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[quq-fan]

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[theostrophywife]

— wicked games.

NAVIGATION // inbox. tags. writing. library.

pairing: regulus black x reader x theodore nott.

song inspiration: wicked games by the weeknd.

author's note: happy thirsty thursday babes. please enjoy this delicious little fic I cooked up whilst deep in a state of delusion.

You hated him. 

Absolutely loathed him. 

There were no words in the English language that could properly describe the pure wrath that Theodore Nott awakened within you. As a Gryffindor, you were well aware of the stereotypical fiery temper attributed to your house that you were currently living proof of, but you just couldn’t help it. The animosity between you and Nott seemed to bring out the worst in you.

When you first started dating Regulus, you attempted to make peace with the Slytherin, but Nott seemed hell bent on waging war against you. More often than not, the two of you had to be pulled apart from tearing each other to pieces. Regulus knew better than to fight your battles for you, but he did find it amusing to watch you hand Nott his annoyingly arrogant arse on a silver platter.

“Nott’s just so…ugh,” you ranted as Regulus lifted you up onto the marble counter. “And he makes me feel like blegh.” 

Your boyfriend settled between your legs, carefully dabbing at the wine stain on your brand new white shirt. The tasteful little addition was courtesy of the aforementioned menace, who accidentally knocked his drink over across the table at the exact spot that you were occupying after you mercilessly beat him at tonight’s poker game. 

 “Theo annoys the fuck out of you and you want to kill him?” 

“Yes, exactly!” 

Regulus hummed as he unbuttoned your blouse, his slender fingers making swift work of the article of clothing. His cold hands felt soothing against your feverish skin, sending shivers down your spine as he skimmed the underwire of your bra. The wine had seeped right through, staining the pink lace with crimson. 

“Sounds to me like you’re frustrated, mon amour.” 

You were, but for an entirely different reason now. The anger coursing through you gave way to desire, its heat simmering to a boil just beneath your skin. Regulus stared intently while you traced the shape of his wine stained lips. Holding his breath, your boyfriend groaned as you pressed a soft kiss against his mouth, fingers sliding up to those pretty curls that felt like silk beneath your touch. 

The heady taste of red wine and cinnamon mixed and mingled as you swirled your tongue against his, gasping into your boyfriend’s mouth as he gripped your thighs and pulled you towards him until your legs instinctively wrapped around his midsection. You were drunk off of Regulus, his taste and touch and scent as intoxicating as the wine dancing on your tongues.

“I’d be more than happy to help, love,” Regulus murmured as his lips skated over your throat. “Let me take your mind off of things, yeah?” 

“Yes please,” you breathed as Regulus spread your legs wide open. 

The cold kiss of his rings caressed the inside of your thighs. You watched through a heavy lidded gaze as your boyfriend knelt in front of you, his handsome face marked with mischief. As he peppered kisses at the junction of your thighs, something dark and possessive flashed through his pretty green eyes, piercing you in place. 

It felt obscene to witness him like this. The sight of Regulus Black on his knees was heaven. Dark curls falling over lust blown eyes, looking up at you through thick lashes as he gripped your thighs. Regulus watched, cocking his head between your legs before he kissed the top of your knees. 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he lifted up your skirt, bunching the fabric around your waist before slowly tugging your panties down to your ankles. Patience had never been your strong suit, but you didn’t dare rush your boyfriend. Instead, you savored the kisses that he pressed against your skin, his soft lips like satin on your calves, knees, and thighs. You held your breath in anticipation, your body buzzing with desire as your boyfriend licked and sucked and marked every surface available to him.

Regulus chuckled as you bucked against his mouth, eager for friction. His eyes were blown out with lust as he glanced up at you. “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” 

You jolted as he patted your thigh, but obeyed nonetheless. With a pleased smirk, Regulus hooked your legs behind his shoulders and came face to face with your soaked cunt. 

“So wet for me,” Regulus hummed as he ran a finger through your folds. “That’s my good girl.” 

The words unlocked something inside of you. It didn’t matter how many times your boyfriend called you that, it never failed to turn you on. “Reggie, baby,  please…”

“You know I can’t resist when you beg, mon amour.” 

Without another word, Regulus obliged your plea. The first lick had you keening, your soft and breathless moans echoing through the bathroom. Your boyfriend smirked before yanking you over the edge of the sink and burying his head between your thighs. Your cunt ached for him, clit throbbing as he easily worked you with his mouth and lips and tongue. He licked and sucked like a man starved, eating you out until your back was arched against the mirror, fingers scrambling for anything to hold onto. 

It always amazed you that Regulus, a man who took great pride in restraint and discipline, completely lost any semblance of control when it came to you. There was something hedonistic about the way he feasted on you, his dark curls plastered to his sweaty skin, his slender fingers gripping the meat of your thighs, his mouth glistening with the evidence of your arousal. 

Regulus unleashed was fucking divine. Your boyfriend knew your body like the back of his hand and he put that knowledge to use, curving his fingers inside of you and chasing the action with his tongue. 

“God, Reggie,” you panted as he flicked his tongue over your swollen clit. “Baby, I’m going to —“ 

“Hey lovebirds, stop defiling the loo,” interrupted an irritatingly familiar voice. “I need to piss!” 

You cursed under your breath as your mood instantly soured. The presence of Nott on the other side of the door killed any chance of you ever coming. The twat truly had a special talent for spoiling what would’ve otherwise been a fantastic orgasm. You groaned, frustration and anger bubbling up inside of you all over again. This was fucking personal now. You were going to take his bloody head off for it. 

“You know that’s exactly what he wants, right?” Regulus mused as he helped you off the counter. 

“To cockblock me? Yes, I’m perfectly aware.” You said with a scoff. “He’s only doing it because he can’t accept that he lost to me.” 

“I don’t think he’d be this petty over a poker game, love.” 

“I’m not talking about the game,” you responded, hopping off the counter and smoothing down your skirt. “I’m talking about you, baby.” 

Regulus raised a brow. Clearly, he wasn’t convinced, but you were. You knew the real reason behind Nott’s antagonism, which began when you started dating your boyfriend. 

“Theo still has a thing for you,” you explained. “Honestly, I can’t blame him. I’d pine after you, too.” 

Your boyfriend chuckled. “You’re being silly, darling. Theo and I had a fling in fifth year, but it never went anywhere past that. He’s not the relationship type.”

You knew all about the short-lived fling. After all, there were no secrets between you and Regulus. 

“Don’t remind me. You could’ve done so much better than Nott. At least aim for a Riddle, babe.” The pointed look you sent his way earned you an amused smirk. “Anyways, that’s not the point. I’m not saying that Theo wants to date you. I’m saying that he wants to fuck you and I’m standing in the way of that. That’s why he hates me. I took his toy away.”

“I’m a toy now?” purred Regulus as he pinned you against the sink. “You certainly do enjoy playing with me, don’t you, darling?” 

You groaned as he squeezed your arse. “This is exactly what I mean. If I lost you, I’d do everything in my power to get you back too, which is why Nott has been a bloody pain in my arse since we started dating. He’s infuriating. I don’t know how you ever put up with him.”

“Well, there are ways to shut him up.” 

You sighed. “My methods would send me straight to Azkaban.” 

Regulus considered your words for a moment. “You just have to think a little more creatively, darling. The thing about Theo is that he’s a tease. He gets off on it. The more you react, the more he’ll keep pushing your buttons. Maybe you need to start pushing back.”

Curiosity sparked within you. “What are you saying, Reggie?” 

The smirk on his face all but confirmed your suspicions. “I think you know exactly what I’m saying, love.” 

The common room was filled with drunk ramblings and boisterous laughter by the time you and Reggie returned to join your friends. The two of you settled in just as Enzo started taking bets for the winner of the next game. As the drinking picked back up again, you decided to rise to your boyfriend’s challenge. 

“Surprised the two of you even came back,” Theo whispered salaciously. “You seemed a little busy back there.” 

“We were,” you replied with a cheerful smile. “But I’m in the mood for a different game now.” 

Nott blinked as you leaned closer, twirling the end of his tie between your fingers. Confusion was etched all over his face, but you didn’t miss the shaky breath he released when you tugged him down to eye level. 

“You should know that I intend to win.” 

The moment was broken before anyone noticed, but it may as well have been written all over his face with the way Nott flushed crimson. Curious blue eyes landed on you before Theo cleared his throat and directed his attention to Enzo. 

“Setting the trap, I see,” Regulus murmured in your ear as you settled into his lap. “Just be gentle with him, yeah?” 

A smirk curved against your lips as Nott shot another confused glance your way. “No promises, baby,” you replied with a giggle. “You know I like it rough.” 

Your boyfriend’s laughter rumbled in his chest as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Let the games begin.” 

You started off small. Just a few lingering touches and coy glances that could’ve otherwise have been brushed off by the wine. For the most part, the only person who seemed to take note of the slight shift in your demeanor was Nott. 

“You’re in a better mood,” Theo remarked suspiciously. “Regulus finally managed to knock the stick up your arse, I take it?” 

On any other occasion, you would have threatened to shove your wand up his arse in retaliation, but instead you threw your head back and laughed. To his utter astonishment, you flashed Nott a charming smile and placed your hand on his chest. 

“Oh that’s too funny, Theo.” You batted your lashes at the stunned Slytherin, smirking slightly as his gaze darted between your face and hand, which was still firmly pressed against him. “You’re a riot tonight, aren’t you?” 

“Seriously, what’s happened to you?” Theo muttered. “That comment would’ve earned me a curse or a hex. A slap, at the very least.” 

“Is that what you want?” You asked in a low, sultry voice. Theo tensed as you twirled his tie between your fingers. “Do you want me to be mean to you, Theo?” 

“Yes — I mean no —” You watched in amusement as Theo stuttered over his words, his cheeks flushing progressively deeper to reflect his flustered state. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’ll warn you now. You won’t distract me from winning the game.” 

“Good luck, Nott,” you said with an innocent smile. “You’re going to need it.” 

Despite his warning, your ploy was working better than you could've imagined. Even when Enzo began explaining the rules of the game, you could feel Theo watching you. Regulus smirked as you settled on his lap, proud of the progress that you were making. Thanks to his suggestion, the night was finally starting to get interesting. 

As the game went along, you were unsurprisingly in yet another deadlock with Theo. The two of you were tied for first place at this point while the others lagged behind. You watched as Theo rolled the dice, smirking when he rolled to his advantage. He counted out each number and advanced his character on the board, putting him precisely one step ahead of you. Petty fuck that he was, Nott knocked your piece over as he set his own down. The pink bunny that you had chosen tumbled to the floor and underneath the table. 

“Oops.” Theo smirked as he glanced over at you, his demeanor conveying that the move was both spiteful and intentional. 

“That’s okay,” you responded cheerfully before crawling on your hands and knees to retrieve your character. 

The piece had landed on the far end of the sofa, prompting you to crawl towards Theo. He tensed as you reached across, your body pressed against his while you rummaged beside him. Positioned sideways over his lap, the strategic move gave Theo an ample view down your shirt as your perky breasts spilled out of your red lacy bra. Your thigh brushed against his arm as you wiggled around and nearly put your arse in his face. 

“For Salazar’s fucking sake,” Theo muttered under his breath as he snatched the pink bunny from underneath the table and handed it to you. 

Nott couldn’t meet your gaze as you happily retrieved the piece from the palm of his hand. He was nearly frozen when your fingers made contact, his entire body coiled with tension while you smirked. 

“Thanks, Theo.” 

He nodded begrudgingly as you crawled back into your boyfriend’s lap. Regulus patted your arse in congratulations as Theo grew redder by the second. 

“Mate?” Mattheo asked. “Did you hear what Malfoy said?” 

Theo snapped out of his reverie. “What?” 

“It’s your turn, you dolt,” Draco responded with an eye roll. 

Winning after that was like taking candy from a baby. It was entirely too easy to pull an otherwise obvious move over Nott given the fact that he appeared seconds away from crawling out of his own skin. The prat kept having to readjust himself the more you messed with him. The sight was satisfying to say the least. 

After your unchallenged victory, a joint was passed around amongst your friends. Combined with the ego boost that came with toying with your supposed enemy, the weed left you feeling loose and relaxed.

When it was your turn to take a hit again, you inhaled deeply and kept the smoke in your chest before tapping on Reggie’s bottom lip. Your boyfriend happily obliged, those kaleidoscope eyes trained on you while you tipped his chin and blew the smoke into his mouth. With a low growl, Regulus finished you off with a filthy kiss that had the rest of your friends hooting and hollering. 

Dazed, you smiled softly and wiped the gloss from your boyfriend’s mouth. You were vaguely aware of Theo’s gaze burning holes into you, but the desire to rile him up was superseded by your desire for Regulus. The more the two of you smoked, the touchier you became. 

Regulus lounged lazily on the couch, long legs splayed out in a sexy manspread. His tie hung loosely around his neck, barely covering the love bites you’d left on his throat last night. You traced the marks with your fingers possessively, following the trail down his collarbone. Your boyfriend pressed soft kisses against your neck while you unbuttoned his shirt, red nails stark against his pale skin as you ventured lower. 

By that point, your friends had left to raid the kitchen pantry. Only you, Regulus, and Theo remained. 

The waves of the Black Lake lapped gently against the stained glass windows, its murky waters bathing the common room with green ripples. The air was thick with smoke, making it hard to see through the haze. Across the couch, Theo murmured something, but it barely registered as you straddled your boyfriend. 

Regulus abandoned the conversation with Theo as you positioned yourself over his erection, groaning while he pulled you in for a heated kiss. Present company forgotten, you parted your lips for Regulus and gasped when he slid his tongue inside and licked the roof of your mouth. Smoking was quickly replaced with making out. 

You couldn’t get enough of Regulus. He felt like silk and tasted like sin. 

You could tell by the way his cock twitched in his pants that he was thoroughly enjoying this. Even more so when Theo squeaked in surprise. Regulus grinned against your lips before lifting your skirt up slightly and squeezing your arse, giving your audience a sneak peek of your red lacy panties.

“God, you’re so hot, baby,” you murmured as you kissed his neck. With a smirk, you glanced over your shoulder and found Theo staring at the two of you with a dazed expression. “Isn’t my boyfriend sexy, Theo?” 

Theo blinked. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, Reg is a good looking guy.” 

You tapped a finger against your chin. “You’d know all about that. You had a crush on him back in fifth year, didn’t you?” The panic in Nott’s eyes made you grin. “I guess we have more in common than you think.” 

He looked like a deer in headlights. You fucking loved it. “Hm? Um, briefly. That was ages ago though.” 

“Oh, but who could forget?” You hummed as you sucked at the hollow of Reggie’s throat. “Do you remember his sweet spot? Right here, it’s his weakness. The first time I made him whimper, I nearly soaked myself. Was it the same for you?” 

“I — you — you know?” 

“Of course. Reg and I tell each other everything,” Theo gulped as you held his gaze. “We’re good at sharing.” 

Nott readjusted himself on the couch, his eyes not quite meeting yours. 

“For instance, Reg told me about your little game. He said you get off on riling people up. Is that why you’re always being a pain in my arse, Theo?” 

“No…” Nott said rather unconvincingly. “You’re…you two are together.” 

Regulus shook his head. “That’s not what she asked, Theo.” 

Theo gulped. “Fine. Maybe I do enjoy driving you mad.” 

You chuckled. “You hear that, babe? He finally admits it.” 

Your boyfriend smirked as you slinked off of his lap. He gave your arse an appreciative pat before you strutted towards Theo. Those piercing blue eyes locked onto you, tracing every step with unveiled scrutiny. He held his breath as you draped yourself over his lap. 

Regulus leaned back from where he sat, fully enjoying the show. While he thoroughly enjoyed putting one on for Theo, you knew that watching you drive his friend to the brink would turn him on even more. Your boyfriend loved watching almost as much as he loved being watched.

“Tell me, Theo,” you drawled as you traced a line down his chest. “Does making me angry make you hard?” 

Theo sucked in a breath as you palmed his cock through his pants. He was hard as a rock, which all but confirmed your suspicion. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” You said with a smirk. “You’re such a little brat. I bet you touch yourself after we argue.” 

As if on cue, his cock twitched against your palm. Theo blinked rapidly, his eyes heavy lidded as he looked up at you. “Fuck…what — what’s happening?” 

“You played your games,” Regulus answered. “Now Y/N is playing hers. I should warn you, she isn’t gentle or forgiving.” 

Theo groaned as you licked a stripe against his neck before sucking down harshly. “You’re not the only one who knows how to tease." You slid your hand down his boxers and stroked his cock, rubbing the precum over his tip. “I’m going to play with you until you beg me to stop. Even then, your pretty tears won’t stop me, Theo.” 

Theo panted as you stroked him slowly. “Oh fuck, please, bella.” 

“You’re so hard, Theo. I bet it hurts, huh?” His cock throbbed in your hand as he nodded. “Do you need help, pretty boy?” 

“Yes,” Theo moaned. “God, yes. Touch me, please.” 

“So you do know how to be polite,” you teased. “Good to know.” 

His eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as you began pumping him in your hand. You could taste the desperation emanating from him as his hands twitched at his side. Theo’s fingers brushed your thighs, but the action was full of uncertainty. 

“Do you want to touch me, Theo?” 

Theo nodded eagerly. You smirked before taking one of his hands and sliding it up your thigh. He held his breath as you moved it further up and guided him to squeeze your arse. Theo groaned as you continued jerking him off, his breaths growing ragged while you carried on with your exploration. He was mesmerized as his rough, calloused hands made contact with soft skin, stopping briefly at your hip before sliding over your stomach until he reached right below your lacy red bra. 

Licking his lips, Theo looked to you for direction. You moved his large hand up to cup your breast, closing your fist around his so he could squeeze your tit. Behind you, Regulus finally left his spot on the couch and pulled your blouse all the way off. He placed kisses over your shoulder and peeked at Theo, who watched the whole thing with his mouth gaped open. 

When Regulus unhooked your bra and revealed your bare tits to Theo, he growled. 

“Touch them,” Regulus commanded.

Theo didn’t need to be told twice. Both hands cupped your breasts, massaging and kneading the soft tissue with a hungry look in his eyes. He looked at your boyfriend, awaiting instructions. 

Regulus seemed to understand exactly what he wanted. “Kiss them.” 

Theo released a shaky breath. His watercolor eyes burned holes into your skin as he wrapped his lips around your nipple. You moaned at the sensation, causing you to grip his cock tighter. Theo took that as a positive sign and continued to lick and suck at your tits, alternating between the two and tweaking and flicking the one his mouth wasn’t on with his fingers. 

Without warning, Regulus tugged your hair back and tilted your chin so he could claim you with a searing kiss. At the sight, Theo bucked against your hand desperately. Watching you make out with Regulus earlier had already caused him problems, but seeing it up close almost had him cumming in your hand. 

When you felt Theo getting close, you released his cock and leveled a disapproving expression at him as he whined. 

“I didn’t say you could cum,” you said meanly. “ I told you, you’ll regret teasing me.” 

Theo sounded pained. “Please, please, I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I’ll do anything you want.” 

You and your boyfriend wore twin smiles. Regulus chuckled darkly. “You can watch me fuck her until she cries and then maybe we’ll think about letting you cum.” 

You brushed Theo’s hair back, his waves soft and luscious between your fingers. “Can you do that for us, pretty boy?” 

“Yes,” Theo answered immediately. “Yes, I’ll be good. I promise.”

“We’ll see about that,” Regulus said.

He smacked your arse and smiled. “Ready, my love?”

You nodded before positioning yourself on your hands and knees on the couch. Theo held his breath as you braced yourself against his chest and arched your back as you looked back at your boyfriend. 

“Ready, baby.” 

The sound of metal clinking against stone echoed in the common room as Regulus shed his belt. He stroked himself before rubbing his cock through your wet folds, making obscene sounds as he teased you with his tip. Your pussy clenched and squelched in anticipation, eager to have his cock inside of you. 

Regulus leaned over to kiss the base of your spine before gripping your hips and easing himself into your pussy. His cock stretched your walls, the delicious drag summoning butterflies in your stomach. You wanted to keep him there forever, nestled in the comfort of your warmth. 

Once Regulus was fully sheathed, you gasped for breath and braced yourself. Theo panted as you clawed at his chest, drinking in the sight as Regulus began to move. His pace was slow and steady, testing your patience as he toyed with you, but luckily, being with your boyfriend taught you the importance of restraint. As Theo would soon learn. 

Speaking of which, the Slytherin was at the edge of his seat as he watched Regulus fuck you. His gaze darted between you and your boyfriend, surveying the seamless way your bodies fit together. You rocked your hips back slowly and followed the torturous pace Regulus set. 

What you really wanted to do was slam all the way back so you could feel him in your guts, but you knew that your boyfriend would reward your discipline like he always did. After a few more shallow thrusts that had you keening for more, Regulus finally took pity on you. 

Gripping your hips, Regulus pulled his cock out of you before slamming all the way back inside. You cried out as Regulus pumped in and out of you, burying himself over and over again into your throbbing cunt. The snap of his hips was brutal yet so satisfying every time he hit your sweet spot. 

"Tu prend ma queue tellement bien, mon amour.”

Regulus praised you for taking his cock, his sweet words contrasted by the animalistic way he fucked into you.

“You feel so good, baby. I love the way you stretch my pussy.”

Theo cursed under his breath, a mixture of English and Italian that sounded entirely unintelligible to you given the fact that Regulus was currently fucking you dumb. You bunched up the material of Theo’s shirt, your face twisting in pleasure while the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the common room. 

“You didn’t even set a concealment charm,” Theo marveled. “Anyone could walk in and see us.”

Your cunt fluttered at his words, making Regulus chuckle. “That’s what makes this so fun,” drawled your boyfriend. 

Nott’s eyes widened in return. “Reggie likes the thrill of getting caught. There isn’t anywhere in this castle that we haven’t fucked before.” 

“You two are absolutely mental,” Theo grunted. “Though I am learning that madness really fucking turns me on.” 

“Of course it does,” you sighed, caressing his cheek. “You’re just a horny little slut, aren’t you?” 

“Oh, fuck…” 

Judging from the way Theo cursed, your suspicion that he’d be into degradation was entirely spot on. That was the thing about brats. They just wanted someone to put them in their place. You would gladly knock Theodore Nott down a few pegs and maybe peg him too if the opportunity arose. 

Smirking, you sucked on Theo’s earlobe and elicited a rather delicious whimper out of him. He tilted his head as you trailed kisses along his neck and jaw, sucking harshly at his skin so he’d be reminded of how easily you could turn him into a desperate mess for days to come. Theo chased after your lips, but you dodged every attempt and relished in his frustration. 

“You need a lesson in restraint, pretty boy.” Theo pouted, making you laugh. You wrapped your fingers around his throat and smirked when his pupils dilated. “Maybe I should tie you up, hm? Walk you on a leash until you learn to behave?”

Theo shuddered at the thought. Interesting. You tucked that tidbit away for later. 

“Pay attention,” Regulus said with the snap of his fingers. “We’re about to get to the good part.” 

Regulus tugged at your hair and picked up the pace. You arched your back, tits bouncing in Theo’s face as Regulus fucked you doggystyle. He drove deeper and deeper with each thrust and leaned over to play with your clit. His fingers worked you up to that sweet release, stimulating the bundle of nerves until you felt that familiar heat spreading through your body. 

You came nose to nose with Theo, your lips nearly touching as your ragged pants landed on his cheek. “Reggie, oh my god, fuck m’so close…” 

Your boyfriend responded with hard, sharp thrusts and turned his attention to Theo. “Kiss her while she cums.” 

Theo nodded dumbly before smashing his lips against yours. The kiss was filthy and sloppy, making it evident that Theo was dying for contact. You panted against his mouth, getting lost in the taste of Theo. He swallowed your screams of pleasure, dominating your tongue with his while you came. When the orgasm settled, Regulus pulled out of you and kissed your cheek lovingly. 

“Good girl,” he murmured as he patted your arse. 

His cock was coated with your cum and Theo licked his lips at the sight. Regulus smirked. “Do you want to taste her on me?” 

“Fuck yes,” Theo mumbled excitedly. 

You leaned against the cushions, thankful for the much needed break as you watched Theo go down on your boyfriend. Just as you suspected, Theo was all too eager to please. He knelt in front of Regulus, peering up at him as he licked at his tip. The groan that rumbled through his chest made you chuckle. 

Regulus tipped his head back as Theo took him to the back of his throat. He bobbed his head up and down, relishing in the taste of you left on your boyfriend’s cock. He sucked him clean, your juices dripping off of his chin while he gagged and groaned. You could only describe the act as greedy. 

“Have you been thinking about this, Theo?” You asked as he licked your boyfriend’s shaft. “You’ve been dying to fuck Regulus again, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Theo breathed. “But I want to fuck you too.” 

“So greedy,” you teased. Theo sighed as you stroked his cheek. “What makes you think I’d let you fuck me after all the shit you’ve pulled, hm?”

“Because it would give you power over me,” Theo answered. “I’d be completely at your mercy.”

You smiled. “That’s right, pretty boy. Do you know what turns me on more than anything?” 

“No,” Theo responded, hanging onto your every word. “Tell me, please.”

“Control.” 

Regulus smirked as you came up behind him and kissed his cheek. “Reggie, baby, don’t you think Theo deserves some kind of punishment for his smartass mouth?” 

“What did you have in mind, mon amour?” 

“I think you should fuck his mouth until his pretty little throat is ruined.” Theo shuddered at your words while Regulus smiled. “Lay on your back, Theo. Show us what you can do.”

You watched with amusement as Theo laid down on the sofa, his head hanging off the arm. Regulus tapped the tip of his cock against Theo’s lips. He parted them willingly, breathing through his nose as your boyfriend stuffed his length down his throat. Theo gagged as Regulus thrusted deeper, pretty eyes brimming with unshed tears while he struggled to breathe. 

You couldn’t help but think that he looked pretty like this. Spreading your legs wide, you rubbed your clit and watched your boyfriend destroy your nemesis. Theo glanced over at you, his mouth watering even more at the sight of you pleasuring yourself to him being ruined. 

“Use your hands, Theo,” you guided. “Reg likes that.” 

Theo released your boyfriend’s cock with an obscene pop. “I remember,” he retorted sassily. “I know what Regulus likes, thank you very much. Did you know that he likes it when you slide a finger in?” 

You merely smiled. “Of course I do.” Theo yelped in surprise when you wrapped your fingers around his cock and squeezed. “Keep fucking talking back, Theo. I’ll sit on your face until you suffocate, you little brat.” 

His voice was breathy as you held him in a death grip. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” 

“That’s cute, Theo,” you said with a smile. “Remember that attitude because I’m about to fucking tear you apart.” 

Theo held his breath as you tugged him towards the couch. Those watercolor eyes were black with lust as you straddled his lap. He gasped when you grinded against his cock, spreading your wetness all over his shaft. You tugged at his hair and kissed him roughly, sliding your tongue against his while Theo gripped your hips. 

When you bit his bottom lip, Theo whimpered in response. You chuckled darkly. “So fucking pathetic. You talk up a big game, but all it takes is a little grinding and you’re nearly cumming your pants.” 

“It’s not my fault,” Theo murmured. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mean.”

“Yeah? You like being degraded, Theo?” You taunted as you raked your nails over his chest. ”I’m going to have so much fun toying with you. After all, that’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?” 

Theo felt lightheaded as he nodded. “Yes, yes, I need…” 

You put your fingers up to his lips and shushed him. “Aw, sweetheart, I don’t give a fuck what you need. This is about what I need.” 

“What do you need, bella? I’ll give it to you. I swear to god, I’ll give you everything I have.”

“I need you to fucking behave and do what you’re told for once.” Theo whimpered as you grabbed his chin. “You’ll be a good little pet for me, won’t you?” 

“Y — yes. I’ll be so good.” 

From behind, you could feel Regulus watching the two of you. You knew he was touching himself by the soft, shallow breaths that echoed in the room. You bit and licked and sucked a trail of love bites down Theo’s neck, making sure that your marks littered his skin. His hands roamed your body, eagerly touching and feeling as much as you allowed. 

“Take your boxers off.” 

Theo obeyed diligently and discarded his underwear on the floor. He looked up expectantly, waiting for your next command. 

“Touch yourself, Theo.” 

He pumped himself in one hand, establishing a frantic pace. You frowned and grabbed hold of his wrist. “Slowly, like this. I need you to show me that you can be patient.” 

Theo blinked, his expression dazed while he followed the rhythm that you set. “That’s it. Stroke yourself just like that.” 

He seemed entranced as you observed him with a small smile. Theo whimpered your name when you replaced his hand, pumping him slowly before rubbing the tip of his cock against your folds. 

“Oh god,” Theo moaned. “Fuck me…”

You grinded on his tip, barely letting him slip in and out of your pussy. “Do you think you deserve to be fucked?” You tilted his chin and forced him to look at you. “Cause I don’t think you do. You haven’t earned it.” 

“I want to earn it,” Theo said. “What do I need to do, bella?” 

“I’m so glad you asked,” you said as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I want you to sit still while I grind on you and get myself off. No whining, no complaining. Just look pretty and let me use your cock. Can you do that for me, Theo?” 

He bit his lip, eyes shiny with desire. “Yes.” 

“Good boy.” 

You didn’t miss the way his pupils dilated at the praise. Humming, you rocked your hips and let the tip of his cock brush against your clit. Theo gazed up at you as you braced your hands on his shoulder, pushing him down as you grinded against him. The friction the action created was delicious. Heat curled deep in your core the more you rubbed your clit against his shaft. 

Theo gripped your hips, his lips parting so he could lick and suck at your tits as you continued to use him. His eyes rolled back as you switched to bouncing on his tip, letting him glide through your folds just enough to feel pleasure. With a swift flick of your fingers, you felt yourself getting closer and closer. 

“That’s right, darling,” Regulus murmured, his breaths ragged. “Cum all over his cock.” 

Your boyfriend’s words sent you into a tailspin. Before you knew it, you were cumming again. The orgasm rocked you like a wave, crashing over your body with an intensity that set your nerves alight. Underneath you, Theo whined and whimpered. He was so sensitive that it hurt. 

“Your pussy feels so good, squeezing me so tight,” Theo breathed. “But I need more, please. I want to bury my cock inside of you. I want to cum until I pass out.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” you snapped. “Brats don’t deserve to cum.” 

“Please, please,” Theo begged, his voice hoarse. His eyes were shiny with tears. “Please, Y/N. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t be a brat anymore. I’ll be good. I’ll be so fucking good for you. I promise.” 

“You hear that, Reg?” You called to your boyfriend. “Theo promises he’ll be good. If he breaks that promise, then you have every right to bend him over and spank him until he’s sore.” 

Regulus smirked. “It would be my pleasure, mon amour.” 

“Yes, yes, please…” 

“I love when you beg.” You licked his tears and chuckled. “It’s like music to my ears, Theo.” 

“Please, please, fuck me.” Theo begged. “I want you. I need you. Please, Y/N.” 

“Aren’t you just adorable?” You taunted as you kissed his cheeks. “Don’t worry, pretty boy. I’ll put you out of your misery.” 

Theo watched through a heavy lidded gaze as you lifted your skirt up. His large hands settled on your hips as you eased down on his cock, taking inch after inch while he cursed. He released a shaky breath once he was all the way in, his chest heaving as he looked up at you in awe and wonder. 

“Che cazzo,” Theo grunted. “You feel so fucking good.” 

“You do too, pretty boy.” You clenched your walls around him, making Theo choke on air. “Do you feel that? You’re stuffing me full.” 

“Dio mio, you’re going to be the death of me.” 

“You don’t even know what you’re in for,” Regulus said as he slipped behind you. Your boyfriend bunched up your skirt so Theo could see how full of him you were. “She’s going to ruin you.” 

“I want it,” Theo pleaded. “I want you to ruin me, bella.” 

With that, you rode Theo hard and fast. He could barely catch his breath as you bounced on his cock. You were relentless, you were vicious, and you fucked Theodore Nott like you hated him. It was everything he ever wanted and more. 

Theo felt out of control as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, taking him over and over again. The sounds he was making were incoherent, but it was clear that he was out of his mind with pleasure by the way he whimpered and whined.

“Aw, honey, are you already close? I haven’t even shown you half of what I can do.” 

Regulus chuckled. “Take it easy on him, love. He looks like he’s about to pass out.” 

“I know he can take more,” you said. “Isn’t that right, Theo? Don’t you want to be a good boy for me?”

Theo barely managed to rasp out a pathetic yes. It was cute, really. “That’s what I thought. See, I knew you could. Under all that sass, you just want to be degraded and used like the fuck toy that you are.” 

“Yes, yes, oh god.” 

You giggled as you placed a kiss on his lips. “Look at you, all fucked out. Is this all it takes to shut you up? All you needed was for me to ride your cock until you can’t even remember your own name.” 

“Fuck, yes. Yes, use me. Abuse me. Do whatever the fuck you want,” Theo mumbled deliriously. “You own me, Y/N.”

A smile graced your lips. You had him right where you wanted him. “Tell me how much you like being used.”

“I fucking love it,” Theo admitted. “I love when you put me in my place. It’s bloody sexy.” 

“You’re lucky I’m even letting you touch me.” 

“God, I’m so lucky,” Theo groaned. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you…” 

You punctuated each declaration of gratitude with a hard grind, bouncing on his cock while he thanked you for fucking him. The ego boost was enough to make you cum. 

“You’re such an obedient little fuck toy,” you praised. “Don’t you love being fucked? It’s all you’re good for.” 

Theo moaned. “Am I good? Have I been good for you?” 

“So good,” you reassured. “My good boy.” 

“I’m so — I’m so close. Can I cum, please? Please, please, let me cum.” 

You kissed him deeply as you rolled your hips. “Go ahead, sweetheart. But keep those pretty eyes open, Theo. we want to watch you cum for us.” 

Theo obeyed and kept his eyes on you, his nose brushing against yours as he panted into your mouth. 

“That’s it, pretty boy.” Theo shuddered as you bounced harder. “Come on, give it to me. I know you want to. I know you want to be so fucking good for me, Theo.”

“Oh fuck,” Regulus moaned. His wrist flicked over his cock and you tugged at his hips so you could put your mouth on him as he came.

The filthy sight triggered Theo. As promised, he kept his eyes on you while he finished. Those pretty dead eyes came to life as he rode out the high and emptied himself inside of you. His cum painted your walls, filling you to the brim and stuffing you full.

Theo collapsed against the sofa, his head lolling over the cushions as you slowly eased off of his cock. A question formed on his face as he held your hips in place.

“What is it, Theo?”

“I want to taste myself on you.”

You smiled and kissed his forehead. “Come get it then, sweetheart.”

Despite the strenuous activities you were previously engaged in, Theo was as energetic as ever. He knelt before you and settled between your thighs, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. You could feel both of them dripping down your legs. 

The first few licks were exploratory as Theo gained his footing, but as he established a steady pace, he had you keening in no time. Your back arched off the sofa when his tongue and fingers worked your pussy. He held your hips down while he feasted, the moans spilling out of his mouth reverberating through your clit.

“So good, Theo,” you keened. “You’re so good at eating my pussy.”

“Say it again,” Theo pleaded. “Please, tell me how good I am for you.”

You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled down at him, maintaining eye contact. “You’re so fucking good for me. My pretty boy.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

You came at the same time, the orgasm crashing over you even harder than the last. Theo made a mess of himself, his cum sticky and smeared all over his toned abs. His head dropped in your lap as he gave himself over to the orgasm. The thought of bringing Theo to his knees and making him cum just from eating you out made you glow with pride.

Without having to ask, Regulus helped you put your clothes on and supported you as you stood on shaky legs. Grabbing hold of your wand, you conjured a basin and a washcloth and began to clean Theo up. You made sure to give him plenty of aftercare after such a draining experience. His eyes fluttered open as you peppered gentle kisses all over his face. 

“You did so well,” you cooed, stroking his cheek. Theo preened at the praise and attention. “I’m so proud of you. You’re my good boy.”

“You both did so well,” Your boyfriend praised. He kissed both of your foreheads which made you smile. “I knew you could play nicely.”

“Don’t get used to it, baby.”

Theo still looked a little out of it as Regulus brushed his hair back. “You alright there?”

Theo blinked, nodding through the post-orgasm haze. “Y — yeah. Yeah, I think so.” 

“You did a lot better than I did when she first edged me like that. I passed the fuck out.” 

Blue eyes widened as Theo looked up at you. “I…how… that was — fuck.”

Your boyfriend only chuckled. “Trust me, I know.” 

You straightened Theo’s shirt and helped him tug on his boxers and trousers back on. “Oh hush, I didn’t even use the collar on him.” 

“The collar?” Theo asked with a slight breathiness as in his voice. “What the fuck do you two get up to?”

“That’s a secret, Theo,” you murmured as you kissed his forehead. “But if you behave, you might find out.” 

As you settled back on the sofa, your friends began to trickle back in. Enzo and Mattheo fought over the stack of snacks they had nicked from the kitchens while Blaise, Draco, and Pansy trailed behind looking exasperated. Tom completely ignored everyone and retreated back to his dorm. 

“We found gummy bears!” Enzo announced excitedly before him and Mattheo dug right in. “You want some, mate?” 

Theo shifted in his seat, fidgeting as you leaned over to fix his tie. “Oh, this one has had his fill of treats tonight. Haven’t you, Nott?” 

You smirked as he tried to hide his flush. Regulus chuckled as you snuggled against him. “Play nice, mon amour.” 

“If I do, will you let me keep him?” You teased and winked at Theo. 

“Yes,” Theo nodded excitedly. “Please god, say you’ll keep me.” 

[ettawritesnstudies]

Etta's Guide to Writeblr (March 2023)

So you fled here from Twitter/TikTok... Where to start?

Welcome to Writeblr! Pull up a chair, open those documents, and pour yourself a cup of your favorite tea, coffee, or cocoa. The first thing you'll want to do is start following other writers. Check out this post for recommendations! Search through the notes to find hundreds more. Since I made that post, a bunch of people mentioned they're lurking and still trying to figure out tumblr, so I thought I'd make this post to help people get settled.

How to set up your blog

Make your blog name something not resembling a pornbot - it can be whatever you want, anything fun goes, just not [name###]. If you include "writer" or "author" somewhere in the url it makes it easier to spot writeblrs at a glance but it's not a requirement

Change your profile to something that's not the default, Make sure you have a blog title, and add a little description in your blog header if you feel like it!

Make a pinned post introducing yourself (pls don't use your real name or any IDing information for privacy's sake, this isn't facebook), a short summary of your WIPs, and links if you have an author's website/newsletter/ao3/etc. You can check my pinned post for an example

Make intro posts for each WIP! You can spruce these up with graphics (canva and unsplash are both great free resources to make edits/moodboards), excerpts, lists of tropes, character intros, etc. Link to the WIP intro in your pinned post so it's easy to find! You can update these as often as needed

If you want to make character intros, go wild. If you can't draw, piccrew is a great option. Just start talking about your WIP!

Come up with a tagging system to keep your blog organized. I recommend individual wip tags or at least one for your original writing in general so it's easy to search for your work on your blog

Keep track of Taglists for your WIPs. Whenever you post a new thing about your story, tag the people who asked to be notified to make sure they see it! Only tag people who ask to join the taglist, but it's a good way to keep track of interest. It's normal to have multiple taglists for each story+ one general writing taglist.

How to make writer friends

Reblog their work and add nice comments, either in the tags, comments, or the reblog itself People notice regulars in their notes and appreciate the attention. I promise it's not weird to compliment a total stranger

If that's too intimidating, community events are your friend!

Weekly Ask Games: These are weekly events that are loosely themed where writers send each other asks about their WIPs! The most common are Storyteller Saturday (about the writing process), Blorbsday (aka Blorbo Thursday about characters), and Worldbuilding Wednesday (about the setting of your story). If you answer these late, nobody really cares, but it's a fun way to receive prompts and learn more about other people's stories.

Ask Games/Memes: These are posts with lists of questions you can reblog from other people, sometimes themed or listed with emojis. It's common courtesy to send an ask from the list to the person you reblog it from, then people can send you questions as well, so you can talk about your stories! You can search for dozens of them

Tag games: There's a ton of different types of tag games, but basically someone @s you with a challenge/question, you reblog with your answer, and then @ a bunch of other people to continue the chain. Some common ones are Heads Up 7s Up (share the last 7 lines of your WIP), Last Line Tag (share the last line you wrote), and Find the Words (ctrl+f the given words in your doc and share the results, then give new words).

Formal events: These are community wide participation challenges organized by certain blogs! @writeblrsummerfest is every July?? August? I think? It's run by @abalonetea a few years strong, and there are daily prompts and ask games! @inklings-challenge is a month-long short story entry for Christian writeblrs. I think there was a valentines event in February. @moon-and-seraph is hosting a pitch week soon! Since these are more organized, it's very easy to find similar blogs and support!

Misc. Notes on using Tumblr

Follow the tags #writeblr and #writeblr community to find other writers, as well as other tags that interest you like #fantasy for example

If you want to bookmark a post to read later, you can like it and/or save it to your drafts

The queue/schedule function is very useful if you want to space out posts or have a backlog to keep your blog running when you get busy. This is good for the community because it gives older posts a chance to be rediscovered! You can change the posting frequency in the settings.

REBLOG YOUR OWN STUFF. People aren't always on at the same times and so it's the best way to account for people with different schedules and timezones. If you're worried about being annoying, you can tag those #self reblog or something similar and other people can filter the tag, but otherwise it's a welcomed and accepted practice.

If your excerpt is pretty long, put it under a cut. On desktop you can do this by selecting the squiggly button on the far right when you make a new paragraph, on mobile type :readmore: then hit enter.

It's polite to add descriptions to images and videos for visually or auditory impaired people. If you don't know how to write descriptions, here's a good resource

In your dashboard settings, it's best to shut off the options "Best Stuff First" and "Based on your Likes". These function as the website algorithm and suppresses the blogs you actually follow, which defeats the purpose of the site, letting the dash be in reverse chronological order. Also turn off Tumblr Live because it's malware as far as anyone's concerned.

Curate your experience, block the trolls, and be nice

Update for March 2024

How to shut off AI Scraping on your blog

Go to settings and find the Visibility tab

Scroll down to the tag that says "Prevent Third-Party Sharing"

Turn that knob over so that Automattic can't steal your work for their language training model databases >_<

The other settings will just hide your blog from search engines so they're useful for hiding from nosy parents or other Tumblr users but if you're trying to build an author platform you can leave them off.

Again, welcome to the community! I hope you have a ton of fun!

[joukaiweek]

JouKai Week 2024

January 19, 2024 - January 25, 2024

💜 Prompts

1/19 - star || dragon 1/20 - stranded || shadow 1/21 - alien || charm 1/22 - gravity || flight 1/23 - repair || transform 1/24 - journey || chosen 1/25 - free day (aka Jounouchi’s birthday! 🎉)

This round of prompts was inspired by common tropes and motifs found in sci-fi and fantasy stories. That doesn't mean you're limited to only creating works in those genres though! Each prompt can be interpreted in any number of ways, so let your imagination run wild.

If you're looking for inspiration and suggestions to get your creative juices flowing, check below the cut for some example interpretations of each prompt.

💙 Day 1

star nova • wish upon a star • movie star

dragon dragon rider • pet dragon • slay the dragon

❤️ Day 2

stranded crash-landed • shipwrecked • "no man is an island"

shadow shadow magic • dark side of the moon • the shadow self

💙 Day 3

alien alien races • foreign lands • alienation

charm good-luck charm • put a spell on you • charm their pants off

❤️ Day 4

gravity black hole • trapped • the immense gravity of the situation

flight escape from peril • flight of fancy • skydiving

💙 Day 5

repair mechanic • break up then make up • home renovation

transform alchemy • mutation • makeover

❤️ Day 6

journey interdimensional/time travel • hero's journey • going home

chosen the Chosen One • lottery • "I'll always choose you"

💙 Day 7

free day 2023 prompts • 2022 prompts • Jounouchi's birthday

💜 About

❤️ When does this event take place?

JouKai Week for 2024 will run between Friday, January 19th and Thursday, January 25th, 2024.

💙 How does this work?

This event is open to anyone who's a fan of Kaiba and Joey.

A pair of prompts is provided every day. Feel free to pick and choose, or combine both prompts in your fanworks. You can make as many pieces as you want for any given day. Feel free to participate every day, or just on the days where you feel like it.

You can start working on your fills as soon as prompts are posted, but please do not post your finished works before the event starts.

❤️ What can I make?

Create whatever you're inspired to—fanart, traditional long-form fanfiction, poetry, crafts, mood boards, ship playlists, or headcanon posts.

The only stipulation is your work should primarily focus on Jounouchi and Kaiba. Otherwise, there are no restrictions on length or rating. Please keep in mind that it is common courtesy to provide ratings, warnings, and put NSFW or excessively long works under a "Read More" cut.

Go wild and have fun.

💙 Where should I post my work?

Wherever you want! While this event is run on tumblr, you're free to share your creations on tumblr, FF.net, AO3, twitter, etc. Mod will also reblog and share works that are tagged with @joukaiweek​​​ or #joukaiweek2024. Mod recommends doing both so your work doesn't get lost. Mod reserves the right to not reblog anything that does not fit the spirit of the event or is not properly rated/warned. Mod also requests you not share your finished creation until the day of the prompt.

❤️ I have another question not addressed here.

Send an ask, and Mod will get back to you ASAP.  

[quq-fan]

[alessandriana]

WIP Thursday

No one tagged me to do this, I just feel like it!

A bit more from the Chengxian scar removal WIP-- this is actually the scene immediately prior to that one.

--

Wei Wuxian shouldered into the tent and announced, "I need you to take off your robes." His hands were stacked high with papers and talismans.

Reflexively, Jiang Cheng snapped, "No." Then what Wei Wuxian had said processed, and his forehead wrinkled with puzzlement. But he didn't look up from his travel desk, where he was re-working plans for the Jiang battle formations. He didn't have time. Another one of his few remaining original Jiang disciples had died today, and he needed to account for their loss. He was exhausted, and his head hurt, and he wanted very badly just to get this done so that perhaps in the days ahead they might actually survive.

Wei Wuxian sagged against the tent pole, a dramatic hand pressed to his chest. "Rejected so quickly!"

Jiang Cheng finally looked up, and gave him a flat glare. "Aren't you supposed to be helping the Nie set up the sentry spells?"

Wei Wuxian slunk closer, dropping his pile of papers on top of Jiang Cheng's notes and slouching onto the trunk next to the desk. He crossed his arms on top of the pile and propped his chin on them, turning his face sideways to look up at Jiang Cheng. "I helped," he said. His eyes glittered, red-rimmed and over-bright; his skin was tinged gray. This close he stunk of the strange resentful energy his new cultivation style utilized. His hands were clean-- at least he'd had the courtesy to wash off the grave dirt before coming-- but his fingernails were chewed to the quick. Jiang Cheng's lips pressed together, half-concern, half-disapproval.

"They weren't supposed to be done for another shichen," he said, instead of when is the last time you slept or have you eaten anything in the last two days or any of the hundred other things he wanted to say. Wei Wuxian didn't mind being mothered when Jiang Yanli did it. If Jiang Cheng tried, he'd just tell him to fuck off. "It doesn't count as helping if you do one thing and leave early."

Wei Wuxian waved a lazy hand. "Oh, I left several hands to do the work in my place." He cackled suddenly, mostly to himself. "Though fewer hands than bodies, if you know what I mean."

His corpses. Jiang Cheng gave Wei Wuxian a skeptical glare. He still didn't know how he felt about those. They were deeply unnerving-- though they'd more than proved their worth in battle. "Dead bodies can't perform spells," he said.

"No, but they can run-- heh, well, shuffle, I guess-- supplies out to the people who can. Which frees up a bunch of the juniors to help elsewhere. Nie-zongzhu seemed to think it was a good idea, anyways!"

Well, if Nie Mingjue had approved it, it should be fine. "If you say so."

Wei Wuxian's corpses couldn't help Jiang Cheng develop battle formations, though. Jiang Cheng turned his attention back to his papers. Up until this point, he'd really just been throwing people together almost randomly, creating a new squad whenever enough new cultivators joined up; that wasn't sustainable in the long term, though. His mother had taught him to weigh his cultivators' strengths and weaknesses and put them together in teams such that the whole would be stronger than the parts. Chen Daqin's death was as good an excuse as any to update the rosters.

Wei Wuxian could help with the battle formations-- but as usual these days, he didn't seem inclined to. Instead he watched Jiang Cheng work for a bit, sprawling over half of his desk. Jiang Cheng felt frustration mounting as the minutes burned away. If he wasn't going to help he could at least get out of the way! Jiang Cheng leaned over to snatch a paper from where was squished under Wei Wuxian's arms.

The angle was awkward, and the scars on his chest twinged.

He didn't think his expression had actually changed, but Wei Wuxian must have been paying more attention than Jiang Cheng had realized because he sat up immediately, leaning in. Humor fell away like a mask, leaving something intent behind.

"Do they still hurt?" he asked, staring at Jiang Cheng's chest.

Jiang Cheng didn't respond for a moment. Then he shrugged. The whip marks had closed up as soon as Baoshan Sanren had restored his core, but they hadn't healed well; the scars pulled and caught, and every change in weather set them aching. Most of the time he could ignore it, or work through it. As long as he warmed up first, it didn't seem to affect his fighting.

Wei Wuxian leaned in closer, hands moving for the lapels of Jiang Cheng's robes. "Lemme see?"

Jiang Cheng dodged in his chair, slapping at his hands. Surprise reverted him back to his youth. "Wei Wuxian! What the fuck?"

Wei Wuxian persisted, fingers sneaking beneath the edge of fabric, fingernails scraping Jiang Cheng's skin in a way that made his breath hitch. "I've been talking with the healers! I have some ideas this time."

"Ideas? Ideas for what?" Jiang Cheng grabbed his hands and yanked them out of his robes. Wei Wuxian fought back. They scrabbled at each other like children for a moment. Jiang Cheng finally managed to get Wei Wuxian into a headlock. He went easier than Jiang Cheng had expected to, though he wriggled like a fish.

Wei Wuxian panted, throwing Jiang Cheng a wounded glare from under his armpit. "Ideas for getting rid of your scars! I told you there had to be a way, and I think I found it."

'Take off your robes,' he'd declared as soon as he'd stepped through the door. Jiang Cheng had thought he was just being a pest. He said, "So that's what you're here to bother me about??"

Wei Wuxian stuck an arm out from his grip and patted the stack of paper he'd brought, still on the desk. "Don't you wanna give it a shot?"

Jiang Cheng bit his lip. He hated the scars. Every time they caught and pulled they reminded him of that night, of crushing agony and his parents' bodies in the rain and being so hollow and cold and empty he was nothing now he would never be anything again --

--so. Suffice it to say, he wouldn't mind them gone.

"The healers have already tried. Why do you think you can do it when they can't?" he snapped. It was never a good idea to give in to Wei Wuxian blindly. That was how they'd wound up naked in the middle of the lake that one time.

Wei Wuxian wriggled a little more, then pouted as Jiang Cheng refused to let go. "The whip was spelled to leave scars. That means there must be magic in the wounds, keeping them from healing right. If I can draw that magic out, it should mean they can start healing naturally."

Jiang Cheng wavered. No one still living knew how the Jiang discipline whip worked-- it had been created in his grandfather's time-- but the theory made sense. Maybe it could work.

And also, this was the first time Wei Wuxian had shown interest in anything more than killing Wen Dogs-- or drinking-- in weeks.

"There's work I need to do," he said weakly, glancing at his diagrams.

Sensing Jiang Cheng wavering, Wei Wuxian went in for the kill. "Shijie said she's noticed the scars hurting you. Do you want to make her worry?"

Jiang Cheng flinched. A-Jie had been looking so tired lately, working in the medical tents all the time, but she always had scar salve for him when he needed it, which she made herself. If he could take something off her plate… "Fine! Whatever! Just be quick about it."

Wei Wuxian grinned. Then he yanked on Jiang Cheng's robes. The ties, which he'd apparently been working on while trapped under Jiang Cheng's arm, slid apart. Jiang Cheng yelped as his robes fell open.

They ended up on his camp bed, because it was easier that way-- Jiang Cheng flat on his back and Wei Wuxian kneeling next to him, setting up a line of supplies on Jiang Cheng's supply chest, which he'd dragged close: white paper and black ink and crimson cinnabar.

In the interests of not having to do any more laundry, Jiang Cheng had shed everything except his pants. It was cool in the tent; he shivered a little as the air bit at his exposed skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps and tightening his nipples.

Wei Wuxian had gone mostly quiet; he was staring at Jiang Cheng's chest, and the scars on it, with that laser-focused intensity he got when he was facing down a particularly hard or interesting problem. It made Jiang Cheng a little uncomfortable, being the focus of that much attention.

He also kind of liked it.

Wei Wuxian had been so weird, ever since coming back from… wherever it was he'd vanished to for those three months (not the Burial Mounds, surely it couldn't have actually been the Burial Mounds.) He was distant and cold a lot of the time, prone to angry outbursts, and there was a brittle edge that he'd never had before. But here, like this-- with his eyebrows scrunched up and chewing his lower lip in thought-- Jiang Cheng could see the person he'd known for most of his life. It was a relief.

Wei Wuxian knelt there for a while, examining his notes and Jiang Cheng's scars. Then, without warning, he picked up his brush and began to draw on Jiang Cheng's chest.

Jiang Cheng yelped at the ticklish touch of the brush. "Hey!"

"Oh, don't be a baby; you're going to mess this up," Wei Wuxian chided absentmindedly, putting his other hand on Jiang Cheng's bare shoulder to hold him still. Jiang Cheng scowled, but did his best to stay still as the brush trailed a line of liquid ink across his skin. Wei Wuxian's hand on his shoulder was a welcome point of warmth.

Soon enough Wei Wuxian finished the first set of characters on the closer side of Jiang Cheng's chest. The tent was not large, and his camp bed was pressed right up against the fabric; Wei Wuxian leaned over to reach the other side, and as he did so, his hair slid out of its haphazard ponytail and fell across Jiang Cheng's stomach, smearing several of the characters. "Shit!" Wei Wuxian said. Then he licked his thumb and went to wipe off the smeared ink.

Jiang Cheng half rose off the bed in outrage. "Don't get your spit on me!"

"I'm just trying to clean it-- oh, come on!" Jiang Cheng had licked his own hand and was trying to wipe it on Wei Wuxian's face. "Cut that out-- hold still!"

They rolled around on the bed for a bit, though there was hardly enough room for it. Finally Wei Wuxian wound up literally on top of Jiang Cheng, hair in disarray, with a handprint of ink smeared from his right cheek down his neck. "Don't! Move!" He emphasized each word by slapping his hands on Jiang Cheng's chest.

Jiang Cheng snapped, "Get off me!"

Wei Wuxian stuck out his tongue. "No! This is a better position. It'll be easier." He retrieved his brush from between the wall and bed where it had fallen, and using the edge of his sleeve, wiped the rest of the ink off Jiang Cheng's chest. Then he started all over again from the beginning.

Fine! Whatever. It wasn't the first time Wei Wuxian had made him do something ridiculous. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and let him do his thing.

The brazier in the corner burned, wood crackling. Jiang Cheng passed the time by drawing up possible formations in his head, matching possible battle partners together.

This occupied him for a while, puzzling through the various options. Gradually, through, he began to notice a problem. A growing problem.

The thing was, he hadn't-- you know-- well, he'd been busy lately. And exhausted after fighting, and hungry all the time, and-- look, he just hadn't had the time or energy lately to take care of certain things, alright? It hadn't even occurred to him. Not for weeks, really. Possibly months.

And now that was coming back to bite him in the ass, because with Wei Wuxian sitting on top of him-- weight shifting constantly as he reached to draw each character, to consult his notes, to get more ink; running fingers across his skin as he measured spacing; trailing the brush, feather light, from collarbones to ribs down to sternum; hair falling down to tickle across his stomach; all in all, just touching him…

…well…

…his body was sitting up and taking notice.

He found himself staring fixedly up at the ceiling, praying that Wei Wuxian wouldn't pick up on what was happening directly behind him.

Thankfully Wei Wuxian was very focused on his work, and he seemed to have no idea there was anything wrong, still mumbling quietly to himself as he painted another character just below the scars on Jiang Cheng's left pectoral. The brush tickled as it slid across his skin, leaving a line of cool ink in its wake. Jiang Cheng swallowed, mouth dry. Maybe he should tell Wei Wuxian to stop. But if he did that, Wei Wuxian might notice-- and he was so close to being done; maybe he would finish and get off on his own?

Wei Wuxian set his brush back down and surveyed his work, eyes narrowed, arms crossed and hand under his chin. Then disaster struck. Apparently unsatisfied with his work, without warning Wei Wuxian slid back a crucial inch, bringing him directly in contact with-- directly in contact with--

Jiang Cheng could feel his expression contorting in a rictus of embarrassed horror.

Wei Wuxian was so absorbed in his work that it took a long, miserable second, in which Jiang Cheng sincerely wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment, to register that something was wrong. Then he looked up and noticed Jiang Cheng's expression; did a double-take, and began to sit up straighter, which brought him even more firmly in contact with the issue at hand; and then froze, as the fact of what he was leaning back against registered.

"Um," Jiang Cheng said, and could come up with nothing further to say.

Wei Wuxian flushed an incandescent shade of red Jiang Cheng had never before seen, and scrambled upright and off the bed, nearly kneeing Jiang Cheng in the process. "I!" he said, with the bright edge of panic, "Don't think this is working!" He grabbed his papers up from the chest, dropped his brush, visibly considered retrieving it and decided not to, and concluded, "I'm going to go, uh-- go! now! And do some stuff! To fix it!"

With this display of amazing eloquence, Wei Wuxian fled out the tent like someone had lit his tail on fire.

Jiang Cheng took his pillow and shoved it over his face and then laughed until he cried. Serves you right, Wei Wuxian!

[unicorncornflakes]

Family Sins - One Shot || Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Paring: Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

Summary: Every Thursday afternoon you and Aemond meet, even if you have to pay for his family's sins.

Tags: Alternate Universe/ Emotional Hurt/Angst/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: I am just sad. This is the best I can write these days.

Author´s note:  Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 4.2 K

You were soaked to the skin. All your clothes were loose. But, you were still pretty. It was all Aemond could think when he saw you walking through the aisles of that roadside gas station. He followed you with his eye while you consulted the prices of a small cocoa bun. Your black sweatshirt was soaked all over while your damp hair was tied up in a ragged bun. Your black-painted nails grazed some of the price signs as you put the small dessert back in its place and grabbed a cheaper one. You smiled at him as he followed you closely and he picked up the same product that you had left in its place. You didn't talk, Aemond wasn't given to too many words and you were tired from the rain. But, storms always made you happy. It was something Aemond could never understand, but he shared with you.

Outside, at that small gas station in the middle of the forest, it was still raining. Only Aemond's gray Mercedes and the old bicycle that your mother had given you two birthdays ago were parked at the door. You always pedaled five kilometers to meet Aemond. Every Thursday afternoon. He came directly from the city and was waiting for you, drinking a coffee that he always considered awful while you arrived. He always thought he could go find you. Pick you up at the door of your house and take you to a better place. But, that would have been giving you greater importance than you really should have for him. Although, you had driven him crazy. That was all he could think every time he saw you arrive at that place on your bicycle. In summer you always arrived with your short shorts, in winter with your military boots.

On that rainy autumn afternoon, you arrived with that huge black sweatshirt that must have been borrowed, courtesy of your older brother, surely. Or that was what Aemond thought as he followed you through that small commissary that the gas station had. The idea that that sweatshirt belonged to a man other than your brother drove him crazy, so he preferred to think that it belonged to your brother. It made things easier for him. You looked at a series of cookies one last time and left them in their place.

Aemond continued to follow you at a safe distance. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye while you laughed. The two of them alone in that place. Thus, things seemed easier than they really were. Everything was simpler when you were alone.

You walked up to the register and opened the small cloth bag hanging from your back. You took out that cat-shaped purse that Aemond had bought you at a market in Flea Bottom. Also soaked, you opened it, careful not to break it while you counted the coins that that strawberry bun that you had left on the counter cost. Right behind you, Aemond also placed the cocoa puff you had chosen earlier and took the elegant black leather wallet out of his pants. Unlike you, he wasn't wet. His hair was immaculate and his clothes looked as always, well ironed and freshly washed. That black turtleneck sweater he was wearing that day, you knew, cost the same as what it took to eat at home for a whole week.

“Give me a pack of Lucky Strike too,” he said diligently as the cashier looked you up and down. Aemond also dropped a package of condoms on the counter and you blushed while he simply prepared to pay with his credit card. Two small buns. A pack of tobacco. A package of condoms…

Rob, the cashier, looked over his shoulder at you as he charged Aemond for that purchase. He was your neighbor and you were sure that he knew what you and Aemond were going to do that rainy afternoon. You left the store with the strawberry muffin even before Aemond finished paying, although it was clear that you preferred the chocolate one.

He looked at you through the huge glass doors of that gas station and wondered if it wasn't better to give you the treatment you deserved. However, he simply took the condoms and tobacco in one hand, that chocolate bun in the other and went outside. The water continued to fall hard and you were leaning against the door frame. It fell so hard from the ledge that it soaked your torn canvas sneakers, even though the rest of your body was trying to regain heat. Aemond gave you the cocoa puff and you reluctantly took it. You knew what awaited you at home that night because of that simple gesture that was intended to be kind on Aemond's part.

“I could have bought it,” you said without much encouragement, taking down your backpack from your back and putting the condoms and both buns in it. You looked at Aemond, who remained stoic and unfazed as always.

“You would have bought the strawberry one because it's the only thing you can afford and because you need to eat something,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders and opening the packet of tobacco. “This way you will eat something you like,” he said out loud, making the difference between him and you evident: he always paid with a credit card, it seemed like his money was created out of nowhere. You always carried coins in your bag and you never bought what you wanted because you simply didn't have the money for it.

“I guess,” you answered, not daring to look at him. Aemond approached you and finally kissed you. All of his slim, slender body against yours. The height difference was considerable. He just grabbed your face in his hands, his lips making contact with yours in a sweet and passionate way. You held his wrists, as if you always needed an anchor to the ground every time he kissed you. That kiss, surrounded by the storm, was observed under the disapproving gaze of that gas station cashier in the middle of nowhere. The rain threatened to soak you, but you didn't care.

As always, in the middle of all your kisses, Aemond opened his only eye, almost wanting to check that you were real, and not a simple fantasy of his imagination. He always slowly closed his eye again as your lips continued to crash against each other.

At the end of that silent kiss, Aemond took your hand, without looking back, and opened the passenger door for you in the rain. You quickly got into the car and Aemond ran to the driver's seat in the rain. You saw how his hair had now become wavy and he gave a half smile when he saw how you smiled silently, tiredly resting your head on the seat. “I could take the bike and put it in the trunk. Take you home after the motel,” he confessed, not daring to look at you. At that moment, he wanted to go further with you, beyond what he wanted to admit.

"No, do not worry. Then just leave me here and go. I’ll go home from here on the bike,” you told him, not daring to look at him either. You grabbed one of the wet, unruly strands covering your face and tucked it behind your ear. “I don't want my parents to know where I've been this afternoon,” you confessed dejectedly. You knew they would find out before nightfall, just when Rob walked through the door of your father's bar, the nerve center of the town where you lived.

“As you wish,” Aemond responded as the engine roared just started. He turned on his car radio. It only played classical music and you wondered as always if Aemond listened to anything else or the high cultural esteem in which you knew he was held prevented him from doing so. “I bought you other sneakers,” he whispered while keeping his eyes on the road. The windshield wipers of his car moving frantically in the face of such an amount of water.

“It wasn't necessary,” you responded, biting your inner cheek. You hated that he did that. You hated that he bought you everything you needed. You knew he did it for a simple reason: to hold your meetings every Thursday afternoon. As if you were a prostitute, Aemond bought everything he thought or felt you needed. It was his way of keeping you by his side. The only language of love that seemed to know how to offer, understand… “My sneakers are fine,” you said, looking at them. Destroyed and torn. That was all they were.

“They were just on sale,” he responded, putting the issue to rest. His voice always seemed to be devoid of all emotion. Sometimes you wondered if Aemond knew how to feel anything other than indifference or anger, but you knew he did. Every Thursday afternoon he demonstrated it to you. Always in the solitude of that motel room that he reserved for a few simple hours. The radio interrupted the broadcast to talk again about another urgent environmental disaster and Aemond turned it off.

Both you and he knew it was what was going to be talked about. You could see him tense up as he drove. And you directed your body towards his, releasing the seat belt. You bit your lip hesitantly as you brought his body closer to his, one of your hands gripping his seat. The other traveled to Aemond's fly.

“Hmm” was all you heard him say as your hand slowly lowered the zipper. The metallic sound of each and every one of the teeth that made it up exploded against your ears, just like the sound of the rain in the now silent interior of that high-end car. You unbuckled his belt and your hand quickly found his cock in his pants, hard and warm, soft and firm. You bit your lip seductively as you took her out of those extremely expensive underwear. “I don't want to have to give explanations at a police checkpoint like last time,” he answered, without taking his eyes off the road. Grabbing your hand with his as the other grabbed the steering wheel. “Don't be mean to me, (Y/N),” he asked you under his breath.

“I just wanted you to relax,” you whispered sensually and he smiled again without looking at you, although you never knew if when Aemond smiled he was truly happy. You returned to your seat and watched as he quickly buttoned his pants again. “If you don't like it…” you purred and he interrupted you.

“Hmm, I didn't say that,” he repeated again, remembering the fine he had had to pay and how your cheeks had blushed the most while that police officer asked you what your relationship was and forced you to take out your ID card to verify that You were actually nineteen years old and no less. Aemond was six years older than you at the time, but he had always looked older than he really was. He remembered telling the police officer that you were a couple and how you had looked at the ground in regret as those words came out of his mouth. The following Thursday you had not shown up, nor the next one. Three weeks later you came back with a very bad-looking bump between your ribs that you promised was the result of a bad fall on the bike. He knew you had lied, but stating it out loud would have meant never seeing you again.

You finally arrived at that roadside motel and Aemond left you in the car while he went to the reception to get the keys to room thirteen, the one he reserved every Thursday. You received a message from your mother asking if you needed her to pick you up after your study hours at the library. You answered no because you were carrying the bike. You lied to her again. You turned off the phone and closed your eyes. You could understand why your parents didn't want you to see Aemond, but it really wasn't his fault…

He woke you from your thoughts as he opened the car door. You walked out next to him and he held your hand again. You ran through the rain until you reached the second floor of the motel. He clumsily opened the door and you both walked in laughing and soaked. Aemond kissed you again, closing the bedroom door behind you. Holding your face again, with no escape. Your bodies swayed together in that room that had witnessed your meetings for the last two years.

You could hear him gasp as he kissed you. You broke away from his grasp and took off your soaked sweatshirt, which fell heavy to the floor. You also took off your wet shorts and were left in your underwear. Cold and shivering, Aemond covered you with his body, though he was almost as wet as you. You took off his eye patch and he laid you on the bed.

He smiled bright and powerful, like you knew he really felt about almost everyone. He was a Targaryen. He took off his turtleneck and you could see the symbol that already named him as such. The tattoo was fresh on his skin. A green and black dragon on his shoulder. Detailed to excess and you knew it named him as someone important within the family and business, criminal and legal structure. You didn't dare ask, even though he knew you knew the meaning. Your sister had explained it to you when Aegon received his. Years ago, you had both been naïve enough to think that type of tattoo was exciting and powerful. Your sister had been a fool. You weren't on a different path.

Aemond's arms supported his entire weight as he lunged at you to kiss you. His pants though on but his belt undone. He had never been a subtle boy. He smiled at you proudly and cockily, he almost seemed to know what you were thinking. He was dying to tell you that just two days ago he had given him the tattoo, that he had stood stoically and without any emotion while it was done, but his heart had been beating strongly, as if this were finally the moment of approval that he had been waiting for all his life.

He kiss you. His lips met with strength and need. They eagerly bumped into yours. A watery sound. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine, like every time he kissed you. You knew there wouldn't be much more foreplay.

He stayed silent over you. His single eye scrutinized you while the prosthesis remained immovable in that empty eye socket. He had never told you what had happened to him. He would never do it. You had heard rumors, but... His eye continued to look at you in silence. You looked beautiful with your hair wet, all spread out against the pillow, your eyes locked on his, a half smile on your lips.

His thumb brushed your bottom lip gently. Comfortable silence reigned in that cheap motel room. The gray walls. The simple sheets. That sad blind half lowered. The complete scene of your meetings every Thursday afternoon. “I love you,” Aemond confessed in a whisper. Your eyes appeared to offer a small surprise upon hearing him. He felt your entire body stiffen under him. It was the riskiest confession he could make to you. However, he was happy. At that moment, he was happy after a long time. “I love you” he repeated again with more force, as if he wanted to reaffirm his words.

His lips found yours again and you relaxed at the attention. You were in big trouble if Aemond confessed something like that, but it was really what you wanted him to do. Confess that way, with you, and only you. He lightly bit your lower lip with a smile, trying to relax you. Your hands ran up his arms as you kissed. The hand traveling on his right shoulder tried to avoid the dragon tattoo. Aemond was beginning to follow in his older brother's footsteps... You thought, you always thought that he was not that kind of man... but, he craved power like everyone else, right?

Aemond's always skillful fingers undid your panties, removing them heavy from not only the humidity of the rain that had soaked everything. You were too. Your core throbbing and waiting for a simple contact with him. An arrogant smile appeared on his lips when he saw the small soaked grotto, as if his mere presence already activated all the keys you needed. You smiled shyly at him and he kissed you again.

Your bodies merged in an embrace that promised to be eternal. You felt Aemond's cock hard, eager for what he always got when he was with you. The bright red tip protruded through the elastic of his boxers and you licked your lips in a reflex and subconscious act that Aemond was always grateful for. Seeing your wet lips and bright eyes, he could only think that you were perfect, terribly perfect.

“I'm going to get the condoms,” you whispered, a feeling of regret running through your head, as if those words had ruined everything. The atmosphere that had existed until that moment seemed to have almost disappeared and you felt his grip loosen.

“Sure” It was all he said as he stood up and took off his pants and boxers. He didn't dare look at you because he thought that afternoon was finally the moment you would leave him... bareback. He had confessed. He had done it... and you had been taking contraceptives for a year, he had no more sexual encounters than the ones he had with you... he looked at you out of the corner of his eye, crouched down rummaging through your bag, looking for the packcage that he had bought himself. You had never talked about it, but… “I'm not my brother, you know?” He whispered, looking back ahead, not daring to look at you. “If something happened, I would…”

You interrupted him by returning to bed with a condom and leaving it between the sheets while you lay on your side and he turned to look at you. “You know we can't take risk,” you told him as he went back to the bed and grabbed the wrapper. You didn't point anything out but it always made you nervous that he would tear it with his teeth. He put it on silently and positioned himself between your legs. He looked into your eyes and, for the first time, you saw an authoritative gleam behind them, almost as if that damn tattoo had changed him.

“I'm not my brother,” he repeated again under his breath. He entered you forcefully, without breaking eye contact. Your legs surrounded your hips and you moaned at that impact with such violence that it caused his testicles to collide against the slit of your pussy. You closed your eyes and didn't say anything. The sins of his family would always be present among you.

“I'm just saying that family is destroying the town.” Old Tom was sitting at the bar while your father cleaned it. It was late, but he kept moving that old rag against the bar. His eyes filled with worry as he waited for you. He knew where you had been. He knew what you had done. He had always thought of you as a smarter girl than your sister, but it was clear that you were not.

“Once again they have polluted the river with waste from the plant,” said Clark. His mug of beer met his lips. Your father knew where you had been, Rob had told him before he went home. His face had turned gloomy just then. “Those damned Targaryens…”

Just then, all the voices fell silent in the town bar. You had just walked through the door, soaked to the skin. You had pedaled there from the gas station in the rain, even though Aemond had insisted on giving you a ride home. You couldn't let your father see you with him, although when his accusatory eyes fell on you, you knew he knew. Everyone tried to return to their previous conversation as your steps led you to the bar. There a boy with white hair painted in silence. You sat next to him and saw your sister's son painting a green dragon. You were surprised to see him there. Normally the child was always well hidden at home.

“They are just destroying lives. That's the only thing they know how to do…” Tom attacked again. Clark agreed and your father approached in silence, trying to pretend he didn't know, but he knew, of course he knew.

“Your mom had to go pick up your brother… Why don't you join Greg for dinner?” your father whispered as the four year old was still engrossed in his drawing. You scooped up the little boy, who clutched the paper in his hand as you walked up the back stairs.

Your house was on the second floor of your father's business. The metal steps creaked under your weight, but your father's eyes exerted a greater weight on you. He would never tell you anything. He hadn't told your sister before he died either, but the Targaryens had destroyed his life, the life of the people in that place... your life.

Greg stared blankly as you dressed him in his pajamas after dinner. Sitting on your bed, his purple eyes seemed empty and innocuous. It had always been like this. Consciousness never seemed to have reached that unwanted child. You ruffled his hair, almost expecting a smile, but he just fixed his eyes on you. Empty and deep. As if he knew everything and nothing at the same time. You sat down next to him and took off the new sneakers Aemond had forced you to accept.

“Today I saw a dragon,” you commented, also staring at the wall. The boy turned his head slightly. His huge eyes fixed on you. The stories you always told him seemed to be the only ones that woke him up from his lethargic state. “A green dragon, like the one you were painting,” you smiled at him and his eyes seemed to get even bigger.

Greg's real name was Aeron, courtesy of your sister and his father, Aegon Targaryen. Your sister had been stupid enough to get pregnant by that rebellious boy and die in childbirth, leaving her son alone. Your parents had wanted Aegon to keep the child, but it had been impossible. A child who was not like the others, a dragon locked in a home where they were hated. Greg. It was a much better name according to your father. Your grandfather had been called that.

The Targaryens had destroyed the town with the pollution emitted by their businesses, both legal and illegal, and your entire family. And you… you had fallen in love with one of them.

Greg ended up falling asleep with you while you waited for your mother and brother. Your father always closed the bar late, but it wasn't normal for them to take so long to come back. Something must have happened...

At midnight, the lock on the front door clicked and you went out into the hallway to see if your brother and mother were finally arriving. However, that was a big mistake.

“Be thankful they're not going to press charges,” your mother's words echoed throughout the house, no doubt she was scolding your brother. He uttered something incomprehensible in the state he was in. At the time, you didn't know it, but your older brother was in trouble with Aegon again... bloody knuckles. His lost look. The split lip. While you had made love with Aemond, Gregory had punched Aegon to death.

You stood petrified, contemplating him in silence. Just then he located you. “You're a whore who sells herself for a simple cocoa roll,” he whispered. He had never told you anything like that. He, unlike your father, had always known how to hide his anger towards you. But, that night was the one that changed everything.

“Gregory, stop it,” your mother scolded him, knowing before you what he had in mind, after all she had given birth to him… Gregory pounced on you. “Gregory!!!” your mother shouted it. His bloody nails dug into your brother's skin as he hit you while you fell to the ground.

Your father had only hit you that one time... only that one time... was all you could think as you received one blow after another. He grabbed your hair, stretched your neck, and choked you until you were unconscious... The Targaryens had destroyed everything you cared about... and the only thing you could think about was that Aemond would be angry when he saw your body full of bruises... The enormous Greg's eyes watched everything in silence. That child had only seen violence in his life.

The Targaryens always destroyed everything, and Aemond and the tattoo he now had on his shoulder were proof of that.

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 2 (I've Got You Under My Skin)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 1 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,326

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

chapter summary: another night, another guest.

----------

The Paper Moon is open to all walks of life– every culture, creed, and color is welcome through the doors of your lounge. This is usually a happy truth, but these days you’ve been harboring a clockwork headache when that cab driver stops by.

He gives you the base courtesy of sticking to a schedule: around 7pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Jake will waltz in on the heels of James Wesley and whatever company he has in tow. Every Tuesday and Thursday, Jake sits at the same back table while Mr. Wesley conducts his business. And every Tuesday and Thursday, you play nice as you check in on your patrons. Including the cabbie.

“Another stellar set, Ms. Songbird,” he lilts as you give a courtesy nod, brushing past his table in the hopes of keeping things brief.

“Thank you, Mr. Lockley.” Your voice is tense as you breeze by. Jake Lockley, you’d learned from the wait staff: the legal name for the thorn in your side.

In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind his presence as much if he didn’t insist on making it known every evening. You had learned to expect him in the crowd whenever you’d hear a high-pitched whistle ringing above the applause each night. The sound grates at your resolve and forces you to plaster on your stage-ready smile a bit longer every time you make your rounds.

“Hey Songbird,” he calls out after you. “Have a drink with me?”

“A drink at my own bar? How inspired.” You press your lips into a firm line, the rest of your face broadcasting your disinterest to no avail. Every week he asks; every week you say no.

“Suit yourself,” he sighs, always backing down but never taking his eyes off you. It’s one thing to be watched onstage; it’s another to feel his gaze on the ground level. You feel a bit of relief every time you see him walk out with his client, tipping his hat to you at the end of each evening. His smile remains undeterred, no matter how cold a shoulder you offer.

It’d be damn near charming if you trusted it.

----------

Today’s not the day to let your guard down, the unmarked letter in your hand reminds you as you pace around the backstage corridor. It’s the third of its kind you’ve received this month. You worry your lip between your teeth as you pour over its contents, even though you know them by heart.

“To whom it may concern….” “...property acquisition…” “...would be in your best interest…” “...other businesses under our care …”

“‘Our care,’ that’s rich,” you mutter. “Remind me to stop opening the mail during business hours…”

“Uh, okay?” Mauricio agrees hesitantly as he rounds the corner. “Was wondering where our ‘fifteen-minutes-to-curtain’ call was, but I see you've been busy.”

“Oh good golly, is that really the time?” You fumble to put the letter back in its envelope. “Haven't even finished my makeup…” you trail off as you head to your dressing room, your drummer right behind you.

When you open the door, you see a small bundle of flowers sitting on your side table. Oh for crying out loud.

“How many times do I have to–” you're muttering to yourself again as you take the flowers in hand, moving swiftly across the room.

"What are you doing?" Mauricio sputters.

"If that man thinks he can weasel into my good graces with a few pretty flowers-" you huff as you drop the bouquet in a wastebasket. "–he's going to be sorely disappointed."

"Those were– those were mine." Mauricio admits softly.

You freeze, turning to him. "Really?"

He scoops up the bouquet. "I wanted to surprise you. Guess I should've left a note," he chuckles.

"Oh, Maurie, thank you." You rush over to bring him into a hug. Sometimes he's too sweet for his own good.

".... This is from Mr. Lockley." Mauricio breaks away to hold out a single white rose he'd been hiding behind his back.

You sigh. "He's a persistent son of a gun, isn't he?"

He nods, dimpled smile growing by the second. “I think he's swell, miss. The boys think so, too.”

You turn the rose over in your hand. “I want you to be careful around him, Maurie. We don't know what he's about.”

“I think he's made it pretty clear,” he laughs.

“Hm. Perhaps.” You raise an eyebrow. "And I suppose you both brought flowers because...?"

Mauricio brims with excitement, taking the rose back and bundling it with the bouquet he'd gifted. "Mr. Lockley sounded real set on gettin’ you something sweet," he starts. He puts the flowers in an empty vase on your vanity.

"I didn't mean to steal his thunder, but I like it when you smile." He wipes his hands on the front of his pants and his expression drops a bit. "You haven't been smilin’ as much these days, Ms. Songbird."

You busy yourself with the fallen petals at your feet. “I smile all the time, what do you mean?”

“I guess I'm saying… there's you onstage, then there's, I dunno, you -you. They smile differently, s'all.”

He's right, as much as you hate to admit it. You look over at the flowers. “Well, thanks for giving me a reason to smile for real, Maurie.” You press a kiss to his forehead. “My mind's a bit out of sorts tonight. So thank you.”

The youth's dark brown eyes fill with concern. “Anything we can help you with?”

You shake your head, moving back to your vanity. “Nothing to worry yourself over, darling. Just make sure the boys are set. We have a show to put on.” 

He nods and leaves your dressing room. As you apply your lipstick, your hand trembles.

----------

Wednesdays have become your favorite part of the week: the day you catch your breath between visits.

In the time before the first half of your set, you make your usual rounds to each table.  Eventually you work your way to the front of the seating area, where you see a familiar silhouette beside the stage. A pair of dark glasses are perched on his nose, which crinkles as he smiles at the sound of your footsteps.

“Mr. Murdock,” you greet him warmly, taking his extended hand. “Always a pleasure.”

“Hey, kid.” He squeezes your hand in response, still beaming up at you. Even in the dimmed lounge, Matt Murdock’s smile can light up a room. 

“Come off it,” you huff in mock annoyance. “Thanks for stopping by on such short notice.”

“It sounded urgent, of course I’d be here. Do you have all the paperwork together?”

You eye the empty seat next to him. “I have a whole file waiting for you backstage… I’m sorry, is Franklin not joining you this evening?”

“Not tonight, but I do have another guest coming. Is that drink still on the house for a new plus-one?”

“Any friend of Nelson & Murdock is a friend of mine.” You brush a few stray hairs from his forehead. “Is this a guest for business or pleasure?”

He laughs, waving your hand away. “I suppose that depends.”

“Well, as long as they’re a fan of good music, they’re welcome here anytime,” you hum as you straighten his collar. “I swear, Matty. It wouldn’t kill you to dress to impress.”

“You dote too much. I’ll catch up with you later.” You leave him to his drink, making a mental note to demand his dress shirts for a routine tailoring.

The dinner rush brings the usual crowd, and you eye your friend’s table every so often. The seat beside him is still empty. You wonder if Matt was just pulling your leg and wanted to keep both complimentary drinks for himself.

But you don’t have time to ponder that. Instead, you scribble a few notes down and pass them out to your bandmates.

“Ah gee, boss, changing the setlist again?” Your pianist whines, scanning your notes. He didn’t ask tonight, but last-minute song requests are a longstanding favor to Matt when he has a lady to impress (which is often). For the sake of his mysterious guest, you swapped in some softer, more romantic pieces.

“Jackie, don’t tell me you’re not up to the task?” You eye him sternly. “Half the gig is improv anyway, and these are all songs we’ve done before.”

Jackie’s budding protest is silenced by the bassist via an elbow to the ribs. Arguing with you is never worth it: a lesson everyone learns sooner or later. Some take longer than others. 

Rubbing his side, Jackie concedes. “Whatever you say, boss.”

You wink. “That’s a tune I like to hear.” Smiling sweetly, you lead the band's procession to the stage.

“Good evening,” you croon into the microphone, “and welcome to The Paper Moon. I’m Ms. Songbird, this fine-feathered crew beside me are The Jays– let’s have some fun tonight.” You flash a rehearsed smile so dazzling it can be seen from the farthest table in the lounge, and you scan the room with anticipation. The moments before a performance are so precious; even with a setlist, anything can happen the moment that first note is played. Every night, you revel in the possibility. 

A familiar two-toned whistle draws your gaze to Matt’s table right below the stage, where the seat beside him is no longer empty.

Hat resting on the table, chin propped in his hands, you find yourself staring down at the face of none other than that infuriating cab driver bearing a grin so wide you hope it splits his cheeks.

Fighting to keep your smile from turning into a grimace, your eyes snap back to the middle of the room. “This first song goes out to one of our favorite patrons… and his company,” you add, your voice betraying your restraint with a crack. You don’t look down, but you just know that damned cabbie is smiling even harder.

Despite the rocky start, you and your band pull together another unforgettable night of music. You perform with your eyes closed more than usual; you refuse to give Jake Lockley the satisfaction of serenading him with your best love songs.

Once the music portion of the night is through, all the frustration you’d pushed down swiftly rises to the surface as you watch them pal around right under your nose. You rush to the floor level to get this over with.

“What are you doing here?” you blurt out, glancing between Jake and Matt. Your friend’s eyebrows raise at the outburst.

“Last I checked, this is a free country. I’m allowed into most businesses.”

“No, I mean– it’s not Thursday. You come on Thursdays.”

“Why Ms. Songbird, I didn’t think you cared enough to keep tabs on me.” He leans his head on his hand and stares up at you. “Sorry I didn’t call ahead.”

You want so badly to snap back at him, but instead you look at Matt. “ This is who I changed our set list for?”

“In my defense, I never asked you to,” he grins.

“You didn’t tell me you were so familiar with our lovely hostess here, Murdock. Seems you have more pull with the house than you let on,” Jake muses in surprise.

“A privilege he’s bound to lose if he's not careful,” you say through gritted teeth. Like it or not, Jake is a guest. And you still have an image to uphold. “How’d you have the pleasure of running into this one, Matthew?”

He barely has time to respond before Jake's leaning in farther, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Oh, chin up, doll– can’t say I’m too surprised he’s a friend of yours. Always has a knack for finding the pretty ones, this guy.” He nudges Matt’s side, who’s far too quiet for your liking.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying,” you huff.

“‘Course, I keep him around for that brain of his, not so much the mug.”

“He's my lawyer,” you say in unison. What makes your brow furrows leads Jake to bark out a laugh, shaking Matt in his grip as he tugs him closer.

“What are the odds of that, eh Murdock?” He beams up at you. Your frown deepens. “He's helped me with the occasional run-in with the law.”

“Oh, so you're not just a smart-mouth but a criminal, to boot?” 

“Nothing but a few civil suits, doll. Got off clean every time.” He winks as you cross your arms, glaring at Matt.

“You have interesting taste in company, Mr. Murdock.” You turn on your heel and head backstage.

“No kidding,” Jake continues to laugh as you walk away. Once you're out of sight, his smile falters. “So when you said you had a friend in show business–”

“Yeah.”

“And when I told you about the dame I've been eyeing at this new lounge–”

“–I knew exactly who you were talking about.”

“So you've been letting me parade around like a putz this whole time? ” A smack upside the head earns Jake a kick to the shin beneath the table.

“That, my friend, was all you. I mean bravo, you were in rare form tonight.” That signature smile returns as Jake pushes a hand through his hair. “I should probably go smooth some feathers. Catch up with you in an hour?”

Jake downs the rest of his drink and stands when Matt does. “You know I love our little talks.” Casting a final glance towards the stage door, he adjusts his jacket and moves from the table.

Matt catches his elbow. “She’ll come around.” He almost sounds convinced of it himself.

“Yeah, well, we’ve got other fish to fry tonight. Promise I’ll save you the big ones.”

Shaking his head, Matt makes his way backstage. “I’m starting to think some of that vitriol isn’t unearned.”

They part ways– Matt heading backstage, Jake to the moonlit streets. 

Bigger fish to fry, indeed: all swimming in the Kingpin’s tank. 

----------

A/N: thank you to everyone who has expressed enthusiasm over this little passion project!! it's been so fun putting it together, and i'm looking forward to sharing more with you. expect to see more of our favorite lawyer in the future (we have fun here)

as always, thank you for reading &lt;3

tag list: @importantnightwerewolf, @cupidysm, @queerponcho, @nerdieforpedro, @fandxmslxt69, @shadystarlightgentlemen, @lunar-ghoulie, @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[quq-fan]

i love monks in dnd because the guy on the battlefield armed with only his fists doesn't seem very threatening until he starts sprinting toward you at 69 miles per hour

[sssammich]

wip wednesday on a thursday

@foibles-fables tagged me for this so here i am lol

i recognize it's not wednesday anymore but it's not my fault the days keep coming and they don't stop coming

ANYWAY

i will give you 3 because i am working on a bunch of wips at the same time (i held back because i have like 3 more i'm actively jumping back and forth into in addition to these but this has gone long enough)

may-hem rojarias:

“So tell me now.” “What?” “About her. Tell me about Ruby.” Sam furrows her brows. “Seriously?” She sighs and rubs a spot on her temple. “You’ll find I’m the farthest thing from motherly, but she’s clearly an important part of your life. And I want to keep having our consensual sex with no strings. So if this is something to adjust to just so I can keep what I want, then so be it.” Sam laughs then, her head tipped back even as she shakes her head. “First of all, you sound like a robot. This isn’t a business deal, Andy. I’m literally your fuck buddy. Second of all, you do realize that this is technically a string. It’s literally a string now.” Andrea throws Sam a pointed look. “It doesn’t have to be. Me asking about your daughter doesn’t have to mean anything more than just making small talk, Sam. It’s like when I tell you how much I abhor your choice of drinks.” “It’s not even remotely the sa—” “Sam,” she interrupts, leans forward. “I know she exists, fine. That cat’s out of the bag. The question is, are you going to stop coming over when I text?” “No.” “Then that settles that.”

supercorp, unidentified chapter of collateral:

“Kara, can you do me a favor?”  “Sure. What’s up?”  “I—L-Corp is gonna host a gala, and I was hoping you could be my plus one.”  She turned. “Isn’t that what husbands are for?” she asked, injecting enough humor in her voice.  Lena sighed. “He has an investors meeting with this group overseas that needs attending to. It’s the only window they have with them, so he’s leaving tonight and won’t be back until the day after tomorrow.”  She had the choice to say no, had the choice to protect her heart. Yet when Lena stared at her with her bottom lip tucked under her teeth, Kara knew she would buckle. She didn’t want Lena to be alone knowing that despite the expert ease in which she maneuvered through these events and parties, she never particularly enjoyed them. Kara didn’t think too hard about how closely those words signaled her own actions.  Her face softened and offered her best friend her best smile. “Of course, I’ll go with you.”  They closed this favor request with a hug, one that Kara couldn’t help sinking into, arms wrapped around Lena’s form.  She was a sucker and she knew it.

swanqueen, unpublished 2-shot:

She scoffs, her rage bubbling up and out; she’s barely succeeding in keeping herself in check knowing her son and her parents are watching. Even now, she’s restraining herself for the good of others even if all she wants to do is punch Regina, punch Robin and her parents and maybe just punch herself for good measure for being an absolute fucking fool.  “You’re having a picnic with Robin and his wife who, by the way, happens to be the reason you’ve iced me out for three months, Regina. You—you’re having a goddamn picnic with my parents and their golden child. I guess you just needed me to chauffer Henry here to complete your happy fucking family, huh?”  She wipes at her face just as Regina’s features harden. Emma doesn’t care, though, because fuck her, fuck all of them. Regina has the audacity to step forward, but Emma glares at her and that stops the steps forward. “Miss Swan—”  “God! I’m not even Emma to you. Just Miss Swan, like I’m some fucking stranger. I don’t even get the courtesy of being on a first name basis with you, but you’re kissing a dude you’ve known for a few months and having goddamn family picnics,” she mutters, uncaring if Regina hears her or not.  She shakes her head, fed up with this bullshit. She wipes  her tears as the truth sinks in her bones. The reality that she can want and she can wish, but she will never amount to anything that anybody would ever want, least of all to the woman in front of her.  "No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, whatever friendship I thought we’d been working towards just isn't ever gonna be enough. Message received loud and clear, Regina." She doesn’t wait for whatever haughty, scathing reply might come out of Regina’s mouth. She gets in the car and stomps down on the gas, uncaring about her tires squealing as she peels away from the curb, speeding as far away as possible from her biggest heartbreak yet.

OKAY UH let me tag some folks: @sideguitars @eqt-95 @crime-wives @luthordamnvers @fazedlight and if anybody else feels inclined to participate. i recognize it's getting farther and farther from a wednesday so feel free to wait until next wednesday LMAO

[defira85]

WIP Whenever

The very lovely @elinorbard tagged me for WIP Wednesday, but it's a dreary rainy Thursday here so you get my Whenever! I've been doing most of my work this week on my BG3 Big Bang fic, but I don't think I want to spoil too much of that ahead of time, so I do thankfully have a snippet from Rhyme's next chapter ready to go (I know, I know, I only posted on the weekend and I already posted another snippet earlier in the week, I promise I do sleep sometimes!)

But a library seemed to imply that multiple people would have access to the knowledge stored therein, whereas a study was a far more personal, private affair. And if there was one thing she had learned about Gromph Baenre over the last decade, it was that there was absolutely no chance he would ever willingly share anything: knowledge, power, riches, it didn't matter. The man wouldn't even share common courtesies, such as- "I have been waiting for three fucking hours," she snarled, charging across the beautiful floors and leaving a trail of now dried mud in her wake. Ahead of her, the man in question was seated at his colossal desk—which definitely wasn't compensating for anything—sipping calmly from a delicate tea cup. He scarcely even raised an eyebrow at her approach, though his gaze did slide to his manservant who scampered in behind her. "I believe I said I was not to be disturbed," he said mildly. "I'm not one of your little fucking errand boys, Baenre," she hissed, hefting her satchel and slamming it down onto his desk. It landed on a pile of papers, and squelched wetly. He frowned. "Clearly not, because the servants in my employ have better manners, and keep a civil tongue in their head," he said, looking her up and down with a disdainful glare. "And know better than to sully my presence with such boorish, soiled attire." "My lord," the manservant said, wringing his hands together anxiously, "I did tell her-" "You may leave," Gromph said calmly, and when the man hesitated, his brow narrowed ever so slightly. "That was not a suggestion—leave." Rhyme thought herself very, very patient for not immediately mocking him for having to repeat himself to his servants. Or slave, the man was very likely a slave, knowing Gromph. His footsteps retreated over the large hall, and then there was a moment or two with awkward crunching sounds as he tried and failed to close the door. "My lord, the Zedriniset has broken the latch—" "Leave!" Gropmh thundered.

Hoo hoo hee hee, Rhyme needed to have someone to yell at, and she does certainly seem to find herself caught in the orbit of powerful, ambitious archmages doesn't she?

Tagging @sleepytimegrrl @robinyourcreator @angelicfangirl @thegingerjedi (you finished Veilguard! i know you've got fic brewing now hee hee) @darkfeanix and anyone else who wants to consider themselves tagged :3

[ctimenefic]

wip wednesday!

I was tagged by @onadarklingplain and in the spirit of the sheer joy her snippet brought me, I'm going to go for the wip that is making me swing my feet and clap my hands for joy when I get to play with it. Winnowing, aka Fantasy Historical Horselord Times!

I've posted a couple of snippets of it before here and here but honestly, all you need to know is Alex is a PRINCE and there's an TOURNAMENT for his HAND and gosh I wonder how that will turn out also there's magic

By the time Alex made it back to the silk palace, it had moved 200 miles southeast. He had ridden out to strengthen the ramparts of the great fort they were leaving behind, a favour to a lazy general already idling into the role of a governor. Liam had come with him, to divert a nearby river long enough to fill the moat. He’d done the work well enough, bar a few mistakes; few enough that Alex could shore up a wall or plug a leak before anything crumbled. But he’d been able to think of half a dozen other brothers he’d rather have had with him to hoist water - Carlos, Danil, even Nicky.  It felt like all he did these days was think of the brothers banished before him.  Before they’d left, the governor had come out to see them off and survey his new fortifications. Three rows of earthworks and a moat; enough to squeeze the lifeblood out of the locals and still not fear rebellion. Alex saw him practically swell on the spot. The man’s bow only barely met courtesy, and as he rose he’d taken Alex’s hand, pressed it between his own, damp and clogged with heavy rings. “I should have dearly liked to compete, of course,” he’d oiled, and Alex’s molars had creaked with the effort of staying blank, “but alas.” “Alas,” he’d echoed, and made for his horse with all possible speed.  Liam had laughed as soon as they were out of earshot, and Alex had had to bite back a thousand bitter things, put his head down and ride faster than the unkindness could keep up. 

No you posted too close to midnight and forgot to tag. @latecomersprivilege & @testarossa I summon thee, and all others who wish to play (I know it's Thursday now I'm sorry)

[quq-fan]

if your oc ever got the chance, would they go back in time? when would they go?

[jolalibrary]

wip thursday

because I apparently can never do this on the actual day. thank you my loves for the tag, @schnarfer @lotusbxtch @luxurychristmaspudding @almostfoxglove

this weeks brain rot comes courtesy of this post that I’ve decided I’m now writing… you’re welcome? 😂💁‍♀️

There’s a pen on his desk that doesn’t belong.

It’s shinier, newer—ink still full. The clip still sparkles under the fluorescent light, it isn’t chipped away from being thrown or chewed on. It’s immaculate, overall a really good pen.

The kind politicians have in their pockets, businessmen pull out from their briefcases or are placed in front of crisp white documentation, tabs indicating where to sign.

It’s why he knows it doesn’t belong.

Thinks it as he exhales, puffing out smoke that shifts into tendril-fuelled dances to hover and live along the cracked and peeling ceiling. Javi likes to stare at it, the way it lingers, shifting. But the pen has commanded all his attention, unable to blink his gaze from it as the paper burns close to his fingers. Dangerously close, hazardous. Jaw slid to the side as it taunted him, practically scratching with the inky tip against the inside of his brain.

He still smells you on his skin.

An absolute, not a mirage. A thing applied to his skin, layered there as though he’d spread it on like cream. It catches his nose in the breeze from the fan, makes him stub out his cigarette before he swipes his fingers against the slope of his nose. Checking, ensuring he’s not losing his shit over nothing.

He isn’t. It’s there. Haunting in how it clings. Latches and embeds. It’s not burned away by the chain-smoking or the varying airs he finds himself in as he goes about his day.

Teeth biting at the inside of his mouth, just under the inside of his lower lip. Nursing the area between his teeth, alternating between straight lips and pouted as he chews, and chews. Because you’re no longer haunting him in just scent, but in things now too. Evidence of you being here, left, placed likely with premeditation, maybe even a smirk across your painted lips. Sat at your desk earlier, Javier. No wonder your back hurts.

tagging: anyone who hasn’t done this because I’m late as per.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

For more context, here are a couple of articles: 1, 2.

Medicine Hat's mayor is essentially mayor in title only following a meeting of the southern Alberta city's council on Thursday.

Mayor Linnsie Clark and one city councillor were not present at the meeting.

The vote among the council members who did attend, to drastically cut down Clark's powers and pay, was unanimous.

The vote was the result of a motion being passed stating Clark breached the code of conduct by failing to treat the city manager with courtesy, dignity and respect during an exchange at an open council meeting on Aug. 21, 2023. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada, @abpoli

[kaonarvna]

Work and health have had me tied up, but here's another little treat!

"Chapter" Name: Maintenance and Testing — Sector Zero, Midgar 199X

Summary: Late at night, beyond office hours, Zack checks on the forty-ninth floor's combat simulator to see if any of the FIRSTs are still in the building. He finds Genesis and Sephiroth using the training suite, although not for its intended purposes.

Tags: Slice of Life, Emotional Hurt/No Comfort(?), Implied Sexual Content, Implied Bottom Sephiroth??

Potential TWs: Enforcement of systemic homophobia in the workplace.

WC: ~3000 (8-16 minute read)

Short sample below the cut!

Maintenance and Testing — Sector Zero, Midgar 199X

The final half-dozen grains of rice pick up onto the bottom of Zack’s fork as he presses the plastic prongs down into them. He eats every grain. Only the tiniest slivers of meat gristle and smears of oily residue sit on top of the disposable container’s surface. Most of the stools in the sixty-forth floor’s canteen area have been flipped upside down onto their tables. The swish of caretaker sweeper mops and the quiet hum of the dimmed florescent lights are the only company left. Except for Sector Eight and market down below, Midgar has gone dark for the night.

Zack squints at one of the clocks behind a food counter. One of the hands points to nine, another to ten—he can’t tell which is which from this far. He checks his PHS just to double check. It’s ten to ten.

“Angeal’s still out…” he mumbles to himself, checking through his text messages with his mentor.

Zack’s rereads them in his head.

FAIR, Zack: how long u out for?? need feedback on sim session results pls

ANGEAL (WORK): Hello, I’m away from my PHS right now. I will be out of town until Friday evening. I will try to respond to my messages the day after I return. If you are getting in touch about an urgent work concern, please contact another first or the director for support. (automated reply delivered courtesy of SEPC Telecom Services)

“Is it urgent?” he asks himself, leaning back on the stool and staring up at the ceiling. He balances on the back legs, holding onto the tall table with one hand, his PHS in the other. “Everyone’s gonna be at home, but I’m not going to remember tomorrow, and…”

Scrolling through the PHS messages with Angeal, he stops and re-reads:

ANGEAL (WORK): Sometimes we do stay late. We (Sephiroth and Genesis, let’s be honest) can only really spar when no one else is on the floor. It is part of their risk assessments. If you ever see the sims booked out late for “maintenance and testing” it’s probably us, haha. Stay clear if you are still inside. Use other combat sims if you need them.

FAIR, Zack: lol ik sephiroth can WRECK outside, surprised hes allowed to fight indoors!! :)

ANGEAL (WORK): He is not supposed to operate inside Midgar unless there is an emergency for that reason, haha.

Genesis too.

“Ten at night…I mean, I could check…” he tap-taps through to his emails, checking the simulator timetable sent out earlier in the week. He zooms in and out of the spreadsheet, mumbling to himself about how much better it looks on the computer. Then he finds it at the bottom of the document: Simulator closed for maintenance and testing 21:00 Wednesday 29th – 02:00 Thursday 30th.

His eyes go wide. Zack double checks the date, before stuffing his PHS back into his pocket. Snatching his empty food container off the table, he briskly walks to the nearest bin, throws it out, then takes himself to the elevators. He presses the down button once, and then twice, and again, until he can hear the mechanisms inside moving.

...

Read the full piece on Ao3!