#technically the sequel to let your heart speak up but can be read as a standalone

[complete-in-ix]

You've Got Diamonds For Teeth, My Love

Rated: M

Warning(s): Suggestive. Very suggestive. No smut, though

Description: Today is supposed to be a quiet day; one of the only days that could vaguely be considered "free time" so close to their comeback. Sumin had planned to spend it quietly in Jinsik's company, the two of them working on their own projects while in each other's orbit, because that's how most of their dates go to begin with, so why not kill two birds with one stone?

Unfortunately, Sumin's feelings—some new and some still unsaid from months ago—prove to be too much of a distraction for him. Then again, if it leads to them both discovering new things about each other, is it really such a bad thing?

(Read on Ao3)

Note if you don't use ao3 and can't see the notes I put there: I made Sumin trans and Jinsik autistic because I'm autistic and trans and I say so. I did the same thing with Jinsik in LYHSU, again because I'm autistic and I see him with my autistic eyes, however it should go without saying that I am not diagnosing him nor am I clocking Sumin, this is just my fun projection onto their stage personas.

It's unusually quiet in the dorms today. Minjae is holed up in his room, no doubt having been up since the previous night working on his own projects. Junmin has been dragged out by the four of the 05s for a day out on the town, though he only agreed to it on the condition that they come straight back home if they're spotted. All the better, really, considering their comeback is in less than a week. Speaking of the comeback, Hyunwoo has elected to stay in the practice rooms to clean up some choreo details that he claimed to be lacking in. Sumin thinks he's doing fine—especially considering his comparatively late start—but decided not to argue as he left. Jinsik is staying home to keep Junghoon company, so that leaves Sumin with the opportunity to be completely—well, almost—alone with his boyfriend for a whole day. It's not like they won't be getting anything done anyway; Sumin's got his notebook in his lap that he's drafting a new song in while Jinsik goes over his vocals.

Jinsik's voice is fucking gorgeous. Even while just going through warmups, he has Sumin mesmerized. It might be a bad thing, considering that he has projects to work on, but it's fine. There's no deadline yet, so he can afford to bask in his love a little longer. At this point, he's sure most Roadies have caught on to their relationship with how much he sings his praise for Jinsik's... Everything, really—not to mention their whole "honey-darling" thing getting exposed early on. It's not like he minds. From what he's seen while stalking his own searches, those who have caught on are at least graciously staying silent for their sake or are thinking that they're imagining things.

"Koong, koong, yeah no turning back~" Jinsik changes up his run at the end this time. He's surprised himself with how nice it sounds compared to his other practice runs, if the way he perks up like a happy puppy has anything to show for it. Sumin hides his smile behind his notebook. He'd hate to distract Jinsik with his feelings—which are very much not conducive to his practicing! Still, he can't resist the urge to compliment him.

"You should do that the next time we perform it live, jagi. Roady will go wild for it," he comments. He watches the blush dust Jinsik's cheeks, accompanied by that flustered half-smile he always has whenever someone praises him unexpectedly. Jinsik knocks his foot against his from the other side of the couch they've been sharing.

"Stop it. They'll go wilder for your killing scream—they have been, actually. Did you see how they reacted to the teaser?" Ah, Jinsik, humble and deflecting the praise as always. Good thing Sumin is persistent enough to keep laying it on until Jinsik accepts it.

"I did. I couldn't have done it without your voice leading me in, though." Sumin closes his notebook to seal his words in. He isn't going to get much work done at this point, anyway. Jinsik makes a sort of whining noise in complaint, staring off somewhere to the side instead of meeting Sumin's eyes. That's fine by Sumin, he knows how Jinsik is with eye contact. He won't force him. "I mean it! You have a really impressive high note before I scream anyway, Roady will love a double kill like that! I love it!" He crawls over to Jinsik's side of the couch, stopping just short of his lap. "I love you~ " he adds, just because he can.

"You're distracting me from my practice," Jinsik mutters, though his smile is audible in his words. He continues before Sumin can respond. "I don't mind, though. I was running words—out of the—running of—" he cuts himself off with an incoherent jumble of half-words, his tongue betraying him yet again. Cute.

"Take your time, jagi." Sumin reaches out to take Jinsik's hand, squeezing it in reassurance. Jinsik squeezes it back, fumbling with his free hand for his phone. He taps something out on his notes, passing it to Sumin after a moment.

"Was running out of words for 2day neway, if I kept going I wouldn't want 2 talk when the others get home :(" it says. Understandable, he's been practicing all their previous releases and every song on their upcoming comeback since they had finished lunch. Sumin expresses this much in the reply he types out on another line.

"That's fair, you've been at it for a while now. The others will understand though, you don't have to worry about that!" He passes Jinsik's phone back to him, watching his face while he waits for the reply. Jinsik's eyebrows furrow, and those pretty lips twist into a pout.

"Yea bt I wanna talk 2 them :( Idk it jst feels kinda unfair if I'm 2 tired 2 talk" Jinsik looks up at Sumin like a kicked puppy when he passes the phone back to him. Sumin's heart lurches in his chest. Jinsik is truly too sweet for this world.

"Jagiya, everyone would rather you be quiet and comfortable than force yourself to talk if you don't want to! If anyone gives you trouble for it, I'll scold them >:(" Jinsik's face breaks into a smile upon reading Sumin's reply. God, that smile. Sumin had already been enamored the moment he saw it. If Jinsik had looked like an untouchable angel before he smiled, then after he did, he looked like the sun's warmth personified; and Sumin was freezing . The way his eyes curve up into crescent moons, those adorable dimples, and his teeth... Those fucking teeth. So straight and white and a subtle sort of sharp that Sumin sort of really wants to feel sinking into his skin. He shakes the thought out of his head just in time for Jinsik to pass his phone back to him.

"You'll blow out everyone's ears lol" Sumin has to take a second to recall what they had just been talking about, having gotten more than a little caught up in his own head. Jinsik giggles as Sumin fumbles to reply. What can he say, at this point? Surely Jinsik has caught on to the state he's in, right?

"Uh. Sorry, head empty," Sumin stammers out loud, handing Jinsik's phone back to him with the cursor blinking on an empty line. Jinsik can't stop giggling as he types up his next message. Sumin bites his lip to hold back the rush of feelings that bubble up in his chest at the sound, all those soft and gushy sweet nothings that the others make fun of him for every time he lets them slip around them. It's not like he's embarrassed to be this in love, it's just... This is a side that only Jinsik can unlock. It's only fair that only Jinsik can see it.

"U were the one trying to distract me and now here u are~ U didn't even want to work on anything, did u? 🤨" Jinsik keeps grinning at him when he passes his phone over, his tongue sticking out from between his teeth like a playful puppy. This is not helping Sumin out of the pit he's falling into!

"I did, I was working on things!" Sumin whines out loud, pulling another round of giggles from Jinsik. Fuck it, might as well bite the bullet.

"But yeah I guess you're right... Since we're both distracted, can I just kiss you instead?" This time, Sumin is the one who can't face Jinsik while passing the phone back. It's sort of stupid how flustered he still gets even after they've been together for almost a year now. Then again, even after this long, Jinsik still finds new ways to thrill him.

Like now, when Jinsik's pocketing his phone instead of typing a new message and pulling Sumin the rest of the way into his lap. He reaches up to cup Sumin's face with his free hand, his thumb gently tracing over his lip in a silent request. Sumin's breath hitches.

"Please," he whispers. There's barely any space between them now, yet it's also far too much. Jinsik huffs out a laugh into that minute chasm between them. 

He knocks his forehead against Sumin's—most likely to tease him for still being too shy to initiate it when he had been the one to ask for a kiss to begin with—and finally closes the distance between them.

Sumin melts into him instantly. Jinsik smiles against his lips, soft and sweet. It shouldn't be this easy to wind him up, but here he is falling apart just from one kiss and the warmth of Jinsik's hand on his face. Then again, it's been quite a while since they've had time to be alone together, and it'll be even longer until they get this chance again. Best savour the chance while they have it.

Sumin sighs against Jinsik's lips, still so soft against his own even though he feels like a dog straining at its leash. Jinsik takes it as a sign to deepen the kiss, tilting his head and slotting their lips together until Sumin's head is spinning.

"Jagi," he all but whimpers. Jinsik hums in response, those deep brown eyes staring into his with so much unbridled love that Sumin's breath gets knocked straight from his chest. Not the best thing to happen considering he had broken the kiss to catch it, but that doesn't matter. His want for oxygen is irrelevant, he needs Jinsik. It must be obvious with the way Jinsik grins at him, his tongue curling around his canines and setting Sumin's heart alight.

"I really want you to bite me," Sumin blurts out, breathless and dazed. Jinsik gives a choked yelp, drawing back in surprise. He doesn't push Sumin away, at least. "I-I mean! I just—um." Sumin flails for the right words to explain himself, looking everywhere but Jinsik's flushed face. "I really like your teeth?"

Nailed it.

Jinsik gives a flustered squeak, his hands instinctively coming up to cover his mouth. Sumin has half a mind to stop him but refrains. Jinsik has never handled being suddenly restrained very well.

"Please don't misunderstand, it's just... I've been thinking about it for a while—”

“I’d say it was Jinsik,” Sumin had said upon being asked who in his team should be MVP for short-forms. “At first he seemed a bit awkward, but as time went by he started to relax and his charm started to come out.” At this point, he had known he was starting to ramble. He knew it could be risky for him to spill his feelings so obviously, but perhaps if he kept his face neutral, made sure his tone was even—something he was much better at than the boy whose heart is in his hands—then perhaps it would be okay. “His teeth are so even, so when he was telling the camera his superpower and showing them off, it was so ravishing that I picked him.” Okay. That was definitely way too much to say. He at least managed to say it neutrally enough that the PDs behind the camera didn’t notice anything off. His rambling made it into the final cut of the episode, interspersed with cuts of Jinsik’s gorgeous smile highlighted by some ridiculous glitter filter. Thank fuck he at least kept it together externally in front of the cameras. Sumin still remembers what it was like to actually watch Jinsik grin like that in person; his eyes helplessly drawn to the way his tongue lolled out of his mouth while he stuttered and reset his mouth before retaking yet another line, grinning all the while. Once he noticed, he couldn’t stop. It was killing him.

“—and I just think I would like it?" 

Sumin's doing an awful job at sounding sure of himself. Jinsik seems to agree, staring up at him like he's sprouted a tail. He drops Sumin's gaze after a moment. Sumin opens his mouth to explain further or drop the subject only to find all his words stolen from him at the sight of Jinsik lowering his hands.

Jinsik's tongue traces his teeth, slow and unsure. He gently bites down once he reaches his canine, its sharp point sinking into his flesh. Sumin's throat goes dry. Jinsik winces in pain, shutting his mouth and staring up at Sumin like he's been handed a gun and told to shoot. He doesn't let the eye contact waver this time, so Sumin knows it's serious.

"You won't hurt me, jagi. Your tongue is more sensitive than—" Sumin clears his throat to brace himself. "—I dunno, my neck." Fuck. Still stumbled. Jinsik drops his gaze, staring down at the coffee table instead. He seems to be fighting with himself over Sumin's suggestion. Sumin gives him another to alleviate his worry and fill the silence between them—not like they'd been especially loud before, he hopes. "I won't force you if you don't want to do it. You do know that applies to everything I ask you, right? If you say no, I won't be mad."

Jinsik nods slowly, his resolve finally returning to his eyes when he locks them with Sumin's again. He takes Sumin's hand, those pretty fingers wrapping around his wrist and bringing it up to his face. Sumin doesn't pull away, half suspecting Jinsik's intentions. As predicted, he presses his kiss-red lips to Sumin's fingers. Then, as not predicted, he parts them to place the first two fingertips between his teeth—not biting down yet, just holding them there. He hasn't taken his eyes off Sumin's for this entire exchange. The contrast between Jinsik's shy doe eyes asking him for permission and the blunt presence of his teeth already on Sumin's skin is so much hotter than he ever would have imagined.

"Yeah," Sumin chokes out, "go ahead." The words are thick in his throat and he's only half aware that they've even gotten out of him. Is this how Jinsik feels when he gets tongue-tied?

He doesn't have any time to contemplate the question before Jinsik's biting down; slowly at first, an almost imperceptible pressure that quickly blooms into twin pinpricks of pleasure-pain once he applies some real force into it. Sumin just barely bites down the whine bubbling up in his throat, but can't hide the shiver that rattles down his entire body. Jinsik releases him almost immediately, his eyes darting about in panic. Sumin rushes to reassure him.

"It's okay, I'm okay! It doesn't hurt," he soothes. "You can do it harder, I like it." His face burns with the admission, but it's not like he was lying. Jinsik raises his eyebrow, taking Sumin up on the challenge.

This time, he takes Sumin's fingers down to the second knuckle, parting them with his tongue until they're both directly between his teeth. He gives less warning and more force this time, emboldened by his first success.

Sumin can't hide his moan this time, slapping his free hand over his mouth to at least muffle the sound. Something darkens in Jinsik's eyes, reminiscent of the devil that Sumin sometimes sees while watching his fancams. He loosens his hold for just a second to let Sumin recover before closing his jaws around him again—the hardest bite yet. This one has Sumin slumping against the couch, weak with the want that's been burning in his stomach.

"What the fuck? " Hyunwoo's voice sounds from behind them. The combined force of Sumin and Jinsik's flinching nearly sends Sumin tumbling to the floor, saved only by Jinsik's arm around his waist.

"Can you not sneak up on me like that—" Sumin hisses, whipping around to glare at Hyunwoo. He hides his hand—his first two fingers slightly slick with spit—as quickly as he can, but the damage has been done.

"Can you not do that? At least not on the couch that we have to share?" Hyunwoo retorts. "You know what, I don't even want to know what you guys were doing, if you're not gonna stop, just take it to a room!" he storms off before Sumin can snap back at him. It doesn't stop Sumin from hissing a: "We weren't planning to do anything, but fine!" after him under his breath. He turns back to face Jinsik after a moment, somewhat shaky now that the adrenaline rush—both from being bitten and from getting caught—is starting to wear off. Jinsik gladly welcomes him back into his arms to hide. There's a slight shifting of Jinsik taking his phone back out of his pocket, and he taps Sumin's shoulder shortly after.

"Doesn't him leaving sort of defeat the point of us getting a room?" Sumin barks out a laugh upon reading Jinsik's message. Jinsik whines in complaint, lightly smacking Sumin's arm with his phone.

"Ah, sorry, I wasn't laughing at you," Sumin placates. He presses a kiss to Jinsik's cheek in apology, Jinsik melting against him in acceptance. "You're right, but we should probably move anyway. Now that Hyunwoo's home, we'll probably have more interruptions if we stay out here." Sumin is loath to leave the warmth of Jinsik's embrace, but he forces himself up and off the couch. "Do you want to keep going? We don't have to, I'll get back to work if you don't." Jinsik accepts the hand that Sumin holds out to help him up, although he just clings to Sumin in favour of going anywhere else. Sumin makes a questioning noise, unsure of whether he should leave Jinsik be or drag him to his room. He'd be lying if he said he didn't prefer the latter over the former, but he'd rather let Jinsik control the pace of their relationship.

"My room is farther from the others, let's go there," Jinsik's next message says, followed by: "I don't want to stop." The heat in Sumin's stomach—that had been significantly dampened by Hyunwoo's return—comes roaring back to life as he reads it.

All the words that he could say in response get caught in his throat at once, so he leans in to kiss Jinsik instead. Jinsik is quick to reciprocate, pulling him in by the waist and swiping his tongue over Sumin's lips.

Oh. He's eager.

Sumin's knees nearly give out on him at the realization, held up only by Jinsik's hold on him. They should probably get to Jinsik's room, fast.

"Mmh—jagi, come on," Sumin manages to stammer in between kisses. "Let's get to your room before someone else walks in." Jinsik growls against him in complaint, but he eventually relents, pulling back for just long enough to drag Sumin to his room and close the door behind them. As soon as the door clicks shut, Jinsik is back on him, all but tackling him onto his bed—thank god he's on the bottom bunk—and crashing their lips together again.

Sumin easily melts under him, pliant and weak for his enthusiasm. Jinsik has always thrown his all into expressing his feelings; crying when he's sad, laughing when he's happy—Sumin has yet to see what would happen if he gets angry, but just the thought of it sends a thrill down his spine like no other. This, though... Jinsik kisses him like he wants to eat him alive, all teeth and tongue that burns his desire into Sumin's very soul.

Jinsik wants him.

The realization has Sumin muffling a moan into Jinsik's mouth, blindly grasping at his cardigan to ground himself. Jinsik huffs a laugh against his lips, sultry and self-satisfied. He must be on a mission to single-handedly kill Sumin today. He guides Sumin a little farther up the bed to settle in next to him, breaking the kiss to slip the cardigan off. Sumin chokes on his own breath.

"Uh," he stammers. Perfectly articulate! Okay, can he really be blamed for losing his grasp on language at the sight of his boyfriend's arms? First of all, Jinsik is his boyfriend , second, he may not be as big of a gym rat as Minjae-hyung or Hunter but his arms are fucking nice . Third of all, Jinsik is kissing him again, so he has no need for words now, anyway. Jinsik keeps it relatively chaste this time, leaving Sumin to catch his breath while he leaves a line of kisses down his jaw leading down to his neck. Ah, right. He'd mentioned that earlier. Jinsik mouths over Sumin's pulse point, most likely able to feel his heart pounding through the sensitive skin there. Sumin digs his hand into the sheets, too shy to reach out and grab for Jinsik's waist despite their proximity. He's burning up, he realizes.

"Jagi—ah—hold on," Sumin groans, his speech slurred by the heat under his collar and Jinsik's ministrations. Jinsik immediately pulls back, his eyes shining with muted concern. It does little to mask how his pupils are blown wide open, something dark burning behind them that has Sumin biting back a whimper. He pulls himself together just enough to strip himself of his hoodie; the material much too thick and heat-trapping for what he's doing. Besides, he wants to feel Jinsik's touch. "Sorry, got too hot," he mutters, tossing it somewhere across the room.

Jinsik stares at him with nothing short of hunger . He still has a t-shirt on—they both do—but Jinsik's gaze is so intense that it feels like he can see straight through it; past his skin right to his jackhammering heart. Suddenly shy under Jinsik's scrutiny, Sumin crosses his arms over his chest, digging his fingers into his arms to hide his self-consciousness.

"What? My body isn't that built, is it?" he asks. He gives Jinsik a hopefully lighthearted smile, his eyes dropping away from Jinsik's eyes; down to his flushed cheeks, his kiss-swollen lips parted to reveal those fucking perfect teeth, the bob of his Adam's apple, the pretty jut of his collarbones. No matter where he looks, he can still feel Jinsik's gaze raking up and down his body like a floodlight.

Is this why Jinsik avoids eye contact all the time?  He'd once told Sumin that it feels too personal, too searching when other people look him in the eye. Sumin is sure that had been true, but perhaps Jinsik had also been protecting everyone else from himself. If he feels like this just from Jinsik looking at his body, surely he would combust if their eyes meet. He manages to hide his eyes until Jinsik reaches out for him again, grasping his hand and gently pulling it away from where he had been digging his nails into his arm. He hadn't even noticed the pain until it was gone. He lets his other arm drop, forcing the tension to bleed out from his shoulders so Jinsik knows he still has a green light.

"Sumin," Jinsik sighs, his voice low and ever so slightly rough from disuse. Sumin's eyes snap back up to meet his; if he's speaking again, it's serious. Jinsik's eyes are fathomlessly deep pools of love and desire, flecks of concern flashing within the depths. Sumin's breath is punched from his chest. "You're beautiful. It doesn't matter how built your body is, I still want it."

Sumin chokes on his own breath. Jinsik does too, if the panicked tongue-tied noises that accompany Sumin's wheezing have anything to show for it.

"I mean—not like that, I didn't—yes like that but—" Jinsik's half-sentence ends in a whine that he muffles into his free hand. Sumin lets out a flustered laugh, squeezing Jinsik's hand in reassurance.

"It's okay, I get what you mean. Do you want to keep going?" Sumin asks, his smile coming naturally now that some of the tension between them has dissolved. "You don't have to say it out loud, just kiss me if you do."

Jinsik wastes no time in diving right back in, twisting his hand so he can entwine his fingers with Sumin's as their lips meet. He's smiling against Sumin's lips, kissing him with a familiar spark behind it that has Sumin's heart swooping. He's grown more daring with this latest break, his free hand seeking out Sumin's and guiding it to his own waist. Sumin flails for half a second until Jinsik's tongue returns and he's gladly digging his fingers into that soft warmth. He's tempted to dip his hand under the fabric between him and Jinsik's skin, feel the way his muscles tense under him, maybe dig his nails in and leave marks somewhere the stylists won't see. He refrains. Better to let Jinsik make the first move on that front.

As if on cue, Jinsik's free hand slips under his shirt—not far, just his fingertips skimming over the jut of his hip. Sumin still feels sparks from his touch. Jinsik starts to pull back—most likely to check if that's okay with him—and Sumin surges up to reconnect them. This is more than okay with him, Jinsik could do pretty much whatever he wanted and Sumin would let him.

"Please," he whispers, in case Jinsik needs more clarity. Jinsik grins at him, somehow adorable and absolutely wicked at the same time. He gestures for Sumin to wait, pushing himself up to the headboard and propping himself up with his pillow. Heat rushes to Sumin's face. He can't possibly mean—! All of Sumin's thoughts fracture into nothing when Jinsik makes a "come hither" movement with his fingers. That has absolutely no right to be as hot as it is! Sumin bites back a fucking mewl as he crawls into Jinsik's lap, heat pooling honey-slow in his stomach. He settles a safe distance from Jinsik—close enough to not risk falling off, but still far enough for some breathing room just in case—hyper aware of how his legs are bracketing Jinsik's hips.

Contrasting Sumin's expectations, Jinsik doesn't immediately start digging into him. He's slow instead, almost reverent in the way he slides his hands up Sumin's thighs and up his shirt. Sumin lets out a shaky sigh as those pretty hands skirt over his hips, one hand settling at his waist and the other continuing up to his chest until he can trace the scars there. He's painfully gentle, glancing up into Sumin's eyes as his fingers follow the lines left by Sumin's surgeon.

Jinsik tilts his head up at him. He already knows about this aspect of Sumin's life, but they've never really gone into extensive detail about it. Sumin can see the questions drifting about in the sea of love that are Jinsik's eyes. Is it okay to touch you here? Did it hurt? What was it like, having to deal with this before? Sumin only nods to answer the first, the rest can come later.

"Come here, jagi," Sumin murmurs. "Don't be shy." He drapes his arms around Jinsik's neck, playing with the collar of his shirt. He sort of wants to take it off him, expose the unmarred skin underneath and ravage him until he's fully marked up as his and only his. He refrains, though. He'll wait for Jinsik to let him first, and he has plenty of patience.

Jinsik, ever the sweet boyfriend, pulls Sumin into a hug. He sighs against the crook of Sumin's neck, soft lips brushing over his throat. Sumin shivers under him, yet again reminded of the sharp teeth hidden behind that softness.

"Love you," Jinsik whispers, and then he's pressing a kiss to Sumin's pulse point and sinking those teeth in.

"Ah—!" Sumin's gasp is far too loud for the space they're in; although it's not like he's in any state to care. He tangles his fingers into Jinsik's hair to hold him there, even when it starts to hurt. Jinsik releases him right when it's at the edge of too much, lapping his tongue over the bite like some kind of beast. Sumin keens, tilting his head to give Jinsik better access.

Jinsik practically purrs , kissing and biting his way down Sumin's neck until he's filling the room with his gasps and bitten-off moans. He soothes every bite with his tongue, the hand on Sumin's waist tracing patterns into his skin to ground him as he squirms.

"Love you," Jinsik whispers after a particularly hard bite. "Love you so much."

The hand that had been tracing his scars comes to rest over Sumin's heart, perhaps the only thing keeping it from beating out of his chest. Sumin would let him take it out of its cage any day, hold him while it bleeds and beats just for him. A year earlier, he would have been scared to be so completely at Jinsik's mercy; now it just thrills him all the more. Jinsik is good to him—too good, sometimes—he can handle a little pain.

"I love you too," Sumin sighs. "More than I can ever say." Jinsik makes a soft noise of dissent. He takes his hand out from under Sumin's shirt to press a finger to his lips. Sumin understands it perfectly: "Don't say it, then. Just show me."

He does exactly that, entwining his hand with Jinsik's and kissing him hard. Jinsik hums appreciatively against his lips, opening up to his mercy. Sumin nearly nicks his tongue against Jinsik's teeth, drawing a low moan from his boyfriend.

Oh. So this is how he had been feeling.

Sumin's world tints pink upon this first taste of control; he'd very much like to drown in it now that he knows the hold he has over Jinsik. He hardly lets himself up to breathe, diving in deeper every time he returns. With the way he now leans over Jinsik, he's forced to guide his hands to his hips to avoid hurting Jinsik's wrist; he has to dig his fingers in to ground himself at some points. Sumin hopes they leave bruises.

He shifts a little so he can return the favour, bracing Jinsik's neck with one hand while the other snakes up the side of Jinsik's shirt. He openly moans into Jinsik's mouth when he reaches the dip of his waist, toned and irresistible. He's going to have a hard time keeping his hands off once tonight is over. Jinsik shivers, ticklish under his touch. Sumin itches to dig his nails in. Would Jinsik like it as much as he likes Jinsik's grip on his hips? Would he squirm away from his hand, breaking the kiss to laugh? He lightly scratches down Jinsik's waist, just to test the waters. 

Jinsik jolts at the contact, breaking the kiss with a gasp. Sumin's halfway to pulling back to ask if he's okay until Jinsik's squeezing his hips so hard they definitely bruise. The noise he makes is so desperate that there's no way that Sumin could possibly misinterpret it—especially not when accompanied by the pleading look in those dewy eyes.

"Do you like that, jagi?" he coos, even though he already knows the answer. Jinsik nods so hard that he nearly clocks Sumin in the jaw if not for his quick reflexes. He presses quick, insistent kisses all along Sumin's jaw; his form of begging when he isn't in the mood to speak. Fuck, he's so cute. Sumin obliges before Jinsik can start whining, leaning down to claim his lips and his waist this time. The kiss starts off gentle, a stark contrast to the blunt scrape of his nails in Jinsik's skin.

It's hard not to be a little rough from then onward. Jinsik's reactions are intoxicating; arching into Sumin's touch the harder and higher up his chest that he scratches, moaning into Sumin's mouth until he's sucking on Sumin's tongue to muffle himself. Sumin feels fucking feral. The heat that had been smoldering in his stomach has long blazed into something out of control, throbbing dully deep inside him to the beat of his racing heart. Jinsik is just as hot—both figuratively and literally—but it doesn't stop Sumin from pulling himself ever closer into his lap. He wants to be closer, wants to feel him until just touching isn't enough, until there's nothing between them and—

Oh.

Oh.

Jinsik pulls back with a yelp, his entire body snapping taut like a puppet's. It takes half a second for him to regain control of his hands; another hand second for him to start pushing Sumin away. The sharp knife of alarm is quick to cut through Sumin's haze of arousal, though the whiplash in mood has him a little sluggish.

He scrambles to get off Jinsik's lap, his legs tangling with themselves and tripping him so he falls somewhere farther down the mattress. He shakes himself back to a state of semi-clarity, his chest heaving to catch his breath.

"Jagiya? You okay?" he asks. Sure the sudden rejection may sting a little, but something had clearly spooked Jinsik; his comfort is more important than Sumin's libido—he has his hands and a toy for that.

Jinsik makes a whine of distress, patting at the sheets in search of his phone. His eyes dart every which way, so quickly that Sumin feels dizzy just looking at him. He's still panting heavily—which would be incredibly hot in any other context than this clear panic. Sumin's stomach drops in dread. What had he done? What can he do?

"Jinsik, please breathe," Sumin murmurs shakily. "I'm not upset. You know that I'm not upset, right?" He rushes to reassure him, though there isn't much he can do from here but hope that his words get through to him. Jinsik doesn't do well with being touched during an upcoming meltdown. Jinsik gives a somewhat absent nod, half-choking on his own breath. It at least forces him to slow down slightly, a drop of clarity returning to his eyes. "Looking for your phone?" Jinsik nods again, heaving one last painful breath before swallowing and forcing himself to steady his breathing. His hands tangle white-knuckled in the sheets, unsuccessful in their search. Sumin remembers it had been in his pocket; one glance at Jinsik's lap is enough to tell him it's still there. Something else is also quite prominent that hadn't been there before.

Sumin's face flushes a deep red, and he turns his head away so quickly that his neck cracks.

"It's, uh," he stammers, clearing his throat. "It's still in your pocket." He spots the cardigan that Jinsik had discarded earlier and blindly tosses it in his direction; a little cover so they can both have a little cover from the, uh, situation at hand.

There's a strained sort of hum of thanks from Jinsik, then the room falls silent save for the frantic tapping of Jinsik's fingers on his phone. Sumin uses the time to calm himself down and think of how to respond to whatever Jinsik has to say. Realistically, he should have known something like this would have happened. Sure they've made out before, but never this intensely—not to mention ever getting this close to going a step further. It's a natural progression for a relationship, but they need to talk about these kinds of things first. Even though they had fallen for each other at first sight, they still talked just as friends for months, then talked through every step of their relationship once they—and the rest of the group—were unable to ignore their feelings for each other. They'd had plenty of conversations about how to properly accommodate Jinsik—that also ended up helping the rest of the group as a whole—and perhaps they could have had a few more conversations about Sumin's body and what he could or couldn't do with the others, but this... This is a complete blind zone for them both. No wonder Jinsik had panicked so badly.

Jinsik growls in frustration from his place at the headboard. Sumin glances over at him—the cardigan is securely over his lap and concealing their main source of stress—and is met with the sight of him glaring at his own phone, erasing another message.

"Jagi," he calls out, softly enough to not startle him but firmly enough that Jinsik pauses his typing. "You don't have to be so stressed out. I'm not upset at you. It's only natural that you panicked, we didn't talk about this beforehand. I'm sorry for startling you." He makes his way back to Jinsik's side as he speaks, careful not to touch him. Jinsik sighs, some tension visibly bleeding from his shoulders as he types up one last line.

"M really sorry for freaking out it ws jst 2 much yeobo m sry :(" it says on one line. The next line under it reads: "I know ure not mad bt I still feel bad for it since u obviously rly liked it" . The third and final line reads: "Ye we def still need 2 talk bcus I rly don't think I'm ready to do that yet m sry :("

"Yah, stop apologizing!" Sumin chides out loud as he reads through them. Jinsik flinches, but he at least manages a weak smile. "It doesn't matter how much I liked it, now I'm just worried that I was pushing you. How were you feeling?" he asks. Normally, he would take Jinsik's phone to type that up himself, but his brain is going too fast for his fingers at the moment and he needs to let Jinsik know that none of this is his fault nor would Sumin ever hold this to him as fast as he can. Jinsik takes it well, typing out a new message in response.

"I liked it 2, if ure nervous abt scratching me u rly don't have 2 worry bcus I liked that the most" Jinsik hides his face with his free hand while he shows this one to Sumin, although Sumin can still see the blush creeping down his ears and neck. He breathes a sigh of relief; that had been exactly what he was worried about.

"That's good, because I liked doing it," Sumin admits, his voice fraying a little at the edges near the end. He clears his throat to try again. "I liked it when you bit me. I already thought I would, but having it actually happen was a totally different experience." Jinsik's breath hitches, and he yanks the phone back to type another line.

"How long were u thinking abt that?!" It's Sumin's turn to blush this time. Would it be too much to admit it?

"Since we were making those first short-forms with Young Prince for Let's Go Xikers," he mutters. Jinsik makes a strangled noise in response instead of typing out a message. "That's when I first noticed! Then I just couldn't un-notice, and then I would watch your fancams for fun and you were always grinning so widely and showing off your teeth, so I would start thinking, and then—" Sumin cuts off his own rambling with a muted scream that he muffles into his hands. The bed creaks with Jinsik's laughter next to him, so contagious that he can't help but laugh as well, slightly delirious from the emotional rollercoaster that he's just been through. "Ugh, don't get me started on it, I'll work myself up again..." he groans into his hands.

As much as he's tried to talk himself down—and this conversation has certainly helped—he's still running quite hot. He should probably leave if Jinsik is still overwhelmed; he knows Jinsik prefers company to help him calm down, but if he still wants him during this, it'll do no good. Jinsik taps his shoulder after a moment, a new message displayed on his phone.

"I don't mind that part.. I don't want u 2 leave, I jst don't want 2 do more than kiss" Jinsik takes the phone back before Sumin can respond, typing up an addition at lightning speed. “As long as that's ok with u? If u want to leave I won't stop u bt I want u to stay" Sumin's heart melts at the sight.

"Of course I'll stay," he says with a smile. "I'm tired after all that anyway, I won't go as far if we keep going." Jinsik hums in contentment and pockets his phone to pull him into his arms. Sumin easily goes along with his embrace, guiding them down so they're lying down properly. He rests his head on Jinsik's chest, lulled by his heartbeat. It's still faster than usual, but at least not pounding hard enough to cause concern. Jinsik's hand comes up to play with his hair, gentle fingers undoing the knots that had been woven into it by their earlier action. Sumin all but purrs. He brings his own hand up to trace mindless patterns over Jinsik's chest that eventually morph into a repeating "I love you."

It doesn't take long for Jinsik to notice, and then he's smiling and pulling Sumin up to kiss him again. It's tender this time, still relatively heated but free of the urgency of all their previous kisses. Sumin sighs against him. He already sort of is, but still; he could get used to this.

There's a knock on the door before he can, though. They both freeze, staring at each other in mutual dread. If anyone else walks in on them like this, they'll never hear the end of it!

"Jinsik-hyung? Are you sleeping?" Yujun's voice sounds faintly from behind the door. They let out a sigh of relief in unison; Yujun will at least wait for a response before coming in.

"Yes, you were until he knocked," Sumin whispers, tugging the blankets out from under himself and tossing them over both their bodies. "Just roll with it. If he asks, I'm still sleeping." Jinsik nods, pulling out his phone to type out a message for Yujun. Sumin spots him saving his previous messages to him in another folder before opening up a new one before he's rolling over and shutting his eyes. If he can't help but smile in his pretend sleep, that's only for him to know.

===

Yujun can faintly hear a vaguely awake noise from behind Jinsik's closed door. He knocks again, just to be sure.

"Hyung? Can I come in?" he asks. Jinsik gives an approving hum, and he cracks the door open.

Jinsik's lying propped up on one arm, his phone held out in one hand with a message for Yujun to read. Next to him, Sumin is fast asleep.

"Sry, out of words today. We were just taking a nap, what's happening?" Yujun makes a little "ah" in understanding upon reading Jinsik's message. Everyone's been tired while preparing for this comeback, he doesn't blame him or Sumin for wanting a little more rest.

"It's dinnertime, Junmin-hyung bought takeout." Jinsik nods, pausing to glance over at Sumin before typing out his next message. Yujun's heart squeezes in envy. His hyungs are so cute together, when can he have something like that?

"We'll b right out, let me jst wake up Sleeping Beauty and we'll b right there" Yujun fake gags at how sappy his hyung is. Jinsik huffs out a laugh and halfheartedly swipes at him, but Yujun is quick to dodge.

"Couples," he mutters under his breath. "I'll let the others know you're coming, take your time!" he says as he steps out.

He closes the door behind him, and five minutes later his hyungs are trudging out of Jinsik's room looking at least vaguely put together for a couple of people waking up from an afternoon nap.

"Oh my GOD," Hyunwoo shrieks when the two sit down. "I knew you two were fucking!" Everyone else chokes except Junghoon, unbothered as always.

"Language!" Minjae and Junmin hiss in unison over Yechan's hysterical laughter.

"We were not ," Sumin growls, death glaring Hyunwoo so hard that Hunter half hides behind Seeun. Jinsik is fighting himself to form words properly, frantically tapping at his phone for a response. Yujun blinks in confusion.

"Yeah, they were asleep!" he cuts in. Then he catches sight of Sumin's neck. One side is entirely covered with marks, varying shades of pink blooming across his skin.

Oh god.

The stylists are going to kill them for this!

[captain-fantasy]

PLEASEEEE CONTINUE A CHAPTER OF MINE WITH BEN BARNESSS PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE IM BEGGING YOUUUUU

Surrender - Billy Russo x f!reader

Sequel to Mine which you can read here

Warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected sex, no review

author's note: giving the people what they want

The walk back home from the party was tense. You couldn’t shake off the weight of the words that had come out from Billy. The revelation of his feelings for you had affected you in ways you hadn’t expected. 

When you reached your apartment, neither of you said a word. Instead, you opened the door and shrugged off your coat, handing it to Billy so he could hang it on one of the hooks on the wall. Still in silence, you crossed the room and opened the doors to the balcony, stepping outside and letting the soothing night breeze brush against your skin, momentarily relieving the heat that had built up inside you throughout the night. Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice when Billy approached you, his voice being the first to break the silence. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice light. 

Startled, you turn to face him, momentarily at a loss for words. He wore an unreadable expression, his features concealed by the shadows of the night. 

“Of course,” you whispered, unsure if your voice was strong enough to speak normally. 

The two of you sat silently for a moment, the faint sounds of cars driving below and dull city noise from outside. 

“I think we need to figure out what we want,” Billy started.

Time seemed to stand still at that moment, the air heavy with tension. Billy’s intense gaze bore into your eyes, his black eyes reflecting a dark storm. There was a fire within him, a volatile mixture of emotions threatening to consume both of you. But behind that facade, you saw a vulnerability you’d never noticed. 

You reached out and placed a hand on his, the connection sparking an electric current that pulsed between you. “I agree,” you whispered, your voice filled with apprehension, “We can’t ignore what’s between us anymore.”

Billy’s gaze softened, the storm within his eyes receding to reveal a glimmer of hope. Slowly, he closed the distance between you, his hand caressing your cheek with a tenderness you hadn’t expected. The touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep within your core. 

“I don’t know what came over me tonight, y/n. I think- Seeing you with Matt I-, It drove me crazy. I wanted you all to myself. I’m drawn to you; I have been since we met. Every night we’re together, I can’t get enough.”

Your heart swelled at his words, his vulnerability taking your breath away. At that moment, you realized the depth of his emotions, the intensity of his desire. It was a revelation that left you trembling, yearning for more. 

“Billy,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, “I feel the same way. Every minute without you feels like a part of me is missing. You complete me, Bill. Your hands, your eyes, your touch. I’m in love with every part of you.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight kiss that ignited a fire within you. It was an act of surrender, a melody of two souls finally finding harmony. The world faded away, and you were consumed by the intensity of your shared connection.

At that moment, time ceased to exist. Your bodies intertwined, moving with a rhythm that defied words. It was a language only you two understood, a symphony of desire and passion that painted the night with the colors of ecstasy.

Billy’s kiss got more insistent, needier. His hands had begun to slip underneath the hem of your skirt, tracing dangerously close to the wet spot in your underwear that had reappeared when he started touching you. Your skin felt like it was on fire, your breaths were short, and Billy’s beard left a slight burn while he bit at the skin on your neck. Your breathing quickened, and your head turned to reveal a nearly empty street. Suddenly, you were aware that you were still technically in public, and anyone who looked at your building would receive an eyeful from you and Billy. 

“Bill-hey, maybe we shouldn’t do this here-”

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your skin. His lips had begun to travel down your body, leaving fresh marks on your chest and neck. He pushed the material around your thighs as he met your waist, letting it bunch above your hips, allowing better access to where he wanted. He could see the effect he had on you for the first time. The wet spot on your underwear had gradually grown, making Billy smirk at how easily he could mold you into putty whenever he touched you. 

“Please, Billy,” you whined. Your fingers brushed through Billy’s hair, trying to pull him where you wanted him the most. Your neediness made him chuckle, his eyes staring up at you while he placed a soft kiss and licked your clothed clit. 

His nails scratched your skin as he pulled your almost entirely soaked-through panties down your legs. Billy gathered some of the wetness that had begun to drip onto your thighs with his index finger, pushing it into you and grazing over your clit. Your head fell back as he slid his tongue into your entrance, spreading it flat before dragging it up, driving you crazy. 

The moans he was letting out vibrated through your entire body, focusing on your clit as he sucked it between his teeth, using one hand to expertly curl his fingers into your sopping entrance while the other held onto your thigh to keep you still. 

Your whines became short and breathy as you tried to muffle them, hands tightly gripping the railing to keep yourself from falling over. You finally felt a sweet release as it poured out of you, allowing Billy to drink it. You were sure that if you let go of the railing, your legs would completely give out underneath you, so you decided it was best to keep your grip on it. 

Once Billy decided he had sufficiently cleaned you up, he stood up, towering over you, his eyes black and hooded, full of lust. He kissed you again, this time tenderly, sweetly. You could taste yourself on him when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, delicately exploring yours as if it were new terrain for him. You could feel his bulge through his pants. Deciding to be bold, you slipped your hand under his waistband, smiling when you heard him make a strained moan. He was painfully hard as he stared at you, silently begging you for more. 

You slipped his pants down just enough to pull his length out, your soft palm massaging the precum out of his cock. You released your grip on the balcony railing, moving it to rest on his shoulder, pulling him close to you. His hands were stationed on your waist, his sight focused on the dirty image of his cock diving into you. Your moans synchronized when he was entirely inside you, allowing you to feel every vein and twitch of his cock, a luxury you weren’t awarded earlier in the night when he roughly pounded into you in a stranger’s bedroom. 

This was different, something you hadn’t experienced with him. It was full of love. Every touch, kiss, and heavy breath showed you there was more to Billy than you thought. 

These thoughts faded when you felt yourself on the brink of orgasm again. Billy’s sloppy thrusts and tight grip on you showed you he was close too but insisted on holding off until you came first. Relief wasn’t far, though, as you came almost instantly when his cock touched your g-spot perfectly, causing every hair on your body to stand up and warmth to wash over you like warm water. He finished soon after you, his hips slightly stuttering before fully pushing himself in you, tight ropes of cum filling your belly. 

As your breathing regulated, you looked up at him, your chests becoming in sync. His eyes, once filled with the intensity of passion, now held a new warmth, a tenderness that wasn’t there mere minutes ago. The streets were hushed, the echoes of your shared ecstasy slowly dissipating. 

You traced a finger along his jawline, marveling at the subtle changes in his expression. The rugged exterior he often wore was gone. Instead, it was as if the layers of his past were shed, revealing a man desperate for connection. 

“I never expected this,” he whispered, his voice laced with awe. “To feel this connected to another person again.”

You smiled, your heart brimming with affection. You couldn’t find any words that would describe your love, but you figured you would have time to show him. 

As you sat there, bodies still intertwined, you knew that this moment was the beginning of a new chapter. You nestled closer to Billy, your bodies finding comfort in each other’s embrace. In the serenity of that shared embrace, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you would be doing together. 

buy me a ko-fi?

[vodika-vibes]

Ner Kar'ta

Summary: As a long time servant of Palpatine, you take what joy can can when you can. And for Commander Fox, the lost Prince of Mandalore, you are the only bright spot in his life. And now Palpatine knows it.

Pairing: Prince!Fox x Reader

Word Count: 3023

Warnings: Angst

Mando'a used: Ner Kar'ta - lit. My heart

A/N: This is technically a sorta sequel to the Wolffe version of this AU. Technically. But you don't have to read it to understand. Also, while I would normally write this tomorrow, I got mugged by a wild plot bunny, so here it is.

Divider by saradika

You quietly hurry down the cold hallway, the torches Lord Palpatine uses to light the part of his palace devoted to his servants barely bright enough to cast enough light, let alone offer any warmth to the people unfortunate enough to call it home.

You’ve gotten very good at layering to stay warm. Though your slippers do little to protect your feet from the chill of the stone beneath your feet. But, it’s better to have cold feet than to wear something thicker that might make more noise.

Silence is the name of the game as one of Lord Palpatine’s servants.

And you are very good at silence.

You turn down a side hallway, your feet leading you to a specific room. Though you falter when you notice the red clad guards standing at the door. Lord Palpatine’s Imperial Guard.

Why they’re called that, you’re not sure, but it doesn’t matter. The red clad men and women are as cruel and vicious as the men who hold their leashes. You press your back against the wall and duck your head, your arms folding tightly around the rough cloth satchel in your arms. The red clad guards don’t even glance towards you. Which is probably the only upside to being a servant, you are so unimportant that you might as well not exist.

The door to the room that is your final destination swings open, and you immediately stop leaning against the wall, and bow your head. You hear heavy footsteps, and then a pair of heavy boots stops in front of you. 

You don’t look up as Lord Vader stops in front of you, and you can feel him glaring down at you with those terrifying yellow eyes. “You are here to tend to the Commander’s injuries.” His voice is flat, and his sentence, which should have been a question, comes out more as an order.

“Yes, My lord,” You whisper, your voice barely loud enough to be heard.

There’s silence for another moment, which, to you, feels like an eternity, and then the boots turn away from you, “The Commander has a few broken bones, girl. See to it that he’s healed properly for his duty in the morning.”

“Yes, my lord. Right away, my lord.” You keep your head bowed until Lord Vader and the Imperial Guards are gone, and only then do you feel comfortable lifting your head and hurrying down the hall.

You open the door only wide enough for you to slip in, “Commander?” You ask from the doorway just before you shut the door with a quiet click. The room is just as badly lit as the hallway, but even so, you’re able to see the Commander sprawled on his mattress. 

You cross the room as quickly as you dare, and you smoothly sink to your knees next to his head. Quickly, and with the ease of long experience, you remove the Commander’s helmet, “Fox? Are you with me?”

He groans and slowly opens his eyes.

He looks…bad. His bruises have bruises, though you don’t see any blood, thank the stars for small mercies, you suppose.  “Ner kar’ta,” He murmurs.

Relief washes through you when he speaks, his voice rough from disuse, and in spite of his bruises and injuries, his eyes are bright and alert, so no head injury this time.

“I’m going to remove your armor.” You whisper, “Where is the pain the worst?”

His lips curl up into a ghost of a smile, “Buy a guy dinner first, ner kar’ta.” He jokes weakly.

“Well, it’s your lucky day. I was able to smuggle some fresh fruit from the kitchens as well as a sandwich.” You reply, lowering your voice even more.

“Risky,” He murmurs.

“You’re worth it.” You reassure gently, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder, “Now, please, where is the pain the worst?”

“Chest, ribs. Vader was pissed today, don’t know why.” He groans lowly as you, as gently as possible, start unfastening his armor and setting it to the side.

“He didn’t seem any angrier than usual when I ran into him,” You reply as you carefully help him sit up to remove his back plate, and then lay him back on the mattress.

Fox grabs your wrist to stop your movements, “Ner kar’ta…You ran into Vader?” He asks, something like panic crossing his face as he scans you for any injuries, “Are you hurt?”

“No. He spoke with me, but that’s all.” You run your fingers soothingly across the top of his hand, “I’m not important enough to hurt, my love, please don’t worry about me.”

“Can’t help it,” Fox replies as the tension drains out of him, now that he’s sure that you’re uninjured, “You’re the only good thing in this place.”

I love you, he means. And you both know it. Though speaking the words out loud brings too much risk. And Fox would sooner rip his own arm off than ever say anything that would make your life more dangerous than it already is. You don’t need to hear the words to know the truth, after all.

You favor him with a tender smile, and you press your lips against the top of his hand, before you carefully set it on the bed as well. You move down his body and swiftly strip off the rest of his armor, stacking all of it neatly at the end of his bed.

“Can you remove your undershirt, Fox?” You ask as you settle next to him again, this time opening the satchel and sorting through the various ointments and potions.

“Not without help, I’m afraid.”

“That’s okay, that's why I’m here.” You lean in and slowly help him remove his shirt, revealing a patchwork of bruises, including the angry red ones from his broken ribs. You blink rapidly, to keep your tears from falling, but it doesn’t help. It never does.

His hand moves and cups your cheek, “I always seem to be making you cry, ner kar’ta.”

You sniffle, “Not you, Fox. Never you.”

His smile is slightly rueful, and it becomes a little more real as you turn your head and kiss the palm of his hand. He lowers his arm back to the bed as you start examining bottles. “Palpatine and Vader have been furious for the last couple of days,” He offers, “Have you heard anything?”

You hum thoughtfully as you pick a bottle and start applying the cool ointment to his bruises, “I have, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Tell me anyway.” Fox replies as his voice catches when you press a little too hard against a bruise.

“Sorry,” You lighten your touch slightly, as you consider where to begin, “Palpatine caught one of the Prince’s of Mandalore and the Wizard apprentice to Mandalore.” You explain quietly, feeling Fox tense under your fingers.

“Which Prince?”

You shoot him an apologetic look, “Prince Wolffe,”

Fox closes his eyes and there’s a tremor through his body. You’re not supposed to know that Fox is one of the Prince’s of Mandalore. And you’re definitely not supposed to know that he’s Prince Wolffe’s identical twin brother.

So far as you’re aware, though, you’re the only person outside of Palpatine and Vader who know.

“What happened, ner kar’ta?”

You switch to a different bottle and pour out a small measurement into a glass, “Drink this, it’ll help the broken bones and any internal injuries,” You explain softly, lifting his head slightly so he can drink the elixir without choking, “As for what happened…well, rumor is that Lord Vader helped the little wizard escape from her bonds, and then she managed to break through the protective spells on the tower, and they escaped.”

“And my brother?”

“Alive, so far as I’m aware.”

“Good. That’s good,” Fox closes his eyes, “What else?”

“The Nations are now aware of Palpatine. And Vader.” You whisper.

Fox releases a laugh, “Oh, that’s why Palpatine is so angry. He probably took it out on Vader-” He slowly sits up and twists slightly, before releasing a sigh of relief, “That’s much better.”

“I’m not done,” You fret, your hands fluttering towards the angry looking bruises on his stomach.

He reaches out and cups your face with his hands, “When we get out of here,” Fox murmurs as he leans in and lightly presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, “I’m taking you someplace tropic, where you can lay on a beach chair and drink fruity little drinks out of coconuts.”

“Oh? And where are you while I’m getting drunk from coconuts?” You ask fondly, as you continue treating his bruises.

“I’m right there with you. We’ll spend a year doing nothing but relaxing.” Fox murmurs.

“A whole year?”

“Mm. Maybe we’ll go swimming.” He decides as he opens his eyes, “Does that sound nice to you, ner kar’ta?”

“It sounds like a dream,” You murmur, “But it sounds like a dream that I’d like to see.”

He hums quietly, and tilts your head just enough to ghost his lips against yours. He doesn’t allow himself anymore than that, just a brush of your lips against his, before he’s pulling back. “I’ll make it happen, ner kar’ta. I promise.”

You smile at him, though it’s tinged with sadness. You both know that it’s probably never going to happen. “Here,” You reach into the satchel and hand him a sandwich and a fresh fruit, “Eat. I’ll treat the rest of your bruises.”

Fox eats quickly while you finish treating the rest of his injuries, and then you sit back on your heels and slide the treatments back into your satchel.

“...you should go.” Fox murmurs.

“I don’t want to.”

“I know.” He reaches out and lightly caresses your cheek, “In an ideal world, you wouldn’t have to. But I need you to go.”

“I know.” You don’t move for a moment longer, and then you shudder, and carefully get to your feet. You gather your satchel, and make sure there’s nothing indicating that you brought Fox food, and then you lean in and kiss his forehead, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fox physically restrains himself from reaching out to touch you, knowing that if he does neither of you will want you to leave. “Be careful, ner kar’ta.”

You flash him one more smile, and then slip out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind you, and heading back to the room you share with seven other people.

The following morning begins as it normally does. You, and the other servants, are woken far, far too early to begin your prep work for the day. Food is prepped, and rooms are opened just in case Lord Palpatine has any visitors, which he never does, and then you start your normal daily upkeep.

You manage to finish the meal prep (no one can cut veggies as quickly or as uniformly as you can) and you’re about to head out to start cleaning Lord Palpatine’s trophy room (which is far, far less ominous than it sounds, thankfully) when you’re approached by two members of the Imperial Guard.

As per your norm, you move to the side, to allow them to pass…but they don’t. They stop in front of you.

“You need to come with us,” One of the identically dressed men said in monotone.

Terror grips your heart, but you obediently set your dust cloth on a counter, “Of course.”

One of the guards falls into step in front of you, and the other one right behind you, and they march you through the halls until you're standing in Lord Palpatine’s throne room.

You bow deeply towards Lord Palpatine and Lord Vader, and then you stop moving. “This is the one?” Lord Palpatine asks.

“Yes, my lord,” a different Imperial Guard says.

“Hm.” A rough hand grabs your chin and your head is jerked up so you’re looking into Palpatine’s eyes, “How long have you worked for me, girl?”

“Since Naboo, my lord.” You reply quietly, he releases you and you have to fight the urge to rub at the bruises that you’re sure are forming.

“I see.” He circles you, like a vulture, and your hands start shaking, “Have you any magic talent, girl?”

“N-no, my lord.”

“I see.” Palpatine finishes circling you and returns to his throne, something cruel crossing his face, “CC-1010.” He calls, “Come here.”

Your heart thud painfully in your chest as Fox steps out from a side room. He’s totally clad in his red and white armor, and his face his hidden from you, but you can feel his eyes on you. “You called me, sir?” he asks, his voice carefully masked by his helmet.

“Kill her.” Palpatine orders.

You take half a step back, and your eyes go wide. Fox hesitates for half a second, not so long that anyone other than you would notice, and then he steps between you and Palpatine.

His hands tremor as he pulls a hunting knife from a sheathe on his hip, and he moves closer to you, until you can feel the heat from his body. He rests the tip of the blade against the hollow of your throat, making a small nick against the thin skin there, and then lightly drags it down to rest against your sternum.

“Trust me?” He asks, his voice low enough that you barely heard him despite how close you’re standing to him.

“Always,” You breathe out in response.

And then the blade pushes home, piercing the tender flesh of your chest with little resistance. There’s blinding pain for a moment, and then there’s nothing.

*********

You wake up some time later, tired and in pain, but very much alive. You’re wrapped in bandages, and for some reason you’re outside.

You blink at the sky, twice, not sure if you’re seeing what you think you’re seeing, and then you turn your head to see if you can figure out what’s going on. 

There, only a few feet away from you, Fox is sitting. His hands are shaking and he’s covered in cuts, burns, and bruises, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or care, that he’s staining his armor.

“You’re bleeding,” You mumble, as you try to sit up to help him.

His head whips to the side, and a look of such relief crosses his face that you think he’s about to cry, “Hey, ner kar’ta, you need to lay still. You’re hurt really badly.”

You reach out for him, and he immediately takes your hand in his shaking one, “You’re hurt,” You repeat, your eyes scanning his face, tracing the bruises and cuts.

He presses his lips against your knuckles, “It’s no more than I deserve,” He replies, “Fuck, I stabbed you, ner kar’ta.”

“I’m still alive though,” You point out as you squeeze his hand, “And if you hadn’t one of the others would have.”

“Never should have done it,” Fox mumbles against your hand, “Should have thought of another plan.”

“Fox? How am I still alive?” You ask.

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against your hand, “I made contingencies, should Palpatine learn about us and try to use you against me.” Fox admits, his voice shaking, “When I nicked your throat with my blade, I injected a potion that put you into a stasis, so when I-when I stabbed you-” His voice breaks, and he swallows hard, “It didn’t do any damage.”

“That’s incredibly clever, my love.” You praise gently, as you stroke his hand. “What happened after?”

“I…uh…I took responsibility for disposing of your body,” Fox says quietly, “And so I took you and I ran.”

“But you’re hurt?”

“Imperial Guards,” He replies, and something grimly triumphant flickers across his face, “They won’t come after us again. Not when I killed six of Palpatine’s Imperial Guards. He won’t risk Vader against me, or himself.”

“So we’re home free?”

“Not just yet, but…” Fox runs his fingers through his curly hair, “We’ll be passing into Mandalorian territory within the next couple of days. Do you think you can sit up, ner kar’ta?”

Slowly, with Fox’s help, you sit up. Your chest twinges uncomfortably, but you’re not in active pain, which you’re sure to mention to Fox. Which does wonders to wash the guilt from his face.

He moves so his side is pressed against you, and his hands slide up to cup your face, and you close your eyes and lean into his touch, “What happens now?” You whisper, your eyes fluttering closed, as you relax against him.

“Now I take you home, introduce you to my family, and we go on a year long vacation where the only thing we have to worry about is getting you more sunblock.” Fox replies.

You smile, and slowly open your eyes, “That sounds perfect.”

“We deserve perfection, I think.” He says.

Your hands come up and you lightly cup his face, “Hey Fox,” You murmur, “Did you know that I love you?” You speak the words slowly and clearly, able to speak them outloud for the first time without having to worry about anyone hurting him.

He smiles and kisses your hands, “I love you too,” He whispers, “And no one is ever going to try and use you against me ever again.” Something dangerous glimmers in his eyes, and you believe him.

You smile at him, all warmth and love, “Good.” You whisper, and you pretend that you can’t hear the knives in your voice. No one would ever use him either. Never again. Not if you had a say in it.

His smile grows into a grin, and he leans in and kisses you, properly, for the first time, his hands sliding around and burying in your hair as he holds you like he’s wanted to for ages.

And you, thrilled to no longer have to hide in dim corridors and rooms that smell of iron and pain, press yourself as close to him as possible. This was all you’ve ever wanted in your life, and now that you have it, you’re going to hold it as tight as you can.

[dropintomanga]

Video Games for Mental Health - AI: The Somnium Files

~Resist, allow your heart to take you! Never let this merciless world erase you! Passing down the light of the torch to guide you, And you shall be bathed in light!~

When it comes to reading visual material, one would usually think picture books. In the case of pop culture fans, there’s Western comic books and manga. But there’s a whole other medium that has gotten a lot of exposure since the start of the 2010s’ - visual novels. While there’s many notable VNs to discuss, I want to take a look at Team Zero Escape’s/Spike Chunsoft’s AI: The Somnium Files (AI is pronounced as “eye”) franchise due to its focus on finding connections and how messy the process can be.

This will largely be spoiler-free because discussing everything that happens in both games will take forever.

AI: The Somnium Files, created by Kotaro Uchikoshi (who’s most famous for creating the Zero Escape and Danganronpa series), is a murder mystery starring special detective Kaname Date and his AI partner, Aiba, who takes the form of Date’s left eye. The two have to find a serial killer, the New Cyclops Serial Killer, who’s plucking eyeballs off of people they murder. Date finds out one of the victims was a woman he knows and discovers that a young girl has the supposed murder weapon in her hands. Along the way, Date and Aiba meet a variety of people who help and/or hurt their investigation. To get to the truth, Date goes into people’s minds and dreams with the help of Aiba. There are a lot of twists as there are multiple routes and endings that all come together in one wild package.

There’s also a sequel that just came out in 2022 - AI: The Somnium Files -nirvanA Initiative-. The story takes place 6 years later after the 1st game. The premise goes as this - months after the events of the 1st game, the right half of a corpse was found. 6 years later, the left half of the same corpse was found with no decay at all. It’s up to 2 new protagonists, Mizuki (who is a major supporting character in the 1st game) and Ryuki Kuruto, alongside their own AI eyeball partners, to find the truth about the half body killings. While this is happening, something called the Nirvana Initiative is looking to cause trouble for the public.

I discovered the first game from a “top games of the 2010s’” podcast. It made number 11 on their list. So I decided to see what the podcast hosts experienced. AI1 was a emotional experience for me. There’s so much dialogue that will make you cry, laugh, cringe, angry, etc. Much like a point-and-click adventure game, you can interact with objects. Sometimes, you get some really great interactions with the cast of characters when you click on them. Those conversations feel like conversations one would have with friends in real life. Sure, some of them are dumb, but those kinds of moments make life bearable. The 2nd game continues that tradition too.

Speaking of the characters, it’s not just Date and Aiba who shine. There’s Mizuki, who’s technically the surrogate daughter of Date. They trade barbs with one another in comedic fashion. It’s cute to see because their relationship reminds me of Gintoki Sakata and Kagura in Gintama. In the first game, other notable characters include a teen idol, a NEET, a yakuza who worships idols, a crossdressing bar mama, and a female boss who throws out sexual innuendos. The second game introduces newer characters like a big chef wearing a mask to hide his disfigured face, a lovestruck former thief, and a mysterious masked female vigilante.

With many characters, the Somnium Files series does a great job at looking into the psychology and mental well-being of them. Whether it’s the dream sequences or regular interactions, one thing is for certain. What drives them, good or bad, is the people in their lives. That’s what I felt from these games. It’s about finding family in the strangest of places when all hope feels lost. These characters are driven to great lengths to gain attention from the ones they love.  And more importantly, don’t be afraid to open your eyes when it comes to conflict. There’s absolutely heavy portrayals of what happens when mental health goes awry due to inner/interpersonal conflict in both games. Dementia, brain tumors, family trauma, survivor’s guilt, and self-hatred are some of the mental health subjects discussed in this series.

Date is a really great hero. There’s a caveat about him though. He’s addicted to pornography/cabaret clubs and this is played to comedic effect. I found Date to be endearing otherwise due to things the player learns in the last few hours of the 1st game. Also, Mizuki is great. She’s the total opposite of Date as she’s a physical powerhouse. It’s nice to see Mizuki carry on the torch in the 2nd game as she’s arguably the most popular character in the series.

With great characters comes great voice acting. There’s amazing talent on the English side for both games. Greg Chun, Erika Harlacher, Corina Boettger, Jackie Lastra, Allegra Clark, Dorah Fine, Zach Aguilar, Kaiji Tang, Patrick Seitz, Stephen Fu, Anairis Quinones, SungWon Cho, Amanda Lee, Y. Chang, Laura Post just to name a bunch. All the VAs seemed to have a really fun time working on both games because they all brought their A-games into making all the conversations worth hearing over and over again.

I’ll end this post with one of my favorite dialogues in the series from Mizuki.

Uchikoshi has gotten some attention for having progressive views as there’s a good amount of Japanese game developers who still think backwards about certain groups of people. There’s many people who think the Japanese are offended by most Western localization (ESPECIALLY with dialogue like this) and think Japanese people are all “non-political”, but I will say this - there’s Japanese people who do think about the feelings of minorities. It may not be many, but they’re there and outside of whatever internet bubbles fans are in. 

And yes, humanity is rooted in weakness. I never told anyone that I was strong and I will gladly admit that I’m only still alive because I’ve had people who helped and supported me despite whatever differences we have.

So yeah, check out the AI: The Somnium Files franchise. It’s still very under the radar as the 1st game didn’t seem to sell a whole lot due to a lack of major marketing. Both games do have flaws, but this is a franchise made with a lot of love and deserves many eyeballs to reach the dream of being one of the most fascinating stories in a time where AI is gaining prominence in the real world and so much mental trauma is left unprocessed.

AI: The Somnium Files and its sequel, -nirvanA Initiative-, are out for the following systems (PC/Switch/PS4/Xbox One). 

[doctenwho]

A Dinner In (H’sCFS Pt. 2)

Hello! You’re welcome to request a sequel to anything, even if you didn’t suggest the first prompt! Glad you’re liking the writing, and apologies this took so long! Thanks for the request!

This’ll make more sense if you read the first fic first, as it’s a continuation of Hardy’s Cure for Sadness, as requested! 

Warning: None.

Word Count: 3,464

Summary: Read prompt above!

(Photo is not mine! Credit goes where credit is due! :D)

It had been a few weeks since that day you’d been blah when Alec had taken you out for a very late dinner in an attempt to cheer you up. You’d ended on good terms, him walking you out and watching you leave before retreating into the hotel for the evening.  

And you weren’t quite sure what the drink on your desk the following morning really meant. Especially when nothing else had followed the late-night outing.

You’d seen him since, of course, as the secretary of the office, but you hadn’t really talked more than before. More than the usual hellos and the customary inquiries about each of your days.  

More often than not, there was a tea, or a coffee on your desk, and you were certain it was Hardy’s doing, if by the way he ducked his eyes away from you whenever he saw you sipping the beverage was anything to go off.

You returned the favor, setting teas on his desktop whenever he was out and about, waiting for him when he returned from the chill of the late morning—you always got one for Ellie as well, and she always gave you a wide grin as she put on a show of sipping it.  

Most of the time Hardy would duck his head when he noticed it, but a few times he’d smiled at you. You weren’t always around when he’d return, even if you tried to be. Sometimes he snuck in while you were swamped with work.  

You weren’t quite sure where the two of you stood.  

He’d said some really sweet things to you, and you’d almost gotten the feeling that they two of you were on an almost date, but you weren’t sure. Hardy was a peculiar lad. You knew he liked you, but you weren’t sure if he like liked you...  

God, you sounded like a middle schooler with a crush thinking things like that.  

But the things he’d said had made your heart flutter in such a warm way—it was hard to forget. The thought of him made you smile, and you couldn’t deny the butterflies in your stomach when you'd come into work to find you fellow secretaries giving you that knowing look before you were could catch on the paper beverage cup with your name scrawled across the side if the cup.

You still hadn’t gotten the chance to really thank him for what he’d done. It would’ve been easy enough to just walk out the door, but he’d gone the extra mile to invite you along. It was nice to know that at least one of your co-workers kept you in mind and noticed when you weren’t quite right.  

You weren’t sure how to thank him for it, if you were honest.  

It had been one of your fellow receptionists who’d proposed inviting him for a meal back at your place. That had been accompanied by a raised eyebrow and a similar knowing glance.

The thought of inviting the man who was technically a boss of yours over to your home had seemed foreign at first, but you’d quickly warmed up to the idea. You liked to cook, and you’d been told by friends and family you were pretty good at cooking.  

Now you just needed to figure out how and when to invite him. Despite the two of you working together, and leaving each other little offerings of beverages, you’d never seen him not completely focused on Danny Latimer’s case.  

And whenever you happened to see him on his way in, or out, you were usually completely busy with phone calls, paperwork and townsfolk being annoyed that they actually had to wait to speak to an officer.  

He’d still shoot you a tiny smile, and sometimes a wave of his hand that was more or less just a flick of his hand, when he happened to catch your eyes across the room. It was the little things like that that made you heart skip a beat.

Hardy was alone in his office when you finally worked up the gall to ask him to your place for dinner. The door was open ajar, and when Ellie had seen you hesitating by the doorway, she’d shot you a grin and gestured you in from her desk.  

You took a breath and pushed the door open, tapping your fingers on the door as a warning as you entered. He didn’t look up from his computer even as the door squeaked. “I told you to run through those cases before coming back, Millhur. You’d can’t possibly have finished already- and if so, go again.”

“Not Ellie,” you bit the inside of your cheek, shuffling where you were standing.

Hardy’s attention shot up from the computer and he stumbled to stand up, “oh, ah, oh, sorry ‘bout that... What can I do for you, (Y/N)?”

He moved around his desk to lean against the other side, arms looking for something to do before he settled for crossing them across his chest. You hid a smile, stepping closer into the room, but still keep your distance.  

“I uh, I never did thank you for... y’know, that night...”

“Oh,” Hardy blew out a breath, head ducking in an understanding nod. His hair fell over his eyes as his head turned downwards, “you don’t have to thank me, really, I’m glad I could help. And... I had a good time to, you were good company after a long day.”

You hoped your cheeks didn’t flush as brightly as they felt like they did at the tenderness in his voice, “I uh, well, I wanted to invite you over for dinner as a- a thank you? You were so kind when no one else even noticed and... I’d like to return the favor?”

“Dinner?” Hardy raised an eyebrow, looking unsure. His arms uncrossed, but instead his palms settled on the desk as he leaned back thoughtfully. He was contemplating it, and you had half a mind to wave him off, and offer an easy out.  

“You don’t have too-”

“No,” Hardy said easily before wincing back like he hadn’t meant to be quite so abrupt, “uhm, I mean, I’d like to come have dinner with you... if you’re sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I’m sure,” you promise with a surprised smile. It’s small, but happy. Hardy returns a smaller one, body relaxing just slightly where he’s leaning against his desk. “Are you free tonight? Or, uh, when are you free?”

“No, I’m free tonight,” he nods, smiling at how flustered you are. It’s weird, you decided, but not a bad weird. Just... strange. He isn’t much better, just as antsy as you, but you’re hanging onto the hope that inviting him over will result in the same light conversation and easy atmosphere as it had when the two of you had grabbed dinner at the Trader’s Hotel.

It had been a lovely evening, and when the two of you had let yourselves let your guards down, you’d had a good time together. Hopefully tonight would play out the same.

“Perfect,” you give a light laugh, playing with your fingers in front of you, “does six work for you? I uh, I get off at five today.”

“How about six-thirty?” Hardy offers awkwardly, looking apologetic, “Millhur and I’ll be going to check out a lead on the Danny Latimer case, and I don’t expect us to be back before six at the latest. Wouldn’t want to be late...”

“Six-thirty works,” you chirp, flashing him a grin. “That’s perfect...” you rattle off your address for him, before stepping back towards the doorway, “so, uh, see you tonight then?”

“See you tonight,” he nods, finally stepped away from his stiff lean against the desk.  

You slip out the door as Hardy returns to his desk. He gives you a small wave as you pull the door shut behind you. You let out a nervous breath.  

When you turn around, you’re met with a grinning Ellie Miller, “so... how’d it go?”

----

You’d waved Alec and Ellie out when they’d left on the lead that Hardy had mentioned. Ellie gave you a thumbs up, and Alec’s eyes shifted from you to Ellie, where his attention dulled to annoyance. She didn’t seem phased by it, and you didn’t doubt that he wasn’t always so stiff around her.

You wondered what made you so different to literally everyone else in the building that Hardy barely gave the time of day too as you typed out some documents to be sent up to the officers.  

You returned home by five fifteen, in a rush to get started on food. You didn’t know a lot about Hardy, and you certainly didn’t know what he liked. You remember Ellie mentioning something about him barely ever accepting food from her, and that he tended to not accept anything greasy,

You settled on remaking what he’d ordered that night at the Trader’s Hotel. He hadn’t eaten much of it, but he’d ordered it, so he had to have liked it.  

You found a bottle of wine you’d stashed away that had been a gift from someone at some point, but you couldn’t quite remember who’d given it to you. It would be good for tonight though, and compliment the meal. You hoped.

When the meal was cooking, and your place had been tidied up for company, you disappeared upstairs to change into something a bit nicer.  

A knock on your door came at exactly six-thirty. You smile to yourself at Alec being so punctual. It fit his character; you decide.  

You rushed to the door, smoothing your clothes down before pulling the door open and flashing a smile at your guest. For a second, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. He brushed himself out of his shock, letting a small smile curl on his lips at the sight of you.

He ducks his eyes away from you as he shifts from foot to foot. There’s a bottle of wine in one of his hands and a small bouquet of tulips in the other. He looks uncertainly between his hands before his eyes raised to your face, “hello.”

“You’ve brought flowers?” You blinked, shaking your head and smiling to yourself at the small act that had your heart beating out of your chest, “they’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, uh,” Alec swallowed nervously, “I wanted to bring chocolates as well, but Millhur told me it was weird. I don’t... y’know,” he gestured the hand holding the wine bottle between the two of you, “much. Should’ve brought more?”

“No,” you told him, “this is sweet, thank you.” He hands you the flowers and you take them into your hands and hold them against your chest, “please come in.”

He follows you through the threshold, toeing his shoes off as he goes. He follows you into the kitchen, setting the wine beside the one you’d found earlier, while you work on finding a vase for the flowers. They’re beautiful and easily make you heart skip a beat.  

“This smells delicious,” Hardy’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. It’s an honest comment, and means a lot coming from Hardy—even if it is just pleasantries.  

“Oh, thank you,” you let out a light laugh, moving to set the flowers on the table as a center piece. “I wasn’t sure what to make, so I went with what you ordered because I know you like it. Ellie mentioned you didn’t much like greasy foods, so... I hope this is okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Hardy nods, standing off to the side of the counter before he pauses, “you asked Millhur about me?”

“Uhm,” you let out a nervous laugh as you rubbed the back of your neck, “yeah... I just wanted to make sure I made something you’d like as well and... she spends the most time with you, so I thought I’d see what she suggested?”

The look on Alec’s face is an emotion you can’t quite place; or maybe it’s a mix of a few. You don’t know him well enough to decipher what emotions are crossing his features. His eyes are following you uncertainly, like he doesn’t really believe you’re real. He’s leaning against the counter with his hands intertwined together in front of him.  

“Should be done now, are you ready to eat?” Alec shakes himself from his stupor as you move towards the meal you prepared. You grab the pot of your dinner off the stove top and direct Alec to grab the salad bowl from the fridge. You grab two wine glasses, as well as the bottle Hardy brought and take those to the table where Hardy is seating himself.

You take the other seat.  

You both serve yourselves the food.

The first few minutes are quiet while you eat, and then Alec offers a soft, “this is really good, (Y/N),” and from there conversations sparks.  

It’s light and easy, like you’d hoped. That same atmosphere from the bar, but in the safety of your home which made it even better. You spend some time getting to know each other, talking softly between bites of food and sips of wine.  

“A daughter?” you ask, taking a bite of food. He’d been talking about a few of his favorite cases from his time working at Sandbrook, and had mentioned his Ex, and daughter.  

Conversations had taken a more intimate turn this time around than when the two of you were at the hotel. Maybe It's because Becca’s not eavesdropping from across the room, but Hardy seems more at ease. It didn’t feel odd to ask, and you were genuinely curious about him and his life.

“Yes,” he nods, lifting his glass to his lips, a smile on his lips at the thought of his child, “Daisy. She, ah, she lives with her mother in Sandbrook still. I... I don’t get to see her often. I don’t have a lot of free time—especially not with the Danny Latimer case active. She’s, ah, she’s fifteen.”

“Daisy sounds lovely.” You smile as you take a sip of your own wine. You’d both steadily made your way through a glass each, and Hardy had topped you both your glasses up. “We're lucky to have people like you and Ellie who are putting so much time and effort into finding the person who did that to him... It can’t be easy to leave her, and I know Ellie misses her boys during the long days and late nights.”

Hardy gave a little nod, attention on his plate. He’d eaten a lot more of his food than he had at the hotel. You’re happy he likes it, from what you’ve heard from Ellie he’s very picky. The wine he’d brought it very good too, and accompanies the meal better than the one you had on hand would’ve.

The two of you continue to chat while you enjoy your meals.  Hardy told you a bit more about some of his favorite cases, and the odd arrests he’d made back before he was a Detective Inspector. You, in turn, told him a bit about yourself, and your friends and family. Your receptionist job wasn’t very exciting, but you had good stories to share from other aspects of your life.  

The two of you finished up dinner, but continued talking over the wine when the food was gone.  

Hardy was actually pretty good company. Maybe it had been the fact that Becca was watching the two of you the last time you’d shared a meal, but here and now, he seemed to be letting himself relax just the slightest.  

“It really was quite good,” he told you with a smile as he set his cutlery on his finished plate. Your heart thrummed pridefully at the fact he’d finished his meal, unlike at the hotel where he’d eaten very little. “Thank you for this, it’s been lovely.”

“It’s no problem,” you told him, turning your head to hide your cheeks heating up. You stood gracefully, grabbing your own plate, before reaching over to grab Alec’s as well. “I’ll just get the dishes.”

He pulled his plate back before you could take it, following your lead and standing as well. “Let me help.”

You opened your mouth to promise it was fine, and that you didn’t need any help. He was a guest after all, and this was a thank you of sorts for being so kind to you—letting him wash the dishes with you didn’t really scream ‘Thank you!’ or express your gratitude for him being so much different than everyone else working at that building.

“I insist,” he watched you with a light smile, “please? You cooked for me, so I should at the very least help you tidy up?”

You couldn’t say no to that.

Hardy was good at washing dishes. You dried between tidying everything up, putting things away as you dried them. Conversation was still light and fun, and it didn’t even really feel like you were doing chores with Alec.  

While he was distracted with the pot you’d cooked the meal in, you couldn’t help but take him all in. Stood at your sink with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His suit jacket had been abandoned on the back of his chair. He was so focused on the dishes he didn’t even notice your attention straying to him, fond smile on your lips.  

You’d never really imagined a domestic Alec Hardy, but now that you were seeing it, you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to forget it. He was just so much different from DI Hardy. Still the same personality, awkwardness and quirks, but he was more relaxed. He smiled more, and didn’t seem quite so uptight—which you assumed just came with the position of DI.  

“(Y/N)?” he called, and you forced your attention back. He was holding out a wet wine glass, with one eyebrow raised curiously. He smiled as you took the glass with a sheepish grin, turning back to the sink and picking up one of the few remaining dishes.  

Together you tided up the kitchen like it hadn’t even been used that day. It was nice to not have to worry about doing it later, or even the following morning before you headed to work.  

“It’s already nine?” Alec’s voice startled you from your thoughts. You turned to look at where he was glancing at the time on your microwave. You really hadn’t thought it was so late.  

“Time really flies,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowed in surprise.

“Indeed,” Alec gave a light laugh, “I guess I should be on my way then.”

You thought about inviting him to stay later, but then you remember your early morning tomorrow, and you assume Alec will be getting in around the same time as you. You need some sleep if you plan on functioning tomorrow.  

“Did you need a ride home?” you ask as you follow him to the dining room to retrieve his jacket. He shakes his head with a light smile as he slips the coat on.

“You’ve already done enough tonight. Dinner was lovely, and I couldn’t ask you to drive me back to the hotel. I don’t mind the walk, it’s not too far anyways.”

You fight down the rejection in his words, smiling anyways. “Alright.”

You lead Alec to the door, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him step out into the chill of the night. You don’t really want him to go. 

You wonder where the two of you stand, even after this dinner. Will things just go back to the way they’d been before like after he took you out to dinner? Did this mean something? You’d hoped this could’ve... maybe led to more, but he doesn’t seem keen on it. “Goodnight, Alec.”

The man turns back to you with a little smile before stepping back through the threshold of the house, cupping the side of you jaw with his hand as he pressed his lips against yours. You’re stunned for a second, but then you’re kissing back, smiling into it.  

He pulls back first, leaving you breathless. His hand lingers for a moment, before he’s letting his touch fall away and he’s slipping his hand into his pocket, “goodnight.”

You watched with lidded eyes in an almost stunned silence as Alec disappears into the night. You watch his retreating back as you lift your fingers to touch against your tingling lips, smiling softly as you replay the kiss in your mind.

When he’s gone from sight, you shut your door, lock it and then lean against it with a happy sigh.  

You don’t have to wonder where you stand with Alec Hardy anymore; he’s made that completely obvious.

<><><><>

Thank you so much for taking the time to read! I hope this was suffice? It was fun to write, so thank you for the prompt!

As always, if it wasn’t what you were looking for, feel free to prompt me again! It might take a bit though :( Anyways! Have a good morning/day/night! <3

[liliesinrequiem]

Poem

A/N: I’m back! With another Kaeya fic. This is technically set during the Windblume Festival with certain changes. I hope you all enjoy <3.

This could also be read as a sequel to: Forfeit (Kaeya x AFAB!Reader). It doesn’t have to be read before this one really since you aren’t really missing much. You can if you want. 

Pairing: Kaeya x Reader

Summary: Kaeya convinces you to write a poem during the Windblume Festival. You refuse to show it to him after hearing his ‘poem’ and avoid him for the rest of the day until you were unable to. 

CW: Mentions of alcohol

“Why don’t you try and write a love poem then?” he asked. A teasing smile on his face. 

“My way with words is incomparable to yours,” you said. He was the most convincing person that you knew. There was a reason that he was so loved. Just from speaking with him for a little while, a person would totally be enraptured by him. A charming man, truly. 

“Didn’t you write that one riddle when I had to arrest those treasure hoarders? The one that could’ve been out of a romantic novel,” he said. 

“I was inspired,” you mumbled. That whole setup had been some of your finest work. The maps and the riddles were something that you had dedicated some time to. Of course, he’d given a lot of guidelines as to how they should be. You’d just done a lot of the creative work. Everything just fell into place so well for him in the end. The dinner you earned was nice as well. 

“Then be inspired again. I’ll show you mine if you write one and show me,” he said. 

A fair trade you supposed as you took a piece of paper. The poem came easier to you than you expected. Maybe your own heart did have some inspiration that you did not desire to admit. 

“That’s what you were writing this entire time?” you asked after his poem was read out loud by Venti. You were tightly holding onto your own poem, wrinkling its prior smoothness. Whatever thoughts you had in mind of sharing your own poem had vanished into thin air. 

“Poetic, no?” he asked. You glared at him. Poetic? Sure. A love poem? No. Beyond that, when did he even have time to learn the language of the Hilichurl? 

“I feel like I have to fail you for this,” said Venti, confused by what he had read.

“Please do,” you said. 

“Did you write a poem, (Y/N)?” asked Paimon, pointing at the piece of paper in your hand. Everyone’s eyes turned to you and you could see how the Captain was smiling. Embarrassment filled your body as you folded it quickly and shook your head. He would not manage to win.

“Nope! This is just a list of things I have to do at the moment. Now, if you’ll excuse me!” You stored the poem in your dress as you left the room and the building. You’d rather be outside and help out there than remain within the same room as Kaeya. 

---

“Lumine!” you said as you saw her a while later. You’d been helping out Noelle with carrying around some materials that were needed for the festival. But your friend was much faster and stronger than you were so she was probably at the destination. 

“(Y/N)! Captain Kaeya asked us to search for you! He wants to talk to you,” said Paimon. 

“Oh? He couldn’t search for me himself?” you asked. A question that probably sounded meaner than you intended it to. 

“He said he was too busy finishing up some paperwork for Jean,” answered Lumine, “So we came looking for you. 

“You’re too kind. No wonder you’re an Honorary Knight. But I can’t go right now.” You continued, “Tell him that I can speak with him later.” You really did not want to see him. You felt...slightly hurt. You weren’t even sure why you were. Actually, you did know why you were upset. You just didn’t want to admit it. In truth, you had hoped that his poem would actually have meaning. Unrealistically and stupidly, you had hoped that his poem might’ve been a confession. 

But that was the thing about your relationship with him. It was more of something that you were walking in the dark, with no real designation of whether or not you were going in the right direction, and hoping that you end up at the right place. For all you knew, Kaeya was probably waiting for the day that he’d drop you and move onto the next one. Even with that possibility, you continued giving your heart to him. Whether that was stupid or not, you were still not fully sure. Some days it was worth it and others, not so much. 

“We could help you so that you can talk with him. He said it was urgent,” explained Lumine. You didn’t doubt that he had told her that. He probably believed that if you were told that it was urgent, you’d drop everything and run to see what he wanted to see. You usually did but you felt that you had to hold your ground for a while longer. 

“Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll talk to him when I can. He’ll understand,” you said. You bid them farewell and continued carrying the crate.

---

You’d managed to avoid him for most of the day. That was until you were called to Angel’s Share and asked to take him home. When you asked why they couldn’t, excuses came flying at you. Sister Rosaria said that she couldn’t as she had business to take care of and Diluc couldn’t either since he had to close up the place. Convenient that they both chose to do that now. 

“Thank you, (Y/N).” You only mumbled a ‘no problem’ in response to Diluc’s gratitude as you pulled Kaeya to lean on your shoulder. The promise of free drinks motivated you to get the job done quickly. 

“(Y/N)-” “Captain, be quiet. I would prefer if you didn’t get sick on me,” you cut him off. The walk back to his apartment was a hassle. It was either that he continued trying to ramble to you or that he was leaning too much on you and you had to take small breaks. You truly were exhausted from those crates earlier.

“Where’s your key?” you asked when the two of you stopped in front of his door. A fruitless question as his mind was somewhere else you would soon realize.

“How come you didn’t come to me when I asked earlier?” he asked. You didn’t answer as you checked both his pockets and fished out the key from the left one. To ask the question again would probably cause him to start talking about something else and you most definitely did not want to talk about anything. 

“(Y/N),” he said.

“What?” Your voice sounded more angry than you meant. You pushed the door open and kicked it to close when the both of you got through. You sat him on his bed and started to look around the cabinets for a glass to fill it with water. 

“Have you been ignoring me?” He sounded hurt. A rare sight to ever behold when he was constantly brushing everything off. Kaeya was rarely a vulnerable person. Years of having built up the walls around him to keep people out led him to being closed off from everyone. The fewest times that he was vulnerable was in the dead of night or when he was drunk. Every single thing that he ever expressed during those times had been stored into your heart. 

“I’ve been busy today,” you answered as you handed him the glass of water. You turned to start looking for some clothes for the night. You doubted that he’d appreciate sleeping in his work outfit.

“That’s never stopped you before,” he countered as he drank the water. No response came from you since you knew him to be right. There was one time where you had to finish up something for Lisa and stopped doing it because he’d bothered you enough to do something for him. The librarian was upset and you only barely learned your lesson.

“Was it because of my poem?” You wondered how he even managed to figure that out. 

“Maybe,” you said, “I just expected a bit more from you.” The poem that you had written for him was still in one of your dress pockets and felt like a stone that weighed on you. You’d poured a bit of your heart into it and the courage to give it to him withered away when Venti read his poem.  

“I wrote an actual one,” he said. You placed some clothes on the nightstand and turned to look at him.

“Is that so?” you asked. You steadied him from falling over after you made your question. Just how much alcohol did he consume? The tab he had must be astronomical. Maybe not as bad as Venti’s or what yours had been at one point, but it had to be huge. Though you were jealous of his ability to remain coherent enough with everything in his system.

“Yes,” he said, “It’s here.” He pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his shirt. “Read it,” he said as he pushed the paper into your hands. 

You shook your head. For all you knew, it could be another joke and you weren’t sure that you could handle it. At least not with him looking at you while you read it. “Let’s get you to bed, Kaeya.” 

“But I want you to read it,” he whined. 

“And I want you to sleep because you’re drunk,” you said. 

After you’d spent some time convincing him to change and to get ready for bed, you sat down at the edge of the bed and opened up the paper. He’d fallen asleep rather quickly and you breathed a sigh of relief as your eyes traveled to the first words on the paper. 

“(Y/N),” began the poem. 

---

In the early morning, Kaeya woke up with a mild headache. Memories of the day before were hazy as the hangover hit him hard. He looked at his nightstand and saw a glass of water and a small bottle of medicine. 

Beside the nightstand was a small piece of paper. On it, there were three words: To My Captain. 

[oscarseyebrow]

J (with Plethora) and U for the fic asks 💚

thank you for these, lovely.

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].

i see you chose plethora... can't think why 👀😂 i will tell you about the original ending i wrote for this and then changed. it had an ending of the reader coming to terms with the fact that they loved poe and had always loved poe, in their own way. they spent a lot of time avoiding each other but eventually, poe needed some medical attention (nothing major) and aside from the polite greeting, the spent most of the time not speaking while the reader stitched him back up. but there was one specific line that she blurted out to him, about not being able to swim. and of course, poe is confused as fuck. but she explains that's why she was scared of water, because she couldn't swim. and being with him felt like swimming. but then she also told him that she loved him too late and poe explained to her that there was no time limit on love--it's not something that expires after a certain amount of time. and you kind of get the picture. there are certain elements that i kept from the original ending and used for the sequel (which i need to start work on again).

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

there's so many wonderful writers on here that i adore (i'm so behind on everyone's fics and i'm so sorry but i still love you all. i will catch up when i'm able to) alrighty, let's see. i absolutely adore and admire @the-scandalorian and her writing is some of the best i've ever read. she has a way with words that knocks me on my ass every single time. whenever i find myself stuck with writing certain scenes or i want to try and throw some poetry in there, i always think to myself 'what would simone say' because she sets the bar so high and i love that. i love her range: the smut, the softness, the heartbreak - she smashes them all and if i could do even half the job that she does, i'd feel as though i'd achieved something worthwhile 💖🖤 @the-little-ewok i've been reading her writing for as long as i can remember and i'm so, so glad that she let me talk her into a) coming back to tumblr and b) getting back into writing. she's one of my favourite poe writers. one of my favourite things about zara, is i know that she's not going to break my heart with her fics 😂 even when she pulls out the angst card, i know everything is going to be okay because she wouldn't hurt our precious poe dameron too much. and i can't mention her here without bringing up the fact that i've never been the same since reading about poe spelling out his name... with his tongue... holy shit. it was one of those moments where i had to put my phone down and breathe for a second because i forgot how to. and i know the question says three... and this is technically my third... but i also wish to mention the following writers because i honestly adore everything about their work and i can't wait get back to feeling able to just sit and read so that i can catch up on everything that i've missed. but please know, i love all of your works dearly and they're some of my favourites on here 💖 @beydameron @pumpkin-stars @acedameron @pentechnics @thefact0rygirl @littlemisspascal @mypedrom @zinzinina @just-here-for-the-moment @dailyreverie

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥Wings of Freedom (Part 2)🔥

A/N: Finally got part 2 done! Thank you for your patience with this mini series, I’ve been so busy with school lately and I still have so many drafts that I’ve been trying to publish them evenly so I don’t keep you guys waiting for anything too long. Thank you so much for your support, I love all of you so much and I can’t wait to show you the other stuff I have  planned for this blog. I have a few requests on the way, so stay tuned for that, but for now, here is the sequel to Wings of Freedom (finally)!

Part 1 is here if you haven’t read it yet!

🐉Song Recommendation: “Machine” By: MisterWives 🐉

Word Count: ~3.9k

~~~

Levi felt like he was experiencing deja vu as he glanced around the courtroom from where he stood beside Erwin, waiting for Hanji to come back. Only, he felt a lot more nervous. The first time, he had felt nothing but an impatience to get the event started, his eyes hard and cold as he had looked down at an immature, green-eyed brat who could turn into a titan, waiting for his future to be decided as either a useful tool for humanity, or a human experiment to be tortured in a lab. Now, his insides were doing their best impression of a pretzel, churning and twisting until he felt sick with worry. This wasn’t going to be a meeting about some random brat from the streets, this was concerning the fate of the love of his life.

The night she had come back had been bittersweet for both of them. They had spent the night wrapped up together, (Y/N)’s wings out for the first time around Levi, the warm membranes curled around him protectively so he could feel her heartbeat thrumming through his entire body. They had been cuddled close, holding each other like it was the last time they would be able to do so, unsure of what events would unfold the next morning. Both Levi and (Y/N) knew everything was about to change, knew (Y/N)’s fate would be challenged and decided the next day, but it didn’t stop the anxiety from rolling around in his gut, making his stomach give another violent lurch.

“Hey,” Erwin said lowly, placing a hand on Levi’s shoulder when he noticed his friend’s queasy expression, “She’s going to be alright. We will fight for her with everything we’ve got.”

Levi managed a stiff nod in Erwin’s direction, his heart warming at his friend’s support. Although Levi had never doubted his friends, he had been surprised by how supportive and accommodating they had been when Levi had announced (Y/N)’s initial reappearance. They had both expressed their immense relief at her safe return while Hanji worked to heal her bullet wound, keeping her enthusiastic questioning to a minimum at Levi’s insistence.

Levi’s thoughts were cut short by the appearance of said energetic scientist, the tall brunette carefully picking her way through the rows of gathered officers and moving to stand on the other side of Erwin.

“She’s doing okay,” Hanji said before Levi could even open his mouth. “She’s a little nervous but that’s normal. Everything else is going smoothly so far, so she will be brought out in a few minutes.”

Levi nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He was trying his hardest to stay calm, to keep from lunging at Premier Zackley and strangling him until he promised to let (Y/N) go, but it was starting to strain on him. His skin broke out in a sweat as he forced himself to take deep breaths. He could do this. For (Y/N), he could do this.

He immediately looked up at the sound of the large wooden doors opening with a loud creak, his attention settling on the (h/c) haired woman handcuffed between two guards, her head down so her hair curtained her expression from others. His eyes narrowed and a low growl slipped from between his lips at the sight of the bruises on her arms and legs from the chains and cuffs she had been wearing in her cell. His blood was roaring in his ears as he fought every instinct he had to swoop down and bring her back into his arms. He had almost lost her once, he wouldn’t lose her again, no matter the cost.

Her wings were hidden, the huge black membranes tucked safely in the slits of her back, away from the prying eyes of the assembled soldiers. That at least gave Levi some relief, the knowledge that the extra sensitive appendages were kept from harm or unwanted touch.

The dull chatter in the courtroom hushed as (Y/N) was brought to the center of the room, pushed into a kneeling position on the same platform Eren had been placed on just a few years prior. One of the guards holding her leaned down and clapped her manacles to the sturdy metal post behind her, double checking that she was secure before backing away, moving with the other guard to stand on either side of Premier Zackley, guns at the ready.

The room was so quiet you could’ve heard a pin drop. The people in the room barely breathed as they waited impatiently for Zackley to finish preparing his notes, eager to see if they rumors were true. The Premier cleared his throat, shuffling the papers in front of him as he peered down at the woman on the platform from over the top of his glasses.

“(Y/N) (L/N)?”

(Y/N) looked up when her name was called, her eyes hard as she stared up at the older man. 

“Yes.”

“Member of the Survey Corps. Age (#). Cadet under the command of Squad Leader Hanji Zoe,” Zackley read off, glancing at her after every sentence for her quick nod of confirmation. “It looks like you have no criminal record, but your place and date of birth are unknown, so that technically can not be confirmed nor denied outside of the information gathered during your time as a soldier.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard but did not respond, waiting, just as Hanji had told her to do, for the Premier to make his point. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be patient, knowing that if she rushed this, if she wasn’t careful, she could easily be thrown to the wolves.

“It looks like, based on these reports, that you are a loyal soldier who has a clean background, a solid record, and a hard working personality, since it is labeled here that you are about to be promoted to Squad Leader,” the Premier leaned forward, “that means, we are here for a different reason entirely. Tell me, do you know why you are here?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) answered clearly.

“Very good. Now, without further ado, this court is now in session.”

As soon as Zackley opened the floor, a man from the Military Police stood, a smug grin on his face as he glanced at the annoyed scowls of the Survey Corps officers who were watching him.

“Premier Zackley, thank you for that wonderful introduction,” the man started off, making Levi roll his eyes so hard they hurt. “I would like to start off on behalf of the Military Police and say that this woman should be placed in our custody.”

The Survey Corps officers exchanged glances at that. They had been expecting the man to rant on and on about how she should be tortured, experimented on, or killed, not taken in by another branch of the military. The one closest to the King, no less.

“Interesting, state your case,” Zackley said, folding his hands in front of his face.

“We believe she could be of great use with us, sir. She could be a viable source of protection for our current ruling monarch, and we could use her to increase funding for our resources and supplies. Nobles would come from miles around to see her, it’s something we can use to better the lives of all of the soldiers in the military! Instead of groveling for money at their feet, we could charge them to come see her, within the safety of the walls, perfectly ready to display for anyone who is willing to pay.”

(Y/N) had to fight to keep from grimacing in disgust at the thought of being constantly gawked at like some kind of freak, put out for people to see as if she were some sort of entertainment for them, rather than a human being trying to fight for humanity.

“What use is earning money from her like some kind of exotic beast if our soldiers keep dying?” Erwin cut in, making (Y/N)’s eyes soften at the sound of her friend’s hard voice trying to make others see reason. “She is needed in the Survey Corps with us, it’s what she was made for. She can continue to fight against the titans with us, allowing us to give her the proper protection as she uses her gifts to make fighting these man-eating monsters a hell of a lot easier. She would waste away if she was stuck within the walls with the Military Police.”

“Well, as I see it, Commander Erwin, she can’t be trusted outside of the walls with you. She hid this for how long? How many years now has she let her comrades die over and over again, never stepping in to save them? According to her reports, she didn’t try to assist any of you during your missions other than with the normal efforts displayed by every soldier, at least, until she apparently saved Captain Levi. And rumor has it, those two are sexually involved with one another, which would make for that incident to be purely based on bias rather than a change of heart. If she really was meant to be a helpful tool for humanity, she would’ve become that by now.”

Erwin shook his head, his hand reaching out slightly to touch Levi’s forearm when the shorter raven-haired man opened his mouth to retort. “She has already explained to us her reasoning behind that. If she had shown herself on base, she would’ve risked getting hunted or killed, or getting those around her injured if someone decided to use her friends and comrades as blackmail for her capture. If she had shown herself on the field, she would’ve risked sending her comrades into shock, making it difficult, if not impossible, for them to concentrate on the mission, running the risk of twice the number of soldiers dying. She has tried to find the right time to reveal her gift to us, but it’s been nearly impossible for her, something that was proven by the men of the Garrison out on the field when she finally did reveal herself, only to get shot and chased.”

“So you are saying that she was justified in letting the hundreds of lives she could’ve saved die? Because she couldn’t find the right timing?” The Military Police pig said incredulously, his every word like a punch to (Y/N)’s gut. “I was unaware the soldiers of the Survey Corps were so selfish, cared so little about their men in battle. If this doesn’t further bolster my claims, I don’t know what would.”

“That’s not what I said,” Erwin said, his voice cold. “I said-”

“And you brought up the men from the Garrison,” the MP cut off Erwin, smiling wider at the glares thrown his way. “I have actually brought them today as witnesses. They would like to say a few words, if that is alright?”

The Premier thought for moment before giving a slow nod.

As soon as the all clear was given, the MP motioned for two of the Garrison soldiers who had fought beside the Survey Corps that day to come forward. (Y/N) growled low in her throat at the sight of the men, especially the bigger of the two, the one that had shot her. She noticed Levi tense out of the corner of her eye, knowing he remembered just as well. She threw him a quick reassuring glance just as Hanji placed a hand on his shoulder, imploring him not to react. Levi managed to calm himself, crossing his arms over his chest, but she could tell it was taking every ounce of effort from him not to kill the man.

“Names?” The Premier asked.

“Louis Bordgenson.”

“Graham Pickett.” 

“Bordgenson, Pickett, could you please explain why you are here? Why do you believe (Y/N) (L/N) should be placed under Military Police custody?”

“We were two of the few to witness what happened when (L/N) saved Captain Levi from the titans, sir,” Graham said. “We are here to support the Military Police in their decision of taking (L/N) into their custody because we believe that what we saw on the field is a perfect example of the Survey Corps’ shortcomings as a branch. They need to be improved, restored with proper management and leadership. And it all starts with weeding out the soldiers that need to be corrected, allowing them to reevaluate their life choices in a place that won’t get others killed. Out on that field, we were attacked by all of the Survey Corps officers when I shot at (L/N) for my own defense, without even pausing for a moment to consider the situation. That woman attacked me, nearly knocked me right into a titan’s mouth with her wings, and flew off, leaving her comrades for dead, even as they still fought for her in the end.”

Louis nodded along with what Graham was saying before opening his mouth to add on. “Exactly. And when we got back from beyond the walls, we were arrested for attacking a Survey Corps officer. We were called lunatics, psychotics, for claiming to have seen a winged woman, and yet, here she is. We were right all along and none of the Survey Corps officers stepped forward to say it was wrong. To top it all off, when she came back, they sheltered her! Hid her with them and tried to pass everything off as normal.”

“From what I saw, (Y/N) (L/N) did not attack either of you,” Erwin said, cutting the two younger men off from continuing with their ranting diatribe. His tone was sharpened ice and his voice was filled with venom, waiting to strike like a snake in the shadows with barely suppressed fury. (Y/N) felt a conflicting wave of pride, gratitude, and apprehension wash through her. She loved Erwin, he was a close friend of hers, but that sometimes made her forget how god damn scary he could be when upset.

“You boys seem to have forgotten that you two were not the only ones on the field that day. From what everyone else saw, (Y/N) performed a great service to save a comrade, exposing herself in the most vulnerable way possible to try to help us escape. To help you, escape. She never singled you out, never tried to approach you in any manner other than one of friendly disposition. She did knock you over with the power of her wings as you mentioned, but she only did that because you were standing too close to her in your attempt to capture her for yourself. She was just trying to fly away peacefully, and would not have left us on that battlefield if you had not ordered your men to charge and fire. Your imprisonment was valid, and your accusations are dramatized and inaccurate.”

(Y/N) closed her eyes as Erwin’s last word rang out. Her stomach was churning and she felt lightheaded, her heart conflicted with so many differing emotions at once. She was grateful for Erwin and the Survey Corps, her friends who were fighting for her, fighting for her future, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she didn’t deserve them and their efforts. While she hated to admit it, the men from the Garrison weren’t wrong. She had spent years hiding her wings away, failing to save her comrades because of her fear, watching as they were devoured when the faster speed of her wings possibly could’ve saved them. Her head drooped a little as the men in front of her fought. Could she even call herself a soldier? A scout? Did she deserve to fight alongside them? Did she deserve… Levi?

She sucked in a shuddering breath, willing the tears to stay back. Maybe she did deserve to be nothing more than an animal to be viewed in a cage. Something to be gawked at and displayed like some kind of trophy. Could she even be considered human? She was so abnormal, so fucked up, mentally and physically. How could she possibly be considered safe enough to be around those she cared about?

Just as she was about to succumb to the notion of her worthlessness, a sharp, deep voice made her eyes snap open and glance to her left where her lover was standing steadfast beside his commander, his silver eyes burning like molten iron.

“Now listen here, all of the claims you have made so far have been either disproven or provided with solutions. (Y/N) has been nothing but the most amazing soldier, dutifully working to take care of everyone around her and constantly fighting for a better world. Just because you fuckwads can’t get your heads out of your asses long enough to see it, doesn’t mean it’s not true. (Y/N) was faced with an incredibly tough decision in her life, and she’s been forced to deal with it ever since she was born. She is just human. Simply, wonderfully, human, and there is nothing wrong with the choices she made,” Levi said, making (Y/N)’s eyes water with the love she felt for the raven-haired man.

“I know she will continue to be a necessary asset for the Survey Corps, where she can keep doing what she knows how to do best. If we lock her up in some manor to be cooed at by nobles, we will be lost. For god’s sake we have to deal with Jaeger every day and she’s significantly less of a threat than he is, but has twice the amount of usefulness to us.”

“Oh, as if that little experiment is going so well,” the MP said with a sneer. “The Survey Corps got custody of that one and look what’s happened? Cities destroyed, people lost. Captain Levi, your own squad got brutally murdered by an abnormal on an expedition because that titan shifter was too useless to do anything to help you. If we let you take custody of this one as well, we fear that the odds of humanity winning this war will shift further downwards. The fate of every human within these walls is in the hands of the Survey Corps soldiers. The last thing your branch needs is another distraction, or in better terms, a mistake.”

(Y/N) winced at the insult, her body flooding with icy fear as murmurs of agreement floated through the crowd. She knew she should’ve expected this possibility, had even reminded herself of the fact when Erwin left to tell the Premier about her existence earlier that week. She had known from the moment she had agreed to reveal herself publicly and use her gifts in battle to fight the titans and save her friends that this could happen. She could be turned against, experimented on, taken back to a cage and locked up, just as she had spent most of her early life. But even knowing about it didn’t stop the anger, the fear from filling her from head to toe, making her shift nervously on the wooden platform. She wanted to speak, wanted to say something to counteract what the Military Police were claiming, but she kept her mouth shut, knowing it was for the best. If she started talking now, fueled by her emotions, after spending the entire time staying quiet, it would look as if she was becoming desperate, trying to hide something. And with how hard Levi and Erwin were fighting for her, the last thing she wanted to do was ruin everything by opening her stupid mouth.

Levi and Erwin were about to retort when the Premier held up his hand, his eyes closed as he waited for the room to settle down again. The room quickly hushed. (Y/N) waited, her entire body tense as she stared up at the Premier, her heart thumping so loudly she was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

Everything will be fine.

“Based on the claims made by both parties, I have come to a decision on where the defendant shall be placed until further notice,” Zackley said.

I won’t let them take you away from me.

“While both parties have put forth compelling arguments, I can not determine whether or not bias or deceit is at play here on either side. It is because of this that I have decided to put you in the place that I believe would be the safest for humanity should things take a turn for the worst.”

No matter what, we are in this together, wings and all.

“(Y/N) (L/N), I am officially placing you under the custody of the Military Police, where you will be kept and cared for until I can find the proper evidence to prove your innocence.”

I love you.

(Y/N) felt her world shift. She heard Levi’s roar of fury, Erwin’s sharp voice ringing out into the hall as he tried to reason with the Premier, Hanji’s screech of shock and anger, but no words registered. The Military Police. Anything but the Military Police. She wanted to struggle against her binds, wanted to roar and scream and snap, wanted to stretch her wings and fly away, far away, just her and Levi together. But she couldn’t do that. She hung her head, unable to hold back the tidal wave of tears this time as they slid down her cheeks in clear rivers, running down her soft skin to splatter on the floor beneath her.

She could practically hear the smirk in the MP’s voice as he thanked the Premier and barked orders at his assembled soldiers to grab her. She wanted nothing more than to slap that smug grin off his face but she knew she couldn’t. She forced herself to take deep breaths as she felt hands rain down on her, touching her, dragging her, chaining her.

When she was finally unhooked from the steel post in the center of the room, the Military Police soldiers holding her tightly between them, dragging her towards the door, (Y/N) managed to look up. She caught Levi’s eye from where he was being held back by both Erwin and Hanji, the sorrow and desperation in those stunning gunmetal hues making her heart shatter. She didn’t know when she’d see him again, if she ever would see him again. And even if she was granted the opportunity to see him, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold him, kiss him, love him like she always did.

Even though her heart was being ripped to shreds, (Y/N) managed a watery smile in his direction, her lips moving to mouth the words, “I will see you again, I promise,” to him. She saw him stand a little straighter, a glint in his eye as he took her words to heart. She just knew that he was going to do everything in his power to make that happen.

No matter what, we are in this together, wings and all.

(Y/N) kept her eyes on him as she was led back through the large wooden doors of the courtroom, refusing to look away from her lover until the doors had completely shut behind her, officially separating her from the love of her life.

[honeymoonjin]

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 namjoon x reader x hoseok x taehyung || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 20.5k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut, surprisingly enough this is literally pwp

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 in an effort to tame their increasingly bratty girlfriend, namjoon and hoseok take their sexual exploits to a new level and hire a professional dom to run a session with them in a bdsm dungeon

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 HELLA smut, dom Namjoon, dom Hoseok, dom Taehyung, sub + bratty reader, roleplay, BDSM, mxm, overstimulation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, unprotected sex, protected sex, foursome, oral (m receiving), spanking, BDSM furniture, degradation (name calling), gagging, electrical play, orgasm delay and denial, use of sex toys, possessiveness, use of safewords, BDSM machines, fingering, masturbation, multiple orgasms, choking, squirting, sensory deprivation, fucking machine, vaginal sex, anal sex, creampie, double penetration, triple penetration?, nipple play, i guess tae is technically a sex worker, pet names, sexual hierarchy, fully consensual slave-owner dynamic (not between the main characters)

a/n: this is a sequel to Hot Fuzz (namseok x reader) but can be read on its own. also, this contains other members wink wonk but i’m keeping them a secret to save the suspense. a million thanks to @hobiandcoffee​ , @jhspetitegf​ and @honey-boyyoongi​ for their help. couldn’t have done it without your help! also happy early birthday @jamaisjoons​ i hope this ruins you xxx

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“Alright, he’s coming over. Remember our rules, princess?” Namjoon’s fingers wrap around your chin, digging in just enough to press your bottom lip into a pout. You do your best to nod, but his grip doesn’t waver. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmur, feeling your heart warm when he smiles proudly at you. It’s relatively cool in the large space, and the contrast of the air with Hoseok’s warm body pressed against you makes you shiver.

The three of you had been waiting at the bar for the past ten or so minutes. Both you and Hoseok are practically vibrating with nervous excitement. The latter is on the bar stool next to you, looking very on-brand in black pants, combat boots, and a thin white tank. As always, his fingers are laden with rings, but it seems this time there’s a theme of silver bands, some with engravings or textures, others plain. You can’t help but wonder what pattern they’d welt on your ass if he spanked you. Perhaps today was a day for testing their limits as well as yours.

Namjoon, however, is the epitome of calm. Although both of your boyfriends had always been the ones in control, it was Namjoon who took charge earlier tonight when you were all getting ready. It was him that bought you the black lace bralette and matching miniskirt you were currently wearing; it was him who picked out what panties you were allowed to wear, before deciding nothing was better. It was him who booked you an appointment for waxing a few days prior so that you would be bare for him, able to feel everything. And now, as he kept your eyes fixed on him, he retained that composure. Going for a more subtle getup to Hoseok and you, he almost looked like he could walk into a high-profile business dinner and fit right in. Deep grey pants cinched at the waist with a belt were paired with a simple dress shirt, complete with expensive gold cufflinks.

The room is loud enough that you don’t hear the third man approaching until you hear his voice. You turn to look, but flush when Namjoon only lets your chin go after a moment, patting you condescendingly on the cheek. The newcomer, as he stands beside Namjoon and looks over the three of you, is decked out in leather, latex and buckles. A shot of anxious energy runs through your body as you look over how professional he looks. Leather pants, lace-up boots, and a latex top that is unzipped all the way to the middle of his chest, exposing a deep triangle of golden flesh. When he reaches out to shake Hoseok and Namjoon’s hands, a buckled strap around his bicep flexes slightly. You clench your thighs together, wishing Namjoon would’ve let you wear panties, anything to stop you from leaking onto the vinyl of the upholstered barstool.

“RM, Jay,” the man greets cordially, a surprisingly smooth-toned voice accompanying his fine-boned face. “My name is V, the sub will call me Master. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, my name is Y/N,” you supply helpfully, but V turns to glare at you with narrowed eyebrows. Your smile drops.

“I was under the impression you read the email, sub,” he says steadily, words just sharp enough to provide a threat. “The scene was to begin the moment I arrived, which means you shouldn’t be speaking out of turn.”

You blink, turning to Hoseok for back-up, but he shoots you a salacious wink and looks back over to V. “She did read the email, yes. We’ve been having problems with her not following our rules, actually, so it’s great that you could fit us in for a session.”

You pout and jab Hoseok playfully in the side. On a normal night, your boyfriend would teasingly warn you, or perhaps you’d get a light spanking, but now he goes tense, eyes past you. You frown, and twist around, only for your blood to run cold.

“Did you just hit Sir?” V asks coldly.

“I just poked him,” you defend.

His eyes flare. “You aren’t making this very easy for yourself, little sub. I wouldn’t be testing my patience so early on in the evening if I were you.”

You pout and hunch over in your seat. “I’m sorry, um, Master, but I didn’t hit him. I just poked him,” you repeat petulantly.

His lips stretch into a disbelieving smile, sharp at the edges. “You’re right,” he affirms, “there is a difference between hitting and poking. Tell me, little sub; if I bend you over that bartop right now and flip up your skirt, which one do you think you’ll be getting?”

Namjoon intervenes, placing a hand on your knee and squeezing it gently. “Just apologise to Hoseok, baby girl. That was your first strike, but we know you must be nervous.”

His touch calms you, and you turn to your other boyfriend with what you hope is a cute pout. “Sorry, Sir,” you mumble, “I won’t do it again.”

“Good girl,” Hoseok replies warmly. “Now, we have some things we’d like to discuss, so just sit nice and pretty for us, hm?”

“And remember our rules,” Namjoon reminds you firmly. You nod dutifully and wriggle around on the stool a bit, getting comfortable as the three of them begin discussion.

For a while it’s admin stuff - payment, prior experience, limits - and you let yourself zone out, eyes curiously roaming the room that’s laid out in front of you.

Never having been to a BDSM dungeon before, you had sort of expected some sort of medieval, dimly-lit basement, but it’s comfortingly clean, tidy, and in fact to one side of the room there seems to be a social area where a pleasant hum of chatter fills the air. Some are dressed like V, others more incognito like Namjoon. There are women with fluffy tails between their legs, men wearing nothing but a jockstrap. On the far side of the room, a lady old enough to be your grandmother rests her feet on the bare back of a middle-aged man, whose arm muscles tremble violently.

But of course, this isn’t just a social gathering, and the majority of the room is taken up by what almost seems like an open-space office. It’s a large room, with two hallways at the far end that lead into what you know are the private rooms, available by booking. You had tried an interrogation room with your two boyfriends as a way of branching further out into BDSM, and only now are you realising how much of a baby step that was. The sights in front of you are far more intense and varied, and you shift in your seat, feeling Namjoon’s hand still resting on your knee, as you wonder which of the toys you’ll be using tonight.

Although the room is fairly loud with pleasured cries and sounds of impact, vibration, and electricity, it’s not terribly packed or crowded. The larger pieces of equipment are spread out around the room, and there are plenty of free spots. Men and women in plain black clothing rush around cleaning stations between uses, and even more keep watch over the crowd, stationed throughout the room. Each one has a little neon badge on their breast, and white lettering stamped on the back of their shirts that say DM. From the induction pamphlet you three had received when signing up, you knew this meant Dungeon Monitor, and they were the staff there to take care and keep an eye on the scenes. It reassured you to see just how many of them there were.

Occupying yourself with watching floggings and fucking machines and elaborate bondage only entertains you for so long, however, and you tune back in to the conversation, kicking your feet lazily back and forth. One rule of the dungeon was that all subs had to remove their shoes, since they’d be the ones getting up on the equipment and it was easier to avoid property damage that way, but you feel strangely vulnerable feeling the cold metal of the bar stool’s legs against your skin.

“Oh, wow, that long, huh?”

“Well, she was trained and had experience with suspension before that. Besides, there were two different spotters at the event to…”

You huff, feeling boredom make you restless. You only had the guy for one evening and here Hoseok and Namjoon were having a chat with V like they had all the time in the world. You glance up; nobody heard your noise of frustration, so you subtly inch your foot out to where Namjoon stands across from you, running it up and down, hitching his pant leg a little. As V continues to describe some encounters he had, Namjoon turns his head to you slightly and gives you a questioning stare. You pout at him, enough that he’ll notice but not so much that you’d draw unwanted attention from V.

His face clears out into an encouraging smile, and you perk up, expecting him to play with you a little or at the very least suggest to V that you properly begin the session. But, to your horror, he simply clears his throat, interrupting V mid-sentence. “What is it, baby girl?”

You shrink back, feeling three sets of eyes heavy on you. “I’m bored, Daddy.”

“You’re bored,” he repeats with a gentle tone that you would hear an adult use on a small child. “And what do you want me to do about that, hm? I was in the middle of a conversation, baby.”

“It’s rude to interrupt,” Hoseok pitches in.

Your mouth drops open. “I didn’t interrupt, Namjoon did!” The man in question tenses his jaw at your lack of a title. You swallow nervously, turning back to Hoseok. “I just don’t get why we’re still just sitting around at the bar, Sir. Isn’t chatting a waste of time?”

“Do you always speak to your doms that way, sub?”

You huff and stare at V. Needy for attention, boredom has always made you reckless, and so far he hadn’t done anything except empty threats. You shrug.

With his dark hair swept back off his forehead, you see the disapproving lines as he narrows his eyebrows at you. “That’s not an answer.”

You shrug again, with more emphasis. You do your best to stop from flat-out rolling your eyes, simply casting them upwards in frustration. “No, Master, I don’t. Because normally by now we’d actually be doing something.”

Namjoon sucks in a breath, and Hoseok tenses. You know you’ve fucked up by the way V’s back naturally straightens and his shoulders drop, slowly shaking his head.

“I warned you,” the master chides, “but little brats like you don’t listen. It’s clear that whatever I do will be a ‘waste of time’ as long as you have that attitude. Get off that stool and bend over it.”

Your stomach swirls anxiously, though it’s not entirely negative. You swallow, mutely shaking your head.

Undeterred, V turns to your boyfriends on either side. “Jay, bend her over and push up her skirt. RM, hold her torso down.” You squeak out in surprise as Hoseok doesn’t hesitate, picking you up and dragging the stool out further into the room before pressing you down onto it. V follows you with a languid pace, and you hear him cracking his knuckles. “It’s no wonder you called me, boys. Your sub is completely out of control. You have to teach her discipline if you expect to get anything out of this.”

You wriggle under the palm that pins you against the upholstery of the bar stool, Namjoon crouching so that his face is in your eyesight. His mouth is hard but his eyes are muted with sympathy. “You’re making us look bad, baby girl. Maybe if you take your punishment well, we can give you a reward, hm?”

The cool air on your ass as Hoseok lifts your skirt to rest on your back has you hissing in a breath, and with dawning horror, you realise the area around you has gone quieter. You make a noise of discomfort in your throat, and Hoseok gives one of your cheeks a light teasing pat.

“Everyone’s watching you, kitten,” he reveals with an edge of humor to his voice. “They wanna see your pretty little ass get lit up.” When he speaks again, it’s further away and in such a low murmur that you can’t make out what he’s saying. He confers quietly with V for a few moments, and you curl your toes into the carpet, unsure how you feel about your body being on display to so many strangers like this.

After a few moments, it goes silent, and you hold your breath, getting a fright when a stinging hand comes down upon your right cheek. “Ah, Sir,” you cry out in surprise.

“Wrong,” a voice says flatly, an unfamiliar hand brushing over the mark. You gasp and try to wiggle away, rising on your tiptoes to escape the touch. Namjoon gently shushes you, brushing your hair back from your face as V chuckles, his voice low with satisfaction. “Where’s that foolish confidence gone now, hm?”

When his hand comes down again, it’s on the other cheek and twice as hard. You whine at the sting, expecting another soothing rub or snarky comment, but he doesn’t give you the chance, instead raining down hit after hit, palm cupped slightly to increase the noise. Namjoon and Hoseok hold you down as you desperately shift away, trying in vain to tuck your ass away or twist out of their grip, but he doesn’t stop. You lose count sometime past eight, and your flesh heats up with each one, but still he continues. You feel the warmth spread; hits on your ass are spread evenly around but you also feel smacks that land on the tops of your thighs and, when you part your legs slightly to adjust your position, one lands right on your bare pussy. Though you can’t hear what he’s saying through your whimpers and cries, you can hear him laugh every now and again, kneading your tender flesh or giving you a pinch. He’s showing off.

When the air stills, you’re trembling. Your cheeks are on fire, not only your ass but also your face as you blush violently, tears running in hot tracks down your face. Vaguely, you hear your boyfriends praising you, hands lifting you up off the stool. Your vision swims with being raised so suddenly but Namjoon lets you lean on him, wrapping his arms around you and burying his chin in your hair.

“You did so well, baby,” he promises. “So well. Do you understand why he had to do that?”

You sniff and nod weakly.

“Good girl,” he croons, and your heart swells.

After a few moments, you feel another pair of hands on you. You turn, standing on shaky legs, and see Hoseok squeezing your shoulder. “We’re ready to play now, kitten. You still want us to play with you?”

Nervously, your eyes slide behind him to V, but instead of the disapproving hard stare you were expecting, you’re faced with sparkling eyes. Pride. The look of a teacher when their student finally grasps a difficult concept. It’s a look that you hope to see again. You turn back to Hoseok, blink away the last of your tears, and nod. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s my girl,” Namjoon praises warmly, and pats your extremely sore ass to get you moving.

You jump at the contact, but quickly hurry forward to follow the two men in front of you as they wind their way deeper into the room. You realise zoning out during their conversation perhaps wasn’t the best idea, since you now have no idea what they’re going to do and, being in the scene, have no way of asking.

The smell of arousal is heavy in the air, along with faint wisps of various scented lubes and wax play candles. You bite your lip as the modest crowd of people that had stopped to watch your punishment slowly return to what they’re doing, not after eyeing up your ass, which no doubt is bright red if the stinging heat is anything to go by. Your fingers itch to pull your skirt back down, but you’re unsure if you’re allowed to, and while you wish to continue poking and prodding your doms throughout the evening, you want to wait until your flesh isn’t so tender. Besides, a little reward for being a good girl sure sounds nice right about now. You keep your eyes low, conveniently resting them on the sight of Hoseok’s ass in those tight black pants, and try to ignore the slickness of your inner thighs as you walk.

You’re stopped suddenly when that ass halts in front of you, and you stumble to prevent yourself from smacking right into him. You look up as Namjoon comes around to stand beside them, a hand resting gently but possessively on your shoulder.

“I’m excited for this, baby girl. I know it’s something you wanted to try, and I can’t wait to see you up there.”

Up? You swivel in the direction he’s looking, where a massive contraption is bolted to the wall, two long, skinny blocks crossed over in a narrow X. Heat floods to your core as you recognise the equipment.

“A Saint Andrew's cross,” V explains easily, like he’s given the spiel a thousand times. “Named after Saint Andrew, who got crucified like this rather than the traditional way. Although I’m sure you’ll be having a lot more fun than he did.”

While you had done all this research before in anticipation of this evening, there was something far more electric about hearing it while the cross itself stood before you, especially since you knew you were about to be on it. Your mouth opens to breathe out a curse, but you snap it shut quickly.

V notices this and his lip twitches at your obedience. “Alright, little sub. Undress now.”

You blink. Somehow this hadn’t occurred to you. Taking a surreptitious glance around the room, it seems nobody is paying much attention to you; everyone around you is either a DM or actively engaging in their own scene. Still, you hesitate, before reluctantly slipping down your skirt and unhooking your bra. You cross your arms over your breasts and press your thighs as close together as possible, avoiding the eyes of the three men around you.

“For someone that was so concerned about wasting time, you sure did take a while to obey me, sub. Next time I expect you to do as I or your other doms say the moment we say it, understand?”

You stare at the way your toes curl between the fibres of the charcoal carpet. “Yes, Master.” You say it quickly, forcing the words out, and he sighs in displeasure.

You can feel rather than see his dark gaze on you. The tip of one of his boots taps impatiently in the corner of your vision. “Your two options are obedience and the use of your safeword. Anything else and you will receive due punishment. It’s clear to me your doms are soft on you; I can assure you, I am not. I won’t hesitate to discipline you without mercy.”

As much as your mind screams not to, you can’t help the grin that twitches at your lip at the thought. You duck your head down further, hoping he missed it.

Of course, no such luck. “Oh, it seems the sub likes the sound of that,” he muses in a humored tone. “Maybe you gentlemen picked a good one after all.”

Hoseok hums, reaching forward to squeeze one of your ass cheeks. You gasp, biting your lip at the heat that flares up under his calloused fingers. “Our pretty little painslut,” he confirms. “Get up on the cross, kitten.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, embarrassment curling in the pit of your stomach at how throaty your voice is already. You feel wetness smearing all the way down to the bottom of your thighs now, and if your core doesn’t get some attention, you might just go crazy.

With shaky legs, you step up, the bottom of each plank having a narrow platform just wide enough for a foot. The distance isn’t too far, with your feet spread apart a bit wider than your hips, but the waft of cool air causes you to clench. Like always, when approaching something new, you feel your heart seize up in equal parts arousal and anxiety.

With your back to the cross, you’re faced out onto the crowd, and you feel yourself go weak, all too aware of just how many people in the room there are. It’s filled up a bit over the past half hour or so, and while nobody actively ogles you, there’s nothing to stop them glancing up to catch you, naked and with thighs glossy. You buckle at the knees slightly, crouching to close the gap between your legs slightly.

Hoseok tuts. “Don’t go shy on us now, kitten. Arms up.”

Instinctively your hands lift in the air, but you pause. “Sir?”

“Yes, kitten?” He steps forward, close enough that you can just about feel the heat radiating off his body, giving the feeling of confidentiality - even as your two other doms watch you like a hawk behind him.

You swallow hard, lowering your voice to a whisper. “What are you going to do me?” Even asking the question sends a delicious shudder up your spine.

He grins, eyes bright. “That all depends on if you behave for us. Are you gonna be a good slut?” You nod quickly, though a part of you is already planning how you can rile them up while tied down. “Say it, kitten.”

“I’m gonna be a good slut for Sir.”

His grin sharpens into a sneer as he steps back, joining the two others. “I’m not the only one here, remember? Say it to them, too.”

Your hands find each other, wringing them to vent your embarrassment. Namjoon has slipped his hands casually into his pants pockets, and he tips his head to the side with a slight smile, expectant. V maintains his stoic posture as usual and just cocks an eyebrow, arms crossed. You clear your throat, eyes darting once more around the other patrons of the dungeon. “I-I’m gonna be a good slut for Daddy…. And I’m gonna be a good slut for,” your gaze lands on V, too far away for you to be sure, but you think you see his eyes dilate. “Master,” you finish. He gives you the most miniscule nod, you would’ve missed it had you not already been watching him.

“That’s right,” Hoseok affirms, and steps forward again. “Now I won’t ask again. Arms up.”

This time you don’t waste a moment, holding them up in the air over your head, feeling the cold metal of the buckles lightly brush the tops of your hands. You look up with a frown, only to see the fastening points too high up. You look back down with a disappointed pout.

Hoseok is staring at you in bemusement and Namjoon has delicately covered his mouth to laugh, but V just pushes past the two, crouching down suddenly to crank a lever on the cross beside your left foot. You squeak as that platform begins to lift, and to save yourself from tipping over, your hand flies down and steadies yourself on his shoulder. You manage to catch your balance and quickly go to lift off your hand, wary that he might’ve considered it breaking the rules, but his hand darts up the second your fingertips slip away from the leather, wrapping tightly around your wrist.

You freeze in uncertainty, but he simply switches planks and adjusts the other platform so that the two are even, with you higher up than before. Once he’s done, he tips his head up to look at you, and you feel yourself shrink back at the heat of his gaze. Somehow, even though you’re above him, he has a way of exerting his power over you with that one look.

Suddenly, your awareness is brought to the heat between your thighs, and how close he is to it. As if he can read your thoughts, his eyes slip down to stare openly at your exposed pussy. A hot strike of shame makes your toes curl on the wooden platforms as his nostrils flare, and he looks back up at you again with a slow grin.

You take a shuddering breath, bracing yourself for a scathing comment, but he just stands up in one smooth movement, silently taking your wrist up to hold it against the corresponding post, nodding to himself when your wrist slips nicely into the leather cuff. He buckles it efficiently, and you feel your heart pick up when the natural weight of your arm pulls on the tight circlet of leather, reminding you of your vulnerability. Your other arm is hoisted up and attached before you even realise it, rendering you spread-eagled on the cross. Your ankles remain free, but the wrist attachments are still high enough for you that your body is completely stretched out, heels barely brushing the platforms.

He steps back, bends over to murmur something in Namjoon and Hoseok’s ears one at a time, then promptly leaves. You feel an odd stab of disappointment as you watch his receding figure snake through couples and small groups at different stations, until he goes out of sight. “Where’d he go?” you murmur unhappily.

Hoseok frowns and surges forward, raining a sharp swat down on your breast. Your eyes squeeze shut and your hands instinctively jerk, but you’re unable to cover yourself. You startle when he gives the same treatment to the other breast. “What an ungrateful little slut,” you hear him say. “So desperate for another man’s cock. Filthy.”

Another voice from slightly further away, softer. “Are we not enough for you anymore, baby girl?’

You open your eyes and shake your head adamantly. “No, Daddy,” you plead, “I was just curious.”

Namjoon has on an expression he rarely gets. Normally the softer of the two, he now presses his mouth into a tight line and furrows his brow. “And now you’re lying to Daddy,” he comments flatly. “If that greedy pussy of yours isn’t satisfied with two cocks, you should just tell us.”

Your pout deepens. “It isn’t that, Daddy! I was just having fun with three.”

After a moment, the tension in his face clears. “Ah, baby’s just having fun, hm? Special occasion?” You nod sulkily. “Oh, well there’s nothing wrong with that, baby girl. Daddy wants you to have fun. But if you wanna have fun you need to learn to follow the rules. And you didn’t even ask nicely.”

Your chest eases, the crisis averted. “Thank you, Daddy, I’m sorry. Please can you tell me why Master V left?”

Hoseok barks out a quick laugh. “He didn’t leave, kitten, he’s gone out back to get some toys for us to play with.”

You mouth opens and closes, unsure whether you’re allowed to talk back. You take the chance, curiosity getting the better of you. “But Sir, there are so many spare trolleys with toys on them here already.”

“I thought you deserved my personal collection,” a third voice says from your right. You glance over quickly, sticking your face out to see past your forearm, as V returns with what looks like a massive toolbox, metal painted black, and sets it down beside you. “Employee perks,” he explains shortly. “Some of our equipment isn’t safe to be used with untrained individuals for safety reasons. Others I just have a personal preference for.” He’s not speaking to you anymore, rather your two boyfriends. “Has the sub behaved while I’ve been gone?”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow but Namjoon beats him to it. “She most certainly has. Waiting patiently for her reward.” You blink at Namjoon, surprised, but the dark glimmer in his eyes just tells you that you’ll pay for his generosity later.

“Well, then,” V begins, flipping open the catches on the top of the chest, flipping the lid up, “let’s begin.”

You watch in anticipation, muscles in your upper arms twitching as he digs around. You can’t see anything from the way the lid blocks your view, but after a moment he pulls out a bottle of...lube?

“What’s that?” you ask curiously before you can think better of it.

V lets out a bitter scoff, passing the bottle - unlabeled except for a faded E written in Sharpie- to Namjoon, before turning back to his toolbox. “That mouth,” he remarks harshly, “will get you in trouble, little sub.” He lets out a low growl as he rummages around more hastily, and the sound rushes straight to your core, heat flaring. “I don’t even have a gag for you, normally my subs know not to run their mouths around me. Guess I’ll have to make do.”

He straights up, pulling out a long trail of thin rope, soft red nylon looking positively sinful as it runs over his tanned fingers. He loops it a few times, before collecting the bunch, one thick cylinder of rope, about two fingers wide. His lids are low when they focus on you, that proud glimmer long gone. “Open up.” You obey him without thinking, scrunching your nose as he fastens the rope around your head, strands of hair getting pinched between the individual lengths. The girth is enough that your jaw hangs a little open, and you curl your lips and bite down on the rope in an effort to prevent drooling.

“Now, I won’t give you another strike because you were asking a question. But that better be the last time I hear you speaking out of turn. This isn’t fucking Sunday School, I don’t need you asking questions. Look at where you are right now, princess. Tied and gagged, naked with your dripping pussy on full display. We could do whatever the fuck we wanted with you right now. Your pretty little boyfriends could leave right now to get an early night and leave you in my hands. Maybe I’d get sick of your attitude and walk away myself, leaving you available to anyone who wanted to play with you. How long do you think it would take a DM to notice the sub that was getting fucked by everyone in the room, hm?” You shudder, core clenching, as you remember the pure arousal that hit you when you felt V’s unfamiliar hands on your ass back at the bar. Your eyes slip shut at the thought, and you hear a chuckle. “You continue to surprise me, little sub. It seems that no matter what I say or do as punishment you go weak at the knees. I’ll have to think on how I’ll discipline you properly. In the meantime,” he breaks away from you to walk back to your boyfriends, patting Namjoon on the shoulder. “Like we discussed?”

You tilt your head at this comment, though Namjoon and Hoseok both nod, the latter biting his lip with a dark look in his eyes. As the two approach you, V falls behind, using the toolbox as a stool, legs splayed across the carpet lazily. You turn your attention back to your boyfriends, who have stopped at the foot of the cross, one to either side.

Namjoon lazily thumbs the cap open and closed; with every plastic click, you feel your core clench. He smiles at you, eyes glittering. “Most patrons of the dungeon don’t get to play with the toys we’re gonna play with, baby girl. We had to come here last week for a safety briefing.” You lower your brows in confusion and your boyfriend stays in character, tipping his head to the side innocently even as his eyes glitter with amusement. “What, did we not tell you that? Jay, did you tell our girl what we were preparing for?”

Hoseok’s eyes are nearly black. He doesn’t turn to Namjoon when he’s addressed, eyes heavy on you. “I guess I must’ve forgot,” he replies flatly, not even attempting to convincingly lie. “Wanna guess where we’re gonna put it?” His lip curls in amusement as you stare it him, hands tied and mouth gagged. He laughs darkly. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t. I suppose you’ll just have to sit back and take it, hm?” He takes the lube back off Namjoon and steps even closer, until you can see the shimmer of sweat on his temples and some strands on his hairline sticking to it.

You groan around the rope, steadily growing soaked with your spit. Tentatively, you push your hips forward as much as you can off the wood of the cross, whimpering in question. Hoseok, head ducked as he cracks open the bottle and squeezes some lube onto his fingers, misses it but your other boyfriend just chuckles.

“Not that greedy pussy of yours, baby girl,” he teases, “it’s so sloppy we wouldn’t need any lube at all. No, this is for those pretty little nipples of yours.”

You shudder, ass falling back to smack against the planks again. You moan out a word around the gag, though, as Hoseok’s slicked-up hands latch around your stiff buds, you know they all understand you. Why?

Namjoon’s eyes light up. “Do you know what the E on the bottle stands for, baby girl?” When he says the next word, he enunciates every syllable, the harsh sounds of the consonants cracking in his mouth, sending shivers down your spine. “Electric.”

As if rehearsed, V stands up off the chest, swinging his leg aside to open it back up, digging in deep and pulling out what looks like an electrical cord; the flat, black ribbon splitting off into two and ending on either end in delicate peg-like contraptions. Nipple clamps. You take a deep breath, chest soaring. Nipple clamps were one of your favorite toys to use in the bedroom. Many a time, even in your more vanilla forays, you’d bat your eyelashes and press out your chest and ask one of your boyfriends to pretty please put on the clamps, even just for a little bit, but you were used to bright silver, not this sleek black. You watch in curiosity as V ducks down again, pulling out what appears to be a remote - a rounded, roughly egg-shaped device that fits comfortably in his hand. Electric. Your jaw goes slack around the spit-slick ropes in your mouth. Your eyes are heavy on those two black pegs as they sway loosely in the air, and you feel yourself tremble, the muscles in your thighs weaker than they were before.

Hoseok’s fingers, still slightly cold from the air in the room, feel even more stimulating as they tweak your buds, coaxing them into stiff peaks as the lube makes it difficult for him to get a grasp. You suck in a harsh breath through your nose as he slips and scratches a fingernail across the top of one, your eyes finally breaking from the nipple clamps and onto him as he apologetically pats your breast with a rakish grin.

Without looking, he accepts the proffered toy, wrapping ring-laden fingers around the remote as he jokingly snaps one of the clamps in his other hand, opening and closing it like a tiny set of jaws. Slipping the black device into his pocket, he stands directly in front of you, slightly taller than you even as you’re raised on the platform of the cross, and licks his lips teasingly.

“This is how it’s going to go, kitten,” he instructs in a sultry tone, “we’re going to put these on, have a little fun. But you’re not allowed to cum, okay? A good girl always asks first.” You narrow your eyebrows at him, huffing around your makeshift gag, and his eyes light up, tip of his tongue remaining just past his teeth as he chuckles. “Mm, you can’t exactly ask if you’ve got that thing in your mouth, now can you?” You shake your head obediently, hoping he can read the pleading look in your eyes. “Maybe I’ll take it off later.”

Your shoulders droop. You let out a disappointed whine, but your boyfriend just laughs at you, shifting his focus down to your breasts as he palms one roughly, a thumb stroking over the nipple before he’s bringing the toy up to it without ceremony.

You crane your neck down, moaning as the sight of him affixing the black clamp to your glistening nipple is paired with the delicious pressure it brings. Your head tips back again, eyes falling shut in bliss as, for the first time in the evening, you receive some decent stimulation. You let out a groan, hands balling uselessly into fists high above your head as your other nipple receives the same treatment. You can’t help but whimper, back arching to follow him as he deftly tugs on the electrical ribbon between the two, ensuring they’re fastened correctly, but no doubt also doing it just to watch you squirm.

“That feel good, kitten?”

You garble affirmation and nod, moaning again as he continues to play with the cord, a dozen teasing flicks of his wrist to keep the warmth of pressure on your nipples rising. All is still for a moment, and you crack your eyes open to see Hoseok falling back to stand beside V, letting your other boyfriend take his place.

Your attention is immediately caught by the object he’s lazily tossing back and forth between his hands. A slender, curved vibrator. Your eyes light up, and it’s clear he sees the apparent joy on your face as he approaches.

“I did say this was a reward, baby girl,” Namjoon reminds you, looking sharp as ever in his dress shirt. His straining erection is clear to see even through the black pants, and a quick glance to Hoseok shows you he’s faring the same. You had hoped their desperation would have led to their cocks being inside you already, but you would happily settle for a vibrator, as long as something was filling you. Surreptitiously, you sneak a look over to V’s crotch as well, a dark glee lighting up inside you when you see the outline of a bulge running halfway down his thigh. Holy shit.

You swear your heart stops for a second when you look away, only to be faced with V himself as he stares you down, clearly having seen you ogle him. You sigh, muffled through the wet rope, as you feel smooth silicone slip between your soaked folds, but you can’t break your gaze from the man sitting atop his box of toys.

Languidly, like he has all the time in the world, the dark-haired man rests a hand on his thigh, and lets a single finger lay right where his head sits underneath the fabric, and swirls it, gently outlining his own erection, a promise of what could be to come. Your mouth waters even more, and the only thing that pulls you back is a sudden onslaught of sensation; somehow, as though they were timing it while you were distracted, Namjoon plunges the vibrator to the hilt inside of you just as an odd yet intense tingle in your nipples makes your very nerve endings shiver.

You let out a surprised yelp, smothered by the gag in your mouth, and flinch as the cord between your breasts is yanked roughly, very nearly dislodging the clamps with how vigorous the motion is. Your gaze shoots in front of you to Namjoon, the normally reserved demeanor alight with something deeper, something more possessive.

“Do we need to take him away?” Namjoon asks in a sharp tone. Without looking, without changing his stern expression at all, he flattens his palm against the base of the vibrator and presses, twisting it inside you, as deep as it can get. You whine lowly, attempting to rise on the tips of your toes to escape the sudden stretch, but he simply reaches out and grips your chin tightly. “Yes or no,” he spits out, “do we need to take him away or will you start behaving for us?”

You sniff as the base of his palm barely misses your clit, but articulate a vaguely disyllabic answer, asking for the latter.

“You promise to behave?” he confirms, and you hum your agreement. “Well then, I’m sick of your eyes being on him when you should be focussing on me. On us. Understood?” He releases your jaw so that you can nod in response. “Good. Now, before we continue, I want this gag off. I’m sick of you blabbering like a baby when I ask you a question.”

Simultaneous rage and humiliation flare in you at the statement, but you stay silent, all too relieved to finally be freeing your mouth. The ropes have been getting heavier as your spit is absorbed, and when he finally undoes the knots, accidentally ripping out a few hair strands with them, your jaw aches as you close it again, muscles sore from being held wide for some time. You lick your lips to soothe them and swallow the saliva that’s been pooling in your mouth, but your relief is only enjoyed for a few moments before Namjoon continues.

This time, instead of grinding the vibrator inside you - sadly still turned off - he begins thrusting it, gently tugging at the nipple clamps one at a time, or flicking them with his finger to get you to whimper. Your sounds are so much louder without the muffling, and you find yourself trying to keep your mouth shut, moans bubbling in the back of your throat as he strikes your g-spot with each thrust, the gentle curve in the silicon rubbing against that spongy tissue.

“Good?” he asks simply, picking up the pace as your abs clench with the urge to grind against the intrusion.

“Y-good,” you make out between pleasured whimpers, whole body shuddering when the sparks of electricity return, a lower intensity level but in regular thrumming instead of a single pulse. The stimulation merges with the vibrator inside you, warming your whole body with pleasure, but something is missing. “Turn it on,” you breathe out desperately, before adding a belated, “please, Daddy.”

Namjoon’s lip quirks in satisfaction. “My baby girl is so needy. Can you promise not to cum for me?”

You pout in disappointment. “Daddy…” But he doesn’t back down. “Yes, okay, I won’t cum, Daddy. Can Hoseokie come over too?”

“Ask him, princess.” While Namjoon waits, he takes out the vibrator with a wet noise and you hum unhappily at the emptiness in your core.

You bite your lip, turning to the man behind Namjoon with a glint in your eye. “Sir, please come touch me. I need you.”

Hoseok, always the one to be a little more susceptible to begging, makes his way forward, absentmindedly tapping the bulge in his pocket where the remote is. He smiles softly at the puppy dog eyes you send him, as you arch your chest enticingly.

You return it, though your smile quickly turns mischievous. The cool varnished wood of the cross has calmed down the sting in your ass, and you’re feeling like you could do with some more punishment. Besides, your arms are starting to ache from being held up so long. “Good boy.”

The warmth in his expression drops in an instant, and his lip curls. Like lightning, his hand dives into his pocket and you yelp as a sharp bite of electricity runs through your nipples and through your whole chest, making you tremble violently as your muscles contract.

“Okay,” you hear V say quickly, standing up off the chest and rushing over to you. As your shivers continue, you feel him firmly grab a hold of the black electrical ribbon between your breasts and tugs roughly, yanking the clamps right off your overstimulated nipples. You howl and instinctively try to curl in on yourself, the leather cuffs digging painfully into your wrists. You can see the hard lines of anger in his face, and duck your head, turning your face slightly to the side as you await punishment, but it seems the leather-clad man isn’t annoyed at you.

He stalks over to Hoseok, who has stepped back a little in confusion, and shoves his hand without ceremony into the other’s pants, drawing out the remote and chucking the two items back into his chest, kicking it shut with a metallic slam. Whirling back around, he draws his chest up, looking unbelievably intimidating even over your boyfriend. “Never,” he spits, “ever take your anger out on a sub,  no matter how bratty she may be. Yes, she deserves punishment for acting out and we’ll give it to her but that doesn’t mean you can use her as a punching bag.” With a jaw clenched bitterly, V shakes his head. “This is why I don’t let non-professionals use my equipment. Lesson fucking learned, I suppose.”

You watch with wide eyes as he approaches you slowly, hands on his hips. “Colour,” he requests quietly.

You swallow, eyes darting to your boyfriend, whose eyes are on you, rueful. Namjoon stands beside him, hand on his shoulder, and leans in to whisper quietly. “Green,” you say after a moment. “Yellow then, but green now.”

V nods after a moment, gaze running over every inch of your body thoroughly, paying close attention to the angry red of your nipples. “Alright. We continue, without any electric play.” Taking the slick vibrator off Namjoon, he chucks it into a plastic bag inside the chest that you can just make out a label on that reads ‘to be cleaned’. He stands over the box of toys for a moment, considering, before turning back around, glaring at you. You gasp, feeling that the scene is back in full swing now. “And the sub. It’s clear to me no matter what equipment I use on her, she drips for it.” You push your lips into a scowl when you realise, though his eyes are heavy on you, he’s addressing your boyfriends instead. “Maybe the problem here is that she enjoys the punishment she gets from you so much that she acts out constantly to receive it. Of course punishment can be fun, but when she’s as out of line as she is now, you need to teach her a lesson. So, if toys won’t work, we’ll try something else. Someone else.”

Your back straightens and your gaze trains on him warily. You have to bite your tongue to hold back a retort, and his eyes dance gleefully at the way you clench your jaw.

“Jay, RM, it seems to me that your sub likes being punished so much because you’re the ones who will give it to her. So, with your permission, we’re going to be changing it up.”

Your mouth drops open in indignation as the two nod calmly. “What about my permission?”

With a dark glare, V reaches out and grabs tightly onto one of your abused nipples, making you wince at the pinching sensation. “This far into the evening and you still can’t stop running your mouth. If you recall, sub, involving other individuals in play was something you ticked off on your application.”

You can’t help yourself. “Not for punishment, though,” you counter in a low whine.

His eyebrows lower. “I’ll keep the play safe, but beyond that I have no sympathy for you, you little brat. Use your safeword, otherwise it’s in your best interests to start following the rules.”

You smother your pout with another scowl and turn your head to the side, biting hard on the inside of your cheek when he releases your nipple with a final tweak and the blood rushes back in achingly.

He waits for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh when you remain silent. “Fine, then. We’re going to go find someone who wants to play, and you can just wait right here.”

In shock, your head snaps back and you look out onto the room, at all the people playing and watching. If your doms left, you wouldn’t be able to fend them off. Your heart rate increases, and you send your boyfriends a concerned look.

V catches it, and grins. “Don’t worry,” he remarks smugly as he reaches into his back pocket, “we won’t leave you up here alone. My friend Jimin over there is a DM, he’s been supervising us all night in case you hadn’t noticed. He’ll come stand by you while we’re gone.”

You look off in the direction the dom nods in and see a blonde-haired young man in the black shirt and neon badge, strolling over from the corner of the room closest to your station. He sees you staring and throws you a rakish grin, lifting an arm to run a hand through his hair cockily. God, you think, he better not want to make conversation while I’m stuck up here.

A plastic click draws your attention back in front of you, where V has what looks like a felt pen. “Washable ink,” he explains, “just to be safe.” You go completely still as he brings it forward to draw it in swoops across your chest, over the tops of your breasts. The tip of the pen tickles, and the ink is cool, a bright purple. Once he draws back and caps the pen, you draw your chin into your chest to try and make sense of the large block letters. It takes you a moment to reverse them in your mind, but you suck in a breath through your teeth when you work it out. TAKEN.

As you try and read, he speaks once more. “Wiggle your fingers,” he instructs calmly, and you look up, doing as he asks with a tinge of confusion. “And make a fist.” You do that two, feeling the very tips of your fingers are a little numb, otherwise the rest of you is fine. You realise he’s checking in to make sure the blood hasn’t completely left your extremities from being held above your head. As always, he manages to uphold safety without impairing the scene. Without further comment, he turns from you, converses quietly with the DM, and leaves, your two boyfriends in tow.

Left alone with the stranger, you watch warily as he sighs out and takes a seat on the carpet in front of you, kicking out his legs. “Ah,” he hums happily, stretching his arms in front of his chest. “This is the first time I’ve sat down all night. Standing sure gets tiring.” With a cheeky smile, he glances up at you. “Although I don’t need to tell you that.”

You simply stare at him quietly, unsure if you’re still on the ‘don’t speak unless you’re spoken to’ mode. Though, to be fair, you haven’t exactly been following that much tonight. “So, your name’s Jimin?” you ask after a moment.

He lets out a surprised laugh at your attempt at small-talk. “You know, normally the subs Tae gets me to supervise- ah fuck, V - normally the subs V gets me to supervise are way more timid than you. You a sucker for pain or something?”

Looking out onto the multiple stations in front of you, you shrug as much as you can within the restraints. “When in Rome.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, eyes roaming over you. “God, the one day I’m DM-ing...” He looks out and perks up. “Fuck, that was fast. I guess they had no problem finding someone interested.”

Your eyes dart out into the crowd, craning your neck to glance around a few people watching a nearby scene, searching for your boyfriends or V. In front of you, Jimin is standing up hastily and brushing the seat of his pants, and you curse the fact that you can’t get up on tippy-toes to look over him.

“Nice to meet you,” he farewells cordially. He holds his arm out for a handshake and then realizes his mistake, shaking his head in embarrassment and turning away, quickly rushing back over to his corner. Your eyes widen as he leaves prematurely, glancing around to make sure no strangers approach, when you see the familiar broad frame of your boyfriend returning to you, his grin big even as his eyes are lidded with lust.

You smile at him warmly. Even five minutes without Namjoon makes your heart swell when you see him again, and you wiggle your hands in a grabby motion, making his dimple pop out when he smiles. There’s something else though, a sly quirk to his lips, and it makes you pause.

Behind him is Hoseok, wearing a look of satisfaction and contained excitement, and you can’t quite see past the two to see who might be following them.

As they get closer, you see V, but he’s a decent few paces back, and you don’t understand the distance, until you see a glimpse of bleached hair just past Hoseok’s shoulder. Your two boyfriends split up once they break through the lingering people, and step inside the station, one on either side of you, but further away than you’d like.

The owner of the pale hair is revealed as he walks through the two of you and you gasp in shock. Not at him, but at the man behind him. You have to lower your gaze quite a bit, because he’s crawling on his hands and knees, neck craned up to look at the light-haired man in adoration.

The two of them make quite the pair; the dom is wearing slick clothes, tight pants, a black turtleneck and leather jacket, and his hair is brushed back to reveal darker brows, undyed. Though he’s much smaller than any of the men around him, including the one that follows him like a dog, he has an undeniable presence, with the borderline apathetic yet critical gaze he adopts as he looks over you, head tilting to the side. He comes to a stop in front of you, and his sub remains slightly behind him and to the left. With thickly corded muscles in his arms and shoulders, he looks physically like he could pick any one of you up one-handed, yet he waits patiently on his hands and knees, looking unexpectedly soft with a baby face and a delicate garter set for underwear that accentuates his delicate waist.

“Position,” the standing man says in a barked command. Like clockwork, the sub sits back up to kneel, hands resting gently on his thick thighs and head bent down respectfully. As he waits, you can see a band of leather around his throat, studded with what almost looks like diamonds. “Good boy,” he praises, even though he doesn’t lift his gaze off of you. Still, the sub visibly trembles at the praise, toes wiggling happily on the carpet behind him.

V arrives last, and rests a hand warmly on the stranger’s shoulder. “Sub, pay attention.” The young man kneeling glances up, and a fond boxy smile rises on V’s face, one you only saw once after you took your spanking. A strange unfurling of jealousy opens in your chest. “Not you, slave. Eyes on the floor.” The slave quickly drops his head, trembling again when the dom reaches out to pat his cheek, like a sign that he’s not in trouble.

Master V keeps his gaze on you as he squeezes the shoulder of the man beside him. “Sub, this is Master Min, and his slave Koo.” Turning to your boyfriends to include them as well, he addresses the doms. “As discussed, I think the sub could benefit from a positive example of a good sub. Of course, she doesn’t have to do all the things Koo does, every dynamic is different, but she could learn a lot from his behaviour. More than that, Koo is much like her in what he likes, but he and Min have incorporated it into play so that it doesn’t require punishment to get what he needs. Perhaps your girl is such a brat because she’s feeling unfulfilled. RM, Jay, you can get her down.”

“Down?” you mumble without realising, luckily quiet enough that the others don’t overhear. With a confused frown on your face, you let your boyfriends unbuckle you from the cross, wrists first. Your shoulder muscles ache when you lower your arms, and thick red bands line the skin of your wrists, which you thumb at with a smile while they bend down to undo your ankles.

“Lean on me, kitten,” Hoseok instructs softly, and you wrap your arms around him tightly, letting him grip your ass and pick you up off the cross gently so you don’t fall. He lowers his torso so that your dangling feet drag on the carpet, but you whine and lift them, linking your ankles around his back so that you’re latched on like a koala. He laughs softly at your whine. “You don’t wanna walk, hm?” You shake your head, thriving at the physical contact even as your bared pussy soaks the bottom of his white tank top. He pats your hair, and your heart warms. Especially after he was so angry at you earlier, the intimacy feels more than comforting. “You might want to stretch your legs, though, before we move on…” He trails off teasingly, and you draw your face up, seeing the mischief in his eyes.

With a pout, you let your legs lower to the ground, supporting your weight steadily before you take your arms off of Hoseok’s shoulders. You look around at the others, awaiting further explanation.

Namjoon steps forward, sharing a glance with V and then Hoseok before cupping your face softly. “We’re gonna go watch Min and Koo play, okay? They’re gonna show you how to be a good sub for us.”

“Where do you want to do your scene?” V asks Min.

The dom glances down at his sub, who still has his neck bent, dark hair glossy from the lights overhead. “Koo,” Min calls softly but firmly, and the young man looks up immediately. “Do you want to pick which station we go to?”

With doe-like eyes, Koo shakes his head. “No, Master. Wan’ you to pick.”

“Uh-uh,” the dom chastises with a tut, “we talked about this. Big boys choose when they get offered. Don’t make me regret my generosity.”

“Sorry, Master,” he replies quickly, “Kookie would like the bed tonight.”

“Alright, then. Go check if it’s free for us first. You may walk.”

Almost reluctantly, the sub stands up, and you widen your eyes at just how tall he is, rising above his master to almost match Namjoon’s height. If it wasn’t for the way he clasps his hands together and ducks his head so submissively, and if it wasn’t for the collar around his neck and the garters on his thighs, you could easily mistake him for a dom. Physical appearance wasn’t everything, you supposed.

As you wait, V disappears too, mentioning something about more equipment he needed, and by the time a DM comes over and lets you know that Koo has found and reserved a bed on the second floor, he still hasn’t returned. Min offers to flick him a text, and after you’re allowed to put your skirt and bra back on, the four of you walk through the middle of the room to reach the set of stairs at the far corner beside the bar. All of upstairs is like a mezzanine floor around the edges of the room, with doors that go off into separate rooms. With Namjoon on your left and Hoseok on your right, you ascend the stairs, taking the left path to walk around the mezzanine. Each door is labelled: medical A, medical B, dungeon A, filming A, and so on, but you’re taken by what you can glimpse over the protective barriers, looking down onto the first floor.

You can see all the different stations from up here, all the people who occupy them. The bar reaches out in a semicircle, with curved rows of stations flowing out like petals or ripples, the smaller ones closer to that social area, and the biggest ones along the walls. There are more people than before, probably close to capacity, so it’s a wonder Koo managed to find exactly what he wanted without it already being taken.

As you walk, you can feel the obscene slick between your thighs, wetting all the way down to the sides of your knees. It feels uncomfortable, though nothing like the remaining fire of your nipples as they rub slightly against the fabric of your bra. More than anything, though, you still feel so needy, so wanting. Though there aren’t any clocks in the room downstairs, much like a casino, you managed to glance at Min’s watch as he strolled, and see that it had been over two and a half hours since the three of you first arrived, and you still hadn’t been even close to cumming. And now V was making you sit down and watch other people fuck instead of you. You were starting to realise just how clever he was with his punishments.

Distracted, you almost bump into Min as he halts in front of a door, which has a plaque at eye level reading ‘domestic’. He knocks, and instead of Koo answering the door like you expect, it’s V. You widen your eyes and follow the men inside the room in curiosity, wondering what equipment it was exactly that he had left to retrieve.

It’s immediately obvious. In the soft, romantic, bedroom-styled set, one thing stands out like a sore thumb. Past the foot of the bed, closer to the opposite wall, is a chair covered in undone leather straps. The black leather and silver buckles are totally at odds with the warm neutral shades of the room, and the soft, freshly washed linen and blankets on the large bed. More so than that, however, what really draws your attention is the hole cut out in the base, and the dildo that sticks through, attached to what can be described as nothing else but a machine, a motor which is plugged in to an electrical socket on the wall. The two back legs have wheels attached to them, so that should you tip the chair back, you can roll it around rather than having to lift it. All-in-all, it looks extremely expensive and extremely intimidating. You swallow down the saliva that collects in your mouth at the sight of it.

Other than the fucking machine, the other notable accessory is the sub kneeling beside the bed. He doesn’t look up when you all file in the room, even as his fingers curl into the lush carpet when he hears his master’s voice.

“Good boy, Koo,” Min praises warmly, “such a well-behaved slave tonight. Are you being extra good for our guests?” His eyes crinkle in satisfaction as the boy’s thick hair bobs with his enthusiastic nodding. Min approaches him, placing a hand on the sub’s cheek to lift his face up. He runs his fingers over Koo’s lips, who obediently opens his mouth, tongue flat. The dom places two fingers inside, slowly sliding them deeper in, up to his knuckles. “Are you gonna keep behaving for me?”

Koo’s eyes are wide, and you can see the way his nostrils flare as he breathes in through his nose, trying not to gag. Instead of nodding, he gargles out an affirmative hum, and Min’s lip curls proudly, drawing his fingers out and wiping the spit off on Koo’s cheek, the younger boy’s eyes fluttering shut even as his mouth still hangs slightly open.

“Kitten,” you hear Hoseok say, drawing your attention back to him. He has an evil glint in his eye as he grins. “Don’t you wanna rest those pretty little legs of yours? You must be feeling so weak. Why don’t you take a seat?” He gestures grandly to the elaborate contraption across from the bed, and although he’s stating it as a joke, you know it’s nothing less than a command.

With shaky legs, you walk over, hovering uncertainly. V steps forward, manually rotates the wheel so that the dildo lowers past the base of the chair, and lets you sit. Your skirt is so short that there’s no cover at all, and you can feel the very tip of the cold silicone brush over your folds. Once you put your back directly against the chair, and let your feet loosely rest on the carpet, you adjust your hips slightly so that it’s pressing against your entrance, and you glance up at your boyfriends for approval, feeling the budding excitement and nerves in your chest.

Namjoon comes over to help V do up the buckles, starting to bind your legs to the chair. “Now, baby girl,” he says conversationally, “Master Min and his slave are very kindly letting us watch them, so you better be a good girl and enjoy the show quietly. I’m sure you can learn something from Koo here.” He stands back up again, leaning over to fasten your left arm as V does the right, and soon enough you’re completely immobile for the second time in the evening. Namjoon grips your inner thigh, massaging the flesh with a humored smile. “And don’t forget, no cumming without permission.”

He reaches behind you, lifting something off the back of the chair, attached by a cord. You look over, to see something akin to a half-sized TV remote, with several settings and options. He winks at you, and presses one, watching between your legs carefully.

You gasp and tense up when the dildo begins to move, pressing up into you unbelievably slowly. Even though it penetrates you at a glacial pace, clearly just to make sure you’re at the right angle to take it safely, it’s an odd sensation having something push up into you so unforgivingly. No matter how hard you clench, it breaches your walls deeper and deeper, until just when it’s about to be too far, it begins to recede again. You let out a heaving sigh as it slowly pulls out of you, before coming to a stop.

“Good?” he questions, though you know by the way you’re already angling your hips better against it that he can see you are enjoying it. Nonetheless, you nod, and he hums happily. “Alright. Now we’re gonna sit quietly and nicely and watch these two gentlemen, okay?”

You go to nod again but let out a surprised yelp as he steps right behind you and tips the chair back. You feel your chest lurch as the legs slip out from under you, but they stop when you reach a 45-degree angle, and slowly you’re rolled a little closer, facing the two men directly. More chairs are pulled up; Namjoon and V on one side of you and Hoseok on the other.

Your hands grip the arms of the chair tightly, fighting the urge to reach out to your boyfriends, who barely give you a second glance, though Namjoon’s hand slips behind your hair to rest on the nape of your neck, the weight of it as both a comfort and a reminder of who was in control here. You tilt your head back and hum happily as his thumb lazily rubs back and forth, keeping you calm.

In front of you, Min takes one last look out to make sure you’re all seated, before turning back to look down at his slave. “Koo, why is that mouth of yours still open?” The younger shuts his mouth quickly with a barely-audible pop, and swallows, eyes as wide as ever. “Does it feel empty, hm? Want something between those pretty lips of yours?”

The sub nods, thighs clenching with visible excitement as Min sits on the edge of the bed beside him and spreads his legs. Though you notice the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips, he remains still kneeling patiently. All it takes is a nod from his master, however, for Koo to dart forward, hands fumbling eagerly at Min’s belt, tugging it through the belt loops of his pants so voraciously that Min’s hips almost get pulled off the mattress. You widen your eyes at just how spirited Koo is about sucking someone else off. As much as you didn’t mind giving your boyfriends blowjobs, you would always much rather their cocks somewhere else. But as you sit tied to the chair, the threat of the blunt tip of the dildo resting dormant between your outer folds, you feel a heat build in your stomach at the display of total devotion.

As Min lifts his hips to help Koo pull down his pants and underwear, not a moment is lost before the submissive wraps his lips around him and sucks him down as far as he can manage on the first go. Min’s chest heaves with a surprised huff, and a lazy grin tugs at his lips. “That’s it, good boy,” he breathes through a sigh of pleasure, and even though the comment is clearly not directed at you, you feel yourself dripping with need.

You turn your head to the side, towards Namjoon. As you do so, his hand comes around to brush fondly at your cheek. Rather than verbalising it, you wiggle your hips slightly against the chair and the dildo below and pout pleadingly at him. He flicks you a genial smile and takes his hand away from your face to fiddle with the controls.

Your mouth drops open silently when you feel the dildo push up into you, at least twice the speed of the tester run, though still slow enough that it makes no noise.

A violent shiver breaks goosebumps across your arms as you feel a warm breath waft against your opposite shoulder. “Don’t forget to keep quiet,” you hear Hoseok remind you. When you look over to face him, your noses bump, and even as your heart skips a beat at the proximity, you’re leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips.

Half-expecting him to pull away, you feel your insides go weak when he indulges you, slipping a hand around your neck where Namjoon’s was earlier to pull you closer, grounding you with deep swipes of his tongue even as the dildo fucks up into you on it’s slow yet insistent cycle. If you arch your back just right, you can get it to brush against your g-spot when it enters you, and your breath picks up, kisses growing sloppier as you begin to regularly grind against it, quiet moans smothered by Hoseok’s mouth.

When he finally pulls away, you blink open your eyes in just enough time to see a fat string of saliva between you, which stretches until it breaks, spattering on your chin. Hoseok gently shifts his hand to grip your jaw, guiding your attention back onto the two men in front of you.

You suck your slightly swollen bottom lip into your mouth to muffle a groan at what you’re greeted by. Min has a hand firmly bunched in Koo’s hair, holding him down onto his cock as the sub writhes and clutches at Min’s knees, whining. After a moment of struggling, Koo is pulled off him by the grip on his hair, and he sucks in heaved gasps of air, eyes watering. Through the involuntary tears, you can see the same hazy look in Koo’s eyes that you sometimes saw on yourself when you went to the bathroom to clean up after a scene with your boyfriends. It’s clear to you that even as he gurgles and trembles helplessly when he’s pushed back down, he’s loving it, and his gaze doesn’t leave Min for a second. Above him, though lidded with pleasure, you can see the adoration and fondness in Min’s eyes too. It’s undeniable just how much they love each other.

Your breath catches in your throat as the pace is suddenly picked up on the machine, a gentle metallic whir piercing the lull on your end of the room, and your gaze shoots over to Namjoon as the dildo rocks up into you fast enough for you to begin to shiver. When you do, you see it’s not Namjoon that has the remote, but V beside him. With one arched eyebrow, like he’s testing you, V holds a single finger up to his lips and mouths ‘shh’.

Your nails dig into the wood of the chair, and you bite down harshly on your tongue to prevent any moans escaping, nodding shakily. His eyes sparkle with mirth as he smiles, handing the remote back to Namjoon. Your eyes follow the transfer and look up at your boyfriend’s face, but he’s more focussed on what’s going on in front of you, a confused turn to his lips.

You stare forward, and see that the two have changed positions slightly. Barely coherent with the fucking machine driving up into you at an infuriatingly regular and unforgiving pace, you do your best to focus in to what’s going on.

Min is still on the edge of the bed, however he’s leaning down as Koo whispers something in his ear, ducking his head shyly once he’s done. Min sighs, but gives his sub a warm smile and gently pinches at his nose and pats his cheek, looking up at the four of you.

You let out an involuntary guttural whine when the dildo comes to a sudden stop, halfway inside you. Your walls clench around the couple of inches still inside, too shallow to get any real pleasure, but too deep to be able to rock your clit against it. It seems Namjoon has turned it off while V stands up and consults with Min.

You stare, thighs clenching and unclenching at the strange and unsatisfying sensation of the dildo. After a moment, V returns, walking leisurely over to the wall and unplugging the machine. Your mouth drops open in confusion.

“Sorry it’s such a quick show, folks, Kookie is apparently getting a bit shy.” Min tucks himself away and crouches down to press a soft peck to the younger man’s pink cheeks. “We don’t get to come here that often, I think he just wants all my attention on him, isn’t that right?”

Koo’s teeth come out to bite at his lip, failing to suppress a sheepish smile. Caught out, he nods cheekily.

Min weakly slaps his cheek, a playful scolding. “Well, you’ll get your wish, Kookie. The others are going to leave now. You wanna give them a kiss goodbye and say thank you?”

The sub is granted permission to stand up, and bounds over to press a quick kiss on V’s cheek, then Namjoon’s, before he reaches you. His eyes widen at your state, eyes hazed with pleasure and bare pussy leaking down the opening in the chair, and does a double take like he hadn’t noticed it before. Lightning fast, he ducks down and quickly presses his lips against the top of your cheekbone. You turn your head slightly to receive it, his lips unbelievably soft and still a little wet from saliva. He murmurs a quick, “thank you for watching” in your ear and moves on, doing the same to Hoseok before returning to his master, standing until he’s given the command to get on the bed beside him.

Koo quietly leans into Min’s clothed-chest and lets the older one wrap his arm around his shoulders, keeping him close. The two stay entwined like that, conversing under their breath, as your doms stand up and begin to unbuckle you from the chair, carefully lifting you off of the dildo.

You let out a grateful hum as Namjoon effortlessly lifts you into his arms, one hand under your ass, where your arousal has totally soaked the back of your short skirt. You feel more than hear him speak with the others, as his chest rumbles against your ear, and you let your eyes fall closed, wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly and snuggling in. Perhaps it was seeing the tenderness between the two men you had just watched, but you felt your bratty streak begin to settle down, just wanting to be close with your boyfriends.

You hear a door open, and suddenly you’re moving as Namjoon walks out. You let out a groan. “‘S it over?” you mumble into the warm skin of the crook of his neck, breathing in his natural musk paired with the simple cologne he had put on earlier in the night.

He chuckles. “No, baby girl. We’ll find somewhere else to go. Do you still want to keep playing? It is getting quite late.”

You sit up, blinking at your surroundings as they lurch around him, making your way back around the mezzanine towards the stairs. “I wanna keep playing, Daddy. Where’s Hoseokie?”

“That’s Sir to you,” you hear a voice from over your back call out. Hoseok must be leading the group. You clutch onto Namjoon tighter as you begin to descend the steps to the main playroom. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to find a station, kitten. It’s closing time soon so most of them are taken or blocked off for cleaning.”

“Let’s just fuck on the floor,” you quip back, reveling in the hearty laugh that shakes Namjoon’s shoulders.

“As much as I liked seeing you at our mercy, I have missed your snark, princess,” your boyfriend admits. “Bear with the no-speaking rule when V is around for tonight, and we can rework our rules tomorrow.”

You hum, wiggling your toes as the strength gradually returns to your limbs. “Where is V?”

Hoseok’s voice is thick with humour. “Weren’t you listening, little sub?” He laughs as you kick out weakly at the pet name your ‘Master’ had chosen to use. “He got called away. Something about helping out a sub that came alone or something.”

“Oh.” You can’t quite work out if what you’re feeling is dissatisfaction at still not having cum the entire night or disappointment that the other man left without saying goodbye. “Where are we gonna play, then?”

Namjoon grunts with exertion. “Okay, down you hop.” You do as he says, joints stiff as you slip in front of him to follow behind Hoseok. Namjoon’s voice continues from behind you. “We’re going to find that Jimin dude and ask if he knows of any free spots. Keep an eye out for him, baby girl.”

The use of ‘baby girl’ rather than just ‘baby’ gently reinforces you that the roles are still in place. Although having to move locations, your two boyfriends - as well as you - clearly want the scene to continue. “Yes, Daddy,” you affirm compliantly.

It takes a couple of times circling and winding between stations before you spot him. He’s not in that same corner from before, but instead you find him at the bar, nursing a glass bottle of coke. He looks up in mild interest as you approach, before widening his eyes once he recognises the three of you.

“V’s studious apprentices,” he greets warmly, eyes lingering on the wetness on your thighs visible past the hem of your skirt. “How may I be of assistance?”

Like it’s choreographed, Namjoon and Hoseok both reach out to touch you; Hoseok, slipping his fingers into yours, and Namjoon placing his hand possessively around your shoulders. You smother a smirk at the way Jimin’s eyes dart up and waver back and forth, sizing the two doms up before his shoulders lower in defeat.

“We just wanted to see if there were any free stations,” Hoseok explains. “I figured if your job is to supervise, you’d know.” Hoseok takes another glance at the languid curve of Jimin’s body as he leans against the bench, and the coke bottle dripping condensation over his fingers. The unspoken implication of Hoseok’s statement hangs in the air, as your two boyfriends share a look over your shoulder.. When he thinks your boyfriends aren’t looking, the DM flicks you a cheeky wink. The moment the two men turn back, his face falls frigid again.

“I’m on break,” Jimin explains petulantly, gesturing to the neon badge which has been unclipped from his shirt and is resting beside the cardboard coaster. “But no, sadly there aren’t. The last hour and a half before closing is our busiest time since everyone figures it’s their last chance to get in a scene. We do have five different stations in the process of being cleaned, though.” Using the neck of the half-empty bottle to point, the DM indicates a few different spots that are cordoned off with orange tape, the same neon as his badge. “That one just began a minute or so ago, so that’s out of commission for the night, that one has been being cleaned for a good twenty minutes but it was wax play which is quite difficult to get out of the furniture without damaging it, and those two on the far side have been reserved already. Your best bet is the sawhorse down past the restrooms, but you’re looking at a good fifteen, twenty minutes for them to finish up.” Spiel done, he lowers his eyebrows and quirks his lips smugly. “So yes, I suppose I was the right person to come to. And if I was on duty, I would’ve been able to go over and reserve it for you, but since I’m not, you’ll just have to fight to be the quickest to snatch it up. Pity.”

Hoseok’s grip tightens around your hand. “Thank you for your help. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” His nostrils flare, and you feel a tug on his wrist as he begins to pull you away.

Jimin holds his defiant stare for a moment longer before breaking out into a cheery grin, giggling at the matching looks of confusion. “I’m just messing with you! I’m not even on break, us DMs get one free drink a night to keep us going. Come on, while you wait I can grab you a spare trolley and you can use some of the toys at the bar if you want. We actually aren’t allowed to reserve stations, though; so sadly you will still have to snag the spot when it opens up. Come with me, I spotted a free trolley down here.”

As the four of you make your way through the gatherings of people, you remark at how quickly you’ve accustomed to the place. The smell of sweat and arousal has increased over the evening, but you barely notice it, and it’s easy enough to tune out pleasured cries and cracks of whips even as you walk right past them. As your two boyfriends mutter behind you, you hear Jimin murmur to you and jog to catch up and walk beside him.

“2 years,” he starts with a self-satisfied grin, “2 years I’ve worked here and I still marvel at the way I can one-up even the most hardcore dominants. I swear this job has increased my confidence like nothing else.”

You laugh. “You do that often, then?”

“God, yeah,” he admits easily. “Gotta make things fun when you can. As long as I’m serious whenever a scene is taking place, or there’s a situation, the owner kinda lets me take some liberties.”

“Who is the owner?” you question curiously. You can’t help but wonder what type of person would open a business like this.

Jimin smiles with mirth but doesn’t answer. “Well, here it is,” he states instead, reaching out and grabbing an unclaimed trolley that was previously sitting abandoned by a set of stocks. “Looks like there are some things missing, but it’s the best you’re gonna get this time of night. People aren’t meant to hog them for more than two hours but it’s kind of a courtesy thing, not a hard rule, so there’s not much we can do.” He looks up as your two boyfriends join you. “You folks need anything else?”

“That’s all,” Hoseok says shortly, still clearly not over the jig Jimin pulled. “Come on, kitten, let’s go find a table.”

Rather than the bar, which Jimin returns to to finish off his drink, you’re tugged unceremoniously down to the small socialising area, which is all but empty by now. They’ve even lowered the lights, and your eyes are happy to have a break from the brightness of the main play area.

In the far back, there are a couple of booths, all vacant, and Hoseok sits on the side in the corner, gesturing for you to sit across from him. You slide in, sighing at the plush upholstery that soothes your still slightly aching ass. Once the trolley is pushed up beside the outer edge of the table, Namjoon slides in beside you, moving over to the middle of the seat so that you’re pressed snugly between him and the wall. You gasp at the sudden warm of his body flush against yours, and feel need wash through you for the thousandth time this evening. Your mouth opens to plead for something, anything, but he beats you to the punch.

“Baby girl, we know you’re probably feeling pretty desperate, hm? You want our cocks?”

You let out a moan at his words. “Yes,” you croak, “please.” A violent shudder runs through you when you feel the tip of a shoe run up your shin, and pushes at the knee closest to the wall until you’re parting your legs. You glance over at Hoseok, who’s leaning back languidly in his seat, though his eyes are predatorial and his grin is sharp.

Namjoon’s eyes dart over to Hoseok, then at you, and finally down past the edge of the table, where your skirt is rising up dangerously high as Hoseok keeps you spread open. “We should get you ready to take us, then.” Your mouth drops open in a silent moan, incoherent as Namjoon reaches down in one smooth movement and cups your pussy, two fingers dipping in automatically with how sopping wet you are. “Fuck,” he hisses, but you just bite your lip and try and rock your hips forward, wanting him deeper.

Hoseok feels you shift and tuts, pinning your leg more firmly against the wall. “Careful, kitten,” he warns, “do you really want to risk punishment when we only have-” he breaks off to consult his watch, “twenty-three minutes before closing?”

You swallow and force yourself to stay still, but that doesn’t stop you from clenching tightly around the tips of Namjoon’s fingers, drawing another hiss from the man.

“Besides,” Namjoon drawls, massaging his palm against you slightly so that your clit got the slightest hint of friction, “if you want both of us we better prepare you first.” His eyes don’t leave yours, a caramel smile tugging at his lips as those fingers slip out, only to seek another entrance lower down. “Will you be good for us?”

You nod hurriedly, shakily, as a single finger teases at your rim. “I’ll be good, Daddy.” Your voice cracks on the last word, but it just makes him grin, flashing teeth wolfishly.

You exhale roughly when suddenly he pulls away from you, sliding to the outskirts of the booth. With glossily wet fingers, he slaps your bare thigh, pinching lightly at the flesh. “Face down, ass up,” he commands, “we can’t prepare you properly if you’re sitting down.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Hoseok’s foot leaves you too, and the dark impatience in his eyes as he cocks his head forces you into action. As you scramble to bring your knees up on the cushioning, you cringe at the audible wet noises and the slipperiness of your thighs. You groan at how empty you feel when you arch your back obscenely for them, cheek planted against the seat.

Your face is below the table, and it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the darker setting, sighing in relief as you feel the calloused palms of your boyfriend roam over your ass, hips and thighs. About fucking time.

You let your gaze rest lazily on Hoseok’s ringed fingers as they rest on his thighs, framing the tent in his crotch that you can barely make out in the shadows, eyes falling to half mast as you feel Namjoon collecting your slick on a single finger, before beginning the first press into your puckered hole.

You take deep breaths, forcing your muscles to relax, and let out a high whine as it sinks suddenly to the base knuckle, crooking inside you exploratively.

“Good girl,” Namjoon passionately praises, placing his free hand on your lower back to keep you arched for him as he fucks you on his one finger until you’re relaxed enough to take a second.

Your jaw is unable to close and you feel drool gathering in the corner of your mouth, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the intense sensation after so much deprivation. It’s not until he works his way to three fingers, curling and scissoring them inside you, that you hear a masculine grunt and crack one back open. The sight that greets you makes you clench violently around Namjoon, and he has to lightly smack your ass for you to relax again.

Across from you, with legs splayed wide, Hoseok has reached into his pants, tucking his cock out so that just the head peeks out past the waistband of his underwear. Even in the dim lighting, you can see how flushed it is, a deep purple-red that glints with precum when the lazily thumbs at the slit, just enough to keep himself on edge but not nearly enough to get close to cumming.

Automatically, your hand slips off the seat and stretches out to reach for him, but you cry out when Namjoon’s hand snakes around your elbow and roughly tugs your arm away, pinning it to your back. You feel the muscles in your thighs shiver uncontrollably as he plunges his fingers repeatedly into your tight hole, almost too much at once.

After an uncountable amount of time, the three of you are made to pause when the electrical crackle of a loudspeaker resonantes through the room. You let out a frustrated groan as you hear it declare the club to be closing, instructing all patrons to make their way to the exits or the showers, Namjoon’s fingers slipping wetly out of you moments later. Bonelessly, your hips fall to the side and bang on the tabletop.

“Dammit,” you whine hopelessly. “Please, Namjoon, I’m gonna go crazy, just fuck me quickly now and we can finish at home, please.”

“All this time,” a familiar voice calls out in bemusement, “and the sub still hasn’t learnt to refer to her doms by their appropriate titles.”

You jump, hustling to push your knees back down and twist, sitting down normally again to look past Namjoon. Master V stands just past the booth, hair more tousled than when you had last seen him and dark red lines across the exposed skin of his sternum where someone had clearly scratched him. “What are you doing here?” you ask automatically, mind not even comprehending the fact that you’d broken protocol yet again.

V simply raises his eyebrows at you warningly before turning to your boyfriends. “If you wanna stay longer, you can. Employee perks,” he explains. “The one catch is that you can’t use the stations because they all need cleaning at this point.”

Hoseok purses his lips together in thought. “That’s fine,” he dismisses. “We can find someplace. Anyone thirsty?”

You blink, not understanding the statement, but clearly the others do. Namjoon wraps a strong arm around your torso, just under your breasts, and pulls you off the seat so that your back is pressed against his chest and the tips of your toes barely brush the carpet. “Hey-!” you squeak, feeling even more worked up now that the time restraint on the club had interrupted your fun yet again.

Without missing a beat, V and Hoseok reach out, latching tightly onto one ankle each and lifting you so that you’re swinging horizontally between the three, dipping at the waist.

You grumble as they carry you away from the tables, following the edge of the room to arrive at the bar. Jimin has left, as have everyone else, only the last few stragglers making their way to the exits. “Are you finally gonna fuck me then?” you complain in frustration. You swear to God if you don’t get at least one of them inside you in the next five minutes, you’ll go insane.

V, not even turning back to look at you, scoffs. “You haven’t learnt a fucking thing, have you?”

“What?” you fire back, too consumed by a lust-driven haze to care about consequences.

“Right now, little sub, your body is ours. We get to decide whether you get fucked or not, so this whole time you’ve been making trouble when you should’ve been sucking up. If you don’t get what you want, that’s nobody’s fault but yours.” His nails dig into the sensitive skin around your ankle, and you feel it raise, as you’re lifted higher in the air and unceremoniously dumped on a surface taller than a table, and narrow. You crane your neck up, eyes wide as you see where you are. As V temporarily lets go to walk around the edge and rejoin on the other side, you realise they’ve splayed you out on the bar, one man on either side to keep your legs wide open, and Namjoon’s hand rising up your chest to wrap lightly, warningly, around your throat, pushing your head back down so that you can only see him and the high ceiling above. V’s voice comes from below, a stern growl. “So far tonight you haven’t done a single thing to earn one of our cocks in that messy pussy of yours, understand? Now you have to lie back and take what you’re fucking given.”

“This isn’t fucking fair,” you cry out in frustration, tears pricking at your eyes. “I just need to cu-um.” Your core feels neglected, almost painful in its longing for sensation. As you attempt to kick your legs out, you realise something. Your hands are free.

As fast as you can, you shove both between your legs, one plunging three fingers deep into your pussy, the other rubbing frantically at your swollen clit. You let the tears fall, sobbing at the relief, but it’s short lived. With a disappointed shout, Namjoon grabs your hands together with his free one. You howl as he rips them away from you, keeping them captive pinned to the middle of your torso.

Hoseok slaps you sharply right on your folds, making you jump. “This is our pussy, kitten. Paws off.”

“Please,” you scream, “I’ll do anything, come on!”

Driven half-mad by need, you barely hear V as he mutters to the other two. “Okay, she’s there. It’s time.”

You look up in confusion, as much as you can with the weight of Namjoon’s hand around your neck, and immediately your eyes roll back into your head with relief. A steady thrum of power reinforces what you saw. V holding a battery-run Hitachi vibrator.

The second he places it against your clit, you see a white-hot flash behind your eyelids as the powerful vibration sends you violently into your first orgasm after what must be over four hours of waiting.

“That’s it,” V coos, voice dripping with pure satisfaction, “take it all.”

You moan, a low garble in your throat, as the pleasure ripples through you, tingling in your fingertips and the skin of your calves where Hoseok and V hold on tightly, keeping you prone on the benchtop even as your muscles seize and tense as much as they can, feeling like you need to curl up into a ball around the epicenture of your orgasmic euphoria.

“Tha-ank you,” you sob out desperately, hands digging into the soft flesh of your stomach, the only part of your body you can really move as you’re pinned down by the strength of your three doms.

“Thank Master,” V commands shortly.

Tears pool in your temples as the pleasure begins to slowly settle, even as the vibrations continue. “Thank you, Master,” you praise mindlessly.

“Thank your other doms too,” he reminds, twisting his wrist so that the vibrator pushes your hood aside, resting against your bared clit, and you let out a weakened scream as the pleasure begins to prickle, overwhelming you.

“Thank you, Daddy, thank you, Sir,” you make out through shudders, your eyebrows knitting, unsure whether what you’re feeling is pleasure anymore or just pain. “N-no, too much,” you protest, swearing colorfully when V simply runs the Hitachi back and forth across your clit, sending sharp spikes of stimulation through you.

“No?” Hoseok questions rhetorically. “I thought you wanted to cum, you greedy slut.”

“Too much,” you repeat weakly.

“I don’t care,” he counters, “cum again.”

You let out a loud sustained moan as pain returns to pleasure in a hot flash, and you’re pitched over the edge again, tensing up and trying to grind your hips into the sensation as you gush over it, and all over V’s hand. You hear him laughing at you as you go fully limp, energy gone as your nerves run alight through your body.

“Not so brave now, are you?” he remarks dryly, chuckling again when you simply let out an incoherent moan.

You expect he’s made his point now that your body has given up the fight, but instead all you get is a warning click before he’s turning up the power of the vibrator to another level.

You hear yourself yell out, louder than you’ve been all night, unable to stop from screaming and shouting in stuttered moans as you’re wracked with blinding, overwhelming pleasure. “Not again,” you beg, “no more, I can’t-”

Your protests are cut off by a strong call coming from far away. The vibrator is clicked off immediately, and you go lax in relief, though your pussy continues to tremble uncontrollably as you pant on the sweat-soaked bar.

You don’t have any energy to look up properly, but you tiredly turn your head to the side to see an unfamiliar figure approach.

He’s dressed somewhat like Namjoon, with dress pants and an ironed shirt, but a deep navy suit jacket finishes up his outfit, hair carefully styled so that even as he stomps over, it stays in place swept to the side to reveal some of his forehead and brows. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, making a racket after closing?”

Master V pauses, his grip on your calf instinctively loosening. “You said we were allowed to, Jin.”

“I didn’t expect you’d be bringing so many friends,” Jin defends, “normally your subs are so quiet that it’s never been a problem.” His gaze falls on you and you hiccup as the last of the shivers run through you. “What are you doing to this poor girl?”

A tired smile plays at your lips in relief. Sure, it was a little embarrassing having what must be the owner of the place walk in on you, but at least Hoseok and Namjoon would have no choice but to leave with you. You’d have an Uber ride to recover, and then by the time you reached your apartment they’d be so desperate that they’d give in straight away and fuck you. You just about hum audibly at the thought.

“I thought I taught you better,” the stranger criticises with a disappointed look as he approaches to stand at the edge of the bench.

V bites his lip, placing the Hitachi on the counter in resignation, flicking your boyfriends an apologetic look. “Sorry, Jin, I-”

“If you’re gonna overstimulate a sub, you need to make sure she won’t wake the neighbors,” Jin interrupts, picking up the toy himself. “And for fuck’s sake, use one of the pulse settings so her clit doesn’t get used to it. You in the white shirt, tighten your grip around her throat.”

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to protest, but Namjoon effectively cuts you off by pressing you more firmly to the bench, thumb and forefinger on either side of the column of your throat, intruding on your airways enough to make you groan gutturally.

You jump as you feel a sharp pinch on your inner thigh. “Alright, sub, your safeword is now making two fists and shaking your hands. Do it know so I know you can.”

The pressure on your throat eases slightly as you suck in a breath and follow the owner’s command, relaxing your hands again once he grunts in affirmation.

The pulsating whine of the vibrator fills the air after he clicks it back on. “Good, now lie there and shut up while I show these men how it’s done.”

The brief respite on your poor clit clearly isn’t enough as the second the toy is placed back on you, you let out a shriek that’s cut off midway as Namjoon tightens his grip around your throat again. You thrash as much as you can, but now that Hoseok and V both have two hands on you again, there’s no way you can overpower them.

“Bend her knees,” Jin commands, “open her up for me.”

You moan, drooling unwittingly as they obey, feeling your pelvis shift up so that you’re fully vulnerably to the attack on your abused clit.

“This way,” the boss instructs, “no matter how much she wriggles, she can’t escape it, and you’ve got free access to everything else too.”

Crying out as incomprehensible stimulation is forced on you by the flickering of the toy over your bud, you scratch and grab and bat at the flesh of your stomach, careful to make sure you don’t curl your fingers into fists.

When your third orgasm tears through you, all sensation cuts out for the briefest second, everything going black for one blissful moment before you’re taken over by the warm rush, feeling release like you never have before. Namjoon releases his grip on your throat, and the sudden return of oxygen pitches you into euphoria, too far gone to do anything more than whimpering.

Jin holds you there, in that totally mindless state for a few more trembling seconds before he flicks it off and dumps it on the bartop. “Got my fucking sleeve wet,” he mutters to himself, before reaching out and massaging your inner thigh reassuringly, relaxing the muscles. “Have you ever made your girl squirt before?”

Namjoon’s voice is reluctant. “Not yet.”

“Looks like you have some more learning to do yourself, then. Sub; are you still with us?”

You’re shaking like a leaf, but Hoseok helps prop you up, letting your leg flop weakly off the edge of the bench. You look down and see the wet shine of the table between your legs, and the dark splotches covering Jin’s suit. “Wh-why would you do that?” you question, your voice wobbling from sheer exhaustion. “Aren’t you meant to be professional?”

His eyes darken, a brow arching delicately. “You seem to forget what my profession is, young lady.” Lifting his gaze to include the three other men, he lets out a patient sigh. “The night cleaners will be arriving in a couple of minutes, and I will not be fronting a late fee if they have to wait around for you jokers to get your rocks off.”

Namjoon nods understandingly. “That’s alright, we can be out of your wa-”

“So if you’d like to fuck her,” the owner continues on, “you’re going to have to come do it in my office. It gets cleaned last, so you’ll have more time.”

Your mouth drops open.

Namjoon and Hoseok share a glance with each other, then at V. Finally, Namjoon reaches down and brushes back some of the hair back that had gotten stuck on your face. “It’s up to you, baby girl,” he says with a fond smile. “Either the two of us can take you home and fuck you there, or you can stay here and have all of us.”

Your mouth waters, eyes lingering on V, how sinful he looks with black locks low over his brow, tanned skin beaded with sweat. Your gaze lowers, taking in the way his erection strains under his pants. This whole time, he had been calmly in control, always composed, even when you had acted out more than you ever had before. You wanted to see him how he’d seen you; out of your mind with pleasure. You wanted to see him let go. “I wanna stay, Daddy.”

“Then we’ll stay.”

The way to Jin’s office is longer than expected, and your legs tremble so violently that the group of you move at a near-glacial pace up the stairs to the second floor, going to the right instead of the left like last time when you reach the mezzanine. There’s a side corridor that you hadn’t noticed earlier, the entrance partly concealed by a lube-and-condoms refill station. You take that, the five of you winding down single-file with the owner himself taking the lead, down to V at the rear.

Upon arriving and being let inside, you loiter uncertainly just inside the doorway beside your two boyfriends as Jin walks behind the desk and takes a seat. Even if it wasn’t for the fact that the evening’s protocol forbids you from speaking out of turn (as if you ever really followed it), you can’t bring yourself to form a single sentence.

Luckily, Hoseok can. “Aren’t you gonna leave?” he asks brusquely.

Jin smiles patiently, holding his palms out in a broad gesture. “This is my office. I said you could use it, and you can.” He lets the statement hang in the air as he loosens his tie with a shit eating grin. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You swallow hard and look over to the other men.  Even though you had been seen by an entire club of people downstairs in your most vulnerable moments, they were all occupied, and there were so many that it didn’t feel real. Now, with Jin’s eyes heavy on you, waiting, there’s something far more intimidating about it.

Hoseok has a glimmer of something in his eyes, and murmurs in Namjoon’s ear, grin stretching across his face as he whispers, until Namjoon shares that same look. Without speaking, your younger boyfriend makes his way over to one of the chairs and sits down in it. It looks expensive; deep maroon upholstery with a mahogany base. He spreads his legs wide, and silently pats his thigh, eyes locked onto you.

You bite your lip and walk over, feeling a strange pressure in your chest at the silence. All eyes are on you. You just wish someone would say something. You bump knees with Namjoon still standing, but pause.

“Have you gotten all shy on us now, kitten?”

You mentally sigh in relief, turning to Hoseok and nodding. He doesn’t smile but his eyes crinkle as he steps forward, flattening your hair with his palm and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I think I know what you need,” he answers, “to take the pressure off.”

You blink in confusion as he leaves your side, strolling around to desk to the owner, who’s seated at his desk chair, aimlessly swivelling back and forth. Jin stops when Hoseok plants himself between the man’s knees and reaches down. With wary eyes, Jin waits as Hoseok fully loosens the man’s tie, slipping it off completely and bringing it back to you.

“Turn around,” he commands firmly, and you obey without thought, feeling comforted in his guidance. The fabric falls down sideways over your eyes, and you gasp silently in realisation as he fastens the makeshift blindfold with a knot at the back of your head. “Better?” he questions, and you nod hastily, already calming down and not feeling so exposed. “Then go sit on Daddy’s cock.”

You shudder, feet stumbling as Hoseok’s hand on your back guides to to the chair, almost tripping over one of Namjoon’s shoes. The seated man reaches out and grips your hips and you let your knees buckle, straddling him in the armchair. The feeling of his hard crotch rubbing against your still-sensitive core is enough to make you let out an unconscious whimper, and he chuckles lowly in your ear as you let your head rest on his shoulder.

“Joonie,” you mumble. Immediately, a sharp swat  lands on your ass, and you jump. With no other context, you don’t even know who did it. It didn’t feel like Namjoon’s arms moved at all. “Daddy.”

“Right,” he states with a squeeze to your hip. “Sit up, Daddy’s waited for that pretty pussy long enough.”

You whine and comply, raising yourself up on your knees, tilting your chin as your ears desperately train in on the delicate sound of a zipper being lowered. You hiss in a breath when you feel his cockhead run through your folds, catching the overstimulated tip of your clit, before pushing it back to rest snugly at your entrance. Your thighs ache with the need to sit, but you force yourself to wait, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt over his shoulders tightly.

The guiding pressure of his hands on your upper hips are your only instruction before you begin to sink down onto him. Even if you weren’t blindfolded, you wouldn’t be able to see a thing anyway with the way your eyes squeeze tightly shut, eyebrows knitting together as your mouth drops open. He’s big, thicker than the dildo on the fucking machine but just about as hard, swearing profusely when your wet heat envelops him inch by glorious inch. You’re so wet from the previous teasing and orgasms, and so needy to be filled, that the moment he bottoms out in you, you’re steadying yourself on him for leverage and beginning to ride him, head tipping back in ecstasy.

“Good, baby girl?”

You bite your lip and nod, feeling him strike nerves deep inside of you with every bounce. “So good, Daddy, fuck.” He rewards your compliment by propping his feet on the floor and beginning to thrust up into you, grunting with the exertion. A warm curl of pleasure begins to build deep inside you at the satisfaction of finally being fucked properly, and you work your thighs, meeting him halfway on every thrust, deepening his reach.

Your body stiffens when he suddenly pushes down heavily on your hips, halting your thrusts and holding you pinned fully onto him. “No, Daddy, please, don’t do thi-”

“Sh, don’t worry,” Namjoon soothes quickly, palms gripping meaty handfuls of your ass and massaging them reassuringly, spreading you apart. “We aren’t going to tease you anymore, princess, but you don’t want Daddy cumming before anyone else has joined in, now do you? Who do you want next? Who’s gonna fill that tight little ass of yours?”

You shudder, but your answer is immediate. “I want Sir.”

“Ask nicely.”

You turn your head blindly around in the direction you vaguely remember Hoseok last standing in. “Sir, please, I need you inside me. I’ll be good.” You startle, clenching tightly around Namjoon when you feel a hot breath on the back of your neck, and Hoseok’s hands - cold where the rings touch you - run up your back to rest on your waist.

“Okay, kitten. Ass up for me.”

You whine and obey, tilting forward so that your back arches forward onto Namjoon’s solid frame and your hips are tilted back for better access. You can’t help but clench when you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing at the tight right of your ass, muscles fluttering around the attempted intrusion. Namjoon swears as his cock is milked by your walls, but Hoseok simply swats you on your ass, matching the sting of the strike from earlier.

“Take it,” he hisses, before you hear him spit, the fluid landing on you, some slipping in as you fight to relax your muscles. He pushes in again, and this time you accept it, crying out as he thrusts forward, fucking up into you in one smooth motion. As you adjust to both men inside you, you feel the lubed-up rubber of a condom around Hoseok. Almost delirious with the sensation of fullness, your mind cooks up the image of Hoseok fiddling with a condom packet, trying to be quiet as you bounced on Namjoon’s cock. A smile tugs at your lips, but it’s dropped when Hoseok suddenly draws away and snaps his hips, plunging in to the hilt at the same time that Namjoon bends forward and begins to bite at your nipples through the fabric.

“Is something funny to you?” Hoseok asks through a tensed jaw.

You wince at the feeling of teeth around your sore nipple even as deep pleasure makes your toes curl. “No,” you protest weakly, another moan being ripped from your throat as Hoseok begins a regular pace. With every thrust, you feel the wall between Namjoon and Hoseok, the two of them filling you in a way you had become addicted to over the years. “God, don’t stop.”

“I know something that’ll wipe that smirk off your fuckin’ face,” he huffs out, and your heart skips a beat until you hear a third voice.

“Open up, little sub,” you hear V mutter, and you moan when you feel his cock tapping teasingly on your cheek.

You open your jaw wide and stick your tongue out, turning your head to the side his cock was on, waiting for it. You hear him chuckle and pat your tongue with the head, salting it with his precum before sliding down. Your mouth closes around him and sucks, and he lets out a low groan, his hand on the back of your head as he guides you.

Even though it was a relief earlier, now you curse the blindfold. There’s nothing you want more than to watch V’s face as he finally comes apart on your tongue, and the image of it alone makes your mouth water, deepening your bobs as you strain to take him all in. While most cocks feel large when they’re spreading your jaw, you know he’s long, so long that even as you gag and splutter around him, your nose doesn’t once touch the skin of his stomach.

“God, look at you,” he praises, a thumb pressing at the corner of your lips to wipe away drool that had slid down, before jerking his hips so that you choked on him once again. “Do you finally feel satisfied, you greedy girl?”

You gargle around him in agreement, and he curses, fingers tightening on the crown of your head. Although they’d lain dormant while you were adjusting to a third cock, your boyfriends’ hands are all over your torso, lifting you up so that they can simultaneously fuck into you, and you let out an inhuman whine around V’s dick, one hand flying off Namjoon’s shoulder and behind you to push at Hoseok.

V tugs you off his cock with a handful of hair and you gasp in lungfuls of air, feeling the cold air on your wet chin and cheeks. You take the chance to use your already-battered vocal cords. “Too fast,” you complain, gripping Hoseok’s wrist as he grabs your ass, keeping you spread. With that, V’s cock is thrust unceremoniously back into your throat and you cough around it, but hollow your cheeks and flick your tongue on his underside, moaning when your boyfriend heeds your words and slows down, opting to grind into you, slow and deep.

“This better, kitten?” he questions, rutting himself against you.

You go to whine enthusiastically, but a new noise takes you by surprise. An unfamiliar groan. V pulls you off him again and as you gasp to catch your breath, light pierces your eyes. You wince, panting, as the blindfold is ripped off. After adjusting to the brightness, you let him guide your gaze across the desk, where on the other side Jin sits, legs spread, gaze heavy on you with his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

He’s breathing heavily, and a flash of movement attracts your eyes downwards, where an angry red cock lies up against his stomach, a fist firmly running up and down it in indulgent tugs. His knuckles are glossy with precum and his pupils are blown wide, and you feel your mouth water at the fact that the image of you alone was enough to make him this desperate.

That thought lights a fire within you, a need, and you bend down to take V in your mouth again, freeing a hand to reach out and jerk off what doesn’t fit in your mouth. He swears at your renewed efforts, gathering your hair into a ponytail so that it doesn’t cover your face. As you do this, you grind yourself between the two cocks you’re impaled on, moaning wantonly at the way they shift inside you, alternating.

Namjoon groans and slips his hands around your hips more firmly, keeping you steady so that he can begin to fuck you, frenzied and desperate. “I’m so close, baby girl, keep that pussy open for me.”

You moan around V’s dick and his hips stutter at the vibration, clearly near his end too by the way he begins to lose control. You blink up through teary eyes, taking him down your throat and breathing through your nose so that you can finally watch him. The crease in his brow and the slackness of his jaw as he’s overcome by pleasure sends hot pleasure straight to your cunt.

Every time Namjoon or Hoseok thrust up into you, that spark of pleasure is ignited further and further, until you can’t even suck off V properly anymore, taking him out of your mouth to suckle at the sensitive skin instead, reaching lower to massage his balls.

The moment Hoseok reaches around to thumb at your clit and Namjoon lowers his mouth to your neck to suck a violent hickey, you’re gone. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, and you collapse, forehead knocking on Namjoon’s shoulder as the two men continue to fuck you through it, moaning sinful nothings into your ear as you gush over them, shaking bonelessly.

Above you, you hear the slick sound of V jerking off and you force your head up with the last reserves of your energy, groaning as you feel Hoseok and Namjoon release inside you; Hoseok into the condom and Namjoon painting your walls. V looks like he isn’t too far off, and he reaches down to tug at your bra, pulling it down to expose your breasts.

“You better not fucking cum on her tits, kid,” Jin warns, “I just had this carpet deep cleaned. Sub’s mouth or the trash can.”

V twitches his eyebrows with a salacious grin, not stopping for a moment. “You heard him, little sub, open up.” You lick your swollen lips and stick your tongue out, humming around the rush of cum that fills your mouth, swallowing it down. After wringing the last few spurts out, he sighs in satisfaction and draws himself out, tucking his slowly softening cock away.

You tremble violently when Hoseok pulls out of you, leaving you empty, but nothing can prepare you for the void inside you when Namjoon follows suit, immediately cupping his hand over your soiled pussy.

“Keep it in, baby girl,” he commands, “you’ve been so good for us.”

You hum warmly at the praise. “Tired,” you mumble mindlessly, letting him bundle you up on his lap as Hoseok took off the condom, knotting the end and leaving to discard it.

Namjoon pats your hair down, smoothing out the mess. “Come on, princess,” he murmurs in your ear as he looks out across the desk. “This kind young man let us use his office. Are you gonna let him use your mouth?”

Your eyes darken with exhausted lust as Jin stands up, one hand holding his pants up and the other still jerking hurriedly at his length. You nod, opening your mouth in submission as you wait for him to come over.

“Good girl,” Namjoon mutters, “you’ll let anyone take you, won’t you?”

Jin stops in front of you, gripping your hair and tipping your neck back so that you’re at the right level. You whimper as Namjoon palms your breasts possessively, rolling your nipples between his fingers as you take Jin into your mouth as deep as you can with your aching jaw. You work to bring him to the edge, knowing your energy will be fully depleted any minute now, and the owner groans at the effort.

“But whose tits are these, princess?” You gargle out a response around Jin’s thick cock, tears pricking your eyes. “And whose mouth is this?” Namjoon moves a hand up to wrap his fingers around your jaw, holding it open so that Jin can thrust inside. You groan, your reply trapped in your throat by his dick. Namjoon’s other hand leaves your tits and slips down, swiping his fingers through the cum that seeps out of your abused core. “And whose pussy is this?” You scream your reply, choking and sputtering as a hot wave of cum runs down your throat, soothing the rawness. You swallow it down and collapse back against Namjoon, spent.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room is your collective panting. Finally, V speaks. “Well; that was fun. Did you enjoy yourself, little sub?”

You let an exhausted smile tug at your lips as your eyes flutter shut. “Yes,” you sigh. “Thank you, Master.”

He chuckles warmly. “Guess you learned your lesson tonight, after all.”

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Mosaic Broken Hearts (But This Love is Brave and Wild)

Part 2 | See the Full Series Here

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 5,140

Warnings: None

Summary: The Doctor knows she loves you, that isn’t her concern. However, doesn't know what to do about it. For help, she calls up one of her old faces for advice, but doesn't get the regeneration she was bargaining for. (This is technically a sequel to Your Hand Print's on my Soul but can be read as a standalone)

Key: Y/N - Your Name, Y/P1 - she, he, or they, Y/P2 - her, him, or their

A/N: So here's what I've decided on the pronouns front. When Reader is the subject of the sentence, it'll be Y/P1 (these are for pronouns like she, he and they). When reader is the object of the sentence, it'll be Y/P2 (these are for pronouns such as her, him, and their). I'm doing it like this because thanks to a wonderful anon, I've learned that people use this extension that changes Y/N (and other acronyms) into your name. So instead of just Y/P, I figured it would help if I made a distinction. Let me know how you feel about this and how it goes!

“Right,” the Doctor said, and she dumped the small book in front of Yaz. “I need your help.”

Yaz looked up from her phone. The Doctor didn’t know what had captured her attention, but apparently she had been refreshing her feed all day. “…Right,” she glanced down at the book, then back at the Doctor. “What’s up?

“It won’t take too long,” The Doctor said. “I just need your opinion.”

Yaz set her phone to the side, and cautiously picked up the book. “What on?”

The Doctor gestured to the book.

Yaz opened it and flicked through a couple of pages. It was a photo album of all the Doctor’s past faces, and as Yaz flicked through them, her face fell into a small frown. “Hey Doc, no offence or anything but… Why am I looking at a bunch of photos of random old white men?”

“They used to me,” The Doctor said, and she sat down in front of Yaz, cross legged so that she was looking slightly up at her. Yaz had been curled up on the living room sofa, the BBC playing softly in the background on the TV.

They were in Yaz’s family apartment, house sitting for them whilst Yaz’s family were down at the Coast. Her family had extended the invitation to both Yaz and the Doctor, but neither wanted to be too far away in case of a crisis.

Yaz sighed, sitting up right so she could flick through the book properly. She eyed the Doctor, as if she didn’t quite believe her. It was a look the Doctor got often from her new friends, and it gave her an edge of amusement. “Hmm,” Yaz eyed the Doctor’s eighth face. “What am I looking for exactly?”

“Which one’s the most trustworthy,” The Doctor said, then she frowned. “No wait, that’s not right. Which one looks like they’ll give the best advice?”

Yaz raised an eyebrow. “Best advice? Doc, I can’t judge that from a photo.”

“Sure you can!” The Doctor said. “You can get it from a vibe! Besides, I need a neutral party to decide. I can just imagine technicolour dream coat and I getting into an argument. He wouldn’t like my rainbow, which doesn’t even make sense, have you seen how much rainbow is on him!”

Yaz quickly flicked backwards through the pages, until she landed on the Doctor’s sixth face, in all his curly blonde haired glory. “Is this him? Technicolour dream coat?”

The Doctor nodded her head. “Oh just look at that coat, I loved that coat. I reckon I’d look smashing in that coat today.” Yaz gave it an amused smile. “It’s certainly… striking,” then she closed the photo album and gave the Doctor a look, and the mood completely shifted.

The Doctor hated when Yaz did gave her this look, it was too… knowing. It was like she was piecing together all the things the Doctor had ever said, stitching together the real Doctor, the version of herself she wasn’t sure if she wanted the others to see. “Why do you need advice from one of these blokes anyway? We’re all here for you Doc, all of us.”

The Doctor’s jaw clenched. What was she supposed to say? Oh yeah, don’t mind me, I’m just in love with Y/N and need advice on how to deal with it, nothing big or important at all.

Because that was the thing though, she wasn’t even sure what she was supposed to do about it. She wasn’t sure whether she should pursue you, if that would even be fair, given the weight that was her everything.

And? If she did decide to pursue you? If the Doctor was really going to be so selfish? Well, she couldn’t even begin to know where to start with that.

So fresh eyes, eyes that understood her to her very core. That’s what she needed.

“Honestly,” the Doctor swallowed. It was difficult being honest in this face, speaking so openly like this. She had to practise, not just for herself, not just for you, but for the rest of her friends too. “I don’t know,” she said, eventually. “But I know, right now at least, the only person who can tell me… is, well, me.” I just don’t know which me to choose, I don’t want to be biased about it, base my decision on baseless things like the opinion on a coat, for example.

“And Yaz, you’re good at this, brilliant at it even. You know people, you know how to judge people immediately. I’m asking you because… well, because I trust you. You’re one of my best mate’s Yaz, who else would I ask?

Yaz chewed her lip, giving the Doctor a look she couldn’t yet recognise. “Alright,” she said, at last. She flicked through the book, and the Doctor watched as Yaz scrutinised each and every one of the Doctor’s old faces. She made some comments from time to time, mostly about the clothes the Doctor had once worn,  or certain hairstyles.

Finally, she settled on someone. “Him,” she said. “He’s got a knowing face.”

She turned the book around so the Doctor could see. Huh. Yaz had chosen her tenth face; Sandshoes.

Well, technically her eleventh face, but that was neither here nor there.

The Doctor pondered over the thought for a moment. He wasn’t a bad choice, in fact, he was probably the best choice of the bunch. He’d wanted love more than anyone, he had fallen in love, so easily, so quickly, so readily.

At the very least he knew how to navigate it.

“That,” the Doctor said finally. “Is an excellent choice, I think.”

“Yeah?” Yaz said, and she was smiling. “You reckon?”

The Doctor nodded vigorously. This could work, this could be perfect.

Which was why, when the Doctor was finally alone, she set her plan into motion.

You, Ryan, and Graham had agreed to come over around the same time Yaz’s fam did, which had been the Doctor’s suggestion. She just needed one short moment, just a minute, a quick duck out and duck in, none of you would ever even notice – you wouldn’t know.

So, when Yaz’s family came home, and she was letting them inside, the Doctor snuck into the TARDIS, which had been parked in the spare room.

Now, the thing about time travel, the very tricky thing about time travelling, is that travelling through your own time stream could be messy, very messy. The Doctor knew this, of course, and, when she had decided that she was going to meet up with her past self, she had planned to circumvent this.

The first thing she had to do was think of a location that wouldn’t be prone to a violent world ending, explosion making paradox – which she had already done; The Medusa Cascade. She had been there enough, in so many regenerations, that the old girl would barely bat an eye should she materialise at the same time as a past version of themselves.

And even if the TARDIS did realise when exactly she was going (which, of course she would, nothing got past the TARDIS), well, the TARDIS was such a romantic, surely she wouldn’t mind.

So the Doctor punched in the coordinates.

The second thing the Doctor had to do was send her old self a message, one that conveyed the urgent-ness of the meeting, but not too urgent. She’d run into her timestream so many times now that it was basically an annual holiday for her, but that didn’t change the fact that this was something she definitely shouldn’t do lightly.

She had a message, or, well, at least, the idea of a message.

The third thing, well, the third thing she had to do, was sync up their TARDIS’, create an artificial temporal feedback loop between the two TARDIS’ so neither one of them would vomit the Doctor(s) out. Hopefully, what it would do would allow both her and sandshoes to exist in the same TARDIS, whilst also not existing in the same TARDIS at all.

The Doctor waited for someone – you, to tell her that she was clever.

Then she whacked her head on one of the crystals that towered around the console and realised you weren’t in the room at all, that all of those words had just been her internal monologue.

Huh, well then.

She rubbed her head with the back of her hand, trying to subside the throbbing, pounding, sensation that was rattling against on her forehead. She punched in the rest of the coordinates, pulled up the leaver, and was off.

The TARDIS groaned loudly. She was shuddering dramatically, and the Doctor almost groaned. “C’mon old girl, don’t tell me you’ve gone bitter in your old age.”

A panel on the wall popped off, leaking angry fiery, sparks. The Doctor yelped, and glared around her person, so the TARDIS could clearly see who the glare was directed at. “Now that wasn’t necessary.”

With a shaky grumble, the TARDIS landed, floating in deep space. The sparks stopped as soon as they started, and the Doctor made a mental note to patch it up before she left.

Right then, time for the message.

A video call wouldn’t be right, not for this. She needed something dramatic, something mysterious, something her past self would latch on and be too curious about to ignore. A simple message, completely appropriate, just 13 words:

   ↠ In a sort of pickle, Bad Wolf and all that. Fancy a cuppa?

And then, of course, she sent the instructions on how to create an artificial temporal feedback loop between the two TARDIS that her past self could follow. Of course, since this was herself that she was planning for, she knew damn well that he wouldn’t read the a word of them.

So hopefully that would mean that she would wind up inside his console, instead of it being the other way round. She didn’t have the time or energy to defend her stylistic choices to him.

The Doctor waited anxiously, pacing around the console like a nervous cat, like one sound would cause her to flee. She wasn’t even sure why she was nervous, she was only seeing herself, after all.

Which was exactly why she was nervous.

She considered bailing, finding another face of her to talk to instead. She was going to get distracted by Ten’s spikey hair, she could already tell.

No, that wasn't true.

She was scared, she felt like she was being selfish.

The thing was, Ten had loved someone too: Rose. She had been wonderful, utterly fantastic, and to this day the Doctor still loved her, in her own way. She loved Rose as an echo, a memory of what-ifs and could have beens.

The Doctor wasn't sure how it would feel to have a future version of herself tell her that she would one day love another, that it would be so tangible and close, after losing someone so awfully. She couldn't imagine that sort of pain.

Actually, she could imagine it, quite easily. It was dreadful.

She had experienced it once, with Rose.

And River.

And she wouldn’t ever, couldn’t ever, experience it with you.

The Doctor took in a deep breath. The message has already been sent, an invitation for just the two of them to talk. She couldn’t back out now.

She eyed her fez, sitting by the steps that lead up the TARDIS corridors. It was a split second decision, one second she was debating whether or not she should grab it, the next, it was on her head.

She felt more herself, more confident, wearing it.

Yeah, totally still her.

The first thing she noticed was the way her skin prickled, as if thousands of tiny needles were lightly poking her. Then the room around her went fuzzy, and the Doctor felt dizzy. In an instant, she was stumbling into a different TARDIS, with familiar brown poles, wires swinging freely in the air, and old grating under her feet.

Except… there weren’t any brown poles, or grating under her feet. The Doctor stared underneath her and oh no.

Something had gone very, very wrong.

For one thing, the most obvious thing, the thing she should have noticed immediately: she was standing on glass.

The Doctor looked around her, she was surrounded by orange chromed walls, golden metal plating, and round little lights sat into the sides. It was familiar, intimately and completely familiar, because this console room had once been hers.

But this wasn’t the console of her tenth face… this was-

“Who,” a familiar voice rang out. “Are you?”

The Doctor turned around slowly, and eyed her eleventh face carefully.

Gods, she had forgotten how big that chin was.

“So,” she said slowly. “I’ve got a bit of explaining to do.”

“A bit?” Eleven said. He said the next two words under his breath. “Bad Wolf,” he then turned to her. “I haven’t heard those words in a very long time.”

The Doctor took in her old self. He seemed tired, his clothes were a bit disorganised, with his shirt untuck and his suspenders hanging limp by his knees. His hair was a mess too, flopping over his face like he had just regenerated. He seemed stressed – scared, almost.

It was almost as if-

“Lake Silencio,” Thirteen breathed, the realisation hitting her with so much force she stumbled backwards slightly. “That’s about to happen, isn’t it?”

His eyes visibly widened – they were so expressive, these eyes. They were the only things that showed his age. “How do you-”

“I’m so sorry,” Thirteen said. “I wasn’t supposed to run into you, especially not now. I was trying to find sandshoes.”

“What? Sandshoes?” Eleven drummed his fingers against the console. “Spikey hair, big sad eyes?”

“Yup, the very same.”

“Why would you even want to talk to him, he,” Eleven straightened, and marched towards her. “No, wait, hold on. That’s distracting, you distracted me with information.”

Thirteen raised her hands up, placating. “I really am sorry-“

“Who are you?” Eleven repeated. “You can’t be me, I’m, I’m about to-”

“I am though,” Thirteen interrupted, and she scrunched up her face. She knew he didn’t want to finish saying that sentence as much as she didn’t want to hear it. “I’m you, a couple faces down the line.”

“You can’t be, you shouldn't exist," Eleven said, an edge of an accusation in his voice. “How do you exist?"

"Aww," Thirteen drew the sound out. "Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey, something to do with spoilers."

"Spoilers," Eleven let out a half laugh, a half scoff. "Now that's a word that's thrown around a fair bit."


River.

The Doctor's hearts ached for her, they always would, in a way. A memory of so many chances, of sly smiles, and fleeting moments.

"Trust me though," she said. "I am you, we have a future."

Eleven’s mood changed almost instantly. “A future," he breathed, and he had a wistful smile on his face. "Well then, that's something. I hope it's a good one."

"I do my best."

"Right then," Eleven said, and he clapped his hands together. “What are you here for? What’s so urgent that my future self would come barrelling in like this? I did pop the kettle on.”

Thirteen grinned. “Peppermint tea?”

Eleven rummaged on the console for a moment, before throwing a small cardboard box in the air. He caught it one handed and turned to Thirteen with a wink. “Of course.”

He then jogged towards the kettle, not waiting for a reply. “I do love the fez by the way,” he called out. “It’s suit’s you! Let me know it was you, too. Well, that and the scan I did as you landed.”

Thirteen looked around frantically, scrunching her face up at the TARDIS interior. “Scans? When’d you do scans?”

“As you materialised,” he replied. “Set it up with Donna, remember?”

Thirteen racked her brain for the memory. That had been over a thousand years ago for her.

“Vaguely,” she replied, and hopped over to him.

“Ah, losing that memory with age then?” He eyes sparkled as he passed her a mug.

“Careful whippersnapper,” Thirteen teased. “I’ve got centuries on you.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” Eleven replied. They move in sync, in a sort of tandem that only they two were familiar with. They were the same person, but also so starkly different.

“But what do you think?” She said, and she gestured to the fez, but really, she was talking about all of her. “Still me?”

Eleven eyed her up and down quizzically. “Most definitely,” he said. “An upgrade, I’d say.”

Thirteen grinned as they sat down. “Tell you what, buying women’s clothes, still not used to it.”

“Nah,” Eleven replied. “It’s been ages.”

They sat on the threshold of Eleven’s TARDIS, each with a mug of peppermint tea in hand, staring out at the Medusa Nebula. Thirteen was curled in on herself, one knee tucked into her frame and the other dangling freely. Eleven, however, sat openly, his legs swinging free.

She didn’t know how long they sat there in silence, just taking in the bright dust clouds dancing across the inky black universe.

“I’ve met someone,” Thirteen started, after another moment. “A human.”

“Well,” Eleven took a sip of his tea. “That is something we do.”

“No it’s,” Thirteen floundered for a moment, trying to find the words. “It’s different.”

“Define different.”

Thirteen struggled to find a way to describe it, to fully articulate what it was like, what her love for you was like. So, she told a story.

“Do you remember,” Thirteen said. “Gods, it was so long ago for me, but there was this way Amy once described Rory. How, sometimes you meet beautiful people, but they’re dull as a brick. But then you meet someone, and their personality just becomes synonymous with their beauty…”

“She said Rory was the most beautiful man she had ever met,” Eleven finished.

“Exactly, and, well… Y/P2 name is Y/N,” Thirteen said, and risked looking at her younger self.

She watched him blink as the realisation hit him. “Oh,” he said softly, and it was enough.

“Yeah,” Thirteen breathed out.

“So…” Eleven said. “Sandshoes.”

Thirteen chuckled at that, and took a sip of her tea. “Yeah.”

“He would’ve been a bit moody about it.”

Thirteen snorted, and Eleven laughed. “Oi, don’t judge it,” Thirteen said. “My friend picked him out, said he’s got ‘a knowing face,’ so I went with it.”

“He would’ve known how to cope with it,” Eleven said. “That’s for sure.”

“That’s what I need,” Thirteen said. “See, I know I love Y/P2, I keep it safe, hold it in my hearts. That’s not the part that worries me.”

“You just don’t know what to do with it,” Eleven surmised.

“Exactly,” Thirteen nodded. “So, you’re right, and so was Yaz. Ol’ cockatoo hair would’ve known.”

“And you got me instead,” Eleven said with a rueful grin.

“Yup,” Thirteen said. “So? Got any advice for me?”

“Not really,” Eleven replied. “But tell me about Y/N, maybe that would help?”

Thirteen smiled, staring out at the Medusa Nebula, and thought of you. “Well,” she started. “Y/N’s amazing, just so thoughtful, so selfless. I don’t even know if Y/P1 realises just how much she does for others, I think it’s just so innate and present within Y/P2 that for Y/N, it’s just a state of being.”

Eleven sounded out your name on his lips, enunciating it carefully, almost reverently. “It’s a nice name,” he said. “Straight out of a storybook.”

“It is,” Thirteen agreed. “And, okay, so, you know that energy humans have? That wonderful quality that just fills them with so much vibrancy, so much life?”

“Always,” he looked riveted, like he was hanging off of Thirteens every word.

“Well, Y/N just sort… encapsulates it. It’s like, there could be an entire solar system, an entire nebula,” she gestured to the view. “Right there, but the only thing worth looking at is Y/P2.”

“But everything,” Thirteen continued. “Absolutely everything to Y/P2, is so new and exciting. I could show Y/N the seven wonders of the universe, take Y/P2 to see the most dazzling sights in the next universe over, or just show Y/P2 some pink snow, and Y/P1 would find it all just as extraordinary as the next.”

Eleven’s mouth formed a small smile. He took a small sip of his tea. “That sounds… wonderful.”

“Yeah,” Thirteen said, and then, suddenly. “If you were me-”

“I am you,” Eleven said, giving her a wry grin.

“Yes, I know that, but me, me. As in, this face me. Would you pursue something with Y/P2, would you try?”

Eleven let out a heavy breath. Thirteen had no doubt as to what he was thinking about, who he was thinking about – she had lived it, after all. I would be different hearing it, though. “Yes,” he said, after a moment of thought. “I would, if I could. What you’ve said, it sounds like… well, it sounds like everything.”

Thirteen swallowed. It certainly felt like everything.

“The thing is though,” Eleven added. “Is it what you want, is it what Y/P1 wants?”

Thirteen scrunched her face up at that. “I don’t know.”

“Look” he said. “I know next to nothing about this sort of stuff, really, it was absurd you came to me-”

Thirteen snorted, again.

“-But the way I see it, the fact that you’re going around, asking people stuff, questioning this, seeking answers, that’s got to count for something. Loving a human… I can’t imagine anything better.”

“And when I lose Y/P2?” Thirteen challenged. “When Y/N is gone with everyone else, what do I do then?”

Eleven sighed. “What we always do, what we’ve always done. Keep moving forward.”

Thirteen huffed out a breath. “I don’t know if I can do that, again. I’ve lost so much, more than you could imagine-”

“Oh I’m sure I’d be able to, one day.”

“-Right,” Thirteen ran a hand through her hair. “I’m just exhausted though. I’m so sick of losing people, of losing everyone. You fix things, you move on, and then it just keeps happening,” she gave him a desperate look. “I’m not sure I could lose someone again, I’m not sure if I could lose Y/P2.”

“I suppose then, you’ve got to think of the alternatives,” Eleven replied. “What are you willing to do, what boundaries are you willing to set?”

Thirteen considered it for a moment. Then it hit her. “I don’t want to set boundaries. Well, Y/N can set boundaries of course, but me? I… I want whatever I can have…” she scrunched up her face. “I think”

“Do you always do that?” Eleven asked suddenly.

“Do what?”

He mimicked her expression, scrunching his face up. “This.”

Thirteen couldn’t help it, she laughed. “Y/N says I do, Y/P1 notices things, that one.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that, either,” Eleven said. “Face it, we’ve got a type.”

“Plucky adventurous willing to take on the universe?” Thirteen suggested.

“Exactly,” he sobered, after. “I can’t tell you what you should do. Even though I am you, I think that’s something only you, you can decide.”

Thirteen let out a half-hearted groan. “That’s what Vastra said.”

“Oh, Madame Vastra! How is she?”

“Not enjoying her meals as much as she was,” Thirteen commented idly. “She liked Y/N though.”

“Well that’s important, her approval is hard to come by.”

Thirteen thought about Clara, and Amy, and River, and all the people the Doctor had been close with whom Vastra approved of. “She does have excellent taste.”

“Wait,” Eleven said. “If Vastra told you the same thing, why’ve you come to me – or, well, why’d you go looking for sandshoes?”

Thirteen winced. “I may have… um, interpreted it literally.”

Eleven laughed. “I would’ve done the same.”

“You will,” she sighed. “I just… I feel so…” she groaned, not finding the words. She didn’t want to say inadequate, or wrong, because neither of those words fit.  

Eleven, though,  just nodded. “I know,” he said. “I feel it too.”

“I’m just worried that my own self-doubt, or, well, not even that, but, I just feel like it will stain my decision” Thirteen went to take another sip of her tea, and frowned when it came up empty. “I want to make sure, whatever I decide, I do it for the right reasons, I do it for Y/P2. Y/N’s the most important thing.”

“Well,” Eleven said, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t think any version of ourselves are the best person to talk to, then. We’ve all got that” he waved a hand in the air. “Sad self-doubt thing.”

The Doctor thought about you – you who was so bright, so good. She was scared of hurting you, she was scared of hurting herself, too.

And this was all under the presumption that she could woo you, too.

She groaned, again. This was all just so messy.

“Y/N,” Eleven said slowly, again. It was as if he was trying to fit your name in his mouth, hold it, like the act could help him remember it, help remember you.

Actually, no, it wasn’t ‘as if’ at all. Thirteen knew him, she had been him, she knew Eleven better than anyone.

And she knew, if she were in his position right now, she’d be doing the same.

“I’m sending invitation,” Eleven said, after a moment. “To the Ponds, to River, the people most important to me. I mean, I got the guest list because I’ve already seen it, bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy, this-”

“Or a bootstrap paradox,” Thirteen supplied. “You’ve got questions like who made the list? Where did it come from?”

Eleven gave her a rueful grin. “Still obsessed with the ‘why’ I see.”

“When haven’t we been,” Thirteen countered with a soft grin.

“Although, and, I’m not sure how much of this you remember,” Eleven said. “The feeling of it, at least. When it hit me that this is what I had to do… I was grateful it was those three on the list. I think I need them there, I couldn’t go through with this alone.”

Thirteen nodded. She remembered, and she suspected she knew where he was going.

“So,” Eleven continued. “I guess what you need to think about is, if all of this,” he gestured around them both. “Was to end tomorrow, where would you want Y/N? Where would you need Y/P2?”

The question made Thirteen pause. She hadn’t ever considered that, not for a moment. She thought back to times when you had been missing, or lost, and how the only thought on her mind was how she needed you back, needed you here, by her side.

“Wow,” she breathed.

Eleven chuckled. “Yeah.”

It was an important thing to think about; boundaries. What was the Doctor willing to sacrifice? How far was she willing to go to make sure she wouldn’t get hurt, and that, in turn, you wouldn’t get hurt either.

“Right,” Thirteen stood up and brushed down her pants. “Thank you for this, I think I needed this.”

“The tea or the chat?”

Thirteen shrugged. “Both. I love a good tea, my friend’s mum makes the best tea.”

“I’m not going to remember this, am I,” Eleven said suddenly. “We’re too close to creating a paradox.”

“Part of the reason I chose this place,” Thirteen replied.

“Then…” Eleven scrunched up his suspenders in his hand, leaving his tea deserted as he stood. “The Ponds. How are they? Do… do they?”

Thirteen swallowed her sadness at the question, doing her best to give him an encouraging smile. “They live long, happy lives.”

He scrutinised her for a moment. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

The long happy lives starts in 1938.

She gave him a small, sad smile. “Spoilers.”

Eleven huffed. “I suppose I should have expected that.”

But he helped her get back to her TARDIS, and the familiar glow of the crystals warmed her hearts. She rolled her fez in between her hands, thinking about what her younger self had said, thinking about you.

What did the Doctor need? How was she supposed to work it out?

Eleven was right, it wasn’t something that any of her past selves could tell her. It was such an intimately, personal question. And not one with a clear answer.

She threw the thought in the back of her mind. She had all the time in the universe to work it out, hopefully. And rght now, she missed her fam, she missed you.

So she pressed the buttons she needed to press, pulled down the levers she needed to pull, spun her mini TARDIS that sat on the console, and flew home.

As she landed, The Doctor wondered how long her younger self would stay by the Medusa Cascade, holding the memory of their conversation, the knowledge that he would live, regenerate, and fall in love again.

If it were her (and it was, in a way), she would stay there for a long time, just thinking of you.

It was only a second or so after she had landed that there was a knock on the door. Surely it wasn’t Yaz, she couldn’t have realised that the Doctor had gone.

The Doctor swung the door open, completely unprepared for any sort of excuse to give Yaz.

Except, it wasn’t Yaz by the door… It was you.

You were giving her an amused grin, and the Doctor wanted to capture it, hold it and cherish it in that special place that held everything you gave her. Every smile, every laugh, all of it.

“Where did you get off to?” You asked.

“Oh, I just had to check out a thing, you know how it is,” she stepped to the side to allow you to come in.

“Not really,” you said. “I’m not the time travelling alien in suspenders.”

The Doctor almost snorted. Little did you know.

You were holding a bigger bag than normal. The Doctor wondered if that meant you were going to be staying longer. She hoped so. She watched your face fall into a confused frown. “What on Earth happened there?”

The Doctor followed your gaze, landing on the panel that the TARDIS had blown off in a petulant fit. Well – not a petulant fit, the Doctor would never let the TARDIS believe that’s what she thought. “Uh…” The Doctor tried to think of an excuse, any excuse. “Just some maintenance.”

“Right,” you drew out the word, clearly not believing her. “Oh!” You suddenly turned to her. “I forgot, Yaz’s mum has invited us to have tea with the family. Graham and Ryan too.”

Doctor grinned. Tea at Yaz’s. Tea with you at Yaz’s.

“Sounds brilliant.”

A/N^2: If you've made it this far, thank you for reading!! I'm having a lot of fun with this series/collection of standalone fics all set in the same universe with the same premise. On request I’ve started a tag list, so, if you'd like to join it, just let me know!

Tag List: @fictionalhoomanofnowhere​ @dreamer7black​

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 23: A Hat

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Jefferson tries to get help

Read on AO3

Inside a cramped little cottage in a cramped little town in the mountains of a flat planet that flies through space on the back of four elephants on top of a turtle, he is having dinner with his family. 

Technically, they are Leo’s family, but technicalities have never troubled him. These people have welcomed him into their lives. This smoke-filled, boisterous cottage is more home to him than the solemn rock quarry where Jefferson spent the first few miserable decades of his life. 

The meal is mostly over, but everyone lingers over pudding and conversation and beer. A few of his sisters-in-law have gathered up the dishes and are headed back to the kitchen for the washing up.

His daughter sits on his lap. She is almost too big for the gesture and maybe that’s why she wants it so much. It’s certainly why he lets her do it. How much longer will he have with his little girl? Even if they have escaped from the Queen’s curse, they cannot escape time. There will only be a few more years before Grace is more a woman than a baby. She’ll be as pretty as her mother, and just as smart, winding her way through the hearts of everyone who meets her.

But for now, his girl sits on his lap and listens to her family. Beside him, Leo squeezes his arm. 

She leans into him. “No matter where we go, it’s never better than being home.”   

He smiles at her, his wife, his life. Her face is ruddy from drink and smoke. Her blonde hair curls in the heat, teasing wisps escape from her bun. Her plump curves fill out her dress like bursting sausage. She has a shine of bacon grease around her mouth and a touch of beer foam on the tip of her nose. In all the lands in all the worlds, he has never seen anyone more beautiful. 

Somewhere down the table, a baby cries. One of his many sisters-in-law is trying to soothe one of Grace’s many cousins, without much success. The infant has been fussing all night, and now the poor thing’s wails have drowned out the riotous conversation.

“‘Ere now!” Leona’s mother calls down from the head of the table. “Are you going to help that poor babby or do I ‘ave to?”

His sister-in-law--a washed out, nervous looking woman whose name no one can remember--looks gratefully up at Nanny Ogg. “Can you?”

Nanny Ogg snorts. This grande dame--which she translates as “big woman”--is the matriarch of the Ogg clan and the second-most powerful witch in the Ramptops Mountains, though she doesn’t try as hard. She’s had five husbands (and married three of them), fifteen children, and more grandchildren and great-grandchildren than anyone in Lancre can count. 

The baby is passed from hand to hand down the table, squalling all the way. When it finally gets to the head of the table, it is placed into the very solid arms of a round old woman dressed in black. She has a pipe, a pint, and a black pointy hat. (There’s nothing magic about a pointy hat, except that it says that the person underneath it is a witch.) She also has lively dark eyes--like Leo’s, like Grace’s--and the widest grin most people have ever seen.

The current occupant of the old woman’s lap is a mangy ball of fur and claws named Greebo. Though known to pick fights with bears (and not lose), he’s nothing but an old softy to Nanny Ogg. Still, the cat is smart enough to know that he is always second place to any child. As soon as the baby is in the witch’s arms, he scampers out of the way.

Jefferson’s life would have been hell if Nanny Ogg hadn’t given him her approval to marry Leo. They would have married anyway--Leo wouldn’t have let anything stop them--but coming home like this would have been… difficult. There are a dozen tiny ways an Ogg can tell you they don’t like you--and a hundred large and painful ones. But Nanny Ogg’s welcoming nature--and Jefferson’s endless potential to bring her presents from far-off lands--had ensured that they were welcome any time. 

Within a minute of entering Nanny Ogg’s embrace, the screaming baby quiets. Within another minute, it sleeps peacefully, despite the raucous conversation around the table. 

Perched on his knees, Grace looks curious. “Was that magic, Gran?”

“Coo-ee, no, my duck!” Nanny Ogg chuckles. “The day I needs magic to calm a babe is the day you lot can put me in the ground!”

“But you did it so fast!” Grace persists. 

“Coz I been doing it so long,” Nanny Ogg explains. “Ever since your Uncle Jason was a wee thing! There’s a knack to it, but it ain’t magic.”

Grace ponders this for a moment. Children are allowed to speak freely around Nanny Ogg’s table--provided they keep the conversation interesting. “Papa knows a man who does magic.”

Jefferson thinks about explaining, but clearly this is a private conversation.

Nanny Ogg nods sagely. “I imagine your dad knows all kinds of people, the work he does.”

“He was a funny little man,” Grace says. “He has a funny voice and he’s all green.”

“Takes all sorts, luv. We can’t help the way we’re made.”

“He gave me a yellow dress, to match Mama’s pink one. He pulled it out of the air! We were there for--why were we there, Papa?”

“A wedding,” Jefferson answers. “The Dark One and Belle wanted us to be there for their wedding.”

“It was a lovely day,” Leo smiles at him while stroking their daughter’s hair. “Do you remember dancing in that big ballroom, Grace? Remember how he made the instruments play themselves?”

Nanny Ogg snorts. “Sounds like a show-off, if you ask me.”

“Oh he is,” Jefferson agrees. “I don’t know if you’d like him, and Mistress Weatherwax would hate him.”

“Well, there’s not many I don’t like, and there’s not many Esme Weatherwax don’t hate, at least at first.” 

They laugh at that, as they laugh at everything. The conversation moves on to other topics. Later the lot of them move away from the table and into the parlor. Around a fire and more beer, Nanny Ogg brings out her banjo, but the evening still manages to end happily. 

He puts Grace to bed in a room with her cousins, a group of girls near her age. He kisses her and makes sure she has her stuffed rabbit. Then he goes up to the bedroom where Leo is waiting.

His wife is a dream, all satiny pink. All soft and warm and round. Like a sunset cloud with grasping arms. Like candy floss with a libido. She is everything. All the happiness he has now is because of her. This family, this life, their daughter. Everything in his past led to her, everything in the present comes from her, everything in the future will be theirs together. 

They make love, full of food and clumsy with drink. Their lips are loose and sloppy. They giggle and try to stay quiet in this crowded house. Their hands know their bodies. They know how to pleasure each other. They know. They feel. They love. They delight in each other and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

When Jefferson wakes up, everything is gone. 

****

For the ten thousand, three hundred ninetieth time, Jefferson woke up alone. In a giant, empty bed, inside a giant, empty house. He woke up, like he always did, with a gnawing ache in his chest and a burning desire for nothing more than to go back to sleep. Back to his dream. His best dreams were always about them. Leo. Grace. Home.

Sitting up in bed, Jefferson covered his face with his hands and let a dry sob rack through him. Tears would come later. First sob of the morning was always dry.

“Morning” was not the right word. It was a gray spring afternoon, more or less identical to every other gray afternoon he’d woken up in since he was brought over to this world. Over the years--over so many years--he had gotten in the habit of starting his day when most people in Storybrooke began to end theirs. The only reason he woke up at all was to get a chance to see his daughter walk home from school. 

The telescope was in the office, what he tended to think of as the hat room. This side of the massive house faced Main Street. He could see quite a lot--the diner, the Sheriff’s Station, a few important houses. And he had learned quite a lot, just by looking at all these people living their lives. 

Nothing changed in Storybrooke. Children didn’t get older. The old and sick never died. People worked the same jobs no matter how much they hated them. There was a girl he saw walking to and from the diner who had been nine months pregnant for twenty-eight years. Everyone was miserable, alone and unloved in one way or another, but they all carried on with what they thought were their lives. 

Until the day a yellow bug drove into town. 

Looking through the telescope, Jefferson trained his eyes on a lime green winter coat. The coat was bouncing over the shoulders of a young girl as she hopped, skipped and jumped her way around the sidewalk. His throat tightened, as it did every time he saw her. In the lens of the telescope, she looked close enough to reach out and touch. 

Grace was walking with another girl--Jefferson didn’t know her name. She was poor, from Old Town. Her father was gone and her mother worked long hours for low pay. Girls like that didn’t get their accomplishments written up about in the newspaper the way Grace did every time she won the Science Fair. Until a few months ago, Grace had never spoken to this girl. Both of them had walked the same path from the school to the abandoned library, twenty feet apart, every day for twenty-eight years, without ever interacting with each other.

Until the day Sheriff Swan started a youth outreach campaign, and made a point to talk about how much safer kids were if they used the buddy system when they didn’t have an adult around.

Then Grace had looked up from her routine, and she had seen the other girl looking back. Both of them needed someone to walk with. Both of them were looking for a friend. Both of them found one. It was a little thing, but it was a change.

He watched them walk from the library to the house in New Town where Tim and Mia Lewis lived. The people Grace thought were her parents. Every once in a while, they ran an ad in the Storybrooke Daily Mirror--all three of them with big smiles, the adults offering their services in insurance and real estate. 

The lights were off inside the house, so he couldn’t see into the kitchen. He couldn’t see what healthy snacks Mia had made for the girls today. He couldn’t see what game they played to unwind for a bit before Mia made sure they both started their homework. A few hours later, the other girl’s mother would stop by after her shift at Granny’s. He never knew if she thanked Mia for watching her daughter. Maybe it was just understood. Maybe Mia said she was just doing what Sheriff Swan advised, watching out for children who might otherwise get into trouble, being alone and unsupervised.

Once Grace was out of his sight, Jefferson moved the telescope to look around town. Not too many changes today. Archie Hopper was walking his dalmatian. Marco the handyman was making another trip to the hardware store. The stranger on the motorcycle idled outside Marine Automotive; he seemed to be watching Marco. Mrs. Gold was strutting away from the pawn shop with her head held high.

 He watched her, this woman who used to be Belle. It looked like she was going towards City Hall. Curious. Was she applying for a permit? Was there some licence she needed to renew? His fingers itched to pick up the phone and call the Dark One about what he had seen. He was the only other human being in town, the only person who knew the truth about anything. It was just the Dark One, Jefferson, and Queen Regina. 

But he couldn’t bother him too much. They couldn’t raise any more suspicion than they already had with their one secret meeting in the woods. The Dark One was still trying to maintain his cover as “Mr. Gold.” Besides, what difference could it make that Belle was running an errand to City Hall?

With a sigh, Jefferson moved away from the telescope. He’d been awake for more than an hour, it was time to put on pants. 

In no time at all, he had showered, dressed, and chugged down a protein shake. Most days, it was hard for him to summon up the will to cook or eat. He kept his body going with prepackaged meal replacements. They tasted like crap, but at least he didn’t have to think about them. He left cooking for people who thought they had something to live for. 

He made his way to the front doors. The house had a wide driveway that ran under a large overhang. Whenever visitors came, they could disembark from the vehicles and go into the house without the hazards of rain or snow. 

If he ever had visitors.

At the moment, and for the past twenty-eight years, all he had was the most recent copy of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror. It wasn’t a bastion of hard-hitting journalism, but for a long time it had been the only way he could know anything about the town he spent so much time looking at. The newspaper had given him names to put to the faces--Mayor Mills, Mr. Gold, Sheriff Humbert, and later Sheriff Swan. It had been a lifeline, and he still clung to it. For nearly three decades, the dates on the front page had been the only changes he had seen anywhere in this town. 

Today’s date was April 2nd, 2012. The headline was about the continued search for a missing person. Kathryn Nolan, a paralegal working at the firm of Duke & Duke, had been missing for more than a month. There had been sightings of a woman matching her description in various parts of Storybrooke, but by the time the police arrived, all traces of her had gone. Sheriff Swan encouraged anyone with any information regarding Mrs. Nolan’s whereabouts to call the station.

On the next page, there was an editorial decrying the lack of effort put forth by Kathryn’s husband, David Nolan, to aid in the search. Sydney Glass stopped just short of outright accusing Mr. Nolan of gross negligence or foul play. He only noted the amount of time Mr. Nolan spent with the schoolteacher, Miss Blanchard. The article concluded with speculation that perhaps Mrs. Nolan was not missing at all, but had run away from a terminally unhappy home.      

After finishing the paper, he put it away in the office closet and went back to the telescope. The lights were on in the house where Grace lived. The other girl had been picked up. Tim Lewis was home from work. The three of them were making dinner together. Mia was stirring a pot of chili and Tim was taking a bag of corn out of the freezer.

“She doesn’t like corn, guys,” Jefferson muttered to himself. “She won’t eat the chili if you put corn in it. You’ve been taking care of her for twenty-eight years and you’ve never figured that out.”

He shook his head and looked away. Sometimes it was maddening to watch the town like this, to see these people make the same mistakes, over and over. Emma Swan had made some changes, but there were still so many ways to be unhappy.

He watched dinner in the Lewis household. He watched Grace carefully pick out all the corn from her bowl of chili and set it into her paper napkin. He watched Mia shake her head at his daughter. He watched Tim lecture her about wasting food. He watched Grace scowl as she picked up the napkin and dumped the offending corn kernels back into the chili. She ate, but she looked like she was going to vomit.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. He had to get to her, somehow. He had to let her know that he was her father. He had to get her back to Leo.

After dinner, the family watched TV. Grace sat on a couch between Tim and Mia, and flickering light bathed over all of them. They weren’t bad people, her fake-parents. They did love her, and they did the best they could to raise her to be healthy and successful in this world. Whoever Tim and Mia had been before, they were victims of the curse too. They had never meant to steal another couple’s daughter. 

He had to put this right. He had to end this curse. Jefferson didn’t have much power, but he would do anything to put his family back together. 

He moved the telescope away from Grace. After a brief search, he found the big pink house in Old Town where the Dark One lived. The lights were on, but no one was visible through the windows. If he called on the phone, the Dark One would tell him to be patient. The Savior would break the curse in due time. 

But Jefferson had already waited too long. 

Scanning through town, he set his sights on the Sheriff’s station. Storybrooke was peaceful enough that most of the cops could hang up their guns in time for dinner. They were all long gone by now. Even Sheriff Swan was packing up and getting ready to go home for the night. 

Perfect. 

Picking up the sleek, silver cordless phone, Jefferson punched in the numbers he had seen in the newspaper. Through the telescope, he could see Emma Swan hear the phone ringing. She slumped and grimaced in the way of everyone being clawed back into a job they thought was done for the day. Then she straightened up, and picked up the receiver on her desk.

“Sheriff’s station, this is Emma.”

Jefferson cleared his throat. “Yeah, is this the number to call if somebody saw Kathryn Nolan?”

Perking up, Emma fumbled on her desk for a pen and paper. “It sure is. Who am I talking to?”

That question was too complicated to get into. “Yeah, I don’t know for sure if it was Kathryn Nolan, but it looked like a woman in her mid-thirties, caucasian, looked kinda haggard. I, uh, I tried to talk to her, but she just kept walking through the woods.”

“Which woods are those? Where was this?”

“Oh, yeah, it was the north woods. You ever been up on Angus Drive?”

“Can’t say that I have. Still kind of new to the area.”

“Yeah, well that’s where she was. About ten minutes ago I saw her, she was walking towards town. Like I said, I tried to get her attention, but she didn’t listen. I didn’t wanna try to chase after her. Might scare her, you know. Make things worse.”

“Right, right,” Emma said. “So, north woods, Angus Drive, ten minutes ago. And what was your name?”

Jefferson hung up the phone. Then he got his coat and a scarf. It was time to go for a walk.  

****

There were several cars in the massive garage of the house where Jefferson had been a prisoner. For the first twenty-eight years, he hadn’t been able to open the garage door to get them on the road. Even after Emma had rolled in, the cars were still useless. None of them had gasoline.

So Jefferson walked. He had walked along the highway and through the woods and over the town line as far as he could before something terrible happened. He walked into town sometimes, trying to find a way out. When he’d noticed “Mr. Gold” acting strangely, he had walked to the pawn shop.

At this point, he knew the town better than anyone else. Who knows the shape of a cage better than the captive inside? He knew the borders and boundaries, especially the area around the house. He knew where the road made a wicked hairpin turn, where someone who was still kind of new to the area wouldn’t know what was coming and could be caught off guard. 

The yellow Volkswagen had better brakes than he thought--Emma stopped short of actually hitting him when he emerged from the woods onto the road in front of her. He’d been willing to take the hit, half-curious to see if the curse would let any injury last longer than a week or so. 

Emma’s quick driving stopped him from actually getting hurt, but the collision was close enough that he could fall to the ground in a convincing show. She stopped the car and got out when she saw him. 

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

On the gravel shoulder of the highway, Jefferson groaned and clutched his leg.

“Sir? Sir, can you talk? I’m Emma Swan, do I need to call for EMTs?”

“No,” Jefferson gritted his teeth, swallowed the imaginary pain. “No, I live around here. I’ll be fine. Can you just get me back to my house?”

For just a moment, she hesitated. “Uh, sure. Yeah, let’s get you inside, at least.”

She helped him up and into the passenger seat of the bug. Then she began to drive.

“So where do you live, Mr…?”

“Angus Drive.” He answered only the question she had said out loud. “It’s up ahead.”

 “Funny.” Now that the moment of panic had passed, Emma seemed less willing to accept half-answers. “I just got a call about that address. A man said he saw a missing person out this way. Maybe you saw her when you were out. A blonde woman in her mid-thirties?”

He shook his head. “That sounds like your description, Sheriff.”

“First, I’m not in my mid-thirties. Second, how did you know I’m the Sheriff?”

“I read the paper. And who else would be getting a call about a missing person? And, you’ve got your badge on your hip.”

She frowned. “Guess that all checks out. Yeah, I’m Sheriff Swan. What’s your name?”

Again, Jefferson didn’t answer. “This is the house on the right.”

“A house?” Emma said as she parked under the awning. “This looks more like a hotel! Do you have a big family or something?”

Jefferson opened the door, but made sure to wait for her to help him out of the car. “No,” he said. “It’s just me.”

“The sign on the mailbox says Dogdson.” 

“Sure does.”

Leaning on Emma, Jefferson pretended to hobble up the stairs to get into the front door. The curse had never given him a key to this house, so he always left it unlocked. Someday,  when the curse was broken, he would find a way to lock the door behind him and walk away a free man. He would take Grace and walk all the way to the Discworld if he had to.

“Where should I put you?” Emma asked once they were in the foyer.

“Closest living room is over there.”

She set him up on one of the white leather couches with his “bad” leg propped up on the arm. “Want me to take a look at it?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine. Listen, I’m kind of an amateur cartographer. Upstairs, I’ve got maps for all of these woods. They could be useful to you, since you don’t know the area well.”

Hands on her hips, Emma Swan looked down at him. She looked shrewd, suspicious. Kind of like Leo, only skinny. “I never told you I don’t know the area.”

Jefferson grinned. What was the old saying about honesty? Better to tell the truth because then you don’t have to keep track of your lies? “I guess you didn’t.”  

“The only person I told that to lately was a man on the phone who also didn’t tell me his name.” Emma sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch so they were on the same level. “Did you actually see Kathryn Nolan around here?”

He didn’t stop grinning. “No.”

“And your leg isn’t hurt at all.”

It wasn’t a question, but he still answered. “No.”

“Can you give me a single good reason why I shouldn’t arrest you on the very serious charge of Wasting the Sheriff’s Time?”

Jefferson sat up. “I do need your help,” he said. “But I thought if I told you what was going on, you would think I was crazy.”

Emma didn’t blink at that. “People who might be crazy need just as much help as people who might be sane. Let’s start from the beginning: Tell me your name.”

“Jefferson,” he answered immediately.

“Jefferson,” she repeated. “Is that a first name or a last name?”

“First.”

“And the last name?”

He didn’t really have one. Few people in the old world did. “Ogg,” he answered. 

It was the name he went by on worlds where last names were common. Leo’s name. He was part of a proud tradition of men becoming Mr. Ogg when they married an Ogg woman. 

Emma looked him in the eyes, long and hard. “Jefferson Ogg,” she said slowly. “That’s… such a weird name, I don’t think you made it up.”

“I didn’t,” he said. 

“Uh-huh,” she said. “And what do you need help with, Jefferson Ogg?”

“I…” Gods, how could he even start? He would just have to show her. “It’s upstairs.”

She gave him another look, not speaking. Then she pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and pressed some buttons. 

“Texting on the job?”

“I left my walkie-talkie in the car.” She put her phone away. “Just letting my roommate know where I am and to call the dispatch office if she doesn’t hear from me in 10 minutes.”

That was almost funny, that she thought he was dangerous. As if the most dangerous person in Storybrooke wasn’t signing Sheriff Swan’s paychecks. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he said.

****

It was the first time anyone other than him had set foot in the office. He wondered what Emma made of the room. All Jefferson ever cared about was the telescope and the walk-in closet where he stored the newspapers. Neither of those things drew Emma’s focus.

“That’s a lot of top hats,” she said as she stood in front of the lit-up shelf. There were rows of them, all made of an endless supply of black felt. “You part of a show choir or something?”

“No.” He shut the door behind them, locked it. “The hats… are actually what I need your help with.” He pulled out some of the felt, some sewing needles and a pair of scissors. He tossed them all onto the table in front of her. “I need you to make one.”

Now the expression on Emma’s face was what ‘suspicious’ wanted to be when it grew up. “You think I’m a hatter?”

He stood behind her, nudging her into a chair in front of the raw materials. “I think you can do extraordinary things, Emma. I think you can do exactly what I need you to. I think you can save me.”

Her expression morphed from disbelief to exhaustion. “No, not you too. Have you been talking to Henry? What is it with this town and people thinking I can save them?”

“Because you can!” He put his hands on either side of the chair and pushed her to the table. Then he leaned over her to keep her from getting up. “You are a special person, Emma. You made the changes start, you can make everything good again.”

“Bring back the happy endings, is that what you want from me?”

She was angry. She meant the remark to be flippant. But she was so right it brought tears to his eyes. 

“Yes,” Jefferson whispered. “Yes, that’s all I want. The Dark One says it’s your destiny, that you have already brought--”

“Wait, who?”

“The Dark One,” he said. “Rumpelstiltskin, he--”

“Will you listen to yourself?” Emma pushed herself up away from the table and stood up to confront him. “Do you think you’ve had a conversation with Rumpelstiltskin? What, do you think Regina is the Evil Queen too?”

“Yes!” he shouted. He picked the felt up off the table and shook the fabric in her face. “You have all the pieces, Emma! Why can’t you put them together?”

“Because this is the real world!” she shouted back. 

“Every world is real!” 

She made for the door. The lock kept her busy for just enough time that Jefferson was able to catch up with her. Gently, he pulled her away from the door and stood in front of it. Just being taller than her was enough to make him look like a threat.

“You don’t understand,” he tried to keep his voice from breaking. “There are so many worlds out there. I’ve been to most of them. The Dark One gave me a hat that I can use to travel from world to world. I could use it to get out of here, but I don’t have it anymore!”

Emma reached for her phone. He grabbed her wrist and pulled the device out of her hand.

“It needs magic,” he explained, as calmly as he could. “I’ve made a hundred hats, but they’re just hats, no good to anyone. I need magic. You have magic. You brought magic to Storybrooke the day you came here.”

She frowned at the phone in his hand and stepped back. “There was nothing different about the day I came here.”

“You’re right.” Keeping her in his sights, he stepped away from the office door and toward the closet. “It was the day after you arrived, the day after you broke the sign. October 24th, 2011. That was the day the clock on the library started to tick.”

Emma just gaped at him. “How could you remember that?”

“It was the most important day in the history of this town. The first real day to happen in twenty-eight years.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Can I show you?” he asked. “I’ll even give you your phone back, so you can tell Mary Margaret you’re okay. But I just need you to promise that you’ll hear me out.”

She glared and held out her hand. “You are damn lucky you don’t have a gun right now.”

He watched her press the buttons, then put her phone back in her pocket. 

“You bought yourself another ten minutes because I don’t feel like filling out the paperwork necessary to arrest you.”

Jefferson went to the closet. “It’s in here,” he said. “All the evidence I have is in here.”

She put her hands on her hips, squared her shoulders. “Go get it then.” 

Right, Sheriff Swan wasn’t going to be the first one to go through an unknown door in the house of an obvious lunatic. Jefferson opened it, and showed her the newspapers. Twenty-eight stacks and counting. Each stack was made of twelve bundles, reaching to the ceiling. Three hundred and forty one bundles. The whole of the curse, contained in this room.

“I saved them all,” he said. “Twenty-eight years’ worth.”

“So you’ve been saving newspapers since you were, what, five?” 

“Since the day I came to this town,” he answered. “Since the day anyone came to this town.” Kneeling on the ground, he moved the smallest pile and pulled out the smallest bundle. “Do you want to know what day that was, Emma?”

She didn’t answer, but he took the paper out from the bottom of the bundle and held it up in front of her. 

“Go on,” he growled. “Read it.”

“Uh, it says that Mayor Mills announced a new committee to--”

“Read the date!” he snapped. 

Jaw clenched, Emma yanked the paper out of his hands and looked at the top. She didn’t read it out loud, but he saw her eyebrows furrow. 

“That’s… my birthday,” she whispered. “Like, that was the day I was born.”

“October 23rd, 1983,” he said. “That was the day the curse started. The day you were born was the day the Evil Queen cursed us all to live in a world without magic.”

“That’s--”

“There was no time.” He didn’t let her speak. “Nothing changed, nothing happened. We were frozen. Most of them didn’t notice, but I did. I remembered, I…” He couldn’t go on. “I thought I was crazy. I thought nothing I knew was real. I thought I had lost everything. But you… You’re the Savior. You can bring it back.”

Emma shook her head and looked down at the newspaper again. “Even if all this is true, why am I the one who has to--wait a minute!” She pointed at the paper, at a picture of the mayor. “This is a crock of shit! That’s Regina! Regina wasn’t mayor on the day I was born!” She flipped through the other pages. “Yeah, look at this. Sydney looks the same in this picture as he does today. Look at the school news, I’ve seen these kids!”

“I told you, time was frozen.”

“Or you put a fake date on an old paper just to mess with me!” She kept looking at the newspaper, seeing but not understanding. “Yeah, this ad here, this is Tim Lewis. He gave me a discount on my car insurance. His daughter, Paige? She looks exactly like she does in this ad. Pretty sure she’s eleven, not thirty-nine.”

Jefferson ripped the paper out of Emma’s hands. “She is not his daughter!” He snarled. “Will you listen to me? That girl’s name is Grace. She is eleven. She has been eleven for twenty-eight years!”

“I--” Emma put her hands up and let out a slow breath. “I don’t think either one of us is going to convince the other.”

“I don’t care if you believe me, I just need you to make a gods-damned hat!”

To Jefferson’s shock, Emma seemed ready to do what he asked, maybe in the name of de-escalating the situation. She went back to the table, slowly sat down, and picked up the felt. “You need this so you can go back to Fairytale Land?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t care about that world anymore. I need to go back to the Discworld.”

Emma squinted as she tried to thread a needle. “Discworld? I’ve heard of those books. They’re supposed to be funny, right?”

Jefferson didn’t smile. “It’s a real place.”

Looking up, Emma opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Sure.” She began to half-heartedly jam the needle between two pieces of felt. 

He collapsed into a chair by the telescope. Gods, was she really doing this? Jefferson only knew enough about magic to know that he was better off not playing with it. But if the Dark One was right, then Emma Swan wouldn’t be able to stop herself from using magic. She would do it naturally, maybe accidentally. It wouldn’t matter if the hat looked awful. All it had to do was work.

“My wife is from there,” he offered as a way to make conversation. 

Emma didn’t look up from the stitches. “From Discworld? Does that make her a witch or something?”

He shook his head. “Her mother is. I guess she could be too, if she wanted. Most of the time witchcraft is just knowing something other people don’t know.”

“Like how to make a hat?” Emma looked at him through a tube of felt. “It’s been a long time since my last Home Ec class. This is not going to be pretty.”

“It just needs to work,” he muttered. “Just… get it to work.”

Sighing, Emma pulled out her phone again.

“Has she even answered you?” he asked. “Maybe she’s off somewhere screwing David Nolan.”

A glare. “I’m doing you a favor by working on this hat. So maybe you could do me a favor and not say rude things about my friends.”

“I got you here by talking about Kathryn Nolan. Do you actually care about her?”

Emma kept her eyes on her work. “She’s a person. I care about people. She could be lost in the woods, disoriented and hungry. Of course I want to find her.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?”

“I have to hope so.” She cut one of the threads. “We haven’t found a body, or even body parts. If some monster was out there cutting out hearts and putting them in jewelry boxes, at least then there’d be some evidence.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Do you care about Kathryn Nolan? Or do you think she’s just a fairytale character?”

“I care about her because she’s a fairytale character,” Jefferson said. “Her name was Princess Abigail. She was the daughter of King Midas. She gave me a lot of gold just for trying to find a way to reverse the effects of her father’s… gift.”

Emma nodded, clearly humoring him. “I’d heard that King Midas had a daughter. I didn’t know her name was Abigail. Doesn’t sound Greek, but what do I know?” She was sewing the brim on the hat, after that it would be finished. 

Jefferson stood up. His feet moved on a schedule that was bigger than Emma Swan. He looked through the telescope. It was nine-thirty. Bedtime.

“Do you want to see her?” he whispered to Emma.

“Kathryn?”

“My daughter.”

They were putting her to bed, Tim and Mia both. She was almost too big for the gesture, but maybe that was why she wanted it so much. Jefferson felt Emma’s presence beside him, and he stepped away from the telescope. 

“They never remember to give her the stuffed rabbit,” he said. “That’s the only one that keeps her from having nightmares.”

“Oh, that’s Paige,” Emma said. She looked up from the window. “You… have a telescope pointed at the bedroom of an eleven year old girl.”

“She’s my daughter,” Jefferson repeated. “I’ve lost her mother. Grace doesn’t know who I am. I need to keep an eye on her.”

Emma stayed between Jefferson and the telescope. “Is it because Paige is adopted? Are you her birth father or something?”

He didn’t know whether to scream or cry, so he laughed. Emma kept talking.

“It’s no shame if that’s the case. Believe me, I know how mixed-up it can be to have a kid that’s yours but isn’t yours.”

“Shut up,” Jefferson said through gritted teeth. “Grace is mine. Mine and my wife’s.”

“You said you lost your wife…”

“Yes! And I’ll only find her again once I have a hat that works!” He almost grabbed her by the shoulders, but she was too fast. She made it back to the table and kept it as a barrier between them.

“Enough!” Emma said. She picked up the hat and tossed it over to him. “This is the last of my goodwill, understand? I’m going to leave now. You’re gonna let me out of this room and out of this house. I’m gonna call Tim and tell him to buy his daughter some blackout curtains. If I ever catch wind of you snooping around little girls again, I will personally make sure you rot in jail.”

Jefferson looked down at the crumpled felt in his hands. It was only a hat by the most generous definition. But maybe it would be enough.

When he looked up, Emma was gone. From outside, he heard the rumble of a car engine starting up. As she drove away, the sound grew fainter. He still held the hat in his hands. 

It didn’t feel magical. His old hat had a certain… quality. There was an aura about it, not quite tangible. But there was a feeling he got when he looked at his hat. A feeling of… possibility. Like there was so much more to it than what met the eye. There was none of that in the hat Emma had made. 

Maybe magic was different here. Maybe there was a way. Some way. He had to try. He would never know if he didn’t try. 

He closed his eyes and took a breath. “Please.” With all his heart, he prayed to any power that was listening. 

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the hat to the ground, as he had done a thousand different times in a hundred different worlds. The hat spun and he waited for it to keep spinning, waited for it to grow larger and disappear into a whirlpool of purple smoke. He waited for the hole in the whirlpool, the portal that could take him anywhere.

But the hat barely made a full rotation before it stopped spinning. It sat on the ground, unmoving, unmagical.

Jefferson stared at it, until his vision blurred with tears. Then he began to laugh. 

Of course it didn’t work! Why would anything work in this world? Of course there was no escape! Of course he was going to die in this world! Or worse--he would live forever in a world without time and he’d never see Leona again.

He sobbed. His legs gave out and sent him careening to the floor. He lay face down on the patterned carpet, stared at Emma Swan’s misshapen hat, and wept like a child. 

****

Later--an hour? A year? Did it make a difference?--when couldn’t cry anymore, Jefferson pulled himself off the floor. He made it all the way to the chair before he collapsed again and hung his head in his hands. 

It hadn’t worked. The Savior hadn’t worked. The side of goodness hadn’t worked. Well, Jefferson was never one to get too hung up about paltry matters like good and evil. 

Slowly wheeling the office chair over to the desk, Jefferson fumbled for the silver telephone. He pushed in numbers he knew by heart, numbers he had wanted to call a dozen times in the past month, but never had. Not until now.

He tried to breathe, as the phone rang. But then he stopped when he heard it pick up. A woman’s voice. Belle’s voice.

“Mr. Gold’s residence. Who is calling?”

Jefferson didn’t speak. He didn’t breathe. Mrs. Gold knew that he had slept with her husband. He couldn’t ask her to put him on the phone. He couldn’t even let her know who he was.

He hung up.

With another deep breath, he pulled a book with yellow pages out from a shelf above the desk. He flipped through the thin paper, until he found the name and number he was looking for.

He dialed slowly, taking a breath between each number. He couldn’t sound like he was upset. He couldn’t show any weakness in front of her. 

This was a bad idea. This was the worst idea he could have ever come up with. The last time he’d worked with this woman he had watched her murder a helpless servant once she was no longer useful. How could he know that she wouldn’t do the same to him?

Maybe by the time he wasn’t useful, he would already be in the Discworld.  

He needed magic. He needed to get out. He needed power. So he called the most powerful person in town.  

Regina picked up on the third ring. “Who exactly do you think you are to be calling my home at this time of night?”

“Your Majesty,” he said calmly. “This is Jefferson the realm-jumper. I’d like to offer my services.” 

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

To never being parted (final chapter)

This is Chapter 5 (and final Chapter) of the mini sequel to my flower cards inspired Kitty Fan Fic “Am I Forgotten?”

AO3 Link here.

It’s a sex scene - and yes I am blushing as I post this - so if you are not in for R-rated sexytimes, don’t click the keep reading tag…

****

Kit opened his bedroom door and froze.

Ty was lying on his bed, his back to him. He was only wearing his boxer shorts, and his long legs were tangled in the blanket, its white color melting with Ty’s alabaster complexion. Kit could not help but smile at the way Ty always took things so literally.

Kit moved soundlessly to stand next to the bed. For a moment, he just watched Ty, observed the way his chest rose and fell with each of his soft exhalations. He was so beautiful that Kit was afraid to touch him only to discover that he wasn’t real. He was wearing his headphones on and Kit could hear the low sound of music emanating from them.

Kit took a deep breath before he shed all his clothes and lay down next to Ty, entirely naked. As he gently removed Ty’s headphones from his ears, Kit could hear the music louder and more distinctly.

He looked around to find Ty’s phone on the bedside table. The mobile phone screen showed that the music playing was Gnossienne N°1 by Erik Satie. Kit moved his arm over Ty’s body to press the pause button but his aim wasn’t perfect and he ended up launching the next song. It was from Erik Satie as well, a song called “Je Te Veux.” He wasn’t fluent in French, but he knew enough to translate the words. I Want You. He couldn’t help but smile at the irony.

He tried a second time and managed to pause the music. As he withdrew his hand from the bedside table, Kit was startled as he caught a pair of silver gray eyes staring at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You didn’t.”

Kit started stroking Ty’s exposed arm, with a light touch of his fingers. He wanted to feel Ty’s skin against his, to share their heat.

He edged closer to Ty, until there was no space left between them. Ty could probably feel Kit’s arousal against his back, but Kit didn’t care. Not after everything that had happened between them.

He heard Ty’s sharp intake of breath. “Something wrong, Ty?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“No,” Ty whispered. “You can come closer.”

Kit laughed, making both their bodies shake. “I can’t come closer than that. I really can’t. You know that. I am as close as I can be, unless…”

Kit felt heat rushing to his face and his heart fluttering in his chest as he processed. He swallowed hard.

Ty said nothing. He reached for the drawer of Kit’s nightstand and Kit shivered at the sudden loss of heat. It did not take long, and Kit felt all the blood in his body rush to his groin as he saw what Ty had retrieved. A condom. How the hell did he know where to…? Never mind.

“I… I don’t know how to use this.” Ty’s voice was barely a whisper. “Theoretically, I do. But I never had the chance to practice…”

“It’s okay,” Kit choked, wondering how he had found his voice. He took the condom and put it on with shaking fingers, as Ty turned to watch with an academic interest.

Ty shed the last piece of clothing separating them, then went back to his former position, his back against Kit’s bare torso, as if he could not make himself look at Kit. Kit caught a glimpse of Ty’s red cheeks before he turned his face away.

“Er… Ty, I am not going to go anywhere like this, let me…” Gently, Kit directed Ty so that he was half kneeling half lying, his legs slightly parted.

Kit caressed Ty’s length with one hand, while the other held Ty’s, their fingers interlocking. After a little while, he used his hand to direct himself and close the gap, breaking the last barrier between them. As he started to move inside Ty, he felt Ty stiffen, saw his eyes widening and his lips parting in surprise, and froze.

“Do you want me to stop? I can stop at any time if you don’t feel like going further.”

“No,” said Ty, in a muffled voice, as he squeezed his eyes shut, buried half his face in the pillow and clutched the material tightly with his hands. “Don’t stop.”

Kit pushed further inside Ty, but slowly, taking his time, all the while murmuring to Ty that everything was okay, that he loved him, that he was beautiful. That he could say no at any time.

Ty didn’t answer. His face was still turned away, and Kit felt him relax little by little, as he feathered kisses across Ty’s shoulder, against his neck, buried his face in Ty’s hair.

When Kit was fully embedded, shivers of unbidden pleasure ran up his spine and he stopped moving.

Holy shit. Sweet Mary, Mother of God. This felt like… Heaven. So good. Too good… Kit was going to be finished before it had even started.

He shook his head sharply, trying to clear it. This could not happen. Think, think about something gross. Mantid Demons. Ravener Demons. Drevak demons. Disgusting little beasts.

“Ty,” he said, holding still. “Ty, I am sorry I just need a little moment. To… to get my bearings.”

“It’s okay,” Ty replied, in a soothing tone, his voice muffled against the pillow. “So do I.”

Kit came back to his senses. Ty would not mind. This was not about performance. This was just two people in love with each other, trying to be as close as they could possibly be. If they could melt into each other, so would they.

A flash of memories. Their fifteen-year-old selves in Cornwall. Their eighteen-year-old selves in a nightclub. “I don’t mind if it’s you.”

I don’t mind if it’s you, Ty. I don’t mind if it’s you.

Kit started pressing his hips against Ty with a renewed purpose, each of his thrusts eliciting a drowning noise from Ty, until Ty suddenly moved with him, instinctively, and they both moved together, blissful heat building up through their intertwined bodies.

As Kit now welcomed the waves of pleasure rolling over his entire body, he murmured encouragement in Ty’s hair, telling him he was doing great, telling him how good it felt to be inside him. How perfect.

Ty’s raspy moans grew louder and louder, his long fingers clutching the sheets, until he choked, “Kit- I can’t… I can’t think... I am losing control.” And he did lose it. Kit felt Ty’s whole body tense as he released himself in the bedsheets with a savage groan.

It was all Kit needed to reach his own orgasm, a second after Ty, his legs shaking and his eyes blurring with tears, as he buried his face in Ty’s hair. He cried some words he couldn’t make out through the blood pounding in his ears and poured himself inside his condom.

Kit withdrew himself and rolled onto his back, breathing deeply to regain his normal heartbeat. Ty turned to watch him through his long eyelashes, his eyes half closed. His cheeks were flushed, his hair tousled, and he looked absolutely breathtaking. One of the corners of his mouth lifted, as if he found something entertaining.

“What?” asked Kit, smiling in turn, though his breathlessness.

“When you… you kept calling my name. My full name. Tiberius.”

“I did?” asked Kit. “Well, it is a beautiful name. So are you. Beautiful, I mean. That was my very first thought the first time we met.”

“You mean, when I was holding a knife to your throat?” Ty asked, one of his eyebrows raised. He sounded dubious.

“Exactly,” Kit replied, grinning. “You were holding a knife to my throat, and all I could think of was how beautiful you were. Come to think of it, it does make me sound shallow.”

“I think you are beautiful,” Ty said. “Does that make me shallow?” He cocked his head. He seemed genuinely curious and Kit could not help but feel touched.

“Of course not, Ty. It only means you have excellent taste.”

Ty chuckled.

They were now lying on the mattress facing each other. Ty’s head rested on his hands, brought together as if in a prayer. Kit stroked Ty’s cheek and brought Ty’s head against his neck, so he could kiss his forehead.

“The first time we met…” Ty said. “I saw the defiance in your eyes, the pride with which you held yourself, although you were a mundane – or so I thought – with a knife against his throat. You even fought back and got me to lose my hold on you for a moment, although you had absolutely no training. I was struck then by how brave you were. And I must admit, I looked into your blue eyes and, for the first time in my life, realized that I liked what I saw.”

“It’s strange to look back and realize that the people I thought were invading my home were… in fact, my real home.”

“Is that what you believe?” Ty asked. Both his eyebrows raised, and Kit saw a flicker of hope in his eyes. “So you are never going to leave me again?”

“Are you kidding? Now that I know what it feels like to be inside you, I am going to move in and live there.”

Ty gasped.

“I am messing with you, Ty. I am not speaking literally. This would be…”

“Technically impossible?” Ty offered. Kit chuckled.

“On a more serious note, I would love it if we moved in together. Someday. When you are ready.”

Ty’s breath hitched.

“You really mean it? You are never going to leave me again?”

Kit kissed Ty’s forehead.

“To never being parted, Ty.”

“To never being parted, Kit.”

*****

Two hours later, Kit was roused from his sleep by urgent kisses on his eyelids, nose, cheeks… A bite on his… earlobe?

He opened one blurry eye. Ty was lying on top of him, his expression eager. He did not seem one bit tired. Kit could even feel Ty’s hardness against his stomach.

“What is it, Ty?” Kit mumbled in a sleepy daze. “In case you were wondering, that was me sleeping.”

“Let’s do it again,” said Ty, sounding excited.

“What time is it?” Kit groaned, rubbing his eye.

“3:17 AM,” Ty answered, as if he had said 8 PM and was wondering what all the fuss was about.

Kit sighed. Blackthorns. He should have known. Why on earth did he have to fall in love with a Blackthorn?

*****

Tagging @darkkitai 

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

I wouldn't mind that post on VNs!

So I was gonna write three different lists, but then after writing the first part I realized this is very long and takes a while to write and nobody cares anyway so I’ll just post my recommended list only. Well, I mean, you asked, but I doubt you wanted all this lol. Thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about this stuff, though. Hope you enjoy my ramblings!

An explanation for what this list is: Sometimes I know a game isn't perfect in many aspects but I still had a genuinely good time playing it, hence why I'm recommending it. Also I should mention that I could talk for hours about some of these games so if anyone’s curious about more of my thoughts, let me know.

Alright, now that that's out of the way ...

How to Take Off Your Mask / How to Fool a Liar King / How to Sing to Open Your Heart (f/m): This is a trilogy of smaller, single-RO games where you can take one of two routes depending on how you act, and they’re all interconnected where you get to meet and interact with the previous games’ characters in the sequel games. I went into this expecting very little but what I got blew me away with how funny, charming and cute the games were. They don’t take themselves too seriously, at one point an angsty male character monologues deeply about some shit, and another one just slides into frame and starts mocking him. It was so fucking funny, holy shit. Also, a central theme is literally racism against catgirls? Which is monumentally stupid, and probably the games’ main flaw, especially in the final game where it pairs up a catgirl with a catgirl racist, but that one still ends with a literal bisexual queen literally making a man her malewife because she fell in love with his cooking, so like ... It speaks for itself. My favorite game of the three is the second one, where you get to play a punchy fake catgirl and romance a pink-haired prince. And honestly, all the female protags in these games are lovely and a breath of fresh air, and the male characters are fun and not abusive assholes either. There’s full Japanese voice acting, and two out of three female protags are literal catgirls who pepper in “nya” and “mya” into their dialogue, and it’s just treated as a quirk of their catgirl race. I AM NOT KIDDING. Yet somehow it never comes off as cringe, because it doesn’t take it self too seriously. These games are just cozy. That’s the only way I can describe them. Cozy and hilarious. Play them yesterday. Dream Daddy (m/m): Man tumblr did this game dirty. This is just a cute, wholesome daddy dating simulator with gorgeous art. Coming out on Top (m/m): So you know Dream Daddy? What if it was EXTREMELY, MAJORLY NSFW? Though I realize how bad the comparison really is, the only thing these games have in common is that they’re gay dating sims and don’t have an anime art style and oh, yeah, they’re both really well-written. Or at least, extremely funny. COOT (heh) is DDADDS’ horny older cousin, and I first encountered the game on a lesbian letsplayer’s YouTube channel. Yes I watched a lesbian play a gay porn game and it was GOOD. I was there for the cringe and fun and got surprised by how genuinely funny and sometimes actually touching the game was. I can’t give it my universal endorsement because it’s not a game for everyone, as I said, it’s extremely NSFW and the menu theme literally includes the singers screaming “SEX SEX” at the top of their lungs. There’s more to this game than the porn, but there’s just so much porn. It can be censored in the settings but it’s unavoidable. However, I still think it’s worth a look just because of how funny it is and how charming the characters are. If you don’t want to play it yourself, at least watch Anima’s playthrough of it. It hasn’t aged super well in some spots but I still go back to it every now and then. Akash: Path of the Five (f/m): This game markets itself as a more “professionally produced” western dating sim, and that’s accurate in some superficial aspects. The game is pretty poorly written, but it’s absolutely gorgeous and has really good English voice acting by actual professional voice actors. The premise is quite self-indulgent, but I genuinely respect that about it. You play as the only female elemental in a village with only men, and all five of your classmates want a piece of you. It’s clear the writers have put some thought into the lore and worldbuilding of this world, but barely any of it comes through in the actual writing and plot, which is basically just a vehicle for you to get together with your boy of choice. The ROs aren’t very well-developed either, and the plot is the same in every route with only minor variations depending on which guy you pick, up to the point where the protag has the same voice lines in some parts regardless of which guy she’s talking about. It also has one extra half-route that’s so bad and pointless I genuinely wonder why they wasted resources on making it instead of spending a bit more on the writing/adding some variations to the main plot. So why am I recommending this game? Well, it’s pretty, and it sounds nice. This game is a himbo, gorgeous but dumb as rocks. Enjoy it for what it is. I know I did. Get it when it’s on sale, I think if I hadn’t gotten it at half-price I would’ve felt a bit more cranky about it. Also Rocco is bae. Mystic Destinies: Serendipity of Aeons (f/m): Yes that’s the full title, no I don’t know what it means either. You may have noticed how most of the games so far I’ve enjoyed because they don’t take themselves too seriously? Well, this one does. It takes itself SO FUCKING SERIOUSLY. Like, way too seriously. It’s a little embarrassing at points because baby, you’re an urban fantasy dating sim. Calm down. But the game has gorgeous art and 3 out of 5 routes are very good. The last route, the one with your teacher, is both the most problematic yet somehow the one that breaks down the very concept of a dating sim within its own narrative (yes, this shit gets fucking META) and it got so wild at the end that 1) I still listen to the soundtrack for that route and 2) I still remember it to this day despite finishing it ages ago. My favorite route is Shou, he’s a sweetheart, but the mindfuck route is so buckwild that I think the game is worth playing just for that. There’s also a route that’s like a neo-noir mystery? I Do Not Know. This game is many, many things and it does them so sincerely and tries so hard, you can’t help but respect it. It doesn’t always stick the landing but man, just let this thing take your hand and wax poetic at you for a bit. Also get this one at a sale because it’s very expensive to get the full version. I got it for 9 bucks on itch.io and I felt that was a fair enough price, I’d say I wouldn’t have minded paying more for it because there’s a lot of content to enjoy and/or be baffled by. Arcade Spirits: This one’s a bit more weird from what I recall, and I honestly couldn’t tell you much about it, but I remember having a very good time with it and recommending it to a friend when she was going through some tough times and she said it made her feel better. I remember it making me feel better, as well. This is a VN about an arcade and the ROs are wonderfully diverse, with very real human conflicts that get explored in each of their routes. It can get quite existential and heavy at times, but in the end it’s a kindhearted game that I think everyone can enjoy. The main character was also, how you say, mood. It’s a game about getting possessed by a video game and then learning self-love. Ebon Light (f/m): This one’s free/name your own price on itch.io so go play it. It’s a weird plot where you play as a girl who ate an elven relic? And then the elves kidnap you because you’re the relic now. All the ROs are extremely pasty (like, literally white, as in literally the color white) dark-haired elves, except for one, who’s an extremely pasty blond elf, so ... diversity? I honestly don’t know what this game is aside from unique. I used to be a bit put off by the art style but now I think it contributes to the general atmosphere. It’s a weird game that technically doesn’t do anything groundbreaking but still left an impression of “huh. weird” in my mind and I think more people should play it. The ROs are all pretty generic dating sim archetypes but done well, with bonus points to Duliae who’s just a massive creep and I love him, and also Vadeyn who’s the only bitch in this house I respect. The worldbuilding is honestly a bit buckwild and I can’t give enough credit for how unique the elves’ culture is in this game. Definitely give it a go. Hakuoki: Kyoto Winds / Hakuoki: Edo Blossoms (f/m): These two are newer releases of an older Japanese visual novel. I wouldn’t call it a dating sim, it’s ... it’s more of a super depressing historical fantasy epic with some minor romance aspects awkwardly wedged in. It’s seriously some of the heaviest and most grimdark shit I’ve ever played in a VN/otome. I don’t understand why it’s a dating sim, it doesn’t read like one, it’s just historical fantasy based on real world events with characters based on real people, and they kill and they die and they grieve and they suffer. The games are literally about the downfall of the Shinsengumi, there’s no way of avoiding everything going to shit and you get to watch and be in the middle of it all as they struggle to stay alive and relevant in a world that doesn’t need them anymore. And there’s the protag in the middle of it all, being useless and submissive and bland just the way the usual otome protag is. I don’t think these games are necessarily fun, and the romance is certainly a lot more downplayed and deeply problematic just based on the age differences alone with some of the men, but the sheer amount of horror and sadness in these games make them stand out above its peers. It’s like watching a war movie. Since most of the characters are based on real people, they feel like real people instead of the usual otome archetypes, and they are so, SO flawed, it’s interesting to just watch them deal with the shit the world throws at them. It’s an Experience, and if you’re up for it, I think it’s worth the time. Cinderella Phenomenon (f/m): This game is free on Steam so go get it. You play as a really, genuinely shitty princess who gets cursed to be poor and forgotten and she has to help one of the ROs break his fairy tale curse so that she can learn about being a good person herself and return to her normal life. This game doesn’t look like much, but it has a genuinely well-written main character who’s actually at the center of each of the stories and in the overarching plot instead of just being around to make eyes at the real protagonists, aka the love interests. Aside from the main character, my favorite part of this game’s writing is how each route slowly but very smoothly expands upon the overarching intrigue. If you play them in a certain order, you get more and more info revealed to you that you didn’t see in other routes, gaps are filled in as you find out more about what actually happened and why, but every route also stands on its own as a full experience and none is more canon than the rest. There’s also some really heavy emotional parental abuse explored, which I found quite potent at times. The romances themselves were alright, I think Karma and Waltz were my faves.

[reading-while-queer]

Ninth House, Leigh Bardugo

Rating: Mixed Review Genre: Fantasy, Mystery, Dark Academia Representation: -Bi/pan protagonist -Jewish protagonist -Latina mixed race protagonist Trigger warnings: Sexual assault (in scene), rape (in scene), CSA (in scene), graphic violence, murder, drug use, drug abuse, drugging of another person, overdose, domestic abuse, medical abuse, violence by dogs Note: Not YA

Why is it that every time I read Leigh Bardugo, I love the book with a passion...except for one thing that makes me want to tear my hair out?

Here’s what seriously impressed me about Ninth House, Bardugo’s entry into New Adult. The pacing was phenomenal. The measured, perfectly timed revelations of information had me finding excuses to listen to the audiobook - taking extra neighborhood walks, doing extra loads of laundry - because I was so hooked. Then, there’s the worldbuilding. Bardugo managed to walk a delicate line, successfully suspending disbelief while still asserting that eight Yale secret societies do secret magic rituals to the benefit of the oligarchical capitalist machine (we all kind of suspected this was the case, right?). But the best part of the book, the part that had me recommending Ninth House in more than one group chat, was, of all things, the point-of-view jumps.

Rarely are point-of-view switches the star of the show, but I was so excited to see a genuinely original, intrinsic-to-the-heart-of-the-whole-novel use of that technical tool. The point of view jumps crank the volume up on the theme of the whole book. We start with the main character, Galaxy “Alex” Stern; she is the point-of-view character for the present semester during which the principal action of the novel takes place. Her upperclassman and mentor Daniel Arlington (or “Darlington”) is the point-of-view character for the semester before - all because something happened to Darlington. Alex is telling people he’s doing a “semester in Spain,” and all the reader knows is that her explanation isn’t strictly true. The point-of-view jumps being so strict (there is never an Alex perspective chapter during last semester, and never a Darlington perspective in the present) serves to separate the two characters from each other with a really incredible emotional effectiveness. The heart of the novel, for me as a reader, was yearning for these two to be reunited - and all because Bardugo holds the two character points-of-view separate across an unbreachable temporal divide. It’s a powerfully effective technique.

But let’s backtrack. Alex is a 20-year-old high school dropout from the west coast. As the story progresses, we learn that Alex can see ghosts, which is why, despite never finishing high school or getting her GED - or even applying - Alex is a freshman at Yale - contingent on her joining the secret society called “Lethe House” as apprentice (“Dante”) to the current leader of the society, Darlington (the “Virgil”). Lethe House is the governing body of the eight Yale secret societies that practice the magic that keeps the elite in power. These secret societies make books sell, make T.V. anchors charming and compelling, and open portals to other parts of the world - when they aren’t throwing over the top Halloween parties with magic designed to alter one’s perception of reality.

Darlington, by contrast to Alex, seems to belong at Yale. He’s from an old family, and he’s preppy and well-read. Most of all, he loves Lethe House and its history of keeping the secret societies from harming people in their pursuit of magic and power. That is, until he disappears just in time for Alex, only half-trained, to investigate the murder of a girl on campus.

The first three quarters of the novel are fantastic for the reasons stated above. Bardugo’s approach to mystery writing is effective. We have half a dozen suspects, most of whom, as elite ivy league magicians, are at least guilty of some misdeed. Having all your red herrings end up somewhat culpable anyway is a good way to keep your mystery difficult to solve until the end. We were off to a good start.

Unfortunately, in the end, Bardugo made the all-too-common choice to value “surprise” over the most compelling, satisfying solution. So while the reader doesn’t see the ending coming, that is at the steep cost of the ending not being justified by the rest of the book. Bardugo even has to invent new rules of magic off the cuff to justify the ending. When the rest of the book so painstakingly developed the rules of magic in a way that made sense and never felt overly expository, undoing all that effort feels like a monumental waste. And for what did Bardugo undermine all her hard work? A mystery that the reader won’t have all the clues to solve? It’s really okay - in fact, good - if the reader can puzzle out your story. It means your story has symmetry, internal logic, or perhaps, some sort of message.

This is what had me tearing my hair out. I know exactly how I would have written the ending of Ninth House to be the perfect conclusion to a stunning book. I know exactly what the message should have been. Is it somewhat ridiculous to say that Bardugo misinterpreted the message of her own book? Perhaps. But given the out-of-left-field-ending, the theme of the book ends up being a rather cheaply bought “No matter how traumatized you are, you can be a girlboss” instead of the message that the very structure of the novel itself was pointing to since page one: one of companionship, trust, and restoration (frankly, a better message for a novel with a main character who suffers so much loss and trauma. But, sure, “girl power” is a theme...I guess...)

Here’s what I mean by the structure of the novel itself pointing to a different theme. (Spoiler warning for the rest of this paragraph). Because the point-of-view switches in the first two thirds of the novel were used by Bardugo like two magnets being held apart, the only way to create a feeling of resolution was, so to speak, putting the magnets back together: getting Darlington back into the “present.” The degree of disconnect between reader expectations and the reality of the book is comparable to picking up a romance novel only to have the two leads decide to just be friends at the end. Bardugo set expectations - akin to genre expectations - but unfortunately Bardugo kneecapped her first book in the service of the sequel.

And then there’s the trauma. Alex’s backstory wouldn’t be the same without some level of trauma; it’s an important part of her character arc. Even the explicit presence of sexual assault on the page was justified in the case of Alex’s backstory - and I think that is rarely true. But when it came to a side character’s explicit in-scene rape, which was used as a clue in the broader murder mystery rather than treated as a crime in its own right, that tipped me over into feeling the trauma in Ninth House was more excessive than necessary for character development. The resolution to that side character’s rape is oddly cartoonish - like an over-the-top prank rather than justice - and again, the only reason the rape happens to the character is to give Alex more information she needs to solve the plot. Maybe that wouldn’t bother some readers, but for me, a book has to bend over backwards to justify showing me a character being raped. Bardugo does well earlier in the book when depicting Alex’s assault; the assault is the explanation for why Alex doesn’t view magic with the same childish excitement as the rest of Yale, and it’s part of what holds her apart from the entitled secret societies. It needed to be in the book. Everything else was gratuitous.

That said, there’s one thing still to address in this roller coaster of a review, and that is: wait, is this a queer book? I had gone into it assuming that it would be, mostly because all my queer friends were reading it. And the answer is….kind of? Knowing Bardugo’s history with putting queer characters in her books, I’m going to assume she wasn’t baiting when she had Alex claim to have loved a girl in her backstory. Which, in the context of the rest of the novel, would make Alex bi or pan. As a book that a lot of queer fans of Bardugo’s YA have read, or will read, it feels appropriate to review it here.

This was a mixed review from start to finish, but to finish up: if you are thinking about reading Ninth House, go for it! There is so much to like about this book. Take to heart that if you read and liked Bardugo’s handling of sexual assault in her YA titles, you should be prepared to be surprised by Ninth House. It is not the same. I would not have called her handling of sexual assault in Six of Crows, for instance, restrained - but compared to Ninth House, it absolutely is. Despite my strongly worded feelings about the ending, Bardugo left room to redeem herself in the sequel (which, if you ask me, is why the ending was so bad in the first place...). I for one will definitely be reading the sequel the second it comes out.

[winterisakillerwrites]

Becoming - Part Six

Title: Becoming

One Shot: 6/6

Character: Tom Hiddleston

Genre: Realistic(?) fluff; Angst

Rating: T

Summary: Learning about his son was only just the start of the story. As Tom Hiddleston struggles to adapt to this sudden change in his life, he comes to learn that becoming a father might be the biggest role he’d ever taken on. *Sequel/Continuation of Lovers’ Eyes*

Authors Notes/Warnings: This story came about because I knew there was still so much about Tom and his son that I wanted to explore. I fully intended this to be a quick flash forward into their lives, a snapshot if you will….They had other ideas and so here we are. This is technically all one story but has been broken down into parts to make the reading easier.

Thanks so much first and foremost to @ciaodarknessmyheart who has dealt with me throwing all of these ideas at her and has helped shape them into something coherent and wonderful.

And here we are, dear readers, at the end of this particular part of the story. This has been on hell of a ride and I’ve enjoyed getting to know this Tom and watching his relationship with Jaime grow and change. While this particular part of their story is done, I have potential ideas for future stories and situations I would like to explore. Until then, here is part six of Becoming. Hope you all enjoy!

Tag List: @tinchentitri @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @noplacelikehome77 @blacksuitofdoom @nonsensicalobsessions @theheartofpenelope @ms-cellanies @nuggsmum @inkededucatednnerdy @redfoxwritesstuff  @just-the-hiddles @wolfsmom1 @theoneanna @hiddlescastle @sabine-leo @alexakeyloveloki  @echantedbytwh @finchbaggins  @kenzieam @ciaodarknessmyheart @ladyblablabla @trippedmetaldetector

PREVIOUS

Jaime had been thrilled to find Tom waiting at the foot of the stairs and, in that moment, Tom wished he’d had the forethought to have had a camera to capture the look of pure, unadulterated joy that spread across his son’s features.

 “Daddy!” he squealed, all but throwing himself into Tom’s waiting arms.

 Tom bit down on the rush of emotion which choked him at the boy’s sudden action and breathed, “Jaime lad” into his sandy hair.

 It had been one of the brighter spots of that difficult day, holding his son in his arms. Breakfast was a quiet affair; Jaime, usually full of questions and stories, seemed to draw into himself as the morning drew on. Tom knew his thoughts were on his mother, knew the boy understood, at least to an extent, the magnitude of this day and of what he had lost.

 Jamie had dawdled when instructed to go upstairs and dress for the day. They would be visiting the gravesite, a place Tom had only been once shortly after the funeral, and it was clear the boy was hesitant to do so. And Tom understood. It had been simply too painful to go back himself after the funeral, seeing her name and the dates carved in stone had made it all far too real. But this was something they needed to do, regardless of his own feelings on the matter. So Jaime had reluctantly taken the stairs to his room and rejoined his father and grandmother ten minutes later, following them quietly out of the house and into Keira’s car.

 Tom spent the majority of the drive to the cemetery in quiet thought, his hand linked with Jaime’s. The firsts are always the worst. The thought swam through his mind as the car sped along. First birthday’s, first Christmas’, the first anniversary of their passing; they were all painful in their own ways. And this…This was never going to be an easy thing, he’d known that.

 But nothing in him had prepared him at all for just how difficult it truly would be. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known life without her, he’d spent the six years before on his own. But that had been wholly different. He’d known she was still out there, still living her life. Happy, he hoped, but out there living. This year…And it hit him fully for the first time that this year had been one in which she was truly gone. That he would never see her again. Never hold her. Never be able to beg her forgiveness for his selfishness and his self-centered choices that had cost them both so much. And all of this only cemented that fact.

 The cemetery was quiet for a Tuesday morning. There had been a few people wandering about, Tom could hear the quiet murmuring of voices as they spoke to each other and to the loved ones they came to visit, but for the most part they were alone. None of the people he’d seen seemed to pay them any mind and for that Tom was exceedingly grateful. Part of him had feared looking over his shoulder to find cameras watching them, waiting for an image that would sell whatever story the papers thought would make them most coin. It was a part of his life he had feverishly wished would remain far, far away on this day of all days. And so far the fates seemed to be on his side.

 Jaime, tearful and solemn, laid a small bunch of daisies by Eliza’s headstone. He whispered words Tom did his utmost best not to hear. It wasn’t that he cared little for the boy’s grief but more that he knew if he had any hopes of keeping himself together enough to make it through this trip, he couldn’t let himself hear them. Jaime needed him to be strong, needed to be able to fall to pieces and know his father would be there to set the world to rights again after. If Tom let himself fall apart, how could he possibly be of any help to his son?

 Silence remained a steadfast companion as they made their way back towards the car. Tom helped Jaime buckle in and offered the boy a small smile which was returned with a trembling lip. The drive to the house felt both instantaneous and agonizing in length. No one spoke as the car pulled into the drive and they piled from it into the warmth of the house.

 Keira disappeared into the kitchen almost as soon as she’d walked through the door and busied herself with lunch preparations, sending Jaime upstairs to change. Tom followed quietly behind her; his attempts to offer aid were brushed aside, leaving him nursing the gently steaming mug of coffee she’d handed him. He’d taken it with softly murmured thanks and watched as she flitted about. He could so easily see the strain of grief painting her tired features and felt a kinship with her for it. He considered briefly trying to engage in her conversation but thought better of it, the ground they held was shaky at best and Tom did not want to be the one to cause its collapse. Not today.

 Loud thuds from above caused both to freeze. Tom shot Keira a knowing look and quietly slid from his chair and out into the hall. The thuds were followed in rapid succession by a crash and yelling. Tom was up the stairs and bursting into Jaime’s room before he’d consciously made the choice to do so. The boy was standing by his bed, tears streaming down his face several toys and a lamp scattered across the floor. Mindful of the glass, Tom made his way towards his son, crouching before him. He called the boy’s name and felt his heart break as wide, tear-filled eyes met his own.

 “Oh my boy.” He pulled Jaime into a tight hug and kissed his head while the boy wept into his chest. Tom rocked him slowly back and forth, murmuring words of comfort into the top of his head. “I’ve got you. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

 Tears burned in his own eyes and he shut them tightly in a vain effort to stem their flow. There would be time enough to fall apart later, Jaime needed him now. Several minutes later the boy’s sobs quieted and his shaking slowed. Tom held him until he finally seemed to calm and Jaime sat silent in his arms.

 Jaime’s voice was muffled from the way he had pressed his face into Tom’s shirt. And his father, though he tried valiantly, could not make sense of what had been said. With a calm, quiet tone, Tom pulled the boy back and asked him what he’d said. Jaime sniffed twice before murmuring once more, “I want Mummy to come home.”

 The words shattered Tom’s heart and he gripped the boy tightly to him, unable to speak. When he finally found his voice, he was disheartened to hear the emotions he’d been trying so hard to tamper down resonating clearly. “I know. I wish she was here as well.” Several moments of silence passed before Tom spoke again. “But as long as you remember the happy times you had with your mummy then in a way, she’s never really gone.”

 Jaime blinked up at him with glassy eyes. “Really?”

 Tom nodded, leaning down to kiss Jaime’s head once more. “Really. As long as you keep her alive in your heart, she’ll always be there.” They sat quietly for several minutes before Tom sighed and pulled back. “So let’s get this room set to rights and go see what your Nan’s made for lunch?”

 Silently, Jaime nodded and climbed off Toms lap. They made quick work of the mess Jaime had made (Tom refusing to let him anywhere near the glass from the lamp bulb) before heading back down stairs and joining Kiera in the kitchen. They passed the rest of the day quietly together, occasionally talking but mostly sitting together or watching Jaime play with Lego.

 As Tom carried his exhausted son up the stairs, the small boy clinging to him, that night he was grateful to have made it through the day. His own eyes burned with tears and exhaustion but he’d done what he’d set to do; he’d been there for Jaime, been as strong as he could have been. There was time later to fall to pieces, though Tom knew that time would not be put off much longer.  

 Teeth cleaned and tucked into his bed, Tom watched as Jaime blinked sleepily up at him. He smiled softly, closing the book in his lap and leaning in to kiss his son gently on the forehead. “I love you, Jaime. Always.”

 A muffled, “love you too,” echoed from beneath the covers. Tom smiled softly as he stood and flicked off the overhead light. He pulled the door to and slowly descended once more down the stairs.

 “Tom?” Keira’s voice echoed from the living room.

 Freezing on the landing, Tom took a deep breath to steady himself before answering, “Yes?”

 “Can you come here a moment?”

 Tom padded quietly down the hall and into the living room, finding Keira sitting on a chair, book in her lap. “Yes?”

 She smiled quietly at him. “I wanted to thank you for coming today. I know I’ve not been the easiest person and we’ve not really ever gotten on but you’ve been there for Jaime and I appreciate that. So thank you for coming today. Jaime needed you and I think you needed him just as badly.”

 He stood in the doorway, mind reeling. He wasn’t sure what to think let alone how to respond so he remained silent for several moments, staring at a spot a few inches above Keira’s head, before finally nodding and returning her smile with a strained one of his own. Rubbing his hands on his jeans, Tom took a breath and motioned at the door. “I should probably be on my way. Thank you, again, for having me. I know it’s not been easy for you, any of this.”

 It was Keira’s turn to nod quietly. 

 Still unsettled, Tom turned and walked slowly down the hall and towards the front door. Bidding a silent goodnight to his sleeping son upstairs, he disappeared into the cool evening and set on his way home. 

 The next several weeks were a blur of activity, Tom spent several hours in and out of both Luke and his agent’s offices, working to finagle his upcoming schedule into something more home based. He had put the idea out there or maybe a theatre production, of at all possible, something that would allow him the flexibility of bringing his son more steadily into his life. Honestly, Tom would have been grateful for anything more locally based. He’d spent so much of the last several years running the world over and as exciting and challenging as that had been, he’s missed the comfort and steadfastness of home and of his family. With Jaime now in his life, it would be a good time to finally, truly start putting down roots. 

 Jaime appeared to be thriving in his new school. He’d made friends as easily as breathing and was consistently full of stories and ideas on his frequent calls and visits with Tom. It warmed Tom’s heart to see and hear his son doing so well. There were moments still when he could see the shadow of grief on Jaime’s face and Tom knew it was something that would take time to heal and fade. If it ever fully did.

 The first weekend of October found Jaime in London with Tom, one of the first days they’d been able to plan a day trip between the boy’s school schedule and Tom’s own. His son had been a whirlwind of excitement on the drive up, asking Tom hundreds of questions about the places they passed and about their plans for the day. It would be his first proper meeting with his Gran, as he’d taken to calling Diana on the few phone calls they’d shared, and his Aunty Emma. Tom wasn’t sure who was more excited for the outing, his mother and sister or his son.  

 He’d been grateful at Emma’s forethought in bringing a camera for this outing. Tom would cherish the photo she’d captured of the way Jaime’s face lit when he first laid eyes on his grandmother and the way his mother’s echoed the same for as long as he lived. He’d hugged his baby sister tightly when she’d given it to him, professionally framed, a few months later as a Christmas gift and it hung in a place of pride in his living room. 

 They’d spent that day wandering around Covent Garden and, for the most part, they had been left well enough alone. A few braver fans had approached, shyly asking for autographs (which he agreed to with a smile) and photographs (which he declined). Jaime had been, thankfully, kept occupied by his aunt and grandmother though he did ask Tom if any more of his friends would be coming with them. 

 Jaime had been exhausted on the drive back to Keira’s that evening and Tom had, briefly, considered insisting that Jaime stay at his overnight and then heading back the following morning. Keira wouldn’t have fought him on it, of that Tom was certain, but a quiet voice in the back of his head yelled ‘too soon.’ So he’d buckled Jaime into the backseat of the car and driven his son home. 

 The day trips and visits happened with fair regularity as autumn turned to winter. Jaime enjoyed seeing the Christmas lights and decorations lining London in mid-December. And he’d been excited to finally meet Tom’s sister, her husband and their little girl, “my cousin!” he’d exclaimed when Tom had picked him up Christmas Day and driven him to Diana’s. Jaime had again babbled excitedly on the way home how he’d loved being able to meet his Auntie Sarah as well as his uncle and older cousin but that he’d been happier seeing his Gran and Auntie Emma (it was something Emma had lorded over Sarah for months after, much to Tom and Diana’s amusement). 

 January saw Tom flitting about trying to hammer out his remaining unsettled commitments for the coming year and with school in full swing, the occasional weekend visit from Tom took the place of outings. And February had been just as packed for both father and son, though Tom had been thrilled to receive the handmade card from Jaime in celebration of his birthday. He’d showed it off proudly to Luke, Emma, his mum, and anyone else who’d stopped by his home long enough for him to pull it out. Benedict had laughed good-naturedly, a knowing look in his eye.

 By early March Tom found himself with time on his hands once more. He’d sat then with Jaime and Keira to discuss the possibility of an overnight stay in London. Jaime brightened as understanding dawned and it had taken a fair bit of discussion with Keira to figure out the when and how of the matter. A bank holiday weekend seemed to fit the bill and once the dates were set, Jaime had been absolutely giddy, talking of nothing else. And so Tom found himself pacing the living room in anxious anticipation two weeks later, waiting for his phone to ping once more. 

 Tom glanced again at the watch on his wrist and then out of the living room window. Keira had sent a text nearly half an hour before saying their train was arriving at Kings Cross. He’d insisted on going to pick them up from the station (as his initial he’d offer to drive up and pick Jaime up from Keira’s had been dismissed as unnecessary. “I’ve got plans to stay with friend up north and this would be on the way.”) but once again Keira had turned the offer down, insisting that Jaime would enjoy taking the Tube and the walk would do them both good. So he had relented, and watched the minutes tick by as he paced an ever growing groove in the floor by the living room window.

 He sighed, and dropped himself onto the couch, grabbing his phone from the table beside it. This weekend had been months in the making and Tom had agonized over every last bit of it. They’d gone on countless day trips, both in and around London, but this would be the first time Jaime would be staying after. They’d spent some time in Tom’s house between activities, but never longer than a handful of hours. Yes, he had stayed with Jaime at Keira’s when she’d had an unexpected trip up north to help out her younger sister. But that had been in territory Jaime was familiar and comfortable with.

 Emma had teased him mercilessly when he’d called and voiced his concerns two nights prior. All good-naturedly, but teased nonetheless. “Seriously Tom, it’s not like you haven’t done this before. It’s just on your turf this time.”

 “Yes,” he’d challenged back. “It’s here and he’s never spent more than a night away from Keira’s before. What if he…”

 “Tom, stop, please. You’ll give yourself grey hair worrying yourself like this. He will be fine and if he’s not, you’ll be there. You’re his dad, Tom, he trusts you.”   

 He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair (god he’d need to get it cut soon it really was getting to be a touch too long). Emma was right, he was being ridiculous. Tom let out a soft, quiet sigh. “How did you get to be so smart?”

 Emma’s laugh echoed in his ear. “Sarah is an excellent role model.”

 “Alright, brat,” he answered with a chuckle of his own, “I see how it is.”

 “I just call it like I see it, brother mine.” They both laughed. “So just take a deep breath and run with it. You have this and you know Mum and I are only a call away if you get out of your depth.”

 He ended the call, still nervous but bolstered enough to relax. And then he’d spent an inordinate amount of time straightening his already neat home. Not that he though Jaime would care overmuch, but he’d had this innate desire to show Keira he could do this. That he was ready and capable to be the father Jaime needed. The father he deserved.

 And now that the house was near spotless and groceries, movies, and activities for the evening had been acquired and set into motion, all Tom could do was pace back and forth like a madman, lost in his own thoughts. It therefore came as a surprise when his mobile pinged ten minutes later. God had it only been ten minutes? He glanced at the screen and found Keira’s message letting him know they’d alighted at the nearby Underground stop and were beginning to make their way towards the house. She’d verified the address with him and, when he confirmed, messaged they’d see him shortly. 

 Hand buried in his hair, Tom padded towards the front door and waited for the front gate bell to ring. When it did five minutes later, he quickly buzzed them through the black metal gate lining his property and pulled the heavy wooden front door open. 

 “Daddy!” Jaime squealed, breaking free of Keira’s grasp and darting towards the opened door. Tom caught him mid leap and spun the small boy around, his own face breaking into a happy grin. 

 “Hey buddy.” He kissed Jaime’s head and released him, turning his attention back to Keira who was making her way up the stone path, Jaime’s small rolling case in one hand and her own larger in the other. 

 Tom stepped from the house to help take Jaime’s case and invite Keira inside. She smiled warmly at him and followed him through the front door. Jaime had descended into the living room, climbing onto the sofa and talking a mile a minute about his trip. Tom smiled at the boy indulgently and turned to ask Keira if she would like a coffee or a tea.

 She smiled warmly and waved him off. “I have a train to catch. But I wouldn’t say no to use of your loo.”

 He’d showed her to the downstairs bathroom before padding back into the living room. Jaime pushed himself up at Tom’s re-entry and asked excitedly about the evening’s plans before transitioning into a detailed description of the movie he’d seen two nights prior that he thought Tom would love. When Keira returned several minutes later, she kissed Jaime goodbye and told him, in no nonsense terms to behave for his father and then, with a warm smile, to have fun. 

 She smiled at them. “I’ll see you both Sunday evening.” And with a hand on her case, made her way out the door and into the early afternoon light. 

 Tom turned back towards Jaime, who’d once again spread himself out on the sofa. “Have you had lunch yet?”

 Jaime shook his head. “We had snacks on the train. But I wasn’t hungry then.”

 “Are you hungry now?” Jaime nodded. “Alright.” Tom clapped his hands together. “Let’s get you fed and then we can get the afternoon started.”

 Jaime bounced off the sofa and followed his father as he made his way into the kitchen. Ladened with sandwiches, crisps, and soda (“Just this once,” Tom admonished with a conspiratorial wink), the pair made their way back into the living room. They ate in companionable silence and once finished (and their dishes cleaned and put away), Tom turned and asked Jaime if he wanted to head to the park for a bit. To which the boy readily agreed. 

 Appropriately bundled against the chill, father and son made their way from the house and towards the nearby park. They spent the next hour and a half wandering around before Jaime spotted the nearby playground and excitedly dashed towards it, leaving Tom near panic in his wake. 

 Heart in his throat, Tom caught up with his impatient child and made his disapproval of the boy’s rash action known. “You cannot run off like that, Jaime. It’s not safe and you very nearly scared me to death. You need to stay with me when we are out and let me know when there is something you want to do. You cannot run off. Ever. Have I made myself clear?”

 Lip slightly trembling, Jaime nodded. “I’m sorry.”

 “I know,” Tom breathed, his heart slowing as the panic and adrenaline drained from his system. He smiled softly at Jaime. “Let’s go play for a bit now, alright?”

 Jaime nodded and together they made their way into the fenced in play area. Jaime took great pleasure in climbing the metal climbing tower and then later swinging far higher than Tom was honestly comfortable with, on the nearby swing set. And when Jaime pointed at the open swing beside him, Tom didn’t hesitate to join him. 

 Tom was winded by the time Jaime had had his fill. He’d not swung on a swing set in far too long and he was clearly out of practice. Hand in hand, they lumbered their way back through the park and towards home. 

 A quick shower for Tom and bath for Jaime later, found both back in the living room in their pajamas. Jaime lay on his stomach on the floor, looking through the movies Tom had chosen for the planned movie marathon, his brow furrowed. The expression was so utterly Eliza that it ceased Tom’s heart. He brushed away the painful and fruitless desire the bubbled in him for this to have been a true family night. The three of them; Tom, Jaime, and Eliza preparing for an evening in after a long work week. 

 Tom sighed. That was something they would never have and the knowledge of it burned. But there was nothing he could do about it, no matter how badly he wanted. Clearing his throat, he smiled warmly at his son. “Anything to your liking?”

 Jaime held up a Blu-ray case and smiled. 

 “Excellent choice.” Tom placed the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and bent to take the case from Jaime. Movie set up, Tom lowered himself onto the floor beside his son, settling into the nest of blankets they’d set up for the evening. He set the volume on the television low enough so he’d be sure to hear the buzz of the gate when the pizzas he ordered arrived. 

 They made it through nearly three films (and one and a half pizza’s between them) before Jaime’s eyes began to droop alarmingly. The boy had curled on his side against Tom, head half buried in the pillow he clinched tightly. Taking advantage of this, Tom gingerly pushed himself to his feet and padded towards the kitchen to put the remaining pizza into the refrigerator. He switched off the television, placing the remotes back onto the coffee table, before bending to pick his sleeping son off the floor. 

 Jaime stirred and buried his head into Tom’s chest at the motion before settling back into a doze. It was a bit perilous trying to navigate his way upstairs with Jaime little more than dead weight in his arms, but somehow he’d managed. Rousing Jaime to clean his teeth was a struggle but once managed, Tom was able to get Jaime into the guest bed and settled back into sleep. He made quick work of cleaning his own teeth and climbing into bed himself. Grabbing the latest potential script he’d been sent from his bedside table, Tom settled back against the pillows behind him and read until his eyes grew heavy and sleep lulled him into her alluring grasp. 

 The sound of his bedroom door creaking open startled Tom out of sleep what felt like only moments later. Soft footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as he pushed himself up, blinking in the darkness. Confusion flooded through him until belatedly understanding dawned. “Jaime?” He asked, his voice gravely with sleep. 

 He heard a soft snuggling as the edge of the bed dipped and his son crawled beside him. “Can’t sleep,” he murmured, burying his face into Tom’s chest. 

 “Bad dream?”

 Tom felt Jaime’s head shake against his chest and waited for his son to add more. When Jaime didn’t speak after several long minutes, Tom simply wrapped his arm around the boy and let him settle quietly against him. 

 He couldn’t say how long they lay there, his son curled tightly against him. The feeling blooming in his chest at the pure and simple trust Jaime has for him was near indescribable. Tom wanted to say something to the boy, offer him words of comfort and of understanding. But everything that came into his head fell woefully short. So he remained silently, gently rubbing his hand up and down Jaime’s small back. 

 Time crawled by in inches as Tom watched Jaime’s breathing slow by degrees until it settled into the quiet, even rhythm of sleep. Once he was sure Jaime was out, he shifted slightly, moving the boy’s small head from his chest and onto the pillow beside him. Tom waited on bated breath as Jaime shifted, his face scrunching, and then relaxed.

 Leaning his own head back against his pillow, Tom stared up at the ceiling. Every once in a while he felt Jaime shift in his sleep and he leant down, kissing his sandy hair. Tomorrow would be full of excitement; a trip to the zoo with Emma and then, if Jaime wasn’t too tired, possibly a movie at the Odeon, but for now Tom was content. He doubted he would ever reach the point where he felt completely at ease in this new role of father, but Tom knew without a doubt he wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. 

[forkanna]

WARNING: Very N S F W. Includes sisterly incest, cunnilingus, anal play, tickling, foot worship, and as you probably expected... food kink.

Notes: HAPPY CORONATION DAY! I've been hanging onto this since I posted chapter 5 both because I wanted to make sure it was just right, and I thought it deserved to be released on an important day in the fandom's history: the date Elsa was crowned Queen of Arendelle in 1844. (We know this thanks to some smart cookies on Reddit haha)

So I know this should technically be from Elsa's POV if I continued to follow the convention I set up for myself, but I decided to keep writing it as Anna. It's been her story from the beginning and it should end as her story. Plus it's an epilogue, so it doesn't have to follow the rest of the fic's format! So there! AHAHAHAHA… I don't know, I'm tired.

And YES, this is the end. No sequels, no Epilogues-To-Epilogues; the MSB grand finale. I know a lot of you may have not seen my mention of an epilogue in the notes for last chapter, so hopefully you'll see this! If any of you want to continue Elsa and Anna's story in your own spinoff fanfics, be my guest (but please credit me); otherwise, I consider MSB to be at its natural ending. Hope you all enjoy the last slice!

In all seriousness, thanks to everyone who has waited this long for what is essentially a one-off smutty fic about D*sney sisters to be finished. I owe so much to this story; it changed my life in a very literal, very unexpected way. Elsa and Anna's true love thawed my jaded heart and encouraged me to keep writing, even when I was sank deep in the darkness of a miserable life, and to explore who I am in ways I never felt brave enough to do. I'm in such a better place now than when this began. It's been a pleasure being part of this fandom, and hopefully I will continue to enjoy it for a long time to come.

Until we meet again,

Jessex

[AO3] [WATTPAD] [QUOTEV]

                                                 EPILOGUE

                              Min Søsters Bursdagsmadrass: Anna

                                         ~ Five Months Later ~

Okay, okay, not quite five months have passed since we saved our kingdom from my sister's magic. Closer to four-and-a-half. But the time has flown by so much that it feels more like a week.

Kristoff and Sven came galloping up to the gates just as we were exiting. The ice boy was a lot less shocked that I was arm-in-arm with Elsa than I expected; probably because he pretty much already caught us in flagrante delicto before. He tried to offer congratulations, and I gave him a big hug to cut through all that awkwardness.

Olaf showed up not long after. Well, we came across a puddle that used to be Olaf; I'd know that carrot nose anywhere. Before I could start sobbing, Elsa calmly created a little ice-flurry and rebuilt him as easy as if she were breathing; he was disoriented, but didn't take long to be back to his cheerful self, hugging us and congratulating us on figuring out that we belonged together. That made sense the more I thought about it. Seriously, why wouldn't our snow-baby always know his parents should stay together?

Naturally, there were a few people who came to the levee that didn't condone our love. I wish I could say differently. Most of them were either too afraid to speak out against us — probably because my sister was some kind of ice witch, that tends to make even the bravest of men need a change of underwear — or they were genuinely happy we were happy, and summer was back. But one or two tried to shame us. Didn't go well, considering we were the monarchy and surrounded by supporters. More insisted we needed a king, at the very least for the purpose of heirs. I tried to tell them that Olaf was our heir, which got a lot of weird looks, but Elsa insisted that it was our decision if and when we crossed that bridge. I guess that's why she's the queen, right? I mean, can you imagine me as the queen of Arendelle? No way!

Hans was tried and convicted of treason against the kingdom. I didn't even go; I didn't want to look at him again if I could help it. But I watched from the castle walls with my sister as they led him away to a ship bound for the Southern Isles. We figured his family would make sure the sentence was severe if they wanted to maintain a good trade partnership with Arendelle. Plus, we wouldn't have to deal with him still being in our home. Win-win.

We also shipped old Weaseltown out. He can peacock-strut and backstab on his own turf.

Everything flew by a lot faster after those first few days. Kristoff was our new icemaster general — totally a real title, thank you — and Olaf's cheery presence got everyone used to the idea of magic. The people slowly grew to accept that their queen had a queen of her own. At first, we tried not to be too open with our relationship, but even though everybody thinks of me as the free spirit, it was Elsa who decided we should begin taking walks through the kingdom, hand-in-hand. At first, we got a few stinkeyes, but little by little, they saw we were happy, and not hurting anyone with our taboo love, and… it just became normal, I guess.

Which is fantastic! I mean, if they didn't I would have bought a whole collection of lutes to start smacking them with, but that didn't turn out to be necessary. Good thing; a co-queen shouldn't brawl with her subjects. Looks kinda bad.

As we hit the middle of December and the weather was turning colder without my sister's influence, I started scheming. We had enjoyed four wonderful months of getting to know each other all over again. Even though I'm basically a big ball of libido, somehow Elsa convinced me that we shouldn't just start banging each other's brains out every day. How dare she! But I have to admit, having that sex-free courtship time was somehow a magic all its own.

Because we were behind. By thirteen years. I found out just how well-read my sister was, since she had ploughed through book after book when she wasn't trying to practice controlling her magic. That was something we had in common, since I was often equally bored; it turned out we had read a lot of the same books, and we could compare our thoughts and feelings about them over many, many cups of tea. She never did start talking to paintings like I did, but when I introduced them to her, at least she was bemusedly giggling behind her hand instead of openly mocking me, or telling me I needed medical attention. And we went horseback riding, and swimming, ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. Started going through our parents' things at last, painful though it was. Learned about the kind of adults we had become since we last knew each other as children.

And kissed, sure. Just because we didn't start rolling around in the bed sheets right away didn't mean I was going to let us be complete prudes.

However… my sister's birthday was fast approaching, and I knew I had to do something big. Maybe in a literal sense. So the scheming turned to plotting, and the plotting turned to planning. And then the plans got put in motion leading up to her big day.

                                                      ~ o ~

"Alright, alright, Olaf! I'm going!"

"Sorry, Elsa, but there's no time to waste!" I could hear him replying to her from the other side of the door. I could just barely see her slippered feet and his snow stumps through the crack underneath. So weird doing that from the inside this time… "I guess. I've never had a birthday, but Anna told me this is your biggest one yet, and we got a schedule to keep!"

"Okay, little guy," she laughed at him easily. Even though I couldn't see, I could just picture her petting over his head. "Thank you."

"Yep! And oh, I was supposed to do something else, it was… yeeeessss! Anna told me I should 'get lost for the rest of the day'. So I guess my question is, does that mean until sundown? Or midnight? And how lost do I have to get? I can get lost just in this castle, it's so big, but she was pointing at the gates when she said it…"

"Tell you what. Why don't you go pay Kristoff and Sven a visit? That should be far enough."

"But I won't be lost if I know where I'm going," he told her in a patient tone, as if she were the one who was missing something instead.

"My mistake," she laughed fondly. "Just have a little adventure outside of the castle and we will see you in the morning."

"Okie-dokie! Have fun, don't do anything I wouldn't do! Or do, because you're not me, so you should be doing things I wouldn't do? Maybe? Especially if I'm going to be getting lost and you don't need to be lost. I don't know if that's exactly…"

He was still talking by the time his voice started to fade around the corner. The rest of the sentence was cut off by Elsa knocking on my door.

"Go away, Elsa," I called back at her in an exaggeratedly pouty tone.

"Anna," she sighed. "Yes, I know I was the one saying that to you for a decade of our lives, but this joke is starting to get a little old now."

"Whaaaaaat? No, I don't think so."

"It's officially old as of today. Now, may I come in, or will you be coming out?"

"Think we both already did that last part," I giggled. "Did you, um, prepare?"

"For the love of- yes! Though I don't know why, I let Gerda bathe me thoroughly, and now I am standing outside your door, scrubbed raw and regretting that I listened to her, because you are being a pain in the-"

She didn't finish that thought because I unlocked the door just then. But I didn't open it for her. I was too busy scampering across the floor of my chambers to stand by the bed, grinning from ear-to-ear like a loon. And don't judge, okay? I'd been planning this for a long time.

"Um…" The door creaked open, and one of her baby blues peered around the inside of the darkened room. The sun had already set, so it was only the moonlight and the single candle on my bedside table providing illumination. "A-Anna?"

"Please enter," I said in a pretentiously royal tone.

"Oh, your robe is like mine," she said with a small smile as she eased the door shut behind her.

"Yep! Silk, from the East! I mean, you fill yours out a little better — especially up top. But that's one of the gifts. And I figured, hey, might as well get one for me, too!"

Barely glancing down at the blue silk covering her sizable assets, she shook her head with a small laugh. "It's very nice, thank you. But I thought I told you I didn't want you to make a big deal about my birthday; we should be focused on the Yule festivities for the kingdo-"

"No, no, no," I teased her with a wave of my index finger, bouncing on my heels excitedly. "This is the first time in thirteen years I have been able to celebrate this with you. Give me this one, okay?"

"When can we stop saying the number thirteen and start really enjoying our lives again?"

"When it's been fourteen years. Now… can you take that robe off and hop up on the bed for me?"

Oh, that shrewd little smirk that blossomed on my sister's face. It was both breathtakingly beautiful and super sexy. She was all the time, anyway, but there were moments that it stood out a lot more. "Ahhhh. So that's what all this is about, is it? You think tonight we are going to break our courtship."

"Mmmmaybe. But even if we don't, I still want more with you tonight. If that's okay," I added hastily, fidgeting with my hands behind my back.

"I see." Elsa stepped forward to smooth her hands up and down the green silk covering my chest, teasing her fingernails over my neck. Definitely not making it any easier to stop my lady parts from launching a hostile takeover of my brain, I can tell you! "And… this is very important to you, isn't it?"

"Y-yeah." Clearing my throat, I said, "And I understand why courting was important to you. And it's been great! Really, I loved getting to know you all over again, and we have been having so much fun. But… maybe just a little playing tonight? Please?"

As she glared across into my eyes, I brought my thumb and forefinger up between our faces, half an inch apart. That was all it took to make her burst out laughing.

"That little, hmm?" she finally chuckled as my cheeks burned. "Okay. I assume once I am in position, you will tackle me on this bed?"

"Yeah. Well, not 'tackle', but I'll join you. I just want you to feel how soft it is first."

That got Elsa's eyebrows raising in slight surprise. "Soft, hm? Did you get yourself a new bed for my birthday?"

"I dunno, did I?" I gasped. Hoping my acting skills were at least good enough to hide how excited I was.

Not quite. But at least Elsa hadn't fully figured out my cunning scheme. She pointed at my face and hissed under her breath, "There had better not be anyone hiding in here."

"Hiding? Wait, why would I stick anybody else in here and then tell you to take off your clothes?"

"How should I know? Sometimes you have a really strange sense of humour, Anna."

"Not that strange! Surprise creepy people sounds plain old mean!" But before she could say anything else, I placed a hand over my heart and raised the other one. "I do hereby solemnly pledge that nobody is going to jump out of the wardrobe at you. Or anything else like that."

"Fine, I believe you," she laughed as she stepped from her slippers and let the silk fall from her shoulders, exposing her smooth, pale back. Even now that we had been going for walks and rides, she was still white as alabaster, despite the alternating tans and sunburns I had.

"Mmm…"

"Again, my birthday seems to be full of gifts for you," she accused playfully with a little glance over her shoulder at me as she approached the bed, moving to climb atop it. "Little pervAAAHHH?!"

SPLAT.

Nope, I definitely couldn't hold back anymore. I wrapped my arms around my middle and burst out into gales of laughter, shaking all over and trying my best not to fall down. "ELSA! Your face — you should see your face!"

"I'm- what is- ANNA!" my poor sister finally burst out as she slipped and slid everywhere, defiling all my hard work. "What is the meaning of this?! What IS this, where did- is this CAKE?!"

Cackling and bouncing up and down as I clapped my hands, I finally crowed, "YES! Isn't it incredible?! Doesn't it look just like my bed? I mean, it did before you jumped on it, but even still, the rest of it!"

God, she looked hilarious. I was laughing, but was doing my best not to actually point at Elsa while I did it. And anyone would have laughed; her face covered in so much chocolate and frosting, a huge chunk falling from her chin to splash onto her right breast even while she blinked at me in wonder. Never had our regal queen looked so un-regal.

"You… made… a bed-sized cake… just to play this prank on me." She scraped some of the frosting from her eyelids and flicked it away, turning slightly so she could kneel on the layers of confection. That only made me laugh so hard I snorted like a pig. "This is… I have no words. I literally have no words, I could never have anticipated this."

"Aww, don't be grumpy," I teased breathlessly as I got rid of my own robe, dropping it right next to hers. "Just because I got you good this time! You freaked out, it was the most amazing thing I've watched in my whole life!"

"Yes, well, the show is ov- Anna, what are you doing now? Don't tell me- are you going to jump into this cake with me?! That's insane!"

I hesitated. "Well… I was before you called it 'insane'…" But then I approached the edge of the bed, hands on my hips. No way was I going to chicken out that easily. "This wasn't just a prank. I really wanted to do this for you."

That finally got her to laugh, and when she started she found it hard to stop. I laughed with her, watching her slap her caked thigh a few times. But before I could join her on the bed, she suddenly breathed, "Insane… but beautiful. I've never seen a woman more lovely in the entire world."

My heart skipped over a beat, and I hoped she couldn't tell how hard my nipples were in the low light. "Ahhhhh, now you're just lying. We both know you own a mirror."

"Nice try," she laughed, biting her sugar-coated lip for a moment to weather my counter-compliment. Then she tilted her head slightly while asking, "Why? This is the strangest surprise I have ever received — and that includes that certain birthday of yours. But I can tell it means a lot to you, so could you help me…?"

Great. Now I had to actually face the music, and it was going to take a lot of exposing of feelings. So I took a deep breath before throwing my inhibitions to the wind... and letting my knees sink into the cake.

"That is so wrong," I groaned, feeling one of my eyes twitch.

"I know. But once you get used to it, it's… still wrong, but interesting." She was leaning slightly on one arm, moving her legs out to one side. Always so ladylike, even in a big mound of baked sweetness.

"So here it is," I sighed. "You and me, even when we were really little… chocolate was our soft spot. We could never resist it. And especially after my birthday, when we bonded over it again… I knew your birthday had to be something big, since I could finally celebrate it with you. Something that mattered to both of us. And fun! I thought fun was really important, too. Took me a while to figure out just how I wanted to do this, but once I had this idea, I just… I knew. This was the only thing that would be good enough."

Though she had been listening with a small smile, my last sentence wiped it away. Why? What did I say wrong? Her cake-slicked hand lifted to caress my cheek.

"Anna, anything would have been good enough. Even if this had turned out to be a normal bed, I would have been so happy. How much you spend, how much you plan these gifts, it's sweet but you don't have to go to so much trouble. Don't you know my favourite gift is you?"

My lips only got the chance to part very slightly — when she booped me. She booped my nose with frosting on that finger. The Queen of Arendelle, everybody.

"You little stinker." But her words kept me from retaliating. "You… you mean that, huh? That I'm enough?"

"I do." Her lips pecked mine. "You always have been. I'm just sorry I wasn't able to show you until these past few months. But now, I get to make up for lost time."

Sliding closer, I whispered, "Same here."

And that was as far as I could get before I was attacking her mouth. Elsa welcomed me gratefully, humming as she pulled my body closer. I knew she was getting cake all over me, but I had kind of resigned myself to that when I concocted this whole crazy scheme. Literally concocted.

Which was what she asked about next. "How long did this take to bake?"

"Oh, a couple of days. The trick was keeping the parts we already made fresh so they wouldn't spoil before we finished the rest of it. Kristoff helped me with that, grabbed me a few blocks of ice; normally I would ask you to do it with a little magic, but I mean, since it was a surprise for you that would have been pretty stupid."

"Yes, I suppose so," she giggled, rubbing her fingertips against each other experimentally. "Smooth frosting… buttercream?"

"Of course! And I wanted to add a bunch of berries, but then it wouldn't have looked like my bed, because I don't normally have a bunch of berries on it." While Elsa laughed again, I slipped my arms around her waist. "And yeah, I know you still think it's weird I wanted to be in a cake like this. Plus it's a big waste of food. But for just this one birthday, the first one since we reunited, I wanted to give you something so big it was literally all around us. Like we're part of the cake instead of just the other way around."

Her voice was so gentle and warm when she responded, "I believed you the first time, Anna. But thank you for elaborating. I love knowing how you think, how your mind works. My amazing, clever sister."

Again, we kissed, deeper and longer and with no inhibitions. We tried to restrain ourselves when we were out in public, of course, but alone in my room? Nobody looking over our shoulders? Free as wild horses.

By the time we came up for air, I was no longer the clean one because we had been rolling around in the cake-bed. Sure, I still felt guilty for putting the castle cooks through so much work just so we could wreck it, but at least Kristoff and I gave them a hand — and I gave them the day off once they were through. Anyway, basically the only places where chocolate and frosting hadn't accumulated multiple layers was our faces, because they were so close to each other that nothing could get in between them.

"Are we supposed to be eating any of this?" Elsa laughed, running her finger through some on my shoulder.

"Well, yeah. I wouldn't have done this if it was just for show; this might as well have been a big frosted mud pie." Then I held up…

"Anna, where could you possibly have been hiding that?!"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Elsa merely blinked at me for a few seconds until I caved. "Okay, I had it in my butt."

"What- that sounds incredibly painful!"

"No, no, I was just clenching my cheeks on the handle. Obviously! Like I used the handle outside your door that first time. Come on, do you really think anybody would stick the pointy part into anywhere that sensitive?"

"Well, it is you," she laughed as she reached for the fork. Our fork. "Though I suppose I admire the control you have over your muscles back there." Then she hesitated, her brow furrowing. I could figure out what was holding her back.

"I also took one of Gerda's very thorough baths," I informed her to put her fears at ease. Which made her finally take it with a slight shake of her head. "Oh — and I helped one of the servants mop the floor before we got started in here. Trust me, when I say you can eat off the floor, I really mean it this time."

"You really have thought of everything; such attention to detail. It's almost a little scary."

"Love makes you a little scary sometimes, I guess."

"I guess." Then she slid the fork through some of the cake that we hadn't already rolled in, bringing it up to my lips. "After you."

"Oh! Wait… you first, it's your birthday."

"Diving into it counted as me going first," she chuckled. "Besides, I tasted a little on your lips once they caught some from my lips. Go on." And since I had no argument against that, and she was looking at me with those bemused, insistent eyes, I took the bite into my mouth.

"Ohmyghob, ibzo goob!"

"Anna, manners." Which I could appreciate the irony, since there were very little manners involved in rolling around in a giant cake. Probably. Maybe they do that more often in Corona…

"You have GOT to try this," I gushed once I had swallowed, grabbing the fork and scooping up another big bite for my sister.

"Can't I have a different fork?" But I wasn't budging. And she knew how important that particular utensil was to the both of us. "Gerda bathed you the same way she bathed me, didn't she?"

"It was like standing in a geyser."

"Fine." She accepted her first proper bite. Her blue eyes slid closed in ecstasy as she hummed her approval, eventually nodding after she had chewed for a moment.

"Amazing, right?" All she did was nod, raising a hand to give the okay symbol. So I helped myself to another bite, clutching my hand to my chest as tears welled up in my eyes.

Seriously, it was that good. Best cake I ever had in my life, up to and including the one with my sister's extra frosting.

"Okay," Elsa panted a couple minutes later when we had eaten our fill for the moment. "I was teasing you before, but I take it all back; I do want to live here and sleep here."

"Surrounded by layers of chocolatey goodness?" I giggled as I flopped onto my back, spread eagle in piles of sweet perfection. It was like Heaven, or Valhalla or whatever you believe is the good afterlife.

"Exactly. Fun and function." I glanced over to see she was lying on her side, propped up on one elbow so she could look down at me with a smile full of so much affection that my heart skipped a beat. "So very you."

At first all I did was chuckle a little and smile up at her. But then when she leaned down to kiss my chest, I let my eyes fall closed as a little sigh escaped my lips. "Mmm…"

"You were after something like this, I believe?"

Opening my eyes again, I was just in time to see her tongue slide across the meat of my right breast, the one closest to her. The track of freckled skin she revealed by cutting through the chocolate confection gleamed from her saliva, and it was somehow both offensive and arousing at the same time.

"Y-yeah. Something like that." I cleared my throat and caressed along her back, through cake and hair. "But you don't have to. If that whole courting thing is so-"

"We can take a break," she interrupted with an impish smile. "One night, for both Yule and my birthday. And for you, because I know how hard it has been to keep your hands off me."

A blast of air exploded from my lungs as she licked again. "HAH! W-wow, somebody's conceited in here, and I think her name rhymes with… with, uh…"

"With what? Jelsa?"

"No, that's not a thing."

I was still trying to think of a rhyme for her name when she found my nipple, and my squeal blasted every thought out of both of our minds. My chest was a feast for my sister for the moment as my conscious thoughts faded, simply letting her enjoy me. Because I enjoyed it just as much. A few times, she hit the nerves just right that I twitched, digging my nails briefly into her back and making her hiss in response. Some extra added fun.

Then she started moving down my stomach. I knew where she was going; this wasn't our first time trying this particular activity. But the butterflies were as fresh as ever, and my thighs tried to trap her head there.

"Oh, not tonight?" she purred.

"Reflex," I panted shortly, trying not to laugh at the cake all over her face now. Because even though it was funny, it also wasn't… since she was about to go to town on me.

Oh, she did. She really, really did — and it blew my mind so much more this time, somehow. Maybe it was because for the past few months, I only had that fork handle for company in my bed. Being pent up and needy tends to make the release ten times stronger, you know.

"Elsa!" I whined after a few hours. Okay, it was probably a minute or two, but it felt like so long! "You're really… how did you… get this good?!"

By the time she came up for air to answer me, she was gripping my ass cheeks to hold my pelvis closer to her face. "You're worth trying my best for, Anna. And… I may have practiced on an ice-replica." When I laughed at that, a frosting-smeared eyebrow arched. "Ooh…"

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. Your backside is so firm, and I felt it flexing in my hands. Powerful."

"Y-yeah, I exercise a lot. Could probably pick up a gold coin with it."

"Really?" I felt her poking around back there, and I clenched — again, reflex. "Wow. Do you think… you could squeeze this?"

Before I had any chance to ask a question or protest, I felt a finger sliding between my cheeks. What in the fjord was Elsa doing?! It felt wrong, and disturbing… and hot? Was it hot somehow?! Maybe, but only because it was her, and she had already been going down on me, I'm pretty sure; if anybody else had tried that, especially when I wasn't already chomping at the bit to get off, their hand would be kindling for the fireplace in the corner.

So don't let anybody tell you Elsa is a prude who would never do anything like that. That whole regal facade is just a smoke screen. She can get just as wild as me.

"Wow, your muscles really are strong," Elsa breathed in honest surprise, not just teasing me. "I'm impressed."

Freya, I tried so hard to hold it together. To control my reaction. But as she dragged her finger back from my crack, brushing the little forbidden spot that I had been trying not to think about, I shivered and let out a little moan. Dooming myself.

"Anna?"

"Yes! I m-mean, hello, yeah, you can… you can start back in on the goods now! Remember my goods? Right there in front of you?"

"No, wait. Did you enjoy…?" Probably trying to spare me some embarrassment, she didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she raised her frosting-covered finger and flexed it in my field of vision.

"Oh, did I really get cake in there, too? Sheeze, we've really been going crazy!"

My nervous laughter made it way too obvious I was just trying to distract my sister. Why was I so bad at that sometimes? She looked at me suspiciously for a moment, then glanced at the finger, then back at me.

"Anna-"

"Please, can we not-"

"Anna, it's okay. If you want me to leave that alone, I will; I was only asking how you felt about it. That's all."

Though her words didn't dial back my embarrassment, it soothed away the anxiety spike. "Oh. Well… no, I didn't mind that much. Not really. It's just because… like, after all you've been doing to my clit and tits, I'm kind of sensitive… everywhere. So it was pretty interesting, but I would never ask you to do it again! That's too big a favour!"

Elsa thought that over for a moment, and I finally started to relax. Then she kissed my inner thigh. "Just relax, my love. My Lord Anna." I groaned, thinking back to the coronation ball. Even though it all worked out okay. "I'll take care of you. And all you have to do is ask, and I will stop or change what I am doing. You can always talk to me, alright?"

"Okay," I said, completely relieved. My queen was so sweet to me, always taking care of me as much as she could. Making me feel safe.

Well, I did feel a little less safe when she started kissing closer to my behind. And then when I felt two thumbs pulling the cheeks apart, I wriggled all over and gasped out, "WHOA! Elsa, are you- you're not gonna-"

"Just going to try to get the cake in here," she laughed softly. "Unless you have objections."

Did I? The whole thing was too weird to have any objections. And while I was still trying to come up with one, I felt that wriggling tongue press somewhere I had never wanted or needed it to go. Was Elsa really doing this? She really didn't mind? We did enough wrong and taboo things already that this just seemed like one step too far! But the way she was going at my ass suggested she didn't agree.

And it was… different. Not good, not bad; just unsettling even while it was stimulating. When she was still at it a minute later with no signs of stopping, one of my hands started trailing the handle of that trusty fork down my stomach. Maybe, if I could take care of the main attraction, a little sideshow in the back room wouldn't be so bad.

"Mm?" she hummed, tongue still sliding over my taut skin. She must have seen my fingers moving, because she drew back with a chuckle. "Oh, did you need me to move along?"

"Y-yeah, Elsa, I… we could try that again later, but right now I'm…"

With a solemn nod, she went right back to going down on me. Who could complain about a girlfriend like that? Just takes care of my needs without any complaint. What an angel.

"Oh ffff- MMM!" Yeah, I had to scream into my hand to let out some of my energy. Luckily, it wasn't the one holding the fork or I might have stabbed myself in the face. A minute later, I gasped, "Elsa! I'm almost there! Almost there!"

My sister did not slow down until I actually was there. It felt like she had six tongues instead of two — which she might actually have been able to pull off if she used her ice powers, but I didn't feel her mouth get any colder. I came so hard and shook all over, and the whole time Elsa just held onto my hips and devoured me like I was the best cake she had ever tried. Which was probably how she felt.

Once my heat faded, she lowered me into the cake again and smirked. "That happened awfully quickly for someone who didn't like me playing with her a little lower than usual."

"Y-yeah! Well… you… let me get pent up for multiple months!"

"That is fair. I hope my apology was satisfactory."

Pretending to think real hard about it, I screwed up my face and tapped my chin. Elsa laughed. "Weeeeeelllllllllll… on one condition."

"What condition?" She started when I moved to pin her to the bed. "Oh!"

"This one." My chosen target was her neck. She shivered a little when I ran my tongue along it, enjoying the rich chocolate mixing with the light purity of her skin. I wanted to eat Elsa whole.

"Anna… you… make it hard to breathe."

"Elsa…"

"N-no, I… I'm really-!"

With a shock, I realized she meant the way my hand was pushing into the middle of her abdomen. "OH! Shit, Elsa, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" As she took a deep breath, I caressed her side. "Better? Man, I am just really dumb sometimes…"

Elsa pulled me down into her embrace. "We already covered that. You are not dumb. You have never been dumb."

"You sure? I mean, not that I'm trying to argue with you, but you keep saying that and then I keep doing dumb things."

"Because you're excited. I am, too; I've just had a lot more practice... controlling myself."

For good reason. But since she wasn't judging me, I pushed myself back up to begin devouring the cake covering her ribs and stomach. She giggled a couple of times, and I smiled at the way her abdominal muscles flexed under my lips, bumping up against my nose. I could have kept eating off her and exploring her for hours and never got bored. Not once.

"Mmhhh, this really is so good," I sighed as I got closer and closer to the finish line. "The cake, you… who could ask for more?"

"I'm glad you… approve." But I could tell she was nervous. Why? It's not like this was the first time we had done anything like this; just the first in a little while.

"Elsa?" She didn't answer right away. Watching her bite her lip and look anxious was cute, but I still prompted her, "Hey. You okay?"

"What? Oh… yes, I'm fine." My face must have looked extra unconvinced, because a second later, she relented. "I'm still a little afraid of losing control of my powers when I…"

"When you what? Oh, wait, you're- right, got it, you don't need to explain. But hey, even when you've done that before, all you did was give me a little extra blast of snow. I don't mind a cold cake."

Tittering the slightest amount, despite the fear in her eyes, she reached down to run her fingers through my sugar-matted fringe. "Neither of us do. And I know you're probably right, but I can't help but worry I will hurt you for a third time. I don't think I could take that."

"Me, either. But you won't. I hear you, I do, but I know you have a handle on this now. You've been doing so good! Nobody in Arendelle is scared of you anymore. So just… let me do the magic this time."

That was that. Even though she was still biting her lip, her brow still creased, she didn't protest further as I kissed the inside of her thigh, devouring the frosting I found there. But I still didn't like that she was wound up so tight. So I figured hey, why not try to loosen her up?

"So, if I get a couple of fingers in you and really start going to town… does that make this pound-cake?"

Oh, now she looked mad. I barely had enough time to register the movement before her foot was pushing into my face, trying to shove me off the bed entirely.

"Hey, whoa whoa, Elsa! Come on, I'm sorry!"

"Why don't I believe you?" she demanded in a would-be stern voice. The answer might have been because I was laughing up a storm. But I caught sight of her smile, which told me she was just trying to mess around with me. One of the many things I had been missing over the past thirteen years.

"Truce! I'll keep my corny jokes to myself if you don't shove me the rest of the way off this bed!" Really, I already had to whip one leg back and brace against the floor to keep from falling as it was. But she slowly began to relent. "Thank you."

"I ought to put my finger back in your 'fork holder' for that one," she grunted.

"It was one time! I don't go around carrying forks back there all the time, you know!"

"Actually, no, I don't know that. Because I never inspect the back of your dress when you are casually walking down the halls."

"You could, though…" As she just shook her head at me, I decided to get a little more playful.

"AH! Not my feet — don't bite my feet, you know how ticklish iyyyahahahhaaaa!"

Too late. My teeth were nibbling all over her chocolatey toes in retaliation for almost being knocked on my butt. The way she began kicking was extremely dangerous, but at least now my childhood memories were intact; I remembered learning by watching our father that you had to hold her leg steady when you tickled her, or you were asking for an eyeful of flailing heel.

"STOP!" she cackled. "I'm- I am about to ruin this cake! Anna!"

Right away, I broke off with a laugh. No matter how much fun I was having, it wasn't worth ruining an entire cake-bed by making her wet herself. "Okay, okay. Yellow frosting is as bad as yellow snow, I guess."

"You… monster!" But she was still laughing a little, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling in an attempt to regain her breath. Which looked like she had been doing something else.

Flawless. I was head over heels, alright.

"Sorry. But do you know how cute you are when you get tickled?"

Clearing her throat, she pushed up onto her elbows before answering me. "That is… because I didn't get to run around outside the way you did. Not after my ninth birthday. So my feet are…"

Oh. Well that was a sad reason for them to be extra sensitive. But I decided to simply kiss the one I had been attacking and say, "Perfect. You were gonna say 'perfect' right? Because that's the only answer I'm accepting right now."

Shaking her head a little at me, she let out an exasperated sigh that was followed by a small smile. "You're too kind to me."

"Nah. Just know you deserve the best."

Again, I kissed, and she hummed as her smile grew. When my lips parted to let my tongue slide between two of her toes, she rolled her eyes and pulled her foot away. "Fine, I get it, you love every inch of me."

"Glad we got that straightened out. Now, I have my eye on a couple of pastries… one sec."

Her hand raised up to rest on the back of my head when I attacked her chest. I figured she would probably appreciate having some time to recover before I went back between her thighs. The sounds floating out of her lungs were every bit as enthralling as if I had gone straight for the crux of her thighs, of course, but at least this way I could enjoy my cake a little longer.

"You are… so persistent." I switched to the other peak, my hand wrapping around the mountain below and kneading just enough to add pressure and pleasure without causing pain. "Mmmhh, and I almost want to ask if you have been practicing on someone else!"

"Maybe I made an ice-replica," I shot at her as I moved back down. Her grin was so huge. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's do this."

"You make it sound like you're about to go cliff-diving!" she laughed.

"Oh, I am. I'm about to dive down deep into your sound."

Elsa's lips parted, probably to reprimand me for another corny line. But all that came out was a moan when I pressed my mouth tightly against her soft folds through the frosting and chocolate. And I intended to clean every speck of that from her by the time I was finished.

My Elsa. My queen of snow and ice, grace and beauty and power. The only woman in the world. My mind and heart were full of desire for the goddess I was making writhe with my every teasing touch. And it wasn't just that she was the most beautiful girl in Arendelle, not that she had given me an orgasm so recently. This was about way more than repaying a debt or physical beauty; it was my sister. The one person who had always been a part of me, and who always will.

"A-Anna!" she gasped — well, she had been doing that for a couple of minutes, but this one was louder and stronger. Somehow, I just knew what she meant. "I'm… I'm still scared! I love you!"

I loved her, too. But I wanted to show her in some way besides slowing down to tell her with words. So I moved one hand from her hip to push our fork into hers, which had been clutching uselessly at another pile of birthday cake. And wow, did she respond! My hand was caught with the fork between our fingers, and it was such a tight grip that I felt like she would never let me go again.

Which did as much for me as I might have been doing for her.

There was more snow this time. Somehow, I had kind of expected that; I mean, when you tell an ice witch that she shouldn't hold back with her power, you're going to get more power. Makes sense, right? But even while I was still feeling her flesh pulse against my lips and tongue, her juices running down my chin, tiny pinpricks of cold were dusting my back in the spots that weren't covered by chocolate.

"Oh," I panted when I finally came up for air, satisfied that she no longer needed little licks for little aftershocks. "Snow! See? I told you everything would be fine. And this isn't even that bad!"

Though of course, we were both looking around at the winter wonderland filling the room. It was only a couple of inches deep, but spread over that large an area it still added up to a decent amount.

"It's… a lot," she panted. "But at least there aren't any… nothing dangerous."

Scoffing, I crawled up to lay my head on her shoulder, curling my entire body around hers as tightly as I could. Needing to be that close to her now. "Dangerous? You? Come on, you're a big pussycat."

"We both know… that's… a stretch." Finally, she cleared her throat and simply took in a couple of deep breaths so she wouldn't be so winded. Then she turned to look into my eyes with a smile full of afterglow and affection. "Thank you. For that, for all of this; for my perfect birthday night."

"Yeah. You got it. I'm always going to show you how much I love you, no matter how big I have to go to get the point across."

"Anna, you don't have to. I already know." We shared a firm kiss. Then she crinkled her nose. "Oh, that's… did you really enjoy me adding that to your cake? It's so strange."

"Maybe I wouldn't have if I didn't know what it was," I admitted with a giggle. "But knowing? Oh yeah. Totally hot."

"If you say so." Then she suddenly looked horrified. "Oh no — my lips have- you were kissing-"

"All I tasted was Sister-Queen and cake," I headed her off before she actually said it out loud. "Don't have to make it even more gross. Seriously, you didn't run away from my butt? I thought that would be a fate worse than death!"

"No, no," she reassured me, completely contented now that we had both enjoyed ourselves and could relax. "I wasn't lying for your benefit; it wasn't that bad. Especially when mixed with chocolate cake. Though I agree with you about my essence on this subject; probably wouldn't have enjoyed it not knowing what it is, or by itself. Well…"

Running my index fingertip in small circles on her stomach, I prompted, "Well?"

"I could try it by itself. Maybe. Someday."

"Go ahead. I won't… well, I might judge a little, but since we're already sisters who knock boots, it's not gonna hold a lot of water."

"Mmhmm. I suppose that's a valid point."

"Ohhhhh, I just wanna lay here forever!" I burst out as I curled even harder around Elsa, and she laughed again, nuzzling into my hair. "Though I do have another bath ready in the next chamber. I'm no doctor, but it's probably not the best idea for us to leave cake in some of the places we have cake right now."

Nodding, she whispered, "In a minute. This is so comfortable. Actually, I'm surprised we're not sinking all the way down to the floor."

"Oh — yeah, that's because we took a bed-sized wooden box and made the cake on top of that. Like, it's pretty much a bunch of little cakes smushed together in a grid pattern to make one huge sheet cake, and then we just put the icing all over it and down the sides with the right colours and patterns. So it looked like a real bed, with a quilt and all."

"Clever," she chuckled, scratching at my rib cage just enough to prompt a giggle from me before she stopped. "Really, I was flabbergasted at first, but now I really admire all the work you did for this. Because it turned out to be a lot of fun."

Her praise made my heart glow. "It did, didn't it? Chocolate cake slumber party. Go me."

We both fell into the kind of comfortable silence you can only have with family. Lover, sister, friend… Elsa was all of those things to me. And we had beaten all the odds and found our way back to each other, and we were alive, and our lives were wonderful. There wasn't much else I could ask for.

"I love you, my Anna," she breathed into my hair before rolling over to prop herself up on her elbow and look at me. I mirrored the gesture, gazing into her eyes.

"Love you, too, Majesty. And I always will."

Elsa kissed me hard and long, and held me close for such a long time that time itself ceased to hold meaning. Definitely not your run-of-the-mill anniversary of being born, but I finally knew: what we had? Different-good. The best kind of different a princess could ask for.

                                                      ~ Takk for Reisen ~