's won gold everywhere he's gone, except for in the Olympics and in the unnamed race, it's Jacques!”

The ice skating Olympian steps out to a magnificent trumpet fanfare, blowing kisses to each side as he stands with a broad confident smile. Unsurprisingly, the champion figure skater hasn't changed much since his finale appearance, continuing to wear his pink and magenta leotard with the wool vest slung over the top. The only new addition is the pair of violet lensed sunglasses – once part of his and Josee's dark ensemble – that sit perched atop his golden pompadour.

[Outhouse Confessional – Sky]

“Oh, I remember them!” a giddy Sky says with a bounce. “They only got silver because she hit the ice right at the climax of the performance. It was a real shame, though I always thought she over-rotated and caused that mistake.”

She pauses as she furrows her brow, tilting her head ever so slightly.

“Mind you, my sister did say that they were both a nightmare to be around ... I guess not all Olympians have winning personalities.”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Noah]

“And here I was thinking Alejandro was going to be my biggest nightmare,” Noah groans as he facepalms. “Silly me.”

He pulls his hand back and gives the camera a blank look.

“Well, it could be worse. It could be Josee.”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Jacques]

Jacques stares at his surroundings in disgust, keeping his hands up to avoid touching anything.

“After that utterly disgraceful finish to The Ridonculous Race, Josee nearly destroyed half of New York! It was a miracle we managed to get her out of there without any injuries.”

A quick clip reel of the Ice Dancers being eliminated in third place during The Ridonculous Race is played, showing Josee leaping up on top of the fountain at the chill zone before she starts to tear it apart with her bare hands. After she hurls a stone wing away, the camera cuts back to Jacques in the confessional, his arms crossed over his chest and his hands now covered in a pair of sparkly shimmering gloves.

“Still, this is my chance for redemption. Nothing will stop me from taking the gold! Anything less and Josee will throw another tantrum.

[Confessional Ends]

Jacques walks across the sand and takes his place beside Jen – the twins still missing.

Chris: “Well, if this is the entertaining competitors we're getting, I can't wait to see who our final racer is!” McLean says with a bright smile. “Ok, last but certainly not least ...”

He flips the file to the last page as he finally takes a look, only to visibly deflate.

“... Seriously?”

Chef leans across and takes a glance at the file. “Guess Don wasn't too thrilled with you throwing Leonard onto him.”

“Never mention that name again …” Chris grumbles, tacking a loud sigh on to the end. “Fine then, last and certainly least, friends with a fake wizard and just as delusional, here's Tammy …”

Tammy appears at the door to the helicopter, throwing up a handful of rose-pink confetti up in the air, to basically zero reaction or fanfare. The dedicated LARPer remains clad in her Viking inspired gear, complete with horned helmet and studded leather gauntlets. There is the addition of some markings and symbols along her otherwise bare arms, plus some also adorning her outfit – although how authentic they are remains to be seen.

[Outhouse Confessional – Sugar]

“That Chris don't know what he's saying, Leonard ain't no fake,” Sugar pouts, before adding in a grumpy mutter. “Non-magic believer ruining reality.”

As it is, it doesn't take long for her to perk up as she reacts like a lightbulb has gone off in her head.

“Hopefully the new girl knows magic too. That way she can magic me to the final round of this here pageant and the tiara I rightfully deserve.”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional - Tammy]

“With the aid of my magical friend, I made sure to enchant myself and my gear to offer the protection I need to face the hardships of this adventure,” Tammy explains as she gestures a symbol drawn on her gauntlet – a shield that upon closer inspection seems quite wonky – before pointing to a three-leaf clover and a shooting star drawn onto her arm. “See? A greater enchantment of shielding, a rune of luck, and a charm of heavenly wisdom.”

She gives a confident smirk to the camera as she pulls out her sky blue ocarina.

“Coupled with a few new spells and my legendary Temporal Ocarina,” she holds aloft her 'magical artefact', “the haul of the ancient dragon's lair will be mine!”

Another handful of confetti is thrown up before she starts playing the instrument, a few off notes getting in before the camera lens cracks.

[Confessional Ends]

Tammy walks up and stands next to Jacques and Jen as they join the contestants, with the Adversity Twins joining in from the other direction – Jay sniffling into a tissue and Mickey whimpering as he scratches his arm and neck.

“Can't lie, that last one was kind of a bummer,” Chris glumly complains. “Way to end the newbies intros … Could really do with something to lift my spirits-”

He is cut off by the ringtone of his phone, the host pausing to quickly – and desperately – answer.

“Yeah, McLean here.” A pause. “Finally! It's about time!” He hangs up and turns back around. “If you'll all turn your attention to the incoming boat.”

The cast turn to see one last boat sailing in, with a couple of interns stepping forwards to the end of the docks. As the ship pulls in and sets its anchor down, the interns climb aboard the lowered gangplank.

“This to do with the first challenge?” queries Jo.

“Not quite. See, since it's been so long since we've had many of you back, the producers and myself were a little concerned that some of the drama and angst between you all would have diminished. So, we made sure to pull out all the stops to bring in contestants that could light a fire under several of you.”

Many look at Chris with confusion and a little apprehension as the camera pans across, coming to a stop on B. He shares much the same expression as the others, though he looks away as he notices Dawn's rather rigid poise as she stares at the vessel. A tap on her shoulder breaks her concentration on the craft as she turns to the silent genius, who raises an eyebrow in way of a quiet question.

“There's a presence radiating off the ship, B,” Dawn answers his unspoken question. “I sense an oppressive shroud over that vessel. As if a malign blackness is at work ...” she trails off as she squints in her reading, … and yet also faint touches of a great ache.”

Upon hearing Dawn's reading, some of the contestants around her suddenly look a lot more worried, with Chris' expression becoming all that more satisfied. At the top of the gangplank, the two interns start to wheel down a figure strapped onto a hand truck.

“Introducing the psychopathic brainiac willing to let an island blow up with everyone on it, it's Scarlett!

The interns turn the hand truck to face the contestants, with the Pahkitew Island contestants looking particularly shocked. Scarlett is strung up like Hannibal Lecter – complete with straitjacket and muzzle – her untied red hair strung out wild and glowing red eyes shooting daggers at everyone.

“What the hell?!” shouts Sky.

“What is that c**t doing here?!” Jasmine shouts, the censors quickly beeping out the particular curse that causes Chris to cringe.

“Kinda pushing the censors with that one … This isn't Australia, Jasmine.”

“I don't care! She was going to fucking kill us!”

“Yeah, man. What made you think bringing her back would be a good idea?” pipes up Shawn, backing up his girlfriend.

“Frankly, your reactions already prove how fantastic a decision it was,” Chris points out.

Everyone focuses back onto Scarlett only to see her eyes practically screaming a manic smile as she gets wheeled off to the side away from the others.

“I-Is the muzzle really necessary?” Cody stammers.

“Considering her mental state during her previous outing, I'd say it is a necessary precaution,” answers Brick in a hushed tone, though not quiet enough to avoid Jasmine's ear.

“It doesn't go far enough ...” she grumbles.

“Really?” Cody looks uncertain.

Noah leans in and whispers, “Do you think that'd stop your crazy stalker?”

Cody looks over to Sierra who is one of the few who looks rather unfazed by the situation, instead looking down on the object of her affection with adoration.

“Ok, I see the point.”

[Outhouse Confessional – Brick]

“Yes, I watched the previous seasons to gather intel. Information is the greatest weapon a soldier can have. I can't say I was prepared for how far Scarlett was willing to go for the million. Still, should she find herself looking to strike like that again, I am willing to charge into the enemy fire for the sake of my comrades.”

Brick punctuates that with a proud salute.

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Jasmine]

Jasmine is still seething as she scowls towards the camera. Her hat is unusually off her head, instead gripping the brim tightly in both hands.

“If that devil tries to hurt anyone again, I will rip her bloody head off!” she snarls, inadvertently wringing her hat in the process. Her grip loosens as she notices what it is she's doing. “Shit ...”

The Aussie lays her now somewhat crumpled hat on her long legs and tries to smooth out the creases. After a few pats and rubs she puts it back on her head, though it does sit a tad off kilter. She readjusts it with a sigh, before resting her head in her palm.

“The producers have completely lost the plot …”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Scarlett]

Scarlett remains heavily restrained in front of the confessional cam, cackling maniacally. While the muzzle does a little to muffle the sound of her laughter. Rather than trying to say anything, she just continues to cackle for the entire time the confessional runs, right up till it cuts to static.

[Confessional Ends]

The sound of footsteps walking across the dock mixed with the jangling of chains brings everyone's attention from Scarlett back to the boat. Appearing at the top of the gangplank is a greying male police officer leading forwards someone in a jumpsuit whose head is covered up with a black rag, a female officer following closely behind.

“Last, but certainly not least, the destructive delinquent and the only player in TD history to make the merge four times!” the host introduces, raising four fingers up to the camera. “Welcome back, Duncan!”

The rag is pulled off his head to reveal it is indeed the delinquent, looking a little worse for wear from his time in prison. A few cuts and small bruises litter his face, while he is also sporting an extra piercing on his ear. A rough unshaven stubble clings to his jawline, while his hair has grown out. Rather than the short cut with the green mohawk he once had, he now has a mop of black hair with tinges of green still coating his tips and the occasional streak through his mane.

The collective expression from the majority campers – particularly the original cast and the All Stars additions – is one of shock, though none more so than Courtney and Gwen as they both scream, “WHAT?!”

[Outhouse Confessional – Gwen]

“Okay, maybe I could've had a chance to finally patch things up with Courtney and move on. But Duncan?!” Gwen groans and hugs her knees, resting her head against them. “This is going to be a nightmare … “

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Courtney]

Courtney can't be seen in the confessional, but can certainly be heard screaming as a cacophony of destruction is heard, the very outhouse shaking from whatever destruction she is unleashing in her emotional turmoil.

[Confessional Ends]

“What is he doing here?!” Courtney screams as she shakily points towards the delinquent.

“Yeah, weren't you in jail?” the goth adds.

“He just got put on parole,” McLean explains. “Our treat, really. Once you two were drafted, I knew we had to bring Duncan back. So we pulled a few strings.”

Duncan just stands there with his pierced eyebrow raised as the officers unlock the cuffs on his wrists and ankles, before looping up the chains. No longer restrained, he gives his wrists a little rub and twist before folding his arms across his chest, stepping past his police escort.

“Not like I'm entirely thrilled to be here either, princess.”

“Don't call me that!” his exes glower at him simultaneously, only to then look at each other in surprise. “Huh?”

Chris can't help but laugh at their reactions. “Yeah, I knew this was going to be great!”

“Uh, Chris? Isn't it dangerous to have two criminals competing on the show?” Sky asks, having raised her hand yet querying anyway. Her question gets a flat look from Duncan, while Scarlett just fixes her gaze on the gymnast.

“Already way ahead of you. But, let's all head to the campgrounds first.”

They all start to head off. Duncan looks to follow at the back of the pack, though he stops as he gets a hand on his shoulder from the male officer.

“Keep your head, alright?” he checks with a low rumbling voice. “I don't want to see you back there.”

Duncan breathes out a sigh through his nose before giving him a nod. “Don't worry, Warden. I know.”

----------

The campers follow Chris into the camp area, with a pair of interns still needing to wheel Scarlett around. They come to a stop in the space between the dining hall and three massive white tarps covering up some rather large somethings – with one being far larger than the other two.

“As you're all well aware, except maybe the five newbies, the game is the same as normal,” the host begins his explanation. “Compete in teams to complete the challengers, the winners get rewards, the losers get to send someone home at the campfire ceremony. You also get the good old comforts of Chef Hatchet's expert cooking, along with the old faithful outhouse confessional.”

[Outhouse Confessional – Duncan]

The delinquent cringes and brings an arm over his mouth as he retches.

“What, did McLean get Owen to stew in here after a truckload of beans to get this rotten stink?” he complains, waving a hand in front of his nose. “This smells worse than being in right after him and, honestly, I'd prefer that. At least I'd get to see the big guy …”

[Confessional Ends]

“But, we also have a few new amenities to make things interesting. For one, there's a couple of new confessionals dotted around the islands.”

[Kitchen Confessional – Chris]

“Such as the one here in Chef's kitchen,” he adds on, the cut working seamlessly.

McLean is standing in the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen bench-top that the camera has been placed upon. A couple of dirty pots are stacked up in the corner of the shot next to a half-filled sack – the contents of which are unknown. In the background the saloon-style doors can be seen, along with the servery window to the dining hall.

“Pros, it'll be hard for anyone to spy on you with Chef Hatchet maintaining watch over his domain. Cons, you have to contend with Chef Hatchet getting you out of his domain.”

He ducks as a large cleaver is thrown over his head, Chris looking to the side as a dull thud is heard off camera.

“See what I mean?”

Chef can be heard growling as some loud stomps sound out, with the host looking over with some fear.

“AHHH!”

Chris dives out of the way as a boiling pot is tossed at him right as the scene cuts to static.

[Confessional Ends]

“Secondly, we'll be taking a page out of World Tour and splitting you up into three teams,” McLan continues. “Not only will the losing team be sending someone home, but they'll also have to stay in the crummy old cabins from Total Drama past.”

The white tarp closest to the dining hall gets pulled off by a group of interns, revealing the old looking cabin – the doors to the two sides barely being held on the hinges.

“They will also be stuck with the communal bathrooms for any of their needs, unless they'd rather go outside.” he chuckles at that, with a few of the more self-concerned campers looking a bit grossed out. “Teams finishing second will get an upgraded accommodation – a new log cabin.”

A larger group of interns – thanks in part to the interns unveiling the original cabin joining in – pull off the tarp, revealing a well crafted and rather beautiful log cabin, sporting a solid balcony and a single door. The campers on screen all look impressed at the sight. The camera cuts inside to show a common room with two doors at the far end, a fire pit within a stone ring, a couple of tables, shelves and lounges around the fire pit and a black metal cone chimney suspended above. A voice-over of the host continues as the shot lingers.

“This log cabin comes complete with a well furnished common room leading to the two sleeping quarters which each have an ensuite.”

“The show finally decided to spend money on us?” Justin asks as the camera cuts back to the cast.

“Yeah, don't get too comfortable with that. You can thank Dakota's father for making these changes part of the deal.”

The camera focuses on the heiress as she looks down the feed with a wave. “Thanks, daddy!”

“That said, even I'm a little jealous about where the winning teams will be staying.”

They all turn to the largest surprise, where all the interns have gathered together along with Chef on his jeep. Chef drives forwards pulling along a few ropes tied to the tarp, as all the other interns pull off the tarp to show a rather luxurious cottage-style manor, three stories tall and even larger than the McLean Spa Hotel from All Stars.

“Meet the McLean Spa Deluxe Hotel! Complete with two butlers, a laundry, a ten-person hot tub and sauna, air-conditioning, a gym, 24-hour masseuses, fully kitted out kitchen and a games room, plus plenty of bedrooms. Still not quite as good as the cottage I'll be staying at, but hey. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

[Outhouse Confessional – Courtney]

“He better not be calling anything like where he stayed in All Stars a cottage!” the Type A shouts. “For the last time, it was a mansion!”

She does pause at the end of that, humming a little as she thinks.

“Maybe we could trick Duncan into blowing it up again? Get rid of two birds with one stone.”

[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Sugar]

“Now that's the kinda place a beautiful queen like me should be stayin'!” she boasts, pointing both thumbs towards herself. “Whatever teammates I get better be good at their competin', or else I'll make sure they're gone faster than a greased pig on a mudslide.”

[Confessional Ends]

“And finally, without further ado, let's put you into your teams for the foreseeable future. If I call your name, come over and stand here by my left.”

He gestures to his left before starting to rattle off the list, the camera focusing on each individual when their name is called.

“B.” The genius gives little reaction to his name being called.

“Cody.” Cody looks a little nervous.

“Sky.” The wannabe Olympian wears a small smile.

“Amy.” She wears a haughty smirk as she runs a hand through her bangs.

“Samey.” The camera widens from Amy to then show Sammy, with the mean twin growling and stomping on her sister's foot.

“Alejandro.” The son of a diplomat gives a little wink to the camera.

“Brick.” Sergeant McArthur brings his hand up in a salute.

“Jen.” The fashionista blows a kiss.

“Sugar.” Sugar hollers and tries to blow a kiss to the camera too, though it speeds away from her before she can complete it.

“And Justin.” The male model gives a wink and a smile to the camera, his teeth bringing a bright sparkle.

They walk over together into a group, as Chris holds out a rolled up green piece of fabric.

“From here on, you are the Sacrosanct Snakes!” he reveals, throwing the fabric to Brick. It unfurls to reveal a flag containing their team logo – a coiled snake with a halo above its head radiating an aura”

“Sir, yes sir!” Brick salutes, the removed hand making the flag curl in slightly, before B steps in and holds it out straight again.

“The next group of you can come and stand by my right.”

“Shawn.” The apocalypse prepper fiddles with the hem of his beanie.

“Jay.” Jay gets a little jittery as he bites his fingernails, small cuttings of which fly away from his fingers.

“Mickey.” Jay suddenly looks relieved with the camera panning out to catch the same relief on both brothers' faces upon the announcement they'll be on the same team. The two of them share a hug before breaking apart, still keeping an arm around each other's shoulders.

“Gwen.” Gwen closes her eyes and crosses her fingers.

“Jo.” She crosses her arms and holds herself proudly.

“Lightning.” Jo's proud poise ends abruptly as she scowls at Lightning, the uber-jock glaring right back at her.

“Cameron.” Cameron looks a little nervous, that trepidation doubling as he realises Lightning has broken off of his stand-off with Jo to glare at the former bubble boy.

“Eva.” The stuntwoman rolls her eyes at the antics of her team members.

“Sierra.” Sierra looks down at her feet as the bottom of her lip quivers.

“And Scarlett.” Shawn jumps a little at Scarlett's mention, while the redhead's reaction is masked up.

Like the Snakes, they all come together in a group – Scarlett being wheeled over by interns. Sierra sends a forlorn look over towards Cody on the separate team. Chris has in his hands a rolled up gold fabric. Jay and Mikey glance around nervously at most of their teammates, specifically the jocks and Scarlett.

“From here on, you will be the Pugnacious Panthers!”

Lightning is thrown the golden flag, unfurled to reveal two panthers taking swipes at one another.

“The What Panthers?” Jo asks, looking a bit confused – though not as much as Lightning.

“Pugnacious. Meaning quick to argue or fight,” Cameron explains as he readjusts his glasses by the frame.

Shawn nods and narrows his eyes towards Scarlett. “Yeah, I can see that.” Scarlett just rolls her eyes.

“And for the rest of you; Jasmine.” The concerned Aussie looks towards her boyfriend.

“Dawn.” Like B, the moonchild barely gives any reaction.

“Tammy.” The LARPer looks over her ocarina, giving it a little shake.

“Noah.” The snarker looks fairly unimpressed.

“Courtney.” Courtney has her eyes clenched shut as she repeats a mantra to herself, trying to keep herself calm. It doesn't seem like it's working too well.

“DJ.” The gentle giant anxiously looks around him.

“Scott.” Scott frowns at the host and growls a little, though he ends up glancing in Courtney's direction and quickly looking away.

“Dakota.” Dakota gives a bright smile and a finger wave to the camera before blowing a kiss.

“Jacques.” The Olympian beams and looks down the camera, bouncing his eyebrow up enticingly.

“and Duncan.” the delinquent glowers at the host. “Bunch up now.”

They do as he says, with Courtney fixing Duncan with a look and trying to keep herself as far away from Duncan as she can. That is, until she realises she's next to Scott and moves around again. Chris has in his hands a furled up red flag.

“Your team will be the Recalcitrant Rabbits!”

DJ catches the flag and opens it up, showing off the logo as two rabbits butting heads.

“What's a re … re-recalcitrant anyway?” Dakota asks.

“Uncooperative, particularly towards discipline and authority,” Noah rattles off before looking at Chris. “Did someone buy a thesaurus or something?”

“We wanted something a bit more unusual to alliterate the animals. Plus, you can't say they don't fit, right?”

Noah looks over his own team, before giving the same observations to the other two, finally settling with a shrug. “Guess so.”

“Uh, Chris?” Courtney speaks up with her hand raised. “Is there any way that Duncan can be put on a different team? I'd rather not be on the same team as a convicted criminal!”

“Yeah, same here with Scarlett. No way do I want to be with someone who was going to kill me,” Shawn adds in, though the two named competitors don't react much to their protests – not even Duncan to the venomous stress Courtney spat his name out with.

“Why bring them back anyway?” queries Gwen. Chris opens his mouth to answer, although he gets cut off completely by Sierra.

“Drama and ratings, why else would Chris and the producers do anything?” she notes. “BTW, your reactions are just proving to them that they were correct to do so.”

“Right you are, Sierra,” McLean nods. “But, considering the considerable dangers these two could present with their destructive ways, the producers did draft up some extra special rules for them on top of the general rules for disqualification that everyone abides by. If they break any of them, they'll not only be immediately removed from the competition, but also sent straight back to whichever facility they were pulled out of.”

“And these special rules are?” Scott jumps in.

“For me to know and you to find out. Can't have anyone forcing them into breaking a rule.”

The dirt farmer snaps his fingers and grumbles to himself, “There goes that plan ...”

“Of course, maybe we could be persuaded to tell you all …” the host proposes, a lot of the campers perking up at this. “However, if we were to do that, then anyone who even remotely pressures either of them into breaking a rule – should they do so – would also be immediately eliminated. It would be quite a shame if that's how you lost out on winning five million dollars. So, anyone game?”

The ones who had perked up appear far more hesitant to take the deal now, everyone remaining silent with only a few like Courtney and Scott putting up an annoyed front.

“Suit yourself. Oh, speaking of rules, we may as well go over this now. Since we're under Canadian law, because you're all nineteen and over, you can all legally drink and consent. However, there's going to be very few opportunities for drinking out here – unless it's a challenge. So, go easy on it.”

There are a few disappointed looks from some of the cast at this, from Duncan, Jasmine and – surprisingly – Courtney in particular.

“Also, no sex outside the cabins or any applicable sleeping quarters.” the host continues. “We don't need to be cutting around that. In the quarters is fine-ish, just try not to make it a habit. We still have split quarters for a reason. Unless you don't mind having an audience there.”

Quite a lot of faces turn varying shades of red at this.

“Do we really need to go over this?” Eva questions, being one of the ones not as reactive to that in comparison.

“Legal wants me to make sure you all know. Lastly, while you are older, this brand does still attract a younger audience and still has a prime-time spot. So, while we can allow some curses and swears, try to keep it to a minimum. And that particular word you Aussies keep in your vernacular is off limits, Jasmine. You'll get away with a warning for earlier.”

[Outhouse Confessional – Jasmine]

“Honestly, it's not like I use it often. Hell, a lot of us Aussies don't. The amount of usage the 'c-word' gets depends on where you are.”

She does pause a little as she rubs the back of her neck. “Admittedly, where I'm from is a bit freer with its use than other parts, but I try not to use it. It just slipped out 'cause I was angry.”

[Confessional Ends]

“So, is everyone happy?”

A few hands still go up, notably from Courtney, Duncan and Amy, plus a couple others lost in the mass of bodies.

“Good,” Chris smiles, completely ignoring them. “Now get your things and get changed into whatever you're comfortable getting wet in. Your first challenge may look a tad familiar …”

DJ's eyes go wide as he seizes up. “No, please … Not that!”

The camera cuts to the cast standing in their respective swimwear on a beach before a lake, with a steep rise to a large cliff in the background.

“NOOOOOOOO!” the mama's boy screams, dropping to his knees and getting a delighted chuckle from McLean.

“It's good to be back,” he says before looking down the camera. “How will our campers fare with their first challenge? Will anyone go splat? Which team will fall flat? And who will be the first one to be voted off? All those answers and more next time on Total Drama: Destination Stardom!”

----------

A/N: Well, what do you think?

While it's not completely necessary right now, I will be putting in a running elimination order when they come through, plus I might also put down who voted for who. Don't think I'll go over the why in notes. If it's needed, it'll be addressed in story. Although, something that does need to be put down now, the teams:

Sacrosanct Snakes: B, Cody, Sky, Amy, Sammy, Alejandro, Brick, Jen, Sugar and Justin

Pugnacious Panthers: Shawn, Gwen, Jo, Lightning, Cameron, Jay, Mickey, Eva, Sierra and Scarlett

Recalcitrant Rabbits: Jasmine, Dawn, Noah, Courtney, DJ, Scott, Jacques, Tammy, Dakota and Duncan

Fun fact, I used a randomiser to get the teams. The idea was I would randomise it till I got close to what parameters I wanted, and then tweak it to get the rest. I ended up using the first random set I got. It was so close to being perfect. All that needed tweaking was getting Amy and Sammy on the same team (yes, I know), and that ended up splitting up Jasmine and Shawn, though both ended up on different teams to where they started. Duncan and Courtney also somehow managed to be on the same team every time I randomised the list. It was outrageous.

Another small fun fact, this was originally only going to have 24 contestants. At least until I realised I really wanted to have both Jay and Mickey in this. That then bumped it up to 27, but then looking over it I noticed I didn't really have many who stood out as early boots, so another three were added to be cannon fodder. Doesn't mean they won't have an arc, just that it may be a short one.

Anyway, like I said, feel free to let me know your thoughts, any suggestions or criticisms you may have. I'm more than happy to talk and respond to questions, though I will try to keep things spoiler-free. At the very least, I will try to ask you all one question each chapter, along with one very over-arching question per chapter. Both will be the same for this introduction; Who do you think will win? Who're you gonna root for? Who's it gonna be?

I don't currently have a schedule. I will try to get the next one out soon, though I could end up making a schedule where I go between this and one of my Pokémon fanfics (probably Forgotten But Not Gone). So please wait patiently. If nothing else, I don't think I'll manage to get chapters out quite as long as this one was; this is the longest chapter I've ever written after all.

Finally, if you're interested to see more, you can find me over on YouTube, FanFiction and AO3. FFN and AO3 are more for story upload while YouTube is me gaming, though I may go into fantasy writing/booking scenarios and possibly audio roleplays as well. Who knows? Either way, they're all under Thorongil82, so by all means check 'em out.

Anyway, that should be all for now. Until next time, folks!

[blackberry-gingham]

HEY IF YOU LIKE MY WRITING AND ALSO NORMAN OSBORN, READ THIS RIGHT NOW AAAAAA

I'm privy to the basic course this fic is on and it's going to be LEGENDARY AAAA

The Notes Upon the Page (Norman x Reader) pt. 1

As the caretaker of Harry, you discover one of your many talents is also one of the greatest restrictions upon the Osborn family. And it drives you to answer a simple question: where did it all start from?

Hello everyone! I haven't written a proper reader insert in nearly 9 years and thought "hell, why not do it again?" Well, this took about 2 months to work up the courage to post, so a massive thank you to @softimaginescity for being my no. 1 supporter through the entire process!Sorry there isn't more Norman in this! I wanted to set up a couple things first.

I made a playlist! YouTube Spotify

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

"My father hates music."

The phrase blindsides the ears. A stark contrast to the otherwise suggested, given the instruments lined upon the walls and tucked into the corners of the room. One quick count reveals 16 instruments, each organized and arranged in what could be interpreted as orchestral form. Even the grand piano stands center and forefront to the door, adding to the aesthetic pleasure.

But the observation also begs the question: “Why does he have so many instruments?”

Harry’s hesitant eyes turn upwards until his gaze meets yours. He’s got a thousand words to say, but none which find their way to his mouth. And for good reason. He doesn't need to explain his father's arrogance and pride in the monopoly the Osborn family rests upon. The instruments are for show; a mixture of eastern and western to reinforce the subtle musical intellect Norman Osborn hopes to convey to any visitors. Some are even custom designed by overseas companies.

What does become vocalized is a change in description as Harry searches for better phrasing. "I guess he doesn't really hate music. He just doesn't want to hear it. I think it reminds him of Mom 'cause she used to play.”

It's a sombre story, tucked inside dismissal. Moreover, it seals off an entrance to the one world where the remnants of Harry's mother’s memories lie. Space and time repeatedly prove no competition against a timeless tune, and Emily's legacy is likely no exception. Waiting to be unlocked. But the bridges to reach her remain unbuilt. Each time Harry tries to lay the planks, his father destroys them.

It pains the younger Osborn to look at the instruments, his desire to understand their magic and his mother so apparent upon his face. So much so he's fallen quiet in favor of thinking. Ignoring you, as though he's forgotten he's not the only one in the room.

By no means is your presence unvalued. That you know. Your reasoning for stepping deep within Oscorp territory comes with a job acceptance to become the Osborn family's personal caretaker. What the full job description entailed, Norman Osborn never clarified; a classic Osborn conundrum, now that you’ve had nearly a year to investigate how he operates.

While Norman found your occasional flustered confusion and aimless wandering around the giant Oscorp building amusing, he never lost sight of the only blatant request he gave the first day you arrived: watch after his son when he couldn’t. Part of you expected Harry to protest against the idea of a “babysitter”, given he would turn 10 in the Fall. To an extent, Harry does show signs of frustration should you overstep his boundaries, his Osborn pride and Lyman stubbornness getting the better of him.

But the latter half of the months you’ve spent as his caretaker have been with the fullest of acceptance. Not just by Harry, whose childhood no longer slodges through complete loneliness, but by Norman, who has shockingly complimented your efforts once. According to the older Osborn, you’ve settled into the perfect balance of parent and friend, filling the emptiness pitted within the son. “If it weren’t for Peter, you might be his best friend,” Norman had said.

It’s that same bond that leads Harry to show off the music room. A room that probably shouldn’t be as easy to unlock with the swipe of a single keycard if Norman's restricted access inside. Now, as you study the wall of membranophones, you have to ask: "Your mother played all these instruments?”

"Oh yeah,” Harry says immediately. “At least that’s what Lucille told me. Oh yeah, you’ve never met Lucille. She was my mom’s maid; she works for Dad somewhere else now and doesn't visit me often. But she said Mom made a bunch of recordings of herself, then layered all the recordings to make a song. And then she put them on tapes. Hey, wait! I have one! Wanna hear?”

You agree, prompting Harry to skip to the piano bench. Sunbleach has overtaken the giant instrument from years of neglect, the sight a stab to your heart. Norman not only has one of the nicest pianos in the world made by an overseas company, but he’s decided it’s not worth his time to protect the hardwood. Cast to the side like a toy. In contrast, Harry remains unconcerned and unaware of the poor instrument’s condition, having become too wrapped up in retrieving a cassette tape from inside the bench. He holds it up as though he’s found ancient gold, then shuts the bench and drags it to a shelf with a stereo, where he places the tape in the cassette player ever so delicately.

Perhaps you expected to hear the piano, given where the tape was kept. Instead, the shrill trill of a tin whistle greets your ears, each note played with ever so select precision despite the rapid speed. A single guitar accompanies the tune, deepening the jig with cheerful chords just as exuberant as its partner. Yet never does the melody never becomes lost, accented notes keeping it organized and understandable in the chaos.

It's almost incredible. You’ve seen pictures of Emily scattered about the penthouse, all portraying her as a rather petite and dainty woman, even if she's the taller one between the Osborn adults. All of them deceiving, now knowing just how much power she put into her performances.

“Your mom played both parts?” Your voice may have given away your astonishment more than intended.

“Yep! Lucille says she even wrote this piece.”

“She really knew how to play,” you comment as you glance at the loopy cursive on the spine of the tape's case. This particular ensemble is named Don’t Fret About It.

It’s another minute before the song ends. Rather abruptly, as most jigs would, with only two notes and one chord to lead out the end. Only after it finishes does Harry speak again.

“I wanna learn how to play that someday, but I don’t know how to play an instrument. Mom tried to teach me when I was a kid but I didn’t care.” To be fair, Emily also died when Harry was 3. Most children wouldn’t care about instruments yet. But those thoughts are brief, for Harry has more to say, the words drawing a frown to his lips though his exact thoughts never surface to transparency. “Do you have any regrets? Because that’s what I regret. I wish I had paid attention."

Perhaps this is opportunity knocking. One that you’re meant to seize...which you are before you’ve had a chance to consider your words or their consequences.

“Would you still like to learn?”

“If my father will let me have lessons.” Harry wanders over to the piano and opens the fallboard, studying the ivory keys.

Right. Always down to Norman. The man whose idea of parenting could be described in one word, yet takes an essay to explain. To Norman, Harry’s life lays in detail upon an invisible planner, calculated out year by year, month by month, day by day. And if the plan ever goes awry, there was always a backup plan.

The one thing Norman doesn't calculate for is you. Nor could he ever have, for your name isn’t the most well-known when it comes to leaving a record of your musical career. What is out there is only known by word of mouth. Which gives you the rare opportunity.

You join Harry’s side in standing at the piano, raising one hand and pressing a few select keys and encouraging him to copy. As expected of the sunbeaten beaut, the piano is out of tune and impersonates a saloon instrument far more than its concert hall design suggests. Dust which collected upon the keyboard now touches your fingertips with a gritty consistency. The pedals cry in dire need of oil, prompting you to choose to forget their existence for the time being. Yet none of these imperfections take away from the sheer joy upon Harry’s face as he realizes he’s playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

He's a fast learner, faster than you prepared for. Within a few playthroughs, Harry understands not only the keys to press, but which fingers to use and where to position his wrist. All from a few few visual demonstrations upon your part. And it prompts you to ask another question:

“Maybe I could teach you?”

You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen Harry beam until he could pop, but what’s there to blame? The gleam in his eyes confirms he's wished for this moment for years, but never found the pathway to make it a reality until now. “Really??” He asks, unable to mask his feelings. “When do we start?”

“Which instrument do you want to learn first?”

“I wanna learn how to play the guitar! That was Mom’s favorite instrument because she always has it in pictures with her—” His words screech to a halt, his eyes adjusting to the stiffness that settles upon the atmosphere over your shoulder. The joy that captivated him drains just as easily from his face as it arrived.

“Hi Dad.”

Only then do you turn to face your boss standing in the doorway of the room. If there’s disappointment upon Norman's face, it's well hidden behind the frustration. The stoic businessman isn't known to be friendly, but now knowing the father's hated for music were far beyond an exaggeration makes the older Osborn’s sharp cold glare even more intimidating, green eyes burning through your head.

"Harry, aren't you supposed to be focusing on your studies?" He wonders aloud. A routine, passive aggressive question he's used multiple times in various scenarios, and one that only codes as fatherly worry when in front of strangers.

Not before you. You've been around Oscorp for far too long to be an acquaintance. Although one could argue you’re still an amateur, given you know very little about the man's personal endeavours. What you do know is that it’s summer, and Harry doesn’t have school, nor any summer camps to attend.

But you have no say in the matter, and Harry doesn't either. Nor does he fight back. Or even attempt to. "Yeah," is all he says, head turning down. He starts for the door, pausing as he passes you. “Can you get the tape?" And then he's gone, shoving past his father as he runs away. Norman attempts to make eye contact, but it’s futile.

You let Harry go, knowing he’ll likely head upstairs to his room. Your next step is towards the stereo, Norman’s eyes following your every move as he sets a small black box upon a nearby shelf. Only when the cassette tape is back in its case does he speak.

"I didn't know you could play the piano."

“A little,” you say as you shut the stereo. Under your breath, you mutter, "It's easier if the piano is tuned.”

"What?" Norman asks, stepping closer and tilting his head so his right ear leads.

You wave his question off, moving towards the piano. Your eyes meet as you place a little more enunciation upon your lips. "Nothing, I was just talking to myself."

Recognition flickers across Norman's face as he glances at the tape. And not in a positive way. "Where did you get that?"

"I found it," The gears in your mind immediately suspect something else is on Norman's thoughts. Something that causes you to tuck the tape in the corner of the bench, opposite of where a stack of bleached papers sit. Perhaps it’s counterintuitive, showing the man exactly where the tape is instead of taking it with you for protection. Yet part of you doubts he would have the heart to snap it in half or throw it away, as it's one of the few memories left of his late wife.

Closing the piano’s fallboard is the last task you complete before turning to study the man. He's emotionless, motionless, and unreadable. It makes for an intriguing combination, given his usually eccentric and motivated desire to banter. It also doesn't help deducing his intentions.

"Is there something you need?"

He's tempted to answer with detail. Instead, he ignores voicing it in favor of prodding his pet subject. "How’s Harry?”

"He’s good. Hasn’t changed since yesterday.” The snark isn’t met with approval. “It’s about his snack time. You're welcome to come if you want.”

"That isn't my job.” His voice sharpens as he switches topics again. “I thought I told you this room was off limits.”

“You did.”

“And you disobeyed my wishes.”

“Under the better interests of your son. As you obeyed me to do.”

Silence fills the space as Norman scans you over with great scrutiny. From your very eyes, down your face, to the shoulders, then falling through your torso and beyond before his gaze is back to your face. Like he’s assessing you, questioning why you’re not challenging him, and yet forcing him to hear what he doesn’t want.

And that’s what frustrates him most. All he can do is raise a hand and flick a lazy thumb over his shoulder. “Get out of here.” And you obey, stepping by him very similar to how Harry did just moments earlier. The only difference is that you keep your head up and your face always in view of his sight as you pass. Norman shuts the door behind you. He casts one more warning glance your way before heading to the penthouse elevator, pausing in his step when his fingers fail to find the item he needs in his pocket. Briefly, he pretends nothing is wrong to hide the level of concern he feels.

Too bad a year of working from him leaves his body language easy to deduce. “Norman,” you call, giving him a second to register your voice and direction it came from. “You left it on the shelf in the music room.”

Norman doesn't bother to thank you, swiping his Oscorp card to enter the room and return with the black box, which he pops open. The last thing you see of the man is him replacing his hearing aids before entering the elevator. Only then do you head to the third floor to find Harry setting up a board game.

Harry’s not in a mood for too much discussion, but he has the energy to mumble, “Do you know how to play Mahjong?” Shaking your head opens the opportunity for the youngster to boss you around and teach you the rules, regardless if you know the game or not. Within seconds, he’s forgotten what he was even angry about.

But while a smile accompanies your struggling to understand the rules Harry’s gleefully over-complicated in explanation, your mind remains elsewhere. You can't wrap your head around Norman's thought process. On one hand, he refuses to listen to Emily’s work despite it being possibly the closest memory of her soul. On the other, he keeps her instruments around, as though he expects her to return and play them again.

And it makes you wonder.

[sevlgi]

taste of your own medicine

requested: yes

group: twice

pairing: nayeon x fem!reader x sana

genre: angst, fluff

contents: university!au, flirty!sanayeon, healthy communication is sexy, poly relationship

warnings: none

synopsis: When you’re dating the two biggest flirts on campus, it’s inevitable that you become jealous. However, it’s also inevitable that Sana and Nayeon will get a taste of their own medicine.

a/n: sorry for the lack of updates, everyone, i’m lowkey struggling 😔 hope you enjoy!

word count: 2.2k

When you first started dating your girlfriends, the last thing you expected was that no one else was going to know about it.

It wasn’t that you wanted everything to be public-- it was just that you had expected to be the private one in the relationship. After all, being the two biggest flirts on campus, Sana and Nayeon seemed like they wanted a relationship more than anything, and that the both of them would be open when it happened.

However, it didn’t take you that long for you to figure out that that wasn’t exactly the case. Neither of them flirted for relationships, though they assured you that they were happy to have one; they just had different reasons for acting the way they did.

Sana just didn’t know about her own effect on people. She was clueless about the fact that just one of her flirty smiles would bring the world to her feet. And because she didn’t mind the attention, nothing stopped Sana from drawing the crowd in.

On the other hand, Nayeon knew exactly what her charms could get her, and she used it all to her advantage. When a few sugared words could earn her free drinks for the night at a party, why wouldn’t she let them slide off her tongue?

And so, you realized that your two girlfriends were two sides of the same coin. One that was more golden honey, and another that was a sharp-edged sugar cube.

Then, where did you fit in?

“Drink?”

You frowned down at the unidentified liquid in the cup that Jeongyeon offered you. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not paying double the price of whatever shitty liquor this frat house bought.”

“Who said we’re paying?” Jeongyeon shoved it into your hand anyway, wincing when she took a sip of her own drink. “The kid manning the drink table is being distracted  by Nayeon, he didn’t even see me take these.”

Right. Nayeon. You sighed at the mention of your girlfriend who you hadn’t seen all night, despite the fact that she was the one who brought you here, and raised the cup to your lips. “Right.”

Jeongyeon observed your change in mood, then asked, “How do you stand it? Standing off to a side and watching them flirt...”

You shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t even know.”

“Why do you stand it?”

Pausing, you could only shrug again. “Dunno that either. I guess it’s just that I don’t have ownership over them? Like, sure, we’re dating, but I don’t control the way they act.”

“You’re too nice for your own good, Y/N.” Downing what was left of her cocktail, Jeongyeon patted your shoulder before disappearing into the crowd again, no explanation to be heard for what she’d said.

When you tasted a particularly gross film on your drink, you set your cup down and pushed your way to the door, with no intent on remaining in the house any longer.

By the time you made it out of the dorm building, the feeling of cold air on your face cooled your temper back down, and you exhaled your worries out into the night. Your way back to your own dorm was only lit by the porch lamps and occasional streetlight, but you didn’t mind much.

Perhaps it was true that you were too nice for your own good. It was your first relationship, and you didn’t know what to expect, much less what to require out of your girlfriends. Even if you knew what you needed to say to them, you weren’t sure if you had the guts to say it all aloud.

You sighed, popping the cap off of the half-finished bottle of water stowed in your bag. “Why do I stand it?” you mused to yourself, watching the small group of girls that exited the library.

Before you could come up with a real answer to your own question, you had unlocked the door to your apartment. The fabric of the couch pressed uncomfortably into your cheek, but your eyes were closing involuntarily, worries about what time the door would open again disappearing.

You woke up to the smell of chicken rice, Nayeon’s specialty, wafting through the apartment. “Nayeon?” you called groggily, wincing when you felt the soreness in your neck. 

“Other girlfriend,” Sana answered, poking her head through the bedroom door with a smile. “Yeonnie’s cooking, do you need something?”

“Oh. Um, no... did one of you move me here?”

“Yep, I did. You were asleep on the couch when we got home, so I dragged you to the bed,” she chuckled.

Nodding, you sat up. “Okay, thanks. I’ll be out in a second.”

She took that as a sign to close the door behind her, and you hauled yourself out of bed. What time had your girlfriends gotten home, for you to already have ben asleep when they arrived?

The two of them were chattering when you finally managed to join them, Sana arranging the smoothies and grapefruit-ade on the counter. “Good morning, beautiful,” Nayeon greeted you, already spooning the rice out into bowls.

“You flirt,” you frowned, reaching forward for your own drink of choice. However, your little jab only reminded you of the conversation that you had had with Jeongyeon the night before, and you questioned, “What time did the two of you get home?”

Nayeon frowned, tapping her finger on her cheek as she thought. “Um... Three, maybe?”

“I think it was around that,” Sana agreed. Two hours after you went home?

“Oh.”

“You came home early, didn’t you?” your younger girlfriend asked. “Did something happen at the party?”

You shook your head. “No. Just didn’t feel like being at the party, especially when Jeongyeon was the only one who talked to me the whole night.”

Your passive-aggressive comment didn’t go unnoticed, Sana and Nayeon exchanging glances before the latter said softly, “I’m sorry, Y/N. We should’ve paid more attention to you, but...”

“No, it’s fine.” Smiling tightly, you turned to take your breakfast to the dining table, but you turned to ask, “I do have a question, though. Why do neither of you want our relationship to be public?”

Sana blinked confusedly. “We didn’t think you wanted to be public? Do you?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it again, and said softly, “No. Not really. I think I have a class later, I’ll get going after breakfast.”

“Relationship troubles?”

You stared at Tzuyu as she took the seat next to you. “How the hell did you know?”

“You aren’t subtle, you know. What, have you finally had enough of those two flirting their asses off?” she asked bluntly. 

Despite the quiet tone of her voice, the younger girl was obviously not there to play around with you, and so, you nodded. “I don’t really know, I guess... Jeong pointed it out to me last night, and I think I finally understand what you’ve all been saying.”

“Good for you,” she shrugged.

Placing your chin in your hand, you leaned forward. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Talk to them?” Tzuyu suggested, though it sounded dry to you. “Like... communicate about the things that make you uncomfortable about your relationship? Nayeon unnie and Sana unnie aren’t like that, they’ll understand if you tell them.”

“Or, hear me out--” Momo slid into the seat on your other side-- “let them get a taste of their own medicine.”

“Where did you come from?” Tzuyu joked, earning a slight shove from the older girl.

Momo reached over and plucked a pen out of your bag, uncapping it to scribble something on her notebook. “I’m serious, Y/N. There’s no better way to make your girlfriends realize what you’re feeling than making them feel it themselves.”

You shook your head instantly, protesting, “I’m not like that, I wouldn’t do that. I can’t.”

“What? No one’s suggesting that you cheat on them,” Momo defended, “All I’m saying is that if you acted the way they did, they might realize how much it hurts. Flirt with a few people, get their numbers then forget them, it’s that easy.”

“Is it, though?”

“Well...” Tzuyu hesitated a bit, but asked, “Are you jealous? If you feel jealous when you see them act like that with everyone else, or if you feel bad about it in any way, I think you should do something. No matter whether it’s my suggestion or Momo unnie’s.”

Biting down on your lip, you said slowly, “Would one of you help me with that? I think... I want to try Momo’s suggestion. But I don’t  know how.”

Tzuyu sighed slightly. “At least I know how to help with that.”

Dahyun adjusted your hand on her arm, bringing it closer to her bicep and frowning at how stiffly you stood. “Ah, come on, Y/N. I’m just your friend, don’t think too much about this.”

“I know. I’m not uncomfortable, I promise, it’s just... what if they get jealous?” you asked.

The other girl raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

Thankfully, no one was paying attention to the two of you, Dahyun still trying to make you seem more comfortable and you hesitating to actually touch her arm even though hugging was normal. “Why’d Momo and Tzuyu have to choose you?” you grumbled to distract yourself.

She smacked your arm in response, protesting, “What’s wrong with me? I happen to be the only friend of yours that your girlfriends don’t know, in case you forgot.”

“Yeah, but you’re the weirdest friend of mine.” Your joke earned another punch in the arm, though Dahyun’s smile still poked into her cheeks as she berated you.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to help you if I remembered how mean  you were,” she sighed. “You’re hopeless, too.”

“I am not hopeless! I--”

“Y/N?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you turned; even if you didn’t recognize the voice that spoke your voice, there was no way you’d miss the tone to Nayeon’s voice. And indeed, there your girlfriends stood, arms linked like the unit they were. Sana’s eyes darted between you and Dahyun, a mix of confusion and betrayal mixing in her eyes.

“Ah, you must be Y/N’s roommates?” You winced instantly at Dahyun’s comment, though it certainly did the trick.

Nayeon stepped forward, reaching to take hold of your hand. “We’re her girlfriends,” she said, voice firm. “And you are?”

“Dahyun. I’m Y/N’s classmate, just happened to spot her here,” the brunette answered, reaching her hand out for a handshake. No one took it.

“Y/N, let’s go home,” Sana finally spoke up. Apparently, she had decided to be the moderator between Nayeon’s fiery gaze and Dahyun’s innocent one.

And as you were pulled away, your friend mouthed, “Good luck!”

When the three of you first bought furniture for your apartment, you were the one to suggest a round table. As small of a detail as it sounded like, it was all too easy to exclude just one of you with any other kind of table, and it wasn’t like it made much of a difference to your girlfriends.

Of course, it also played well into a situation like this one, with none of you on the same side.

“So...” Nayeon started, biting down on her lip.

“You’re jealous,” you stated. “The both of you.”

“Of course we’re jealous! You were flirting with that Dahyun, more than I’ve even seen you flirt with either of us,” Sana interjected.

Scowling, you returned, “Well, now you know how I feel. It sucks, right? It hurts to be jealous, you know, to watch the two of you flirt around like I’m not standing right there watching you. And I didn’t even do half of what you usually do. I’m not even sure, at this point, if either of you have already cheated on me.”

It was a baseless accusation, and you didn’t really feel that way, but it certainly drove the point home. The two of them looked at each other in shock, then back to you. “Y/N...” Sana whispered.

“Please don’t tell me you really feel that way,” Nayeon pleaded, reaching for your hands. 

“You know that I had to find out through Jeongyeon that it wasn’t normal for you to act like I don’t exist?” you only continued. “My friends had to tell me.”

“We’ll stop,” Sana immediately pledged. “I promise, Y/N, I won’t flirt with a single person ever again. And... and I’ll tell the whole campus we’re dating, I’ll do it right now.”

She pulled her phone out, though you stopped her with a weak smile. “That’s not really the point, Sana. I mean, I appreciate it, but I needed you to feel what I did. Does it make sense?”

“Yeah,” Nayeon sighed. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I never meant to make you doubt that you were the only one for us.”

You smiled, squeezing their hands. “As long as you know how I feel. I don’t mean that you have to change everything, but it would make me feel a lot better if you just tried to stop these habits.”

The two of them exchanged a look before leaning in to press a kiss to both sides of your face, Nayeon on the left and Sana on the right. The latter promised, “We’ll do it, Y/N. We love you.”

“I love you too,” you grinned.

[bangtanfancamp]

Champagne Silk | KNJ

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⋅summary: Almost year ago, you became the arranged bride of the most powerful man in the city, Kim Namjoon, but this morning, with you, he’s just a man who’s head over heels for you who can’t help getting lost thinking about his future with you.

Alternatively: no matter how powerful a man Namjoon is, he is still a klutz in the kitchen. A sexy klutz though.

⋅ author’s masterlist

⋅part two of the Silk series ( read part 1 here)

⋅also the second installment of breakfast with bangtan series (masterlist here)

⋅pairing: mafia!namjoon x reader

⋅genre: mafia! au, arranged marriage! Au, smut, fluff, angst, established relationship

⋅word count: 15.5k words

⋅rating: mature

⋅warnings: a generous amount of consensual sexual activities 🙃, brief scene of oral sex, impregnation kink, a shared bath tub, multiple instances of christiana being uncomfortable with using proper technical names for genitalia and being intentionally ambiguous instead. (honestly it’s more tame and wholesome than you think but god, if these two aren’t hot for each other )

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“Damn it.” 

The sound comes rumpled from the other side of the kitchen, like someone’s trying to keep it hidden. It’s so subdued and muttered that around anyone else, it might have been successfully hidden. But not right now. And certainly not with you. Because you know the distinct, adorable huff of your husband’s regret in an instant.

“You all right over there, darling?” There’s an innocence in your voice to hide your humor.

“Promise you won’t laugh if I tell you?” 

“Oh, unfortunately I can do no such thing, my love. You’ll just have to brave the odds and tell me.” 

Your smile is benevolent, but unyielding. You politely, pleasantly even, refuse to give him another option, and he knows it. It’s that simple. Even with his back to you, he knows the jig is up. As he hunches with heavy shoulders, he sighs and mutters something too low for you to pick up at first.

“Once more for the people in the back, yeah?” You tease.

“I said, I spilled wine on everything,” he exhales. 

His voice is tinged in shades of caramel, rich with resignation, as he confesses, stepping aside so you can see the mess he’s made. 

“Oh, Joon.” 

A terribly bright fondness pulls your lips into a smile as your clumsy giant sheepishly ducks his head across the room. His once pristine white shirt, his linen pants and your white antique tablecloth are all freshly dip dyed in swirls of Pinot Grigio and rosé.

“I know. I know. You don’t have to say it.” His eyes flit down to the stack of too many wine glasses slotted between his large fingers that have spilled their bounty across every available fabric surface.

“You have no idea what I’m about to say,” you point out graciously.

Crossing the room, you tip up on your toes to press a tender kiss to the spots where his jolly dimples would show if he weren’t so flustered. 

“MmmHmm. Sure I don’t.” He squints at you while you slip one glass at a time out of his grip and reach for a cloth.

“Precisely. You shouldn’t assume, Namjoon. You know what they say.” You smirk, wetting the cloth with water you know will be too frigid for him to stand in this half asleep state he’s in, but the stains have got to go.

“And what exactly do they say?” His large palms dip to rest on his hips as he braces for your commentary.

“Simply that assumptions only make an ass out of you and me so…”

His nose scrunches in distaste, even as he starts to laugh. “What a beastly phrase. I forget how much delicacy Americans have.” 

“Oh heaps of it. More than they know what to do with, really.” You shrug as you wring out the cloth. “Positively genteel. Is that not why you chose to marry one?” You add with a wry smile.

Glancing down at the bands on your finger, you warm at the way they glisten in the bits of lazy Sunday light filtering through the window. Namjoon’s glints golden across the room as he waits for your rescue. Both still new enough to feel like a novelty. Enough to make a small light inside you beam with pride whenever you catch sight of it.

“I chose to marry the only one I could find who was quick enough to get the stains I make out before they set and sweet enough not to give me grief for it.” He arches an eyebrow down at you in challenge as you slip one hand past the deeply undone row of buttons on his shirt to pull the fabric up and away from his skin as you begin to gently blot at the wine.

“Oh no. Well, I hate to inform you of this, but unfortunately, I’m actually 0 for 2 in those qualifications. But I will sincerely try my best since you’ve placed so much trust in me.” You chuckle as you set to work. “Would it be helpful if I mention what a smart wife you have to have ixnayed buying that cabernet sauvignon you wanted so badly, especially given your current predicament?”

Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to your forehead before dipping to press his nose against your own while shaking his head. 

“No. Not in the slightest.”

“See? That’s good to know. Would have been awful if I mentioned the Merlot I put back too then. Can you imagine? Could have been so unseamly.”

He laughs, smiling against your hairline. “Well, what would have been the point of whisking my bride all the way out to a little villa in wine country and inviting guests only to not serve them red wine?”

“The point would have been you not turning into the kool-aid man whenever said wine inevitably spilled all over you. Case in point.” You look up at him through wide, fluttered lashes as you press the icy cold cloth against a particularly bold splatter on his chest. The frigid water grazes his nipple through his thin shirt and your giant of a man winces like he was wounded on the playground.

“Hey, that’s freezing.” He moves to swat your hand away. 

“Would you rather just take this off then? So I can work properly,” You smirk.

“No,” he sighs. “That would just be colder.” 

He looks so adorable right now. The lavender locks you’d once loved so well have been replaced, faded into a dusty blonde instead. His thick hair, usually coiffed so neatly, so perfectly, is currently disheveled entirely. Bits that had been gently curated to frame his face the night before are now plastered to his forehead, others shooting off at odd angles, all from falling asleep on the couch beside you once your dinner guests finally left late last night. 

He’s still in last night's now stained and rumpled clothes, still looking absolutely divine with the sleeves cuffed against his elegant forearms and his now wide open neckline thanks to the buttons undone all the way down past his rib cage.

His body is every bit a grown man, but his sleepy features- those wide eyes and pouted lips- make him look every bit the little boy you saw once in his mothers photo albums the week of the wedding. Big Namjoon still makes the same faces when he makes a mess as little Namjoon, and it makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Don’t be such a weenie,” you tease. 

“Careful who you tease, woman. You’re the only one in this city who forgets how many people are afraid of me.”

“This city is half a day’s drive away. There’s no one to fear you here,Joonie. Besides, your enemies have clearly never seen how quickly you’d fall in a battle against the cold or else you would have been displaced ages ago,” you tease with a twinkle in your eyes as he narrows his at you.

“I don’t think you’d like ice water on your breasts first thing in the morning either.” He huffs under his breath.

“You never know til you try,” you wink.

“Would you like to try?” His eyes rake over you salaciously despite the tenderness in his smile. 

“No, I can’t say that I do,” you chuckle, pushing a palm against his chest. “Besides, it’s hardly first thing in the morning, Joon. It’s almost noon.” You nod toward the clock.

There’s still sleep in his voice when he laughs, the sounds rich and resonant where it blooms from his chest. “Well, it’s still morning for me when we didn’t fall asleep til well after 3 because our guests don’t know when to leave.”

You smile to yourself at the memory of time spent with your friends. Well, more accurately Namjoon’s friends, i.e. the members of his crew who have become like family to both of you. Namjoon’s been on the move so much with work lately that there’s been no time to simply sit and enjoy their company. You were in raptures when he suggested they join you for dinner last night.

“It was so good to see Hoseok and Jungkookie though. Their new girlfriends seem so sweet.” 

Namjoon’s gaze seems far off somewhere as he listens to you.“They do, don’t they? JK’s seemed spunky too. She’s good for him.” 

“I think so too. He spent half the night blushing- he was so happy. It was good to see him so over the moon for once, that little romantic.”

Namjoon smiles, a soft thing nestled in the pocket of his cheek, full of fondness for the youngest of his friends. “Yeah, I’m glad he finally found someone so good for him.” 

Pulling you in, he kisses you gently, once, twice before pressing his lips to the top of your forehead, an unspoken “as good as you are for me” hidden his warm brown eyes.

“Big softie,” you whisper, reaching up to cradle his face, thumb brushing over his cheeks. He tips his face toward your palm to plant a kiss there too, his lips just brushing the inside of your wedding band as you smile.

“For you? Always.”

“For me? It was the food last night. God, That charcuterie board Jin brought was positively masterful.” The memory alone has your mouth watering. “Such a shame it was all gone so soon though.”

“Ooo, speaking of,” Namjoon slips out of your grip to rustle around in the kitchen behind you. “Not quite.” 

“What did you do?” You narrow your eyes at him as you settle into a wooden chair to start tending to the swirling stains on the tablecloth.

“Oh, the best thing. Husband of the year level best thing.”

“Husband of the year? Can't wait to see this then. Very moderate expectations, indeed.”

With his back to you, you can’t see what he’s up to, but you can certainly hear it. Especially the low grunt when his hip snags on the new island counter. This poor man was clearly made for a different life than this old world kitchen provides. You wonder which will go first, your husband or the architectural detail. You chuckle to yourself until you realize exactly what it is he’s carrying.

“Kim Namjoon, is that-?”

“A mini stolen charcuterie board? You bet it is,” he winks your way, and a storm of winged things flutter in your stomach.

“How did you even-“

“When you had everyone gathered in the backyard, and Jimin tripped over the cord for the string lights.”

“I’ll never know how such a graceful man can cause such disasters. Or how you managed to befriend the only other man on earth as poised and clumsy as you all at once,” you chuckle, stealing a fig from the corner of the board as he peels back the plastic film covering it. “Oh my god, that’s so good.”

“Mmm Hmm. I knew you thought so,” he taps you on the nose lovingly. “You always ask Jin to make these for you, and then you’re always so sad when all twelve people you invite make it vanish in half an hour.”

“I know. I know. It would go farther if there were fewer people to share it with, but Joon, the boys are like family. I haven’t seen them all together in so long. I couldn’t bear to leave anyone out.”

There’s a twinkle glinting in his eyes as he smiles down at you. He’s glad to see how soft your heart somehow remains despite the life you both lead. 

“Which is precisely why I took the liberty of stashing some of this bounty away while the guests were busy and saving it for you.” 

When he smiles at you like that, all softened edges and warm brown eyes, it’s impossible not to fall in love with him all over again. It’s not like you’ve forgotten how kind he is or how striking he can be when he smiles. It’s simply that the more you see it, the more in love you become.

Rising up in your chair, you reach across the table to tenderly cradle his cheek.

“I hate to say this, because then you’ll know you were right, but this is really is an excellent submission for husband of the year. I would like to point out, though, that you are welcome to make as many entries as you’d like before the panel comes to a consensus, you know.” 

He smiles so wide that his eyes get lost in their beautifully crinkled edges. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, they do say that you should play toward the judge’s preferences. Would you happen to know any? To help me get that inside edge.”

“Now, now. I can’t help you cheat. You’ll have to conduct your own research.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. We have a strict moral code. They’d ruin me if I let that sort of intel slip.” You tilt your chin up in defiance despite your smirk and laughing eyes.

“Hmm. We can’t have that, can we? Shame. I really thought this was going to be my year.”

“Do you really think the only way you’d win is to cheat? Come now...it can still be your year if you play your cards right.”

Your hand drifts up to his carelessly perfect hair, fingers gliding through it and tugging a bit near his scalp. One of his favorite ways to receive affection you’ve found out this past year. His lids fall heavy before he can catch them, a small hiss catching behind his teeth that means you’ve done it right.

“Careful. You don’t know what you might be starting.” His eyes wander the edges of your lips, trace the frame of your collarbone.

“I’d never take the risk if I wasn’t ready to face the consequences.” The twist of your lips is subtle, as gentle as the seduction you’ve learned is your forte. 

Namjoon licks his lips, the lower one snagging in his teeth as his eyes drift over you. Without breaking his gaze, he takes a champagne grape from the board and lifts it to your lips. You can feel your pulse flutter and quicken beneath your skin. It always does when he eyes you like that.

The man might as well be a snake charmer for all the control you feel like you have over yourself right now as your mouth parts of its own accord for him. But just before the fruit can graze your lips, his grin widens- wicked with delight- as he decides to pop it in his own mouth instead.

His dimples are so deep as he laughs at your flustered state that you wish you could crawl inside them and hide.

“Ha Ha. Very funny, Joon. Tease the woman you claim to love. Excellent way to keep a happy wife.” 

Rolling your eyes, you push off from the table, fully intent on doing... you have no idea what, exactly. All you know is that you need to get away from this table as fast as you can before you knock the carefully preserved remnants of this charcuterie board to the floor and take him on the table.

 The blush that was rushing to your cheeks is now crashing in your ears and all you can think to do is “go,” but before you can get even half a step too far, Namjoon’s warm, impossibly large hand is already wrapping itself around your wrist and grounding you to your spot.

“All I want is a happy wife,” he laughs. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I thought I made that pretty clear from the first day.”

Slowly, he stands as his hand trails its way down to dance across your palm before lacing your fingers with his. 

“Certainly doesn’t feel like it right now,” you pout, despite the excitement thrumming in your veins. You know that look on his face now. The one that’s evil and beautiful, sincere and serpentine. The one that wants to devour you playfully. To love you even as he ruins you.

“Oh no,” he tsks. “That won’t do.” 

Suddenly, he snaps you to him, his hands fastening themselves to the dip in your waist. You gasp, the force making you brace against his smooth, exposed chest to catch yourself.

“It won’t?” Your voice comes out airy, too thin, as the morning breeze billows through the open windows. 

“No. Not at all. So I wanna know: how can I fix this, baby?” His eyes are possessed by something wicked as one hand leaves your waist to trace a thumb over your parted mouth.

“I- I”

“Shh, I made this mistake. I’ll make it right.” He arches a single brow as his tongue wets his lips, and your brain loses any grip on rational thinking.

“And h-how do you plan to do that?” It’s a whisper- too breathy, too barely coherent. His hands are so warm. His touch is like lightning and suddenly even breathing requires too much energy with the way you feel like you’ve shorted out.

“I don’t know. You tell me, baby.” His knuckle tips it’s way under your chin, tilting your face up to his as you follow in obedience.

“But… I thought… I told you. The judge can’t help.” You swallow, lashes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your lips.

“Then she can’t get what she wants,” he challenges.

“Fair enough. That’s fair.” Your head bobbles in assent. 

“So I’ll try this again,” his face dips down until his mouth rests just below your ear. “What do you want, baby?”

You feel lightheaded as you melt in hands, rushing out the words, “Counter. Now. Please.”

 Your expression folds in on itself in satisfaction when Namjoon grips you around the waist and plants you on the kitchen island without a moment's hesitation. You gasp, airy and quick, before his palm is fitted against the curve of your throat with just the amount of pressure he’s learned that you like.

“Good girl. Open your legs for me, baby.”

A muffled inhale later, your knees have parted where you’re sat on the island and Namjoon is fitted between them, his hips to the counter as he kisses you in earnest. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp as his tongue and open mouth work their way down your throat, painting wide open blossoms of scarlet and blush along the way. Your hands are in his hair, at his scalp, tugging and grabbing to bring him back to your kiss. His taste is tinged salty and sweet from your skin and the grapes, and your thighs wrap themselves tight around the narrow slope of him.

He’s gotten so broad since the wedding day. If you had trouble composing yourself around him then god only knows how you’ve survived the past year. His shoulders seem wider, his arms more substantial, his chest impossibly inviting as you claw at the last remaining buttons of his dress shirt. 

“Off. Off. Take this off.” You push at the sleeves that bunch around the arcs of his newly swollen biceps, taking a moment to drink in how beautiful they are as you clutch at his golden skin. 

“So eager now. What happened to my shy girl?” His voice is teasing, light, but his eyes look proud of you.

“You did things like this to her, and now she can’t get enough.” Your mouth fits itself to the beautiful stretch of bare skin beneath his ear, suckling the indescribable taste of him before traveling down his throat and across his jaw.

He laughs, something deep and melodic, before his fingers begin to glide over your collarbone and dance over your arms, featherlight, like he always does when he’s trying to rile you up.

“Should I get this out of our way then?” His fingers tug at the slim straps of your champagne blush dress. You’d worn it especially for him at last night’s party. You’d never forgotten his affinity for your skin draped in silk.

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“Of course I do, baby. It’s perfect.”

“Then why do you want me to take it off?”

 Your voice is sticky sweet with innocence, but Namjoon knows better. He doesn’t know where you got the wherewithal to tease him right now as he holds you pressed against his growing warmth, but when your eyes flick to his, he knows you’ve made the right choice. He likes it when you challenge him. It makes it more fun when he wins.

“So I can do this,” he grins with a flash of his teeth.

Without missing a beat, he’s slipped both straps clean off your shoulders, leaving the dress to pool around your hips, and scoops one of your soft breasts gently into his mouth. Your breath comes sharp, a stuttered, inhaled moan that tastes as sweet to him as the ripened figs on the tray. Deliciously priceless. 

He still can’t get over you. He doesn’t think he ever could. He’s never reached a point where the sounds you make fail to set his world ablaze. He’d like nothing more than to make drawing them out of you every morning just like this his sole profession.

Reverently, his other hand brushes up your side to cradle your other breast beside it. God, they’re so soft. Namjoon is almost ashamed to admit how infatuated he is with your breasts.  It would be embarrassing if you weren’t equally in love with receiving all the attention he gives them.

What can he say? He’s a simple man. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to him and for him? They’re perfect. Even with all the exploration the two of you have shared this past year, he knows this part of your body has got to be his favorite- your skin there is so velvet smooth and supple, so delicately sensitive, so perfectly sized for him to devour to his heart's content.

As his tongue warms the tender skin of your nipple with affection, and his thumb steadily plays with the other, he feels the muscled grip of your thighs tighten against him. The sounds you make for him as you clutch at the edge of the granite might as well be a symphony. He loves you like this. Wild and coming undone at his touch and attention. No one in the world but you and him.

“J-joon, baby.. I-“

Looking up at you through heavy eyes, entirely impressed with himself, he smiles and flicks his tongue against you again. When the jolt makes you jump, he stands to his full height above you, and sets his hands back on your sides.

“What is it, baby? You have to tell me.”

Your brows crumple in softly as you look up at him through your lashes. If you could speak, you would, but the way he plays you like an instrument with no effort at all always seems to dispose of your grace.

“But Namjoon…”  you’re trying and failing to catch your breath as both his thumbs come to lazily torment the soft swells of your chest. 

“You know what you like. You know what you want. Just tell me.”

You’ve barely got enough breath to function as it is, let alone to form a sentence. “But baby, I can’t…”

“Then I’m afraid you can’t have it.” He tuts. “Not if you can’t ask.” 

His grin is wicked, and as much you want to drown in it, something in you wants to wipe it off his pretty face.

“Not… fair…”

He runs his tongue over his teeth as he smiles.

“Really? Because to me, what’s not fair,” he grips your hips, snatching you forward that last little inch to sit snug against his hips, “is me giving you a prize you haven’t earned.”

His hands dip to cup the curve of your backside,

his fingers digging deep into the silk and softness he finds there as he continues.

“ What’s not fair is the way you teased me in this little dress last night when you knew there would be too many people around for me to enjoy it properly…”

Dipping down, his sumptuous lips brush your ear as he whispers, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What seeing you in this dress all night did to me?”  

As yet another lightheaded gasp leaves your lips, a dark, satisfied chuckle leaves his. 

“H-how would I know?” your air comes in shaky as he has his way with you

“You know, baby girl. You always know.”

 As his fingers dip firmly into the globes of your backside, he begins gently, just barely, rocking against you. No hurry. No fuss. Just maddening, slow pressure as he grazes you. When an airy moan comes whimpering from your lips, his strong hands tense, keeping your hips too fixed to succumb to moving with him.

“But you didn’t... say anything.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his face lowers toward yours. You can feel the brush of his lips ghosting over the edges of your cheek, his nose tracing against your skin.

“Don’t act like you couldn’t tell. You know silk always does me in.”

His fingers slip across your stomach where your dress has pooled to rest. They ghost like a whisper over your hips and down your legs until they reach the hem of your skirt. He fits his hands against your skin and drags them up achingly slowly, willing his touch to memorize the feel of your skin along the way as he pushes the fabric up inch by merciless inch- all while never stopping the insatiable way his lips move warm against yours.

His touch and his kiss are languid, unhurried, as he sets you on fire. When he reaches your thighs, his palms splay across them, his thumbs dragging along the inner swell of your legs as your vision begins to blur. 

He’s taking his time. He’s teasing you and enjoying it. It’s evident in the way he slows down the higher he gets. The way his mouth begins to travel down your throat in kisses so soft, so divinely sweet, that you swear you’re growing lightheaded from the swelling rush of pleasure.

His thumbs have made their way to the folds of your hips, his hands hidden beneath the fabric as your body lights up electric at his touch. Like if it shines bright enough for him, he might bless it with all that you know he is capable of. But even though he knows you’re more than willing, your tease doesnt satiate your body or her cravings for him just yet.

Instead, he slows down further. He fits his hands on the outer edges of your hip while his kisses turn gentle, calming, resolving, as if he has no intention of following through further after riling you up like this.

“What are you— why are you stopping?” Your eyes flit between his, a subtle , whining irritation building up beside your impatience when he doesn’t move. He’s quiet at first, in no rush to answer. As his beautiful face hovers over you, he's so smug you almost want to slap him for toying with you like this. 

But that won’t get you what you want. What you need. So Instead, you take one of his hands and press it to your breast as you guide the other toward the center of you.

He plays along at first, until his fingers are about to brush the part of you that’s positively tingling for his touch, and he abruptly pulls back, resting both of his hands on the countertop on either side of you.

“Ah, ah. That’s for when you use your words, my sweet.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, and suddenly, you’ve never been more greedy or more furious. 

Snatching at his waistband, you pull his hips forward and slip your hand over the linen to hold him. His breath catches at the back of his throat, and his eyes go wide, dumbfounded at the shift in power.

“And I said, the judge can’t tell you the answers.”

You level him with a look of quiet confidence as your fingers slip between his skin and the linen to hold him where he wants you most. His brows tip into softened u’s as the coolness of your touch brushes against him.

“Husband of the year should know what I want by now. I shouldn't have to tell him.”

You grasp him, fingers running delicately up the underside of him at the same time that you lick into his mouth. You feel him dip a bit as his knees buckle, making his hands on the counter the only thing holding him up.

“Mother of god,” he mumbles, even as his hips move in compliance with your touch. “Where did you learn that?”

“From the best,” you beam. Your smile is genuine, sweet and blindingly bright. It makes him want to take a bite out of the apples of your cheek, so he does. A playful nip that has you giggling and him pressing his lips together in fondness. 

The moment is sweet, until you catch his eyes with that same saccharine smile on your face, and take your hand away. His mouth opens, about to protest, until he watches you run your tongue in a long, slow stripe up your fingers before reaching back down behind his waistband to run the wet digits over his heated skin as you grasp him.

“Oh my… fuuuuck,” he exhales, his weight dropping to press into the counter. His face dips to lean against yours as he struggles to stay lucid. This feels so good, so out of nowhere, that his body is bursting to life more rapidly that he can keep up with. 

With every movement you make, he moves with you, gasping through his open mouth with every touch as he tries to keep his composure. Leaning into your forehead, he feels his nose bumping against yours as he searches for air. He feels nearly lightheaded but god, you’re incredible. Your touch feels so good- he never wants you to stop. 

Still, he wants control back though. To make you as much of a mewling mess as you’re currently making of him. He was enjoying the game you were both playing before, but he likes the feeling of winning more. However, just when he thinks he’s got a way to get the upper hand back, you ever so lightly twist your grip as you pump him, and suddenly, he can’t tell if he’s dying, ascending or blacking out. 

It feels so good so fast that he can barely remember his own name, let alone stage a coup. Your fingertips gently play with the tip of him at the top of each swell in your fluid flourish, and suddenly he can’t think of anything else to do with all this bursting excess inside of him but to kiss you. So he does. Open mouthed. Sloppy. Full of want. It feels so incredible that you can’t help but laugh brightly into his mouth, ethereally elegant, even as you wreck him. 

As you work, he can feel the way he’s growing harder with your attention, the way his blood feels like it’s singing the longer you touch him. His hips are obeying you like they belong to you, and at this point, he’s pretty sure they do. His mouth is painting your throat, adding swathes of crimson to the blooms he made before until your neck is colored with an entire bouquet of his affection. 

When he closes his eyes, the light behind them sparkles with effervescence as he listens to the quickness of your breath as you work. The sounds, the moans, the gasps you make as you touch him mingle with sounds of early morning nature and Namjoon wonders if this was what the poets meant when they described paradise. 

Pleasure is cresting over him in warm, molten waves now, and as it builds, he realizes he was wrong.

That as much as he loves your luminous eyes, your serene smile, the softness of your breasts, that those aren’t truly his favorite part of you if he’s honest. At least not right now. Not in moments like these. Because right now, with your hand wrapped around him, wrecking him with craving, that title is held by the treasure between your thighs; and as the blood rushes away from the rest of his body and swells where your hand lies, all he can think of, all he wants, is to bury himself in the wet, velvet warmth of you and never leave.

If he doesn’t get you naked with him inside you within the next three seconds, he thinks he might die.

So he does something about it.

“Open, baby. Open your legs for me,” he demands. It’s firm, commanding, but his eyes are so full of needy want that it’s hard to say who’s really in charge right now. 

Pushing your hand away and placing it on his chest, Namjoon kicks down his linen trousers and slides up your dress as you obey. He springs out, the length of him pressing into the meat of your thigh. It has you whimpering before you can catch yourself.

“God, I knew you were a smart boy. You’d figure it out eventually,” your voice is teasing, but your face is so dizzy, so desperate for him, that he could give you the whole world if you asked.

“You ready for me, baby?” His eyes are half blown with lust, his lashes hanging heavy as he runs his fingers over your opening, before collapsing against your shoulder. “ Oh my god.”

“What is it, Joon?”

“Nothing. I just,” he chuckles once, “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how wet you get for me.”

With no hesitation, he slips two fingers inside you as your belly contracts. Gasping his name, you can’t help but cling to him as light shoots through your body at the incredibly welcome feeling of his hands there.

“Nam- Namjoon, ah!” Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you can feel your nails dig into his sturdy flesh as he begins rocking you with a motion so good, so fluid you fear you may simply float away and never touch the ground again.

“Yes, baby? What is it?” 

“You. I want you. Please.”

“You have me, baby.” His teeth are gritted in focus as he works you, his brow dipped low as he watches how easily you come undone with his attention. Warmth gushes over his fingers as he feels your walls contract in tandem with the tug of your hands in his hair. The sting is sharp and sublime as you grasp him tight with every part of you.

“Inside. Come inside. Need you. Now,” you plead. Your other hand trickles down his torso to the soft hair above his member before holding him firmly with a twist of your hand. He moans, hips canting into your delicate palm.

Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice. Slipping his fingers out of the way, he scoops you safely to the edge of the island, one large hand stroking himself and guiding him to line up with your eager entrance.

The essence of you coats the tip of him without any effort, your body unfolding, so relaxed for him, as he easily begins to slip inside you. It’s so abundant that the slide is effortless, helping him bottom out almost immediately within you. Your head falls back in wonder as he does, your hands quickly planting against the cold counter to catch you. 

Wow. God, Namjoon’s body always has a tendency to overwhelm you, no matter how many times you get caught up in each other like this. You still can’t get over that. Honestly, it would be impossible to when he’s built like he is. 

He’s broad everywhere- that’s obvious to anyone. But here, he’s long and thick, with thighs like tree trunks powering each movement as he glides inside you. Any other time, you might have needed his help to adjust, for him to take his time to warm you up, but this morning? Your body is ready for him, and he knows it. 

It’s unfolding itself for him like a bloom to the sun, and he’s reverent enough to return its worship. You’re so wet that he can feel it trickling down his hip as he pistons into you, and he regrets not dipping down to sample a taste of it before coming inside. But now that he’s here, there’s absolutely no way he’s leaving the warmth of your walls until you're both falling over and spent.

Your ankles are crossed behind him, pulling him as close as you can get him, and his face is pressed against your neck and collarbone as both your hips work in dizzy tandem. The sensation of it sends his consciousness swirling as the pressure in his abdomen builds.

He’s convinced now that you’re a real, actual goddess. There’s no way you could make him feel this divine if you weren’t. Your ambrosia coats his thickness, spilling over him as he thrusts harder, deeper, tilting his hips to curve against that spot inside you that—

“Oh! God! Joon,” you yelp. “Yes, don’t stop.”

His grin is infectious. You can feel it against your skin as you pull him tighter, rocking in time with him as your euphoria builds. Your laugh is bright, sparkling as he licks his fingers and slips them swirling over the sensitive burst between your legs. Your breath catches, his name and profanity tumbling from your lips in equal measure.

You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. Your senses are on overload, your vision darkening around the edges as the pleasure he paints across your body escalates rapidly. Somewhere far off, you can hear his voice. His mouth is near your ear, his breath cooling your skin that’s become sticky with sweat, but you can’t understand, can’t wrap your brain around what he’s saying…

Until you realize that even fully coherent, you’d still be lost because your forever intoxicating husband has slipped back into his native tongue. You love it when this happens. With his senses so thoroughly drowning in you,  translating language just becomes too hard a thing to manage, so the harder and deeper he goes, the lower the bass in his voice becomes as he mumbles in korean against your ear.

You’ve learned enough to catch words like “beautiful” “perfect” and “God, I love you,” but the rest remain a mystery as he captures the innermost parts of your body for himself with swift, perfect strokes of his hips. The depth he’s reaching right now has you in raptures. It has your breath coming in short gasps as your breasts bounce buoyantly with each...incredible… thrust he delivers.

You won’t last much longer. You know it. And All you can think right now is how badly you want to look in his eyes when you come- which you know will happen any second now.

  Between his touch, his voice, the indescribable way he moves his hips when he’s inside you, and the crescendo you feel from the spot he’s internally caressing right now, you know you’re only moments away from dissolving into the atmosphere, yet all you want is more of him.

“Joon, baby, I’m so close. Look at me. Please,” you move one of the hands supporting you to hold his face and bring it to yours.

God, that please of yours. It flows so naturally from your lips when he has his way with you. He doesn’t know how to describe what it unleashes in him, but he knows it never fails to wreck him. “Shh, let go, baby girl. I’m right here. I got you.” 

Before he can think, he’s kissing you deeply, his tongue insatiable as he tastes you. He alternates between kissing you and pulling back to catch your eyes. The depth of affection in his gaze warms you brilliantly from the inside even as you swear you can practically feel his thrust against the underside of your lungs. 

His once seamless rhythm has become all feel and nuance. All order is long lost as he makes his last powerful dives into the depths of you. You can feel it- the tightness in his body, the firm set in his jaw, the profound depth of his voice as he praises your body in Korean. If you were to die like this, caught up in Namjoon’s impeccably loving, gracious body, you wouldn’t have a single regret.

There’s nothing more you could ask for. 

The glittering sensation pulsing through your body let’s you know it’s almost time to surrender, and you’re ready to come undone. Surely, there could be nothing more blissful than this— until Namjoon takes the hand he’s kept gripped around your waist and slips it up to your throat.

Your eyes go wide. 

He really was paying attention. Husband of the year, indeed. 

And just like that, the express trip to ecstasy nearly slams into your body. His eyes are locked on yours. He’s muttering a soft “good girl” and “that’s it, baby” as he works his powerful hips into you. He has one hand clamped firm and perfect below your jaw along your throat, and the other dancing elegantly along the bundle of nerves between your legs. He takes those fingers into his mouth to wet them, his face crumpling in a satisfied moan at the taste of you on his skin, before slipping them back where they belong. 

It’s altogether too much and you are lit up sparkling as the combined sensation of it all builds with the warmth of his body against you, within you. 

“Come for me, baby,” he says it clear and firm, his touch generous to help ease you over the edge. 

“Only if you come with me,” you breathe. Your eyes meet his as you try to find something to hold on to as the tension in you crests. 

He smiles then. All dimples and sweet eyes and perfect lips. He places a sweet kiss on your cheek beside your lips, and that’s all it takes to ruin you.

You feel your body contract around him in bliss as his name spills from your mouth. Making love to Namjoon has never felt commonplace, but there’s something about today. About him. About the sweetness of this morning in the middle of your perfect hidden home with him that makes you burst not only with pleasure, but with love. 

As your orgasm washes over you, you feel illuminated from within like the sun is glowing out of your skin as your body melts against him.

“I love you,” you whisper. “You’re so perfect.”

As your body floats back down from wherever you just astral projected from bliss, you can feel that his body is just a breath away from tipping over the edge itself. He’s pulling back, pulling out, intending to spill himself elsewhere, but in that instant, you realize you don’t want that.

Your memory flashes back to your wedding day. To the moment those hideous people decided to squawk about your child-rearing, heir-producing duty just hours after your vows, and Namjoon had cut them off immediately at the jump and whispered,” don’t pay them any mind. That happens when you’re ready. Not a second before,” soft against your ear. 

It was one of the first instances that made you realize what a good man he was. How willing he was to put your readiness, your comfort, before anyone or anything else. And now, as you take him in, as you remember how truly and deeply you love him, you realize you’re ready for there to be more.

You’ve had countless discussions with him about starting a family, and everytime, without missing a beat, his answer has always been, “whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.” 

You've come to learn over this past year that he’s wanted nothing more than to become a dad since he was a small boy.

You’ve gotten to witness how fun, gentle and gracious he is with his nephews. With Jimin’s daughter, his sweet godchild. For a year, you’ve watched him be good and kind to any child he meets, patient with you, subdued as he hides the depth of his desire to be a father behind his dimpled smiles and suave redirection when you bring it up. 

He’s been willing to wait for you. He never pushes. He never demands. And in this moment, as you study the face of the incredible man who’s welcomed you into his heart and his home, all you want is to begin the journey to give him what you know he will never ask for, even though it’s what the secret parts of his heart want the most. 

“Namjoon,” you whisper,” don’t. It’s okay. You can finish inside me.” You caress his face lovingly as his eyes go wide. 

“Really? But baby… I… what…” Your eternally eloquent man has gone slack jawed in his loss for words as his hips begin to still.

“It’s okay,” you nod. “I want you to. I want to feel you.” You kiss the dip of his dimple.

“Are you sure? i-“ he stumbles before you lovingly cut him off.

“I think it’s about time we start trying for our family, don’t you?” You whisper. Your fingers thread through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes as his face beams with light. His shoulders and chest are shaking with laughter as his eyes flit between yours and he smiles.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” His hands slip up to cradle your face, the most beautiful mixture of excitement and relief and the purest joy making his misty eyes look brilliant in the early light.

“Absolutely,” your voice is soft as you tip your nose against his. Your smile is all pearls and laughter as you reach to grab the full apples of his ass and push him into you.

He’s laughing and smiling and gasping when you do, before happily resuming the final few thrusts he would need to send himself over the edge.

“Use me, baby,” you whisper, eyes alight with the gentle seduction that always ruins him. “I want to feel you when you finish.”

Biting his lip, he swallows and nods, almost too eager, but you’re beautiful and warm and you’ve gotten so tight around him and he can’t help himself. He’s close. He’s already soo close. He’s spent nearly this whole morning trying to contain himself inside you despite the absolutely mind numbing feel of you, and here you are telling him to let go? It’s impossible that you’re real.

Pulling his face to you, he realizes you’re kissing him. Your honey sweet tongue has made a home in his mouth. Your soft breasts brush his chest with every thrust. Your hands are clutching his back and in his hair. Your heels pressed into the back of his legs to pull him close, and now he knows you want to carry his baby.

To allow your body to grow and change just to hold his seed, start his family and realize his dream of not only being a husband to you but a dad to your babies. He’s so in love with you. So maddeningly, ridiculously, stupidly, over the moon in love with you, and all at once, it’s happening.

His release is coming, strong and quick, and he can finally drown in the feeling of it happening while you surround him. His body is reeling at the burst of perfection he feels from losing himself in you like this. The cloud like swells of your thighs pressing around him might very well be the only thing holding him up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I love you.” His face is buried in your neck, your chest, your hair, your cheeks- everything all at once- his full lips dropping kisses on your skin like stars falling from heaven. 

When he pulls back to look at you, he can’t even put what he’s feeling into words. But it’s okay. Because you know. He can see it in your eyes.

Cradling his face, you smile up at him, eyes glossy and happy. “You ready?” 

“To have a baby with you?” His voice falters as his smile grows so wide his eyes nearly disappear. “There isn’t anything I want more.”

Pressing his forehead to yours as he hugs your waist, you both press your noses together and laugh. Overcome with something almost too sweet to simply be called happiness. The word seems too small to encompass it all.

“Maybe I’m not husband of the year yet, cause I definitely didn’t see that coming.” He chuckles.

“Oh shut up. I know you felt how you made me finish. You’re just showing off at this point.”

“I can’t have my baby girl leave anyway but satisfied with me.” He winks, and you smack his chest lightly.

“I’d be mad at you for being so smug if you weren’t actually as great as you think you are,” you scrunch your nose at him as he laughs.

“Well, if there are any areas of improvement I can work on, let me know. I hear I'm about to have a lot of time to workshop your suggestions.” Namjoon lovingly nips at your collarbone, and you tingle in bliss at the thought of how many more moments like this lie in your near future.

“Duly noted. On that note then, I feel compelled to point out that what you just did counted as an excellent submission for husband of the year.”

“Oh really?” He licks his lips slowly as you nod.

“Remember- you can make as many entries as you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Limitless,” you assent. 

“Good to know. I’ll keep it mind,” he smirks, dipping down to lift the fullness of one of your breasts into his hand as he gently kisses the top of the swell of flesh. You sigh into his kiss. This is going to be a spectacular journey— you can already tell.

“Namjoon.”

“Hmm?” His eyes perk up, though his mouth never leaves its preoccupation with your bare chest.

“Is this… is this okay? I hope I didn’t spring this on you too soon or… I don’t know...too out of the blue? Because your comfort is important too, and I—“

You’re swiftly cut off by the sweet press of Namjoon’s delicious lips against yours. “Shh. Yes, I want this. More than anything.”

“So my timing wasn’t—“

“No. It was perfect. You’re perfect,” he kisses the tip of your nose as your lips bloom into a smile. “And if we are going to try to fill that cute belly of yours with a baby, then maybe… maybe this shouldn’t just be a weekend visit.”

Tipping your head to look at him, you feel your brows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this has always been our getaway spot. A place to stay safe and lie low when things get jumpy in the city. A place to take you when we want to be alone. Truly be alone. But if…” he hesitates, lacing your hand with his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “If you’re going to be carrying my baby, I want to keep you safe. I promised you that the day I met you- I’d never let anything happen to you. It’s been risky enough to have you in the city all this time as it is.”

“So...what exactly are you suggesting, love?” You run your thumb lovingly over his knuckles.

“I’m proposing if you do get pregnant, we move you out here. Permanently. Or at least somewhat long term.”

“Wait…” you pull away, eyes clouding as you do. “Alone? Without you?”

“No. No. I didn’t word that right. I’d be here as much as i can, and I’d send the security detail to stay out here whenever I have to leave so—“

“Namjoon, I don’t want to be all the way out here by myself. Surely, that’s not necessary.”

He frowns as he tries to gather his thoughts. “This is coming out wrong...You wouldn’t be fully by yourself. I’d be here as much as I can. I just... want you protected. Safe. And out of the city while you're carrying something so precious.” The backs of his knuckles graze your stomach. 

“But I don’t understand. Why—“

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you.” His voice has turned solemn, his eyes an odd shade of vulnerability when they meet yours. 

“Joon, nobody’s gonna do anything. You’ve made that city so secure-nobody could hurt me even if they tried.”

Something stormy and troubled clouds his eyes.It makes you wonder if there are things he hasn’t told you. Things he’s kept to himself to ensure that your life is as peaceful as possible. You wonder what kind of darkness he’s had to swallow for your sake. 

“But they have tried.”

It's news to you. 

“What do you mean… when?” 

“It’s happened a few times. Nothing ever got far enough to warrant bringing it up.”

“What on earth? Joon, why in the world wouldn’t you tell me that?” 

He sighs once, from some deep place in his bones. “Because i never wanted to have to see the look in your eyes that I do right now.”

Suddenly, any anger you held vanishes all at once. 

“Baby, why are you carrying something like that all by yourself?”

“So you don’t have to. I promised I’d keep you safe, and I meant it. That includes taking care of your peace of mind. Something you won’t have if you knew how many times someone’s shot off at the mouth about coming for you because they’re irate at me or how many times someone has done more than just talked and actually tried.”

It’s a sobering thought.

“Is that… is that the real reason why you never pushed for an heir?” For reasons you can’t explain, the idea makes you want to cry. Namjoon sees the shift immediately, his fingers ready to brush your tears before they even fall.

“Shhh, hey. No. I mean, it’s part of it. You know all I’ve ever wanted was to be a parent. When I married you, please know the idea of you being the mother of my children sent me over the moon, but I know this world. How people take what they want. Do what they want. I wanted better for you.” He runs his fingers soft over your cheek like you’re some spun glass artifact he needs to protect. 

“I wanted to be better for you than the men in this world were going to give you. I promised myself that I was never going to demand anything from you. That’s why I didn’t push for an heir. I meant it when I said we go at your pace. Always.”

Sniffling, you look up at him through wet lashes. 

“Joon, protecting me doesn’t mean you hide the truth from me.”

“Not even if it would hurt you? Scare you?”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to marry you. It’s so kind of you to try to take these burdens so I don’t have to, but then who carries them for you? That’s my job. You have to let me do it.”

Closing his eyes, he exhales long and slow through his nose. 

“You really mean it, don’t you? You really want to know.”

“Yes,” you nod, caressing his face. He looks troubled. You’d give anything to help take some of his cares away.

“Then you should know why we came to the villa this weekend.”

“So it wasn’t just for a getaway?” You brace yourself for whatever it is you’re about to hear.

“It is, and it isn’t. I guess I have to go back a bit for this to make any sense, but my family isn’t from here. You know that. Our roots don’t go back as many generations as yours do, so when the new kid on the block started gaining power in this city faster than anyone had seen before, there were a lot of families that weren’t happy about it.

Especially not when the daughter of one of the oldest families in the city became my bride. There had already been a lot of grumbling against me before I made such a powerful ally, and there were certainly plenty after. Anything we’d stumbled on over the last few months had been mostly hearsay, but…”

“What is it, Joon?” You're worried now. You can hear the way his voice sounds choked.

“There was a deal that went wrong a few weeks back. Just a skirmish with some lower level captains that got out of control, but I thought I’d put a pin in it. Turns out the other family involved hadn’t let it go like I thought …” he stops, eyes going cold as color drains from his face.

“Baby, it’s okay. You can tell me,” you reassure. 

Closing his eyes, he licks his lips and takes a deep breath, his voice lower, raspier when he continues. “There was a hit put out on you this past week.

You’re shocked. “There— what?”

”It’s okay now. Jungkook caught intel on it soon enough that he crushed it before the people responsible could hurt you, but I've never seen anyone get this close. Y/n, I couldn't breathe when he told me. When I found out, I nearly lost my mind. I called you immediately to make sure you were safe— I couldn’t breathe til I heard your voice.”

You had no idea he’d been through that. You can’t imagine what you would have done if the roles were reversed, if you’d been seconds away from losing him. It would’ve shattered you. You’re not sure how he’s still standing.

“Once I knew you were okay, the first thing I could think was that I needed to get you out of town as fast as I possibly could. Something’s building in that city, y/n. The lower families are tired of their rank. They’re itching to get back any sort of power they can- it’s making them reckless. There’s rumors of a war building…I’d dismissed it so far. Didn’t think they were a real threat until they had the nerve to try something like this. We squashed it, but this was too close, and I’m not willing to risk you.”

Realization dawns across your face. “That’s why we left with less than an hour's notice. I’d thought you were just being romantic about a weekend getaway but ...That’s why we came to this safe house and not the one on the edge of town, isn’t it?”

His eyes fall away as he nods, “That’s why our security detail was thicker than usual.”

“But I've hardly seen anyone.”

“That’s on purpose. I didn’t want to scare you.  Didn't want to draw attention to a whole parade leaving town so I had them follow us at a distance. They’re stationed all around the property and schooled to stay out of sight.”

“What about the boys? Was it safe to have them here this weekend with their wives? Their girlfriends? Didn’t we put them in danger?” Your rounded eyes betray the sudden guilt you feel for what you thought had been such a beautiful night.

“Shh, no. Hey, they’re fine. I had them all moved out to safe houses not too far from here with a security detail on them too. They’re just a few miles from here. That’s why I didn’t feel bad about them driving out last night- they didn’t have to go all the way back to the city, just to our guest houses and then their safe houses in the morning….I’m having them all lie low for a little while. Figured they’d want their girlfriends and wives as close to their side as I want mine. Thought having them over was a good distraction for a night.”

You had no idea. Something cold runs up your spine at the thought that this weekend, this beautifully perfect day could’ve been so different. Or perhaps not even happened at all. 

Slipping your dress back into place, you cover yourself. It feels wrong to have this conversation half naked. Namjoon seems to sense it too as he pulls his pants back on. He offers to help ease you down from the counter, picking you up and placing you gently on the whitewashed floorboards, making sure you’re steady before he lets you go. 

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh at how he has to make you sure you’re stable enough not to keel over where you stand after blessing you with an orgasm so bright it makes your soul radiate around your body. Now though, you find your hand cradling your lower belly, feeling entirely naive for thinking now was the time to bless the world with Namjoon’s child. You should say something, but the words get stuck in your throat…. you feel like a fool.

“I’m gonna make us some coffee, yeah? You want a cup?” Namjoon offers softly. When you look up, he looks so worn out all of a sudden. Like he’s somehow aged years during the course of this conversation. Like he really does need a cup of coffee, if not something stronger.

“Sure, baby. I’ll take one.”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to your forehead before he plugs in the black gooseneck kettle you’d gotten him for his birthday. The gift had been simple, thoughtful, and if he was honest, it was the best present anyone had ever given him.

He practically survives on black coffee most days. At the beginning of your marriage, he was always long gone before you rose most mornings, so in an attempt to slow him down and have more time with him, you’d gotten him a pour over set and a gooseneck kettle to replace his old instant apparatus.

He wondered if you were aware of all the additional gifts it had given him along the way....It required time to steep and brew. Time he’d never given himself before he met you. The methodology of it soothed him, provided his mornings with a small structure and routine he’d never had in a lifestyle marked by so much chaos. 

Taking the time to make his absolutely necessary coffee this way helped wake him up gently, slowed him down enough for you to have the time to slip out of bed and catch him before he was gone, to hold him while he prepared it. To remind him of the precious reason he needed to be careful while he was out that day. 

As the water boils, he turns his back to you. He feels himself melt when your arms wind around him. Softly, you press a kiss between his shoulder blades before your touch slips away as quietly as it appeared. The subtle sounds of your footsteps fading as you walk away and the gentle buzzing of the kettle are all that fill the room in the silence between you.

Namjoon sighs as he turns, his arms crossed as he leans against the counter to watch you.  Without a word, you silently procure a hearty loaf of fresh,crusty bread from the pantry and begin to slice it for breakfast. As your head tips down in concentration, he watches your untamed hair fall in your eyes. It’s beautiful the way it frames your face. It makes something squeeze in the center of his chest.

Crossing the room, he comes to stand beside you, lightly brushing your hair back into place for you with his hand. You still in your task, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, baby?” 

“If it’s this dangerous…” your voice is barely above a whisper, “this unsafe… does that mean we shouldn’t have a baby?” When you look up at him, your eyes are starlit with tears. Your hands are trembling, and he hates to see you so sad.

“No. You’re ready, and I want a family,”’he soothes.

“But… but if there’s this much risk, how can our child ever have a normal life? Won’t we always be afraid for them all the time? Is that selfish? To make a life that has to live in this world just because we want them to?”

He brushes his fingers over the cascade of teardrops starting to fall from your eyes. “All parents have to worry about that, y/n. This world is still a scary place even outside my line of work.”

“I know. But they don’t have to worry about a hit on their child’s life or a ransom or generation’s old grudges putting their child at risk....They just have to worry about whether or not a child in their daughter’s class has a peanut allergy because little ashley will only eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches right now and nothing else.”

You’re talking with your hands as Namjoon gives you a smile that’s equally warm and sad. “That’s a really specific scenario.”

“I went through a phase in first grade, okay?”

He finds your eyes until you laugh before pulling you in tight against his chest. “First of all, that’s adorable. We’ll address that again later because little y/n sounds incredibly cute. And secondly,” he sighs,” you grew up in this world- the same as me- and we both survived. Having a child is expected of us, yes, but if that’s not what you want... it doesn’t have to happen. But, if we both want one… if being a mom will make you happy, then I’m going to find a way to give you that.” There’s a heaviness about him right now. An authority resigned to accept whatever fate weighs on your heart the most as he watches your eyes fill with questions.

“But won’t we be afraid for them all the time? I feel so naive for only thinking of how much I’d like to meet them, how much I’d love them just because they’re a part of you, when I should have known better.”

“That’s not naive. That’s beautiful. No matter what they’re like, we’ll love them. Because they’re ours.”

“What if they don’t want any part of this world? They should have a choice… but can I even give them one or will their only option be serving as the new head of the Kim family one day?” Your face looks stricken. “Did you get to choose?” Your watery eyes flit up to his. 

He swallows, face stony as you survey him. “I did what I had to do so our life can look however we want it to,” he’s sighing again, worn out out by memories you may never see. “Look, you’re my wife, and I’m your husband. As far as I’m concerned, we’re the ones get to decide what’s right for us, y/n. I’ve told you that, and I meant it- that extends to our children too. Their lives don’t have to look like what anyone else wants but them. I don’t care if they want to be painters or accountants or captains in the family. They get to shape the life they want. That’s what I’ve worked so hard for.”

You feel your eyes flutter shut in relief on their own accord. Of course he’s already thought this through to this degree. When has your Namjoon ever done anything less? It soothes your mind to know he’s taken the time to lay the groundwork so you don’t have to. Still though, questions you’re ashamed didn't occur to you sooner rattle through your head and spill from your mouth.

“Do they have to spend their life in boarding school like I did? Are our only options to send them away or be scared for them every day?

“Y/n, no. We’ll find what works for our family. I want that with you- figuring that out and watching them grow. I’ll keep you both safe. However I have to. I promise you.” His thumb brushes over your ring as he holds your hand against his chest. “I promised you.”

And just like that, it hits you all over again- how much you love this man. How deeply you trust him with every fiber of your being. How you couldn’t have found a better man to love you if you’d tried. You two are it for each other- you’ve known it since the day you met him on the steps.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, kissing your knuckles,”... but, y/n?”

Your eyes flit up to meet his. “Yes, love ?”

“I meant what I said. If this is all too much, if this scares you, we can wait.” His brown eyes are so deep and sincere. You know every part of him means it, and it’s precisely because of that, that you say the words you do.

“No. I want this. All of this. With you. We’ll figure this out,” you nod, gently pulling the back of his neck down so your foreheads are touching. “I want to have a baby with you. I’m all in, if you are.”

You can feel the rush of tension that leaves his body. He wraps you in his arms, so close and secure, and something innocent comes from him that you don’t think you’ve ever heard.

“God, you know I am. Thank you.”

His voice is as robust and full as always, but his eyes… there’s something so young and soft and terrified in them. Like the weight of all he’s been carrying alone has crashed down on him all at once. “I’m so excited to have a baby with you if it happens. And it’s okay if it doesn’t. But I can’t wait to try.”

You’re nodding and crying, and you realize something that perhaps has never dawned on you before. This is the first time you’ve seen him truly this vulnerable. He’s always so strong, so composed. Too busy holding up an entire empire and caring for you to let his walls fully fall. 

But as he buries his face in your neck, you suddenly feel dampness pooling against your skin and realize he’s crying. You wonder how you got here on a morning that had been so serene and full of bliss. Bliss you now realize has come at a price.

“I was so scared I'd lost you the day we came here.” Slipping your hand into his hair, the other soothes his back as he clings to you tighter. “I'm so glad you’re okay. You’re so smart. I know you are. You don’t make reckless mistakes when you’re out— you take good care of yourself— but I was so afraid. My heart dropped when Jungkook told me what he’d heard. He couldn’t calm me down until I heard your voice on the phone.”

Stroking his hair, you recall the phone call just a few days ago. How strangled and out of breath he’d sounded. How you’d asked if he was okay, and he’d simply said he was now.

“It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay.” 

He takes a moment to collect himself, pressing you so close you may fuse together. It’s unguarded, and precious. Something you know both of you treasure as he nuzzles into your skin in that space along your neck where his face perfectly fits.

It’s as simple as that. You both stay like this for as long as you can, secure in his embrace, your breathing settling until it’s nearly in sync. It’s peaceful for you, cathartic for him. It’s a moment framed by a different kind of intimacy than the one you both shared in this very room less than an hour ago. 

He shows no sign of letting you go until the kettle begins to howl for him from across the room. When he does, his fingers trace the silk fabric along your waist as his lips kiss your forehead. He takes one more heavy breath before he squeezes you in release to tend to the coffee.

“Cream and sugar?” He asks, his voice thicker than usual.

“Always,” you answer.

And so the morning resets itself. 

The day shifts into afternoon. The sun drifting higher, brighter, casting the shadows and ridges of Namjoon’s sculpted body in almost Grecian relief as he carefully pours the water for both of you over the coffee grounds. You finish slicing the crackling bread loaf and bring it to the table to place it beside the remnants of Seokjin’s charcuterie board. 

It’s only when you catch sight of your lacy table cloth that you remember the accident that started the whole morning to begin with. You’d both gotten so preoccupied with each other that you never made it any further than cleaning his shirt and not the rest of the disaster.

Smiling to yourself, you gently slide the cloth off the table and fill the sink with cold water to soak it. Looking over at your husband, you realize wine stains still swirl over the front of Namjoon’s linen pants. There’s a very good chance those are fully set now, but just in case, you might as well try to fix them. 

So, gently, you hook a finger into his waistband and tug. “Let me have these.”

“Round two all ready? Greedy girl.” He winks, his voice soft as follows the drip of his Colombian roast.

“No, smart girl. We did a terrible job of getting you cleaned up.” You pop the p at the end of the word as you snap the elastic on his pants.

Looking a bit lost, Namjoon glances down to see the lovely pastel splashes of rosé running clean down the front of his pants. He’d been too busy to notice once you’d gotten him out of them. Blushing for no reason other than the embarrassment of you having to clean up his foibles, Namjoon dips down to remove the trousers, leaving himself looking statuesque and unreasonably gorgeous in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs in the afternoon light as he tends to the coffee.

You feel terribly immature over how quickly affected you are by the sight of him in his current predicament and carefully take the pants from him, only to turn abruptly in search of some fresh air and relief. Namjoon catches your equally flustered state, smiling to himself, but doesn’t acknowledge it out loud. This spell of quiet that’s settled over the room is too peaceful to break.

Once the coffee’s done, he brings both your cups to the broad heirloom table, and you enjoy breakfast… or, he supposes, brunch at this point...together in the stillness. Every bite you take is piled high with prosciutto and fig while Namjoon drizzles honey on his slices of bread. 

It’s peaceful, idyllic. Tranquil enough to forget the world that awaits him back in the city.

It’s funny, the duality of his life. How easy it becomes in moments like these to lean into the simplicity of breakfast with his lover and ignore the undulating danger and uncertainty awaiting him in the rest of his world. It makes him realize how much he’s come to covet exchanges like this when he gets to feel like you’re just two people in love and nothing else. 

As his eyes trace over you, he promises himself to do everything in his power to make sure your life with him is hallmarked by sweet pockets like these. As many of them as he can give you. 

At some point Namjoon pushes up to get the carafe of orange juice from the fridge, and after assigning your more capable hands the job of opening the champagne, you both polish off your brunch with the tinkling clink of your toasting mimosa glasses. 

Once your bellies are full and satiated, Namjoon looks up at you. His elbows are propped up on the table, chin contentedly resting in his hands. There’s a question hidden in the corner of his lips as his eyes glisten with mischief.

“So… what else do you have in mind for your agenda today, my bride?” He reaches across the table to grab your hand, kissing the back of your palm as you giggle and roll your eyes.

“Well if you must know... I'm thinking I might give my sister a call. See if she’d be willing to come pay me visit.” You offer, pushing one of the last grapes around the corner of the board, avoiding the way Namjoon’s eyes shine. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe she could come stay in one of the guest houses. Potentially. Once I move out here. Whenever that may be.” 

“So my baby won’t be alone when I’m gone?” His dimples are popping in his cheeks as his smile spreads wide. It’s a brilliant idea to bring her out here with you until Namjoon can finesse a way to be by your side 24/7. He wonders why he didn’t think of it sooner. Probably because you’re as smart as you are beautiful. 

“Neither of your babies.” You crinkle your nose as you smile back at him. 

“I like the sound of that,” he’s beaming back at you, happy and light. His eyes are misty with emotion he can’t hide, and it only makes you love him more.

“Me too.”

“So, how would you feel about getting to work as soon as possible then?” His eyebrows bounce salaciously your way, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Is that what you want?” 

“If it’s what you want. Always.” Namjoon licks his lips and a crackle of electricity shoots up your spine. The parallels to how this morning started are not lost on you. It makes something in you thrill with excitement.

“Well, I would love to take a bath. Our activity this morning was excellent, but I must say you left a bit of a sticky mess in your wake.” 

“Sorry,” Namjoon ducks his head bashfully.

“So I’m going to break in that beautiful clawfoot tub and fill it to the brim with matcha bubble bath.”

“Mmm. With the orange blossom bath salts too?”

“Always,” you wink as Namjoon bites his lip.

“God, you always smell so good when you use that. It makes your skin so soft.” The thought of your skin fragrant and bare has his blood stirring again as his eyes rake over you.

“Well you are welcome to keep me company and read to me while I soak,” you offer nonchalantly as you walk away. You can feel his eyes on your hips as you round the corner, quickly followed by the sound of his bare feet against the floorboards.

“Or I could join you in the water.”

When he responds, his voice is closer than you expected it to be. He’s caught up to you so quickly with those long legs of his.

“Or you could finish the chapter of the book you were reading to me on the way up. You left me on such a cliffhanger when your hands got distracted on the drive. I’m dying to know what happens next.”

Biting his lip, that wicked gleam is back in his eyes at the memory of the drive up and the things the two of you got up to in the privacy of the tinted, shielded back seat.

“Fair enough, but I get to join after.” His hand is forceful where it slips across your waist. You tumble into him, wanting nothing more than to let him win and start this game all over again, but you had a feeling you were winning this round, and you like to win.

“I can promise you no such thing. We’ll just have to see how the day goes,” you shrug, dismissing him completely to climb the stairs.

As much as he enjoys the view, Namjoon loves the play for dominance more: it’s cute on you. Too bad he’s still got the upper hand. He catches you on the stairwell, turning you around to face him. His hand ghosts down the front of your silk draped stomach directly to the dip between your legs.

 He places enough pressure to catch your sensitivity there, smiling something wicked at the sound of your sharp inhale. He already knows how delicate you are after you’ve already finished once until he warms your body up again. The prospect of starting this dance all over again has him stiffening with delight against your leg when he feels the familiar slip of your essence help the fabric glide beneath his touch.

“Oh baby girl, you have no idea how well this day is gonna go.” His voice has dipped to an octave reserved only for the devil as he smiles at you and lifts you off the stairs and into his arms.

You squeal at the suddenness of it, wrapping your arms securely around his neck so you don’t fall. He just chuckles, something throaty and dark, as he carries you up the stairs and down the hall to the sunlit bathroom. 

Setting you on the counter, he turns to start the bath- scooping in bath salts, pouring your bubbles, raising the blinds so the room is flooded with light. He doesn’t want to miss a single look on your beautiful face when he has his way with you for a second time today.

Not once has it occurred to you to move from the spot where he put you. Instead, you sit perfectly still on the bathroom counter, feeling your nails dig into your palms, your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you watch him. Your pulse is already thrumming with anticipation all over again. 

When he turns back to you, you can see clear evidence of his arousal reshaping itself beneath his black briefs, and suddenly, despite your meal, there’s something else entirely that you want in your mouth. He catches the hungry way your eyes follow him as he walks back to you.

“Can I help you, baby?” His laugh is warm, even if his eyes are sinister. It’s all you can do just to nod your head and slip your fingers forward to tug at his waistband. When it begins to fall, you slip down to the floor, catching him off guard entirely. Not in a million years did Namjoon didn't plan on this course of events, but he certainly isn't unhappy about it. 

Namjoon leans back against the counter in the spot you’d just been sitting in as your hands grasp onto the muscular ridges of his toned legs. You set to work kissing his golden skin on his thighs slowly, indulgently, enjoying yourself as you go. 

You’ve always been weak in the knees for his absurdly gorgeous legs. They’ve only gotten more toned in the last year just like the rest of him, and between his dimples, his arms, his chest, and his legs, it’s hard to know where to begin. Or it would be if there wasn’t something hard and beautiful staring you in the face.

Namjoon is in heaven watching this unfold from above. When you slip him into your mouth, he feels all his rational thought go dark. He’s helpless to do anything but cave in. God, the two of you are like rabbits, but honestly, how can you not be when you make him feel like this? He begins to lose himself in the soft rhythm you create, something lazy and hypnotic, that makes him feel weightless.

He can barely hold himself, but every second is worth it. All he can do is luxuriate in the way you take your time as you bless him. At least, that’s how he always thinks of it because it’s truly nothing short of divine. 

He can’t tell if it’s been a few minutes or an eternity when all of a sudden, you’re abruptly letting him slip from your mouth with a pop and a sultry smile. The cool air rushing against him nearly startles him in the wake of the warmth he’d been cocooned in while your tongue did its incredible work. Because just as quickly as you started, you’re gone. 

He realizes then that the floor is wet. Apparently, You’d both gotten so lost in each other that the water in the tub had spilled over its edges and he hadn’t even noticed. Also, at some point during all this, you must have slipped out of your dress, because you’re lowering yourself into the water now as bare as you were on your wedding night.

Namjoon swallows. His body is ramping with endorphins, and he’s so worked up it nearly hurts. As he makes his way to the tub, you stop him with a dainty hand against his lower stomach.

“Ah, ah. I asked you to read to me.” 

Your eyes are coquettishly round as you bat them up at him. He’s tempted to scoff.

“Are you serious right now? Aren’t we in the middle of something?” His face is serious, focused as he eyes your breasts floating in the water amidst the matcha- scented bubbles.

You push back against his stomach again. “Yes, we were… in the middle of that last chapter. Book. Please.”

There it is again. The “please” he’s always been so enamored by. The “please” that’s usually the product of your need for him. The one he’s so infatuated with that he’d do anything to satisfy it. The one that, up until now, he’d thought you were unaware of, yet here you are using it against him.

That’s when he knows he’s trained you too well. There’s pride sparkling in your eyes as you look up at him, and he can’t believe it. Running a hand down his face, he shakes his head at you. What has he gotten himself into with you?

“ If that’s the way you want to play it, fine,” he squints at you with playful derision. “But I’m reading to you in the tub with you when I come back.”

“Oh please do,” you coo, batting your lashes at him.

Oh, you’re good. 

Namjoon can’t help but laugh at himself as he walks to the bedroom to collect the book. When he met you a year ago- the blushing, soft spoken girl who was too nervous to meet his eyes- he definitely never would have thought that a year later you’d be sending him down the hallway fully naked and half hard to fetch your literature for you while you float in a bath. He wonders when he got so wrapped around your finger like this, but if he’s honest, he doesn’t mind.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

 Being with you is the best his life has ever been. He’ll forever be grateful, that against all odds, you agreed to marry a man who was nearly a perfect stranger and create a life with him.

As he walks back to the bathroom, Namjoon catches a glimpse of your rosy smile flashing his way, peeking at him beyond the wall of bubbles. It fills his chest with something buoyant and light as he makes his way back to you.

There’s absolutely nowhere he’d rather be.

As he sinks down in the water behind you, more displaces, splashing out across the white wood beams and dousing your hair in the process. He apologizes profusely but instead of getting mad, you simply slip the rest of the way under the water to finish the job. When you resurface, you’re laughing so happily that your smile is the brightest thing in the room, putting even the afternoon sunlight to shame.

He pulls you to him, affection for you glowing warmly in his chest as you settle between his legs and look up at him. He kisses your forehead, his heart filled with contentment, before reaching forward to dry his hands on the closest available towel and thumbing through the book until he finds the page he marked.

The two of you stay that way until the chapter is finished and the book is closed. Until the bubbles all dissolve and the water’s gone cold. Even then, once the water is drained, you still stay wrapped in a tangle of Namjoon’s long limbs as you twist to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

Eventually he straightens out his legs to allow you to climb into his lap so he can find his way home again and slip inside you. Your bodies are swathed in the golden light illuminating the room as the two of you go effortlessly slow and unhurried, taking your time . 

Namjoon sinks into you, lost in the beauty of you and your connection. 

This time, your session together is marked in emotion and security. 

He knows how much you want to start a family with him, and you know how special it was for him to let his walls down, to let you know how scared he was to lose you. Both of you are in awe of not only how attracted you are to each other, but also of the caliber of human you’re currently sharing your bodies with, of how transcendent love making can feel when your hearts and hopes are as interwoven in the act as they now are with all your cards on the table.

When Namjoon finishes this time, it’s in sync with you. It’s the first time that happened for the two of you in tandem. As your eyes search his, you're both aware that this shared state of bliss is nothing short of miraculous. As story-worthy as this act has always been between the two of, this time feels different. Markedly so.

Perhaps, it’s because you’ve both dropped your guards enough to fully let the other in, in a way you hadn’t uncovered before. If the crashing of his heartbeat has anything to say about it, Namjoon would probably guess that you've both sunken so deep into each other that it was impossible for the crescendo of your orgasms  not  to crest all at once for the both of you.

Once you’ve gathered yourself enough to speak, you watch Namjoon with dazed eyes, in awe that someone as incredible as him even exists, let alone that you get to call him yours. As he slips out of you, the warmth of his seed flows out between your thighs, and some ridiculous part of you can’t help but smile.

Namjoon catches it too, and leans forward to kiss you. 

“You’re gonna be a great mom, you know that?”

Your eyes flash to meet his. Your body is spent, your emotions are big and at this point, your heart feels so filled to the brim with affection for him that you fear it won’t fit in your body anymore.

“They’re gonna be the luckiest kids in the world to have you for a dad,” you whisper with shining eyes as you touch his chest.

He dips his head, smiling so exorbitantly wide that it consumes his whole face, and all you can think is that you can’t wait to see that dimpled grin shining back at you from the face of a little boy or little girl down the road.

“By the way,” you begin as his gaze perks back up to meet yours. “You should know that we’ve tallied the votes for husband of the year.”

“Oh really?” His brows lift attentively. “Should I pack it up? Is it time to let the dream go? Surely it’s not going to a rookie this year.”

“You’d be surprised,” you tip your head. Taking his hands you place them so they’re cradling your chest. “On behalf of the board and the esteemed academy, it is my honor to present the award of husband of the year to you, Kim Namjoon.”

As he throws his head back, he bursts into a bright fit of laughter and mock cheering like you’re both surrounded by a make believe crowd. 

“Oh my goodness,” he squeezes your breasts in his palm like the globes are irreplaceable awards. “I would just like to thank all the people around the world who supported me and believed me, who shined the light of their support on me even on days when this seemed bleak. We couldn’t have made it here without you guys. This award belongs to all of you.”

He waves to the imaginary audience he’s created before pressing your breasts together and happily burying his smiling face between them. He mumbles something you can’t understand that gets lost in the downy softness of your chest as you laugh at him.

“What are you even saying down there?”

“I’m thanking the people who got me here.” He eyes you soberly like that should be obvious before breaking character and cackling at how ridiculous this is. “I can’t believe we really kept this joke going all day.”

“I can’t believe I got in the tub to clean up the mess you left earlier only to now, once again, be sticky with dried up mess.” You look ruefully between your legs.

“Hey, hey, that mess may very well become your child.” He tuts as you grin and narrow your eyes at him. 

“I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“Semantics,” he shrugs, kissing your nose. You can’t help your eye roll that follows. “Hey,” he breathes, eyes suddenly serious.

“Yes, love?” 

“Please know, whatever happens, I’ll always love you, and I’ll always take care of you. Both of you, if we’re so lucky.” The tips of his fingers rest against your lower belly, and yep. You were right. Your heart bursts clean out of your chest. You can feel the way your eyes glisten, happiness spilling from them as you get lost in Namjoon’s smile.

“I know you will, Joon. I know you will.”

-fin.

[d-criss-news]

Darren Criss: ‘Nobody wants to know about the good things on Glee – but I was f***ing there’

You’re getting a full-on TED talk where I get further and further up my own ass and pop out of my own mouth, so buckle up.” Darren Criss is an explosion of chaotic energy. The Glee star also has a lot say, often veering off in slightly paranoid tangents to readjust his points for fear of being misquoted. Maybe it’s because he knows I’ll have to mention some contentious topics, such as his Glee castmate Lea Michele’s behaviour on set or his history of playing LGBT+ characters. Or maybe it’s because I am a member of the British press, which he says is “evil”, adding, “I do not trust you.” Even the topic of his new Christmas album, A Very Darren Crissmas, takes us to unexpected places.

“Aside from it being a painfully convenient pun… It’s a very, very me thing, from the people that I worked on it with and the songs that I chose that are deeply personal,” he says. “There is just a whole lot of me in this and arguably, it’s one of the most personal albums or bodies of work I’ve ever made. But it perhaps might get lost in the sheen of what Christmas is.” His nails, aptly, are painted with candy stripes.

As I sit across a large conference table from Criss, it’s clear he’s put a lot of thought into making the perfect festive record, from his collaborators (Adam Lambert, Lainey Wilson, Evan Rachel Wood) to every meticulously placed high hat or pizzicato string. “To me - and this isn’t to over romanticise it because I’m promoting a Christmas album - when you think of the Great American Songbook, and you think of jazz standards, Christmas songs are a huge part of those,” he says. “On Top 40 radio, they will play songs from the Thirties to the Fifties right alongside the best of the most contemporary hits. That’s such a f***ing crazy anomaly to how music consumption ordinarily works.

Criss says he’s “cursed with constant curiosity in processes”, whether that be with music or acting. It was on YouTube that he first found recognition, starring in the parody stage show A Very Potter Musical, before making it big time on musical comedy Glee, as Blaine Anderson, a member of rival show choir the Dalton Academy Warblers. But it was his chilling performance as the sadomasochistic killer Andrew Cunanan in The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story that felt like a watershed moment, earning him an Emmy, Golden Globe, Critics’ Choice and SAG Award.

Before Glee, Criss had had small roles in Eastwick and Cold Case, but Ryan Murphy’s showchoir comedy allowed him to do both his passions simultaneously. He’d previously gone up for bit parts on the show but being cast as Blaine was his “Slumdog Millionaire moment”, where his first song on the show (a cover of Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream”) reached No 8 in the Billboard Hot 100. As with his Christmas album, it was a place to perform old and new songs together - something he was doing before the show, when he would spend hours every week playing covers in bars and restaurants.

Blaine joined the show in season two (when Glee was already watched by tens of millions) as a love interest for fan-favourite Kurt Hummel, played by Chris Colfer. For many viewers, it was the first time they’d seen a young gay couple presented positively on the small screen. “I have a lot of queer folks that come up to me, particularly older folks, that will say how much that relationship meant to them,” Criss tells me. “They’ll say, ‘When I was growing up, I didn’t really ever get to see that on TV’… and then I always remind them, neither did I… As a cis straight man, I also didn’t see that. And while I have not grown up as a queer person, I’m a lifetime subscriber, man. I’m a season ticket holder to the queer experience. I grew up in San Francisco in the Nineties; these are people that raised my cultural awareness… [so] also it means a lot to me.”

But the topic of straight actors playing LGBT+ roles is a much-debated issue. Neil Patrick Harris, who starred in Hedwig and the Angry Inch on Broadway before Criss did it on the US tour, has previously defended the practice, saying that there is “something sexy” about it. How does he feel about it? Here, that mistrust comes out in Criss - a fear of misspeaking on “complex” issues. “This is a really tough one because, let’s just say, I’ve been s*** on,” he says. “No matter what I say, I’m going to get into the same mess that I’ve always gotten in, which is me being what I believe is very fair and diplomatic, but nobody’s interested in that, because compassion is not currently in vogue. So I don’t know what to say.” We can come back to the question if he wants time to gather his thoughts? “I’m making it sound like I have some controversial thing to say, which I don’t,” he hastens to clarify. “What I say is very normal.” We agree to come back to it.

Unfortunately for us both, the hard questions can’t end here. Last year, Glee was rocked by a series of accusations of bad practice and a toxic work environment on set. The most prominent were aimed at Lea Michele, who played the annoying and ambitious Rachel Berry and was accused by former co-star Samantha Ware of making her life a “living hell” on set. I can feel Criss suck the air through his teeth as I mention the allegations. “Bro, you’re getting right into it,” he says.

There’s a pause. “This is no bulls*** PR nonsense between you and me in this room, and whoever the f*** you want to tell. I have nothing but positive things to say about every single person on that show. I had such lovely interactions with everybody… for somebody who may get pinned as Mr Happy-Go-Lucky, it’s a bummer to me that I can’t celebrate the good things about people who have been extraordinary because I think the great things about people are not as fun to advertise as s***ty moments.” While he says he’s not speaking about any cast members in particular, he knows that fans want the “juicy tea” and will “love to try and think of their own version” when they read this. He’s probably right.

Criss continues: “Working on set is an extraordinarily high-pressure zone where the rules are famously written in sand… There’s a great deal of context and compassion that is missing that nobody wants to know about or write about. But I was f***ing there, and I saw a lot of good things. I saw ‘not great’ things, but not because these people are bad people, truly.” Maybe it’s his “bleeding heart idealism”, he adds, but “I don’t believe anybody was ever twisting their moustache, like” - he puts on a Dick Dastardly voice - “‘I know, I shall compromise these people by doing the following things.’”

It’s also easy to forget that this was a young cast, many of whom were in their first TV roles and had been “shot out of a cannon into the public sphere”. “I f***ing dare anybody out there to have the constitution to be able to deal with that in a way that is spotless,” he says. “Think about it this way. Think about members of your family, fights that you’ve had, things that were said that weren’t meant… If it was written down, or somebody outside the family saw it and broadcast it to other people, it would make you look like a s***ty family… The next night, you’re at dinner, the holidays roll around. You give each other a hug, you respect each other, you love each other. That’s how families work… No one’s gonna write about the good stuff. So I’m here to tell you there was a lot more good stuff than there was bad stuff.”

It was on the show that Criss first worked with Ryan Murphy - a man he describes as a provocateur and a “first-rate showman”. The Nip/Tuck creator was Glee’s showrunner, but it took The Assassination of Gianni Versace, episodes of which were directed by Murphy, for the pair to really collaborate. The second American Crime Story season told the story of Andrew Cunanan, a young Californian who murdered five men in 1997, one of whom was the Italian fashion designer. While the other ACS miniseries have told incredibly well-known stories, Criss found creative freedom in the fact that Cunanan - who died by suicide eight days after shooting Versace - was more of a mystery.

“Unlike if you’re playing OJ, or if you’re playing Monica Lewinsky or Bill Clinton, or these public figures that have an extraordinary amount of documentation of how they look, how they sound, how they walk, how they talk, there was next to nothing on Andrew, which gave me kind of carte blanche to do whatever,” he says. “I think if Andrew was somebody that everybody knew, I think people would have had a very different expectation, because the assignment would have been different.”

It’s here that Criss brings us back to the LGBT+ question, saying that he doesn’t want to “shy away” from the topic. “I think for any role that you’re up for, you want to know if you add value to it, right?” he says. “The Cunanan role came up simply because I’m half Filipino and I share a pretty similar likeness to the guy… He was also very white passing, which I am as well, so there’s a lot of things there that really fit… There are so many performances that are either straight roles given by queer actors or queer roles that are done by straight actors that are so beloved, that we just don’t talk about those. But if they’re done poorly, we get up in arms and we blame it on the fact that this person isn’t queer, this person isn’t straight, as opposed to maybe they just weren’t the right person for the job?”

The problem, he says, is the “double standard” placed on performers once they become public figures - say, on a show like Glee. “If there’s a role that requires somebody or something about them, whether it’s a queer character, or a character that does this or has this background, if we know nothing about them, do we have the objectivity to appreciate their performance?” he asks. “Did they do a good job? Did they service the story? Did they give it life? Did we believe it? Did it give the thing that that character represents visibility? And because the veil has been lifted, we can see everything about somebody. I’m now in a position in my life where folks can look up anything about me, at least [that] I’ve let out there. That is a standard that is held up to the roles that I play.”

Criss says that while there’s no “hard and fast rule”, he is acutely aware of the “social barometer” and has turned down “plenty of queer roles” over the years, saying: “I’ll read a script and go, ‘I, as a consumer, would rather see a queer man do this role.’” A few years ago he made headlines for seeming to say that he wouldn’t play an LGBT+ character ever again. Today, he says that was a misquote. “I was like, ‘I never said this,’” he says. “What I did say was that I don’t want to be another…” He seems to lose his train of thought. “This is less about what I said and more about the issue of clickbait and how it can dilute what was actually said and it becomes corrosive to the overall message. That’s what’s unfortunate to me.” He pauses. “You should f***ing quote me on that. You won’t, but it’s OK.”

‘A Very Darren Crissmas’ is out now

[elriell]

Two Mates? Elriel & (El)ucien Theory.

These are just a few of my thoughts compiled together regarding having two mates, the signs and breadcrumbs Sarah has incorporated. If you know me you know am a Lucien fan so this is nothing hateful towards him and we will be looking at his place within it all as well, that being said this will have bond rejection/misalignment talk so if that is not your cup of tea I understand and you can skip this! As always I would love to hear everyones thoughts so long as we are all respectful ♡

Let's start by discussing the where the two ships align and parallel mates behaviour, and then we will discuss where their arc's veer from each other...

“TOUCH HER, SMELL HER, TASTE HER– THE INSTINCTS WERE A RUNNING RIVER.” (Lucien in ACOWAR about the mating bond.)

“Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.”

“Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.”

“They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. ”

“He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. ”

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. ”

“He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like.”

“This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.  

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them. ”

Now you can easily parallel this to any of SJM's mates, like Feysand or Nessian. But for the sake of brevity I will leave you with the original link to the wonderful @suelky post where it was pointed out w/ Feysand quotes as well. [source]

Also "The instincts were a running river.” sounds a little like “Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea."

The Bonus POV has a lot of typical "Mates" behaviours manifesting between Elain and Azriel, and it would make sense this would be a extreme POV shift as we have never been inside either of their heads before so we were bound to have a major learning curve, especially with Az who is so reserved with his emotions.

“But Lucien’s attention went right to the hallway toward the back, his nostrils flaring as he scented Elain’s direction. And who she’d gone with. A low snarl slipped out of him—”

“So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck  someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her."  Azriel snarled softly.”

There are countless main trio parallels but most of you are aware of which one is my favourite...

“Knelt on those stars and mountains inked on his knees. He would bow for no one and nothing— But his mate. His equal.”

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.”

"Every instinct in his body came roaring to the surface, so violent he had to choke them with a brutal grip or else he'd find himself on his knees, begging her for touch, for anything."

And on to where they go their separate ways from a textual perspective;

"Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.”

“Rhys kissed the hollow of my collarbone, and my core went utterly molten. “My brave, bold, brilliant mate.”

“You can give everyone that I Will Slay My Enemies look—which is my favorite look, by the way. You can keep that sharpness I like so much, that boldness and fearlessness. I don’t want you to ever lose those things, to cage yourself.”

“And he had the nerve once his powers were back to shove me into a cage. The nerve to say I was no longer useful; I was to be cloistered for his peace of mind.”

“Remember that you are a wolf. And you cannot be caged.” He kissed my brow one more time, my blood thrumming and boiling in me, howling to draw blood.”

I think finding freedom and power from within is something that the books have emphasized through Feysand and Nessian's journey's. Which is so interesting considering Lucien and Elain are both feeling tied to each other, as if in a cage of sorts.

Elain herself has been stuffed in to a box of other peoples making throughout most of the series, it quite prevalent she might feel caged by their opinions of who she is.

"Maybe she was never given a chance to be that way." I whipped my head towards him. "You think I stifle her?" Rhys held up his hands. "Not you alone."

“Nesta had been right. It was like a prison, this place.” [Graysen's Manor]

“Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“She ignored me, and saw Elain as barely more than a doll to dress up, but Nesta was hers. Our mother made sure we knew it. Or she just cared so little what we thought or did that she didn’t bother to hide it from us.”

And as for Lucien I think his duty and honour to her is what is caging him;

“I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes. I can’t stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back.”

“Why are you here?” Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. “Where’s Elain?”

“I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.”

“Why?” Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.”

I waited. “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.”

Godbless Azriel for respecting Elain's privacy.

I think we would see/understand a lot more if we got a chance inside their heads but the one time we did see Lucien's POV we got a good glimpse at how he feels about his situation with Elain and it wasn't particularly positive and reminded me of Rhy's parents.

"She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been … thrown at him.”

“...to remember that she picked it. Picked me. That it’s not like my parents, shoved together.”

Not using the word cage per say but the implication isn't much better.

“You know them better than I do. But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.”

“So is Azriel.”

I don't think the debate is really whether Lucien is deserving of her, or even Azriel for that matter, it is a question of who is actually right for her and vice-versa, who has she been consistently written to thrive and smile alongside. And that is Azriel.

Why does Sarah constantly put Azriel in the picture, from day DOT. She was screaming "hey look Azriel is here, and they would work magically together"

“And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.” I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together.”

There are several instances/evens that occur throughout the series that set both Elucien and Elriel's relationships apart, and I think it is highly intentional on Sarah's part...

“I said quietly, “We will get her back.” But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.”

“From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

Or we can look at both Solstice's and the clear differences in how their relationships are growing, and also how well one and other know each other.

“Tell me when you knew,” he demanded, his knee pressing into mine. “That Rhysand was your mate. Tell me when you stopped loving Tamlin and started loving him instead.”

“He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option  of leaving if it became too much.  Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that.”

&

“I want to see her. Just once. Just—to know.” “To know what?” He hitched my damp cloak higher around us. “If she is worth fighting for.”

“Azriel stiffened. “I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.”

GIFTS REFLECTING THEIR RELATIONSHIP MILE MARKS

“Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …” Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”

“I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.”

“Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way.” “And torn up by thorns,” I mused,”

“I didn’t dare mention that if she had been wearing the enchanted gloves Lucien had gotten her last Solstice, nothing would have pierced them at all.”

“He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

Not only is she visibly uninterested which is painful to watch, it also highlights how little he knows about her. SJM is creating a visible gap in their dynamic.

“The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. “It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. ”

“My Nesta. Elain shall wed for love and beauty, but you, my cunning little queen … You shall wed for conquest.”

“I painted flowers for Elain on her drawer,” I said, sawing and sawing. “Little roses and begonias and irises. And for Nesta … ”

“She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

“I led her into the sitting room, where Cassian had a bottle of amber-colored liquor in each hand, Azriel was already rubbing his temples,”

“She hadn't bought her mate a present. But she'd gotten Azriel one last year -- a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there.”

“Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days, and then opened the lid.  Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you...”

See yet again a very thoughtful and funny gift on her part. Now at it's core even just simply comparing their general reactions says a lot about the story Sarah is putting forward.

"Silence again. Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous.”

“He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse. "No wonder you didn't want me to open it in front of everyone."  

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. "Nesta wouldn't appreciate the joke.”

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly."

"Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

“She hadn't bought her mate a present. "

The writing is nothing if not clear about the discomfort both Lucien and Elain feel in regards to each other, though they lay under different reasons.

We are given multiple incidents in which we are told about how mating bonds are not perfect and we are given clear examples of it repeatedly, about woman enduring out of obligation, and do not forget this is heavily discussed literally in regards to Elain and her circumstances.

“She’d been revealed as his mate, and endured the miserable union mostly from gratitude for her unharmed wings.”

“You said your mother and father were wrong for each other; Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” I peeled off my dressing robe. “So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. "

“She glowed with good health. Except … Her brown eyes were wary. Usually, that look was reserved for Lucien. The male was definitely in the family room,”

“Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie’s garden. Cassian didn’t exactly know why he suspected this wasn’t true. There had been some tightness in Elain’s face as she’d said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around,”

“Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.”

VS

“That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.”

“Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.”

What if ”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

“Can you truly fly?” He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.” “That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”

“ I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.”

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

“Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.”

The romantic subtext is there and has been for quite some time, they prove it book after book when SJM continues to grow their bond and nurture it whilst breaking her connection with Lucien further apart, and for what reason?

“A mating bond can be rejected,” Rhys said mildly, eyes flickering in the mirror as he drank in every inch of bare skin I had on display. “There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some… preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.”

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” [...]

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

“Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.”

“The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.”

It is remarkably interesting to me that we are told about what Rhys suspects/believes is responsible for mating bonds, paralleled alongside Azriel questioning it all, I also think it is abundantly clear from his answer to Feyre he doesn't truly know for sure.

We also have several lines of dialogue talking about the sisters and fate, their reason for entering the IC's life. Not only that but we get a glimpse at Azriel's personality and how despite the world (Rhys and the mating bond in general) telling him to despair, he still found it in him to have hope the Cauldron could be wrong.

This is so significant, and she has carefully woven his character throughout the series to make this incredibly plausible.

“If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters. I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair.”

“And then he said to my sisters, “We have not known each other for long. But I have to believe that you were brought here, into our family, for a reason, too. And maybe today we’ll find out why.”

“All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match your own.”

“Even after the bond is rejected, they see her as belonging to them. Sometimes they return to challenge the male she chooses for herself. Sometimes it ends in death. It is savage, and it is ugly, and it mercifully does not happen often, but …”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you're pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.”

As you can see even back in ACOWAR she was weaving the web for Elriel's journey and an upcoming Blood Duel/The threat of one.

“Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.”

I think it is pretty clear from all the quotes above that Lucien is no her ideal spirit and vice-versa to be frank when you put it side by side his budding relationship with Vassa or hers with Azriel they are clearly very different.

“On the continent, there are territories that believe the females literally belong to their mate. But not here. Elain would have our full protection if she rejects the bond.”

“Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.  Offer and permission.  He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers. ”

Elain is choosing Azriel, choosing their bond over the one assigned to her time and time again... Back to mating bonds;

“The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.”

“The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

"She pointed at Lucien as she saw herself out. “Try sitting down with her. Just talking—sensing. See what you pick up. But don’t push.”

“Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.”

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. “No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.”

"Azriel’s hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away. Mor watched the space where he’d been standing long after he was gone.”

“Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

“It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.”

“But Azriel nodded. “You knew,” he said to Elain. “About the young queen turning into a crone.” Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. As if the understanding, our understanding … it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in.”

Are you telling me that Madja saying a mate would know, would sense whatever is going on with her, and as it turns out Azriel was the one to sense and uncover it is solely what, a coincidence? Also to emphasize what she said about "A bridge between souls..." Where else have we heard that terminology? The Truth-Teller scene.

“I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.”

Not to mention this scene is simply iconic for a multitude of reasons, how poetic Feyre describes them, the clear soulmates/ying-yang subtext and him giving her something he has given no other but that's another story.

Azriel has also been displaying some very protective fiercely so mating vibes towards her,

“Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. ”

“Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him.”

“Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.”

“Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go.”

I think there are some mixed opinions on Lucien and whether he deserves her (and vice-versa in this fandom) but I don't think that is what this comes down too, they are both handling it in the way they think best/following their instincts.

Lucien is hurting throughout this process as well, but I think ultimately it is honor and loyalty binding him to her not any genuine emotion for her as a human being fae. I think realising they are not meant for each other and supporting each other developing true bonds with other people will be their journey. And it would be a completely fresh and new view of a mating bond.

Smaller pieces of dialogue that need little explaining and a rather oddly specific choice of words in the latest book that is meant to set up the next one in the series:

“You’d know if she’d died,” Azriel said, pausing his work and looking up at Cassian. He tapped his brother’s chest with a scarred hand. “Right here—you’d know, Cass.”

“Elain and Feyre—that was the new status of things. The bond Elain had chosen.”

"I'd never do such a thing. you must be thinking of your other mate."

Honestly? At this rate I have no doubt Elriel are endgame and everything within canon text spells that out but I truly believe he will be her second mate/the will form a bond via some circumstance that shall arise due to these little hints.

I would love to hear your thoughts and/or additions because I by all means didn't do a massive deep dive and there are most likely tons more examples to add but I didn't want it to become overwhelming to read!

Hope everyone has a spectacular and magical evening <3

[tofumedic]

Can you do Casual Affections 11 with Diavolo

Diavolo with #11

11. calling them nicknames

(i did not push this up the list bc i got excited no no im a simp guys pl-)

Diavolo is very cheerful, the kind of person people would call golden retriever boys yknow? So to say when you were around, his hypothetical tail would be wagging quite a lot!

He enjoys your company immensely, finding himself forgetful and instead joking around, you being in his general area can even make mundane events he's done over 3000 times a delight from your simple addition.

Diavolo has mentioned off hand about being jealous of the relationship between the brothers, they all have these nicknames that seems so cute and perfect but he's been urged to try and stay formal, within the ranks his father had set up.

Though you know just as well as Lucifer and Barbatos, that even the Devildom prince isn't immune to taking breaks from an enterity of work.

He lets loose with you most of all, no matter how he shouldn't go soft on one of the exchange students, it's your little secret( however it is extremely visible to the brothers on how bold he is with his liking for you).

His nicknames for you are always more sweet than the concept of just shortening your name like what is done between the brothers, though if he can figure it out some will be puns based off of your name!

He will call you his knight sometimes, not very often because it reminds him of the weight of his title but then he spins it to princes of the human world who had personal knights like bodyguards that fall in love together in secret because the prince has an arranged marriage for the good of his kingdom but they also love someone else and-

He also quite likes calling you buttercup, it's cute and the way he always accidentally pops the p on the end makes him laugh at himself, he likes using it on particularly hard days where you feel down or are surrounded by that bad feeling.

Diavolo will also take a liking to calling you an angel, this is one you will get in front of the brothers, Solomon, and the angels themselves since they have called you one as well so they would see it more as just agreement and blatant flirting right in front of their hellish salad.

If any are possibly food related, he makes sure it's in the safety of privacy away from Beel, but he likes saying that you're sweet, lovingly calling you a peach after you agree with him to go on an unconventional at best date, the apple of his eye.

He also loves when you give him nicknames, sweet or silly it doesn't matter you could send him a good night text with one of your choice and he would smile at it for far too long maybe even having to kick his feet just a small bit or do a roll or two to let out the energy you just granted him.

In the same vain of being his knight, my liege or highness isn't at the top of his tierlist yet he can't help but enjoy the my you put in front of any royal title. Will absolutely let out a large laugh if you call him your princess, will also ask you to do it in front of Lucifer.

Maybe will even go further into the joke of being a princess, he will ask you if he's a pretty one, he enjoys it genuinely far too much than he think he can express before blushing, call him pretty more often and don't be afraid of calling him a princess either.

Softly, he likes being called honey. It leads to another path of you thinking he's sweet but honey supposedly has different tastes depending on the floral nearby and he "tastes" that way because of you! So in turn your his hard at work worker bee, or any flower that's pretty and reminds him of you!

And as simple as it sounds, he really likes just being called Dia. It's something so simple, making him feel down to earth instead of on this pedestal he's remained on waiting for his father to wake back up.

You could also call him a diamond and he would enjoy the concept of being related to something he knows is so valuable in human history to you.

from this prompt list

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (05)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

"A future without you is a world without color."

 Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au 

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

SERIES: CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 6

The best thing about Red was that she wasn't just your assistant; she was also your friend.

Your one and only girl confidant.

Growing up, you didn't really have a lot of friends. It was probably because you used to be so shy.

Unlike other children, you weren't forced by your parents to interact with kids your age. Why would they do that when you already had everything you needed?

You had the latest toys so you didn't have to play tag or hide and seek with your neighbors. You were also a smart girl. You didn't need to ask for your classmates' help. The only weakness your parents saw was the fact that you only excelled in the academic field. You weren't blessed with a golden voice. You couldn't dance, you couldn't ride a bike. You couldn't even do the basic household chore.

This was all because you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You didn't have to try harder. You had a handmaiden to do all sort of things for you. Your parents paid the school so that you wouldn't have to attend P.E classes or any other extracurricular activities.

You were contented to be alone in your big, princess-like room.

In fact, you only met Jimin, your best friend who was two years younger than you, during college days. He was your classmate in your first ever P.E class. You were already a junior that time. You thought you could skip P.E the way you did in high school, but you were wrong. You ended up in Jimin’s class that time.

The two of you didn’t stop being friends after the semester ended. Actually, you guys became even closer. Jimin was the only person who was by your side when you were breaking down because of school. He cried with you, slept late with you, and he also set you up with a lot of his friends. Unfortunately, you weren't attracted to any of them. You weren't picky. You were just a sucker for soulmates and happy endings. His efforts didn't go to waste though. You became good friends with some of these guys. You were particularly close to Jung Hoseok, a boy your age who was in Jimin's dance class.

Hoseok was a great person, but you still craved the idea of having a girl best friend.

Luckily, you met Red.

You met her months ago—back when she was still a struggling student who was looking for a job in the company where you were working.

"And why would I hire someone like you?" Gahee, your co-worker, snarled at Red. The former didn't like the latter's answers during the interview portion. She said Red was too slow, too soft. She wasn't fit to become a lawyer like the rest of you.

"I'm sorry..." This was another issue. Red kept on apologizing. She had a very low self-esteem.

You knew right there and then that this girl wouldn't be hired. Out of the five interviewers, you were certain that you're the only one who was in favor of this intern.

Why?

It was because Red reminded you of your younger self.

As stated, you were a shy kid. But then law school changed you. To survive, you needed to act tough—you constantly needed put on a mask just so you could reach the 'standard' of what a lawyer should be like.

Most of the time, it worked. There were cases, however, wherein you became clouded by your own judgment. Some of your colleagues said you were too empathetic—always rescuing people from their misery.

You were doing it again.

"I'm going to hire her." These were your exact words just as Red was about to leave.

She stopped walking. Red turned to look at you. Confusion was apparent all over her face. Were you serious?

The other interviewers couldn't believe the words that came out of your mouth, so naturally, they protested.

You simply raised your brow at them.

"I said what I said. She's going to be my new assistant." You pointed at Red who still looked so shocked.

"But we don't want to work with her!" Gahee groaned.

"So?"

Gahee's face turned pale because of your response. You arched your brow higher.

"It doesn't matter if you don't want her. She's going to work for me."

The interviewers went silent.

You see, no one could ever question your decision. You might be 'too soft' for some of them, but they still couldn't deny that you were damn good at your job. Your personality in the office was very different from what your family and friends knew. For them, you would always be that quiet little girl who couldn't speak for herself. In here, you were young, but sophisticated. A lion in a world full of kittens.

"Ms. Red Lee's my responsibility from now on. If you have a problem with her, you can talk to me."

This was the beginning of your friendship with Red. At first, she was skeptical of your intention. Why would you want to work with someone like her?

"Because I believe in you." You offered her a smile when she finally found the courage to ask you the question that had been bothering her since the first time she met you.

Red had been your assistant for months now; however, your co-workers still didn't like her. It was as though they were waiting for her to make a mistake.

She did.

"How's our case going? Did our client take the color vision test?" You inquired days before the trial of your client who wanted to sue the business person who sold her fake whitening products. This was a simple case. You didn't understand why your client wanted to go to trial; this could simply be settled without going to the court.

"There's no need for that. I've already talked to her."

"Hm?"

"Well..." Red took a seat beside you. She was blushing. "Remember when I told you I've met my soulmate?"

"Oh. Right!" You beamed at her. How lucky. "So did you break up with JK?"

Red told you she had a boyfriend named JK. You honestly didn't know much about him or their relationship, though you were informed that they had been together for almost a decade, unfortunately, they weren't soulmates.

"I did." The smile she gave you was sad. "But he didn't take it well..."

You didn't know what to say after that. Admittedly, you had urged Red to breakup with her boyfriend because you didn't appreciate that she was keeping him in the dark. It was unfair.

"But anyway," Red sounded so excited that you couldn't help but giggle. "I've talked to your client. I'm sure she can see color since her answer was right when I asked her if she can tell me the color of the shirt I'm wearing."

"Okay, then."

It was stupid of you to rely on Red's words and you knew it. This was the reason why you couldn't defend yourself when your boss humiliated you in front of everyone. As if that wasn't awful enough, your superior also excluded you from the biggest case you were working on.

Gahee was the new head of that case.

"I'm sorry!" Red was crying. You took accountability for what she had done. She was your assistant after all.

"It's okay, Red." You smiled despite the fact that you were breaking inside. Your boss made you look like a fool. You couldn't erase the image of your colleagues smirking that was circling inside your head.

You were no longer a lion.

"I-It's not okay! You lost the case!" She knew that you spent months working on the mentioned case your boss removed you from. Everyone was jealous of you. They wanted to handle that case. Now, Gahee had the chance. You lost yours.

You embraced Red. You couldn't bear to see anyone crying.

"But I'm still handling Mr. Kim Seokjin's case." You stared into her eyes. "That's the only case I want to handle. Trust me."

Red sobbed even harder. She understood what you meant. You lost the biggest case, but at least you were still Mr. Kim's lawyer. Again, his case was more important to you and Red.

"I'm going home. Is that okay? Can you handle yourself?" You couldn't work with a heavy heart. You needed to see Miri. You needed a bath. You needed a break.

Fortunately, Red let you go.

Ever since that day, your assistant became more hyperaware of your needs and wants. She was certain she owed you a lot. This was the reason why you couldn't understand why Jeongguk was crying now.

"G-Gukkie?" You swallowed hard when you saw tears streaming down his cheeks.

Again, Red knew what you needed. You were sure she gave you the correct recipe for kongnamul guk. So why was Jeongguk weeping as he ate the soup you made?

It couldn't be because it didn't taste good. You followed Red's recipe. It was perfect! Everyone loved her soup.

Your soulmate didn't answer you. He also refused to look at you. It was embarrassing enough that you could see his overflowing emotions.

Jeongguk wondered why the world was so cruel to him. He woke up a few minutes ago with a heavy head, and then the first thing he spotted was you.

You were standing near his feet; a lovely smile was plastered on your face. Jeongguk didn't understand why you were grinning at him like that.

Weren't you mad? He remembered everything that happened last night. He acted like an asshole.

Jeongguk's suspicion grew when you handed him an ibuprofen and a glass of water. Not only that, you also told him that you cooked soup to help him with his throbbing head. He was too tired and shy to refuse you, so without saying anything, he let you drag him to the dining table.

You prepared everything for Gukkie. The only thing he had to do was eat. The thing was, he couldn't even do that.

Tears filled his eyes the moment he tasted the soup. He was looking directly at you while bring the spoon closer to his mouth—this was how you acted last night. This was what pissed him off. You were scowling, making him feel like he was the worst cook ever.

How was he different from you when he was acting the same way? The only thing that changed was his expression. As said, he was crying instead of frowning.

It broke your heart.

"Say something please?" You begged. You felt your chest tightening. Did you make him cry? Were you wrong? Red's recipe was perfect, maybe it was you who fucked things up. Did you put too much salt? Too much bean sprout?

What was wrong?

Jeongguk shook his head, harshly wiping his tears away. He didn't say anything. He didn't make it seem like he hated the soup. Actually, he finished it within a few minutes.

"I'm going to my room." He abruptly stood up, hanging his head low.

"T-Thanks for the food."

The way Jeongguk acted made you realize that you couldn't really cook, not even when the perfect recipe was literally in front of you; however, this didn't stop you from making dinner that same day.

Your soulmate locked himself in his room since morning. He hadn't eaten anything other than that soup and frankly, you were getting worried. You didn't want him to get sick.

It was going to take a while to have your food delivered, so you just decided to cook instant ramen. It had always been your life savior.

"What are you doing?"

You stopped trying to open the stove when Jeongguk suddenly spoke up.

He instantly realized what you were doing, causing him to grimace.

"You can't eat instant ramen for the rest of your life, you know? It's very unhealthy." Jeongguk shook his head, disappointed.

You bit your lower lip. It was the only food you knew how to prepare by heart. You didn't want to upset him again by trying to cook something that didn't taste good.

"I'm gonna prepare our dinner." He announced and you nodded.

You were starving. It was Sunday, but you still needed to work. You stayed in the living room the whole day, talking to Mr. Kim Seokjin about his case. Miri wasn't around to keep you company. That cat of yours stayed with Jeongguk the whole day. What a traitor.

"Okay. I'll be in my room if ever you need help." You said.

"Wait!" Jeongguk held your wrist, stopping you from leaving.

"I-Is gimbap okay?" His voice was soft as he asked this. He realized he needed to talk to you about your likes and dislikes. He couldn't just prepare something and get mad if you ended up disliking it.

"Uh..."

Jeongguk could feel your hesitation. It wasn't like you hated gimbap, but you had too much of it yesterday. Red made twenty five pieces when you told her you were craving it.

"Tell you what," Jeongguk let go of your hand. "Why don't we just eat out? Do you like pizza? What about pasta?"

He kept on suggesting food you could try, but nothing was registering inside your mind. The only thing you could think of was this:

"We're going on a date?" Your eyes were sparkling.

"What?" Jeongguk asked, dumbfounded. Out of the many things he had said, this was the only thing you could think about?

"You said we're gonna eat outside! It means we're going on a date!" You were smiling shamelessly.

Jeongguk's eyes widened. He was panicking. He didn't know why his heart was beating so fast just by the thought of going out on a date with you.

"I-I..." He swallowed hard. "We could invite T-Tae and Jimin."

Jeongguk panicked more upon realizing what he just said. No. He couldn't bear to see his best friend right now. Jeongguk hadn't told anyone that he could see colors now—well, except Yoongi.

Jeongguk wasn't ready yet. He felt guilty. He knew he was the reason why you couldn't see colors. He didn't want Taehyung and Jimin to be disappointed in him. Besides, he didn't want the couple to pester him about liking you. Again, that wasn't going to happen.

Jeongguk was about to withdraw his statement, unfortunately, you were already telling him that it was a good idea.

"So how are you, Guk?"

This was the story how Jeongguk ended up eating sushi with Taehyung.

The couple accepted your invitation. The four of you were supposed to eat together, but Jimin claimed he needed to talk to you. Alone.

Taehyung didn't protest. He missed Jeongguk too. It had been a while since they last talked. This was the perfect time to finally catch up.

"Nothing new." Jeongguk shrugged nonchalantly.

"Really?" Taehyung raised a brow. He could tell when his best friend was hiding something. "So you don't consider being able to see colors as something new, huh?"

Jeongguk's head jerked up.

"You know!?"

Taehyung laughed. Of course he knew. You told Jimin and Jimin told Taehyung. The latter was simply waiting for Jeongguk to open up.

He couldn't wait forever though. Jeongguk could be stubborn sometimes.

"She also told us that you cried earlier..."

Jeongguk pursed his lips into a thin line. Damn it. You couldn't keep anything to yourself, could you?

"I did not." Jeongguk gritted his teeth. The tears forming in his eyes were in contrast to what he was saying.

Jeongguk indeed cried earlier. Taehyung could tell because the younger boy was crying again.

"Guk..." Taehyung caressed Jeongguk's clenched fist.

"Wanna tell your hyung what happened?" The voice of Jeongguk's best friend was like a lullaby.

Jeongguk cried even harder.

Truthfully, he was surprised with himself too. Jeongguk had always been emotional, but his stubborn ass refused to let other people see him cry. This was new. The Jeongguk Taehyung knew would keep his mouth shut.

The Jeongguk today couldn't stop talking.

"I got so drunk last night, hyung. She..." Jeongguk looked at Taehyung to make sure that he understood that the she he was referring to was you.

"She cooked kongnamul guk for me."

Taehyung was silent after that. He tried to understand what Jeongguk was saying. Sadly, he couldn't.

"Are you telling me that you're crying because she prepared a soup for you?" Taehyung sounded unsure.

Jeongguk shook his head; tears were still streaming down his cheeks.

"No. I was just reminded of..." He trailed off.

"Of what?"

For a moment, Jeongguk was silent. His heart was hurting.

"Of the mean things I've said to her." Jeongguk sobbed.

It was a bad idea to look at you while he was trying to eat. Jeongguk's eyes accidentally fell into your lips. It was swollen—a reminder that you still ate the garlic shrimp even though you were allergic to it.

Jeongguk felt like an evil person.

Why were you always so kind to him? No one treated him the way you treated him. It was too good to be true.

"Oh." Taehyung broke into a huge grin and suddenly, he was chuckling.

"What's so funny?" Jeongguk was talking in a pout.

"Nothing!" The best friend's laugh had died down, but he was still smiling. "Is she tricking me, then? Can't she really see colors?"

For Taehyung, it was impossible that you were still living a monochromatic life. It was obvious that Jeongguk cared for your feelings. However, Jimin thought the opposite.

"Seriously? God. I hate that brat so much!" Jimin didn't know that he was capable of hating Jeongguk, but after listening to your story, he couldn't help the annoyance he felt for your soulmate.

You were currently inside a restaurant that was just across the sushi bar where Jeongguk and his boyfriend were at.

Jimin missed you as much as Taehyung missed his best friend. The last time you two communicated was three weeks ago. You did tell him that Jeongguk was your soulmate and that he didn't seem to like you.

Jimin brushed it off at first. He told you to give Jeongguk some time. He failed to tell you that your soulmate just went through a tough breakup though. Jimin knew it wasn't his story to tell.

"Don't. Gukkie's a good person. He just didn't know any better."

"It’s because he isn't trying!" Jimin crossed his arms. He was aware that it was unfair to get mad at Jeongguk, but your best friend could tell that you were getting hurt because of your soulmate's insensitivity.

"If I were you, I would give up on him."

You shook your head instead of agreeing to his statement.

"Jeongguk reminds me of law school."

When Jimin raised his brow, you started to elucidate what you meant.

No one, not even your parents, believed in you when you told them you were going to law school. Sure, you were smart, but you weren't strong like others. You cry immediately. You couldn't handle harsh opinions. You couldn't even handle sleepless nights and intense competition. You hated conflict. You had always been a mediator.

Even Jimin tried to stop you. He asked you so many times if you truly wanted this. It's not that he didn't trust you. Your best friend was only concerned about your well-being. He was there when you were having a difficult college semester. Undergraduate life was clearly much easier compared to graduate school. Jimin couldn't let you lose yourself just because of law school.

But you were determined to prove them wrong. Yes, law school was hard, but you were stronger. If you remained passionate about learning the law, you knew you would become a lawyer.

Guess what? You did.

This was what you were holding onto every time you felt like giving up on Jeongguk.

Pain was nothing if you could make him fall in love with you.

"Jeon Jeongguk!" You shouted when you saw Taehyung and your soulmate walking out of the sushi bar.

You and Jimin had also finished eating.

Your soulmate looked at you with furrowed brow. He didn't understand why you were shouting when the two of you were just a few meters away from each other.

"I LIKE YOU!" You shouted once again. Your voice was so loud that people couldn't help but look at you.

You were gaining attention.

Taehyung and Jimin were laughing their asses off. Jeongguk tried to run away, but his best friend held him down.

"You're fucking crazy!" Jimin shook his head, still laughing when you started to form a big heart over your head.

"I LIKE YOU SO MUCH, JEON JEONGGUK." You continued.

Jeongguk was dying of embarrassment, but you didn't care.

You were sure.

Jeon Jeongguk was going to love you.

[intangibly-here]

don't say it's too late (to say i need you)

zhongli x gn!reader

- scenario; 2.9k words - fluff & angst - sad ending - alternate universe; canon-divergent - warning: implied/past character death; self-deprecation; descriptions of asphyxiation, blood, and injury; please take note.

————————————————————

a single red dahlia blooms inside your heart.

(a field inside your lungs.)

title from milet - inside you.

————————————————————

soft sunlight falls on your face as you slowly wake up, a soothing voice lulling you to the realm of the awakened. zhongli, pristine as always, peers over your blanket covered form, smiling gently at your face as you give him a quiet whine.

“good morning, love.”

“morning zhongli...” you clear your throat to respond without mumbling, but give up halfway through, instead reaching your arms up to loop around his back and pull him into a hug. zhongli complies all too easily, breathing an exasperated sigh and tugging you to sit upright as he takes you into his arms. his skin is warm, still clothed in moderately casual clothes - by his standards - and the sun-kissed edges of his eyes drown you in his being.

(zhongli is such a warm being. encompassing yet not suffocating, sweet but not unnaturally so; the way he can twist words, spin tales so enamoring that you can’t help but stay. his presence grounds you, a constant in this ever-changing universe that surrounds you, and you let yourself fall, deeper and deeper, into the sanctuary that is zhongli.)

his hands rub soothing circles into your back, fingers working to trace shapes onto your skin and brush over a swipe of gold all too tenderly. his long hair, still untied from where he had instead moved to wake you up, drapes like embellished curtains around you two, hidden safely from the world.

as you’re about to fall back into slumber, zhongli sighs, gripping your shoulders to admonishingly shake your sleep-softened form.

“we should begin the preparations for a meal,” he chides, or in other words, i’m hungry, get up so we can eat. it’s probably the closest he’ll ever get to pouting, and you chuckle at the thought.

“alright, alright, ‘m getting up.”

pulling away the puffy blankets and taking your hand, zhongli gracefully helps you to stand up from the bed and stumble to the bathroom.

it’s halfway through your morning routine that you hear the rapping of several knocks on the door. you look up from the white towel your face is buried in.

“zhongli?”

he clears his throat, and before you have the chance to wonder why, he responds:

“i’ve heated the pan, however-“

his voice trails off into an embarrassed silence. you can see the sullen look on his face, the dip of his brows and the tiniest push of his lip, even from behind the door. your mouth lilts up into a smile.

“-however you would like some help with the rest?”

zhongli huffs, just loud enough to reach your ears.

“..yes, that— if you would.”

your hands resume their motions, if not a little quicker, the damp towel set down and a string bracelet slid over your hand, fastened to rest on your wrist. the singular charm dangles freely, cool against the heat of your skin. it was fashioned to look like a larger dragon curled around a smaller one. your heels shift against the ground as you turn to the accessory cabinet, opening the drawer in search of a comb.

“of course, a-li. i’ll be finished in a moment.”

a sheepish hum is all you receive before you hear his footsteps trail away back to the kitchen, take the chance to exit the bathroom in search of your outfit for today.

while zhongli is an expert in all recipes complex, his slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup being one of those, he by some odd chance of nature cannot cook simple meals. how you’d discovered this, it would be unwise to mention (for the sake of zhongli’s pride and your own skin), but ever since then, it’d been you cooking the simpler meals and zhongli taking charge of the more elaborate ones, per say.

it makes up just another part of how your relationship has bloomed over time.

finally properly dressed, you hurry to the kitchen to make breakfast. zhongli shuffles to the left to make room for you, helping you to fasten a simple apron for cooking. you find your peace in the spot nestled by his side, dropping cubed radish cakes on hot metal and stirring congee in the pot. your shoulders brush and hips bump as you prepare the meal together, hands fumbling to arrange the array of dumplings. the sizzling of the pan and billows of steam from the steamer basket draw you closer into the moment.

(it is the gentlest picture of home.)

the subtle clink of cutlery fills the air as zhongli sets the table, moving from setting down appropriate tableware to helping you plate the food. two cups of tea find their way to the table, “the tea is hot love, don’t burn yourself.”, and you enjoy the sole, blissful feeling of a morning with zhongli. the meal is delicious as always, the seasonings flavorful and food warm in your stomach, but the serenity of your slow morning together is all too easily interrupted by voices from outside your front door. they chatter for a moment, then pause and a few knocks on the door sound out.

zhongli’s expression lights up just a tad from where it had sunken into soft contentment, and he nods at you in silent confirmation of who they are, setting down his chopsticks. at that, you smile as well, unlocking the door to let havria and guizhong inside.

(havria? guizhong..?)

“good morning you two! ready to head out to the market?” guizhong, ever cheerful and energetic, shifts restlessly by the door. havria modestly stands beside her, nodding along in unsaid agreement.

“allow us to tidy up first?” zhongli looks over at you, and you pick up the empty bowls and plates, moving the dishes to the sink in response.

when the dishes have been washed and lain out on the rack to dry, you reconvene at the doorway, straightening out your coat and putting on your shoes to head outside.

out of the corner of your eye, you spot zhongli’s tie slipping out of his coat just the slightest. unthinkingly, you turn around, deftly slipping the cloth back into place. zhongli’s eyes widen, then smile at you, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. if your cheeks heat up in the telltale sign of a blush, no one mentions it.

the moment you open the door and step outside into the sunlight, your senses are filled with the sight and sounds of the bustling harbor.

you can hear the shouts of merchants handling hawker stalls even from just outside your doorway, and that’s the direction you immediately tug zhongli in, havria and guizhong trailing with smiles behind you.

(when you first met him, but a brief glance given as you walked down this very street, you’d thought of him as particular. particularly royal, particularly formal, particularly- well, interesting. dressed finer than anyone else around, yet lacking the common sense of anyone surrounding him, he was an enigma in himself.)

zhongli stumbles for a moment, shaken by your sudden enthusiasm, and gives a low chuckle, shaking his head. his footsteps follow yours nonetheless, hand tucked into your own. the string of his bracelet sways in the breeze, as if chasing the end of your own flowing string.

(it was only with time that he was willing to show you more behind that distracting facade. the micro-expressions that danced across his face whenever you made a joke he didn’t quite understand, the slump of his shoulders when he realized he had yet again forgotten to bring mora, the draining weight of century-lain exhaustion that plagued his soul.)

(it was all... zhongli.)

you’re strolling by the various stalls, each and every one selling different specialties, when you spy a certain stand by chance. letting go of zhongli’s hand with a squeeze for a moment, you step closer to the stall’s spread of items.

to the side of a flower-pressed piece of pottery lays a pendant of cor lapis. you pick it up to inspect it further, and are only increasingly surprised by the fine details and remarkable craftsmanship.

“zhongli! come over and look at this!” you call, flipping the locket over in your hands. the more you look, the more stunning it seems to get. a single dahlia head is perfectly encased in molten amber, fine pattern displayed beautifully and strung masterfully on a delicate metal chain.

“zhongli?” when he doesn’t respond, you turn around, mildly confused. there, he stands unnervingly still, eyes wide and shocked. you tilt your head, looking around you to see what he could be so uncharacteristically surprised about. nothing is out of the ordinary. chefs are strolling around, shopping for groceries, and construction workers are still repairing the damages to a house nearby. it’s alright nearby the cliffs, no mishaps or accidents, and the sun shines as brightly as ever.

you look down— and all at once everything seems to make sense as blood-red petals spill out of your lips onto the ground.

the pendant slips out of your grasp, and the world stops for a moment.

(you know what this means.)

then, an ear-piercing scream rings out, echoing inside your head, breaking the silence, and suddenly everything is shattering, golden shards flying across the floor, and try as you might, you just can’t, can’t— can’t pick up the pieces fast enough.

(not again, not again, not again—)

you clutch at your neck, vines climbing up your throat and petals forcing themselves from your gaping mouth. it burns. the pain sends you reeling, licking white hot from your veins and into your flesh, and you collapse onto the floor, curled up and clawing at the gaping emptiness growing inside you. it’s choking, suffocating, and the claws of your ribs dig into your lungs. the splintered pendant shards cut at your knees.

(rightful punishment for what you’ve done.)

your head throbs with freezing realization as you remember once more, contrary to the flames singing your nerves. the stinging pain stabbing your skin only worsens, your breaths becoming shorter and shorter.

keep telling yourself lies,

the voice in your head whispers,

because zhongli is dead anyway.

it screams—

this is what you deserve.

(he was so, so beautiful.

kind in all the right ways, wise in all the best.

and then you just had to strangle him with your own hands.

lying traitor.

withholding one side, then murdering the other.

—should just disappear.)

now, it is your eyes that burn, when did you even close them?, and you force your heavy eyelids to open. you chest heaves, and your mouth struggles to do anything other than choke on flowers. you can’t breathe. in your hazy vision, zhongli crouches in front of you, all regal bearing discarded. he’s blurry all around the edges, but you can make out the sad expression on his face. your head throbs again.

pitiful.

you choke out another mouthful of bloodied petals. the wind blows harder, as if mocking your suffering. zhongli’s thread bracelet, the matching ones you two had gotten together in hopes of brighter future, swings even harder as the draft pulls it towards the sky.

your bracelet stays placid.

zhongli lifts his hands to you, almost hesitantly, as if you would disappear any moment now. his mouth opens, as if to say something, but then it closes, and he murmurs, “shhh... it’ll be okay.”

miraculously, your lungs expand, and you take a deep breath.

his palms, soft and untelling of his long-lived history, cup your face, and he gingerly wipes away your tears. it’s too gentle, too caring for, for— for someone like you. how can he still—? he knows what you’ve done; he has to know now. of the blood on your hands.

(you- you don’t deserve him. didn’t ever deserve him. and now all that’s left for you is your pathetic being. alive instead of him. alive instead of zhongli.)

he smiles softly at you, out of place within your shaken head.

he knows.

but he still cares.

he loves you.

it’s warm, warm, warm.

tears slide across your skin once more.

and just as you’re sinking back into this haze, this dream, his smile drops—

he backs away.

the air that had just made it’s way back into your lungs vanishes, the overgrowth in your heart and soul surging forth tenfold.

please stay—

the stems that branch from bloodied dahlias grasp your windpipe, constricting it with baleful strength. your words die in your throat, and you desperately gasp for air. your heart aches, longing for something right in front of you, yet ungraspable, intangible. it eats away at the small part of you deeply hidden, tucked far inside, the part that just wants and wants and wants— wants to be happy. wants to be loved. wants.. zhongli. “—y child.”

he must see something in your eyes, because he purses his lips and turns his head away. it’s a stark contrast to all his earlier behavior, and it has your heart freezing over, heavy and cold and wrong.

unwanted.

then again, this illusion is over now isn’t it? of course it’s your fault once more, these stupid stupid flowers killing you; both your ignorance and your bliss.

he’s still so, so beautiful.

“—ke up, m-“

the last kiss he presses to your forehead goes unnoticed, as does his tears, your eyes trained solely on his back as he stands up and walks away calmly, steadily.

forgotten.

in the distance, even with your increasingly darkening vision, you can make out the forms of guizhong and havria smiling, welcoming him.

(you love him, love, love— is that not enough? not enough for you to stay? here? please, why whywhywhywhywhy—)

so that’s why they were here.

you wish you could follow them.

the piercing pain of asphyxiation slices through your chest as if in reminder of your betrayal, throbbing with every shaky breath you take as you watch zhongli fade away. your hands claw futilely at the ground, nails dirtied and fingers sore. the first loud sob escapes your throat.

“wake up—“

useless.

(no, no no nonono, please come back love, please, don’t leave, don’t leave don’t leave, pleasepleaseplease—)

your battered, bloodied form shrinks into itself, seeking lost comfort and amber eyes, hands clutching your once shared bracelet. the light in your eyes dim and your body falls numb, hand twitching and you lose your thoughts in a daze.

thump.

stay, stay, stay—

thump.

you want to stay.

thump.

why can’t you stay?

thump.

zhongli...

thum—

“wake up, my child.”

—and then your eyes are snapping open, the tsaritsa’s shadow looming over your huddled form. in your sleep-muddled daze, you recognize her instantly, mechanically performing an informal kneel to her majesty. your legs stutter beneath you and your hands tremble underneath your sleeves. your hands curl into themselves like a lifeline as you attempt to cease your rapid breathing.

“i see you’re having dreams again,” she mildly remarks, gaze flicking to you then back at the arch of her wrist. her eyes shine in the dark of the room. you can’t tell what she’s implying, but it sends a chill down your spine nonetheless.

you don’t reply.

“there’s a new mission awaiting you, my dear.” the drawl of her voice is too languid for the emotions running through your head, much too cold and nonchalant; you barely process her words to give a shaky nod. even from where you face the floor, still kneeling, you can feel the smile she adorns.

“make haste.”

with that, she saunters out of the room, heels clicking against the tiled floor. you can hear the tinkle of the chain wrapped around her waist, and with it, a glimpse of a familiar hourglass shaped ornament. the door shuts.

you wish you hadn’t looked.

standing up unsteadily, you turn to your wardrobe to redress properly, discarding your resting top and pulling a clean one over your scar-marred form. you don’t make an expression acknowledging it, but your fingertips trace over the dull gold of a dragon tattoo that sprawls across your torso, scales spiraling in a show of fierceness.

(you don’t let the tears fall until you’re sure she’s far, far away.)

duty waits for no one. you follow in the tsaritsa’s footsteps as quickly as you can after dressing, exiting the room with grace into the cold sunlight of snezhnaya.

(...you can’t do this any longer, zhongli.)

if only the warm fog of your imagination would keep you there, safe in his arms and tucked into his chest, kisses pressed to your face and warm meals shared between warm souls. you can feel the phantom hold of his palms on your face, thumbing your cheeks and pressing the softest kiss to your lips as you trudge through the freezing snow.

after all, in your imagination, you wouldn’t be lethal poison to him.

(“a-li?”)

if only you hadn’t selfishly kept that warmth all for yourself, tightly grasping it and binding it to a being that would never be free.

maybe then it wouldn’t have died out so soon.

(“yes, my love.”)

if only you hadn’t ever loved—

(...the one thing you will not allow yourself to regret is loving him.)

his hair clip weighs a little heavier in the pocket of your uniform today.