#the difference is we stick our rich people next to the poor ones and you cordon them off so the rich dont have to look at it

[multidimensionalsock]

I am in the northern England Defence squad, the north is nice, I like it more than the south. IF I HEAR ONE MORE SOUTHERNER

[breannasfluff]

Samantha Manson,

My teacher says that we must continue our correspondence. While she will not read our letters, she is trying to stretch the assignment longer. I suspect she is drinking in the evenings to deal with her life choices rather than creating lesson plans. 

People treat me as special because I am special. That’s all there is to it. You are a fool if you don’t embrace the rights life has given you.

Amity Park? That sounds like a backwater in the countryside. What is your exercise, running away from cows? Not that cows are bad creatures, mind you. It’s only that I heard the hillbillies go cow-tipping for recreation. That seems like an activity you could do. 

Painted nails would never ruin my image, only enhance it. 

Ah, name-calling, the most childish insult in the book. Some of us have more experience in nine years than others do in 20. Just look at Gotham’s vigilantes!

Sincerely,

Damian Al-Ghul Wayne

~~~

Damian-stick-up-his-rich-butt-Wayne,

If no one is reading these then I don’t have to hold back.

Okay, listen here you brat: teachers are underpaid and have to put up with little monsters like you. No wonder your poor teacher is drinking; I’m not even legal and talking to you makes me want to start. 

Hate to burst your bubble, buddy, but people only pretend to care about you because of your money. You lose that and what’s left? Some snobby little rich boy clinging to his daddy’s coattails because he has no personality outside his money and position. 

You’re so right, Damian! All my life I thought I lived in a fairly normal Midwest town, but you’ve shown me the error of my ways! I’m just a little country gal out here collecting eggs and chewing on wheat. Ugh. You probably poach endangered animals on vacation and wear baby fox pelts when the temperature dips below 60. 

I bet you are too chicken to paint your nails to say ROBIN SUCKS in purple glitter for the next formal event you attend. 

Gotham’s vigilantes? Don’t even get me started on Nightwing! He’s the worst of the group. If you look up “trying too hard” in the dictionary, his photo is there. He doesn’t even take his job seriously! Why else would he move to a different city? Couldn’t compete with Batman and just had to be in the spotlight. It’s like those pop stars that go solo and fall flat on their face. 

Man, how embarrassing. I think I actually feel sorry you have to claim that guy as one of your heroes. He does have a nice ass though, so it’s not a complete dumpster fire.

Also, stop calling me Samantha.

It’s Sam.

Sam

Find the rest here

[dearweirdme]

https://www.tumblr.com/dearweirdme/765493103428878336/httpswwwtumblrcomdearweirdme7654362686047354?source=share

HYBe absolutely monitor the fans and fandom engagement. I don't want to shit in anyone's cornflakes because I know some people still like to think of B.T.S as completely organic but they're not and never have been. The group is a product, first and foremost and the company considers the individuals in it to be products too.

You don't get to go from bare minimum to being a billion dollar company off the back of 7 kids unless you are willing to milk them and their supporters dry. You just don't.

Their business model is obvious and so is their manipulation of the group and the fans. These guys were practically children when they got the job and we've literally seen them sing and dance until they break, faint, cry and then hit up a live telling army that they willing to give anything and everything to them. They're institutionalised into this shit and conditioned from their most secondary formative years that the show MUST go on and that pleasing the fans is #1 priority--- and that's why I can never blame them for doing their job because it's so obvious how much of a controlling hand the company has over them

Consider this. They've been performing for 10+ years, members have had a hand in the creative process, they've sold out tours, broke every record there is, badically rule the charts, done multiple variety shows and extra content and are still nowhere close to being as rich as they should be because despite his eye on the western market, Bang never wanted to pay those Western wages and is/was more than happy enough to stick to the Korean model when it comes to underpaying his moneymakers (the members have only an estimated 5% share each in the billion dollar company that they helped build from the ground up) In 2024, for example, Tae is considered the richest member with a $40 million dollar estimated networth and a chunk of that comes from his brand deals. Compare their individual wealth with Western artists who have been performing less years and doing less PR and putting in less grind.

(I'm sure their contracts look much different now but that doesn't change the fact that for the 7 years he had them locked in, they were being vastly ripped off based on contracts they agreed to as poor and/or unknown kids)

As for the fans, if people still want to delude themselves that the group is a special exception to the Korean entertainment model, consider the fact that years ago, Hybeee literally put out a survey that included questions about the (YOUNG) fans mental health, self esteem etc and the next release after that was, LOVE YOURSELF and the heavy messaging that came with it seemed very inspired by those survery answers. (If people want to go back, that's when a good few of us old heads started looking kinda side eyed at the company because we were sipping the 'not like other groups' koolaid too) It seems like a good thing in theory that a company is asking fans for input but it wasn't a nice feeling to feel like we were being tapped via a marketing survery at our most vulnerable level to decide the groups next concept

(And yes, LOVE YOURSELF not a bad message but it proves that the creative direction isn't as organic as people want to believe it is and that the company actively mined fans for information on what will increase engagement -> money)

Anyway, rant over but TLDR; the company has always been greedy, controlling, intrusive and shady as hell and the group have never been the creatively organic wet dream that fans convinced themselves they were...and hybee have been hoarding the bag from day one and the members should have been paid more

Hi anon!

Oh, the psychological layers in all of this are extreme! We as fans try to explain and give reason to their actions, but none of us are able to come close to actually understanding what it’s been like growing up in the kpop industry.

I’m not at all surprised by Hybe being on top of trends in the Kpop industry. That’s absolutely necessary to stay on top. I was surprised at the way they did it and the unprofessional manor in which it has been done. Hybe ia absolutely right by apologizing, though it’s too little too late imo. I doubt they are actually sorry about being harmful, and they’re probably more concerned with how this reflects on them.

One thing that stood by me was Jk’s response to someone asking him if he got scolded by the company by doing the InstaLive with Tae. He said something along the lines of him not having been scolded because he has already been an idol for so many years. It’s subtle, but he’s basically saying that had he been a rookie.. he would not have had freedom. We know these things. We know by many subtle comments and by learning about the Kpop industry that Idols have many restrictions and rules. I suspect BTS members by now have more freedom (Jk and Tae both went live constantly and seemingly without company knowledge last year). I also think there’s still restrictions and they are not allowed to do things that go against their image.

Small detour: I think there’s a lot of genuineness as well. I think members do try to be honest in the ways they can. I recently saw an ask about Jkk in Ays having been inspired by fanfics, but the anon being confused about the romantic part (I forget which blog, apologies). And I can see the confusion, because I think while the storyline of AYS could be inspired by fanficlike ideas (two young men on the brink of enlistment, bonding before losing their freedom) the execution was very broey.

Back on track: To Hybe, BTS is a product. They use business tactics to sell them. There’s little feelings concerned when it comes to the people on top and members. I would actually not be surprised if Hybe was already making plans to slowly push another band upfront.

[linipikk]

I was doing my silly lurking bit in twitter and this gem appeared:

and you know what? I am gonna say it:

His name was Giorgio Vasari , the renaissance painter, and I, personally, fucking hate that guy.

He was the one silly man to bring to modernity (well to the more modern times in the 1500s) the idea that artists had this "natural creative divine talent". It is his goddamn fault that artist is given the Born Genius treatment. Not sure he invented the myth, but he did the whole bit of "this poor little shepherd kid is drawing fruit so realistic with a stick in the mud flies are drawn to his scribbles, God gave him the innate artistic skills to fool nature with his Gift so he must follow his true calling as an Artist" and brought it back to the public imaginary.

You see, back in the more medieval days being a renowned artist was not common or looked after, but then many things happened, the printing press and money flowing to different classes in society, the pictorial interest shifted to imitating nature, blablabla, and, within the renaissance, Giorgio wrote this cursed thing: Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects. A selected group of biographies of artists that created this narrative that artists are born and that talent was necessary to be an Excelent artist.

Long story short, this collection of biograpgies was for a long time, the primary source of the biography of many Renaissance artists and the base for writing about artists since "the guy who wrote it was an artist himself so he must be right ", making it the be all end all in terms of who is who in the history of art... And well, it is just full of Florentine and Roman artists that Giorgio liked very much himself. Leonardo, Michelangelo, Giotto, etc, some contemporaries of him, but it also included the ones that lived before him, and he knew nothing about it. Girogio did his research and wrote his book filled with his personal heroes.

My guy Vasari basically invented Art History as a Subject with capital S, but, as all guys set in a historical period, his views were painfully biased. Filling his book with anecdotes that were closer to gossip and in line with the idea of the renaissance at full speed, remarking the existance of this set progressive timeline where art evolves to imitate nature, elevating artists to an exceptional born-talented person who was put on this earth because, idk, the Holy Spirit illuminated them to partake in the adoration of God's perfect creation from the moment they exited the womb by drawing perfectly?? Not sure, I read it long ago. still, you get the point.

But, as we gotta do from our postmodernist perspective, we gotta ask about the context, the point of view: who was writing those biographies and why. And Vasari , helpfully, in his book of Most Excellent Artists... included himself. He positioned himself among his heroes, placing himself in the middle of his own narrative. He said, "Look at them and look at me." He had the political agenda to set his homestate (Florence and Rome ) and himself as the cradle and centre of the Good Arts and "not like those barbarian others. " Even if this belief was widely spread at the time, having it on print solidified it as some kind of undeniable truth. He was the first to write about it, widely publish it and subsequently he fucked up how people wrote about artists for the next centuries.

And if you ask yourself, "Who invented the idea that artists are jealous of each other and compete to get the attention of the rich and powerful and are nasty and cocky about it?" ..it was also him.

Fuck Vasari.

[blackvail22]

whenever i think about this, it makes me incredibly angry that i cant respond to ppl abt this so im going to pretend that i am now lol

"why did she graduate early just to go into the work force? thats so pointless"

its not. think about it, i work to get more money to move to the college i want to go to out of state. i live there for a year to become that state's resident and get a lower tuition rate. you hang around fellow rich people... obviously i didnt expect you to see the struggles of those that go into debt each time we go on a vacation every 5 years. im not as fortunate as you are. you always got what you wanted when you wanted. you got a $70k car for your 16th birthday, and your friend got a $100k car for their first car. you go on trips every other week during the summertime... new york city, paris, bahamas, florida... i dont expect you to understand my struggle of going to college. maybe if our government actually helped poor people afford college i wouldnt have to work all the time to afford basic necessities and save up for college. it must be hard for you, too. you know, when we were in elementary school and you stopped being friends with me when you found out that im in the lower class. must have been the biggest betrayal. or in middle school when you would constantly ask me if me and my friends were dating just because i like all genders. or when you outted me in a girls locker room because you thought that i was a perv because i like women. it must be hard for you to think and empathize for others. you know, living like that isnt going to get you far, especially when you can't respect another race... saying a word that isnt yours, enforcing racist sterotypes against others. you know, i think about when you go to college and that video still existing... it'd be a shame if someone sent it to the school and got you kicked out shortly before you graduate. all that money you will owe and you dont even have a degree... it'd be a shame if his ableist comments got back to where he got a scholarship...

-

this next thing is about my school experience. it was a formal letter like youd read aloud at graduation and it turned into me just spewing out every last memory i could because i kept getting distracting trying to make it formal.

today is a special day for not only all the students here, but the parents and faculty as well. today marks the day many here never imagined happening, especially not so soon. let's take a trip down memory lane and recap our school years together

we all remember our first day of kindergarten. in a building that is now a memory, we would shyly sit in our seats at the beginning of the day. introducting ourselves, moving our lunch choices on the smartboard, reading corner, and of course, the behavior chart. we all remember our world crumbling when our color went from green to yellow and red. what seems so little now was so big then. an example that sticks out to me was when i got made fun of for my hello kitty backpack. i told my mom i needed a new one, and i used my dora the explorer one from preschool. i got made fun of even more. or, when i went to the principals office because the nurse said she couldn't help me with my upset stomach. i remember sitting in his office and him not believing me. he made a comment about the saying on my shirt and told me to go back to class. i ended up having to go home because i threw up.

first through third grade was a blur. i remember being made fun of by m.f. because i didnt know the difference between eyeliner and mascara and t.c. laughing at me for it. these are the years i really had a sense of community, seeing everyone hangout together and leave the "weird" people out. it truly made me feel welcome, and im so grateful for this.

when we moved to the new elementary building, i remember people saying it wasn't fair that i had to take the elevator because i wasn't able to take the stairs. i remember each time that i hurt my knee and had to take the elevator. everyone would say its unfair and its because im fat. i remember when there was a substitute one day in 5th grade and we were going to our "specials" class and i knew it was art because it said it on the classroom wall, so when i took the elevator, i went to the art room. i remember the substitute got upset with me because he insisted it was gym class because people in my class said so, and it made me incredibly anxious. i remember when i told him it was art, and he dragged me to the gymnasium just to find out i was right. i remember when i was talking to a classmate in the gym nd they made fun of me for the gap in my teeth and for my teeth being yellow. i remember that i had an anxiety attack and burst into tears because of how overwhelmed i was. i remember i had to stay in a different teachers classroom because the substitute wouldnt let me sit in my homeroom. i remember as i was sketching hearing the teachers in the hallway make fun of me for "having an anxiety attack" and laughing about it and not believing me. i remember right after that a teacher said "alright, i guess i'll check on her" and checked on me while trying not to laugh. i remember about a week or two later our seats were being changed in my science/social studies class. i told one of the classmates that made fun of my yellow teeth he's going to sit next to me... turns out he did. when we got to our seats it was next to the teachers desk. my classmate said "i knew i was going to sit here. [my name] told me so." and my teacher got mad at me because he thought i looked at the stuff on his desk (i didnt). i remember i didnt pay attention the rest of the class. i remember it made me so incredibly sad that i started to draw a piece of toast and a knife on a post-it note, making an analogy about how i wanted to die. i remember that teacher looked at me and asked "are you okay" and i responded with "its not like you care, anyway. why ask?" and he said "i do care." and i ignored him after that. i remember feeling so incredibly betrayed. he told my homeroom teacher and as my teacher walked to the elevator, he talked about how i shouldnt kill myself.

nothing felt worse except the entire school not believing how much i was struggling and no one really cared to help

i could truly go on and on and on about this but im getting so emotionally destroyed that i feel its best for me to stop here

[beels-burger-babe]

All is Fair in Dice and War

***Soooo, @bagelsinatoaster I love this request. However, you didn't specify which board game and as I am a huge nerd I decided to take some creative liberties and combine this with another idea I've been meaning to write which is: MC introducing the demon bros to Dungeons and Dragons. I certainly had fun with this and I hope you like it!*** Summary: Leviathan's world is flipped upside down when MC tells him there is a game that basically allows him to be the Lord of Shadows in real life!! He demands that his brothers join him as MC introduces them all to the chaotic shit show that is Dungeons & Dragons. For once, it was a peaceful day in the House of Lamentation. Lucifer was lounging in the living room with a cursed record playing softly in the background. For once, Satan had willingly joined him and was sitting by the fireplace, thumbing through a book on the human world. Belphie had been passed out on the couch when he arrived and was still laying there with an impressive puddle of drool collecting near his mouth. Even Asmodeus and Beel had joined in, with Asmodeus gently humming to himself as he painted his nails and Beelzebub happily munching on a snack as he enjoyed the sight of his family getting along. Yes. It was perfectly quiet and peaceful, and Lucifer didn't even have any traces of his regular migraine. But of course, nothing good lasts forever. Everyone jumped as the door slammed open and a wide-eyed Leviathan dragged you into the room. The two you very closely followed by Mammon loudly complaining. "Oi! You're gonna hurt them! Cut it out, Levi!" Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, momentarily mourning the peace that he had just barely begun to enjoy, and closed his book. "Leviathan, let MC go. What are you freaking out about this time?" Lucifer regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth. Levi looked at it with the expression he only ever got when his limited edition Ruri-Chan merch arrived; his eyes were wide and glittering with excitement while his face bore a grin so large that Lucifer was surprised it didn't rip his skin. The third-born was practically vibrating as he let go of your wrist and pushed you forward. "Tell them! Tell them about the game!"

You laughed at Levi's excitement and casually rubbed your wrist. "I was just telling Leviathan about a game that we play in the human world called Dungeons and Dragons-" "You get to make a fantasy world that everyone plays in, and everyone makes characters. You can be a wizard and cast spells against a huge monster! Or a war hero fighter that has been betrayed by his brother! Or a noble knight who is looking for his lost kingdom! And the best part is that it's real!" Levi interrupted, nearly jumping in place as stars danced in his eyes. You put your hands out towards him to try and calm him a bit. "Well, not entirely real. It is played in person, but it's a role play tabletop game, meaning it mostly relies on the players' imagination. That is unless you have thousands of dollars to spend on 3D maps and figurines of your characters." Levi's eyes grew even wider, if possible, as he started shaking his hands up and down. "I CAN HAVE A FIGURINE OF A CHARACTER THAT I MADE?! GAAAAAAAAAHH!" A pillow flew across the room and hit Levi square in the face as a now awake Belphegor glared at him. "Will. You. Shut. Up?" the Avatar of Sloth hissed as a dark dangerous aura grew around him. Beel gently patted his twin's head in hopes of calming him. Leviathan pouted as he noticed no one else seemed to be getting excited about it. "C-Come on guys! This isn't even a video game! It's a thing that we can all do together and personalize it to be something that everyone will like. It'll be fun! Right MC?" You nodded as you gently tossed Belphie's pillow back over to him. "Yeah. I love D&D. I played it all the time in the human world. There's action, suspense, and even romance if you really wanted it," a couple of the brothers perked up at that. "I could put together a one-shot for you guys to try it out if you'd like? I'll help you make your characters, and we can all get together for an evening and play it sometime in a couple weeks." The room went quiet as everyone thought it over. Most of them had no interest in the game itself, but if it was organized by you... "I'm in," Beel decided with a nod. "I think it will be fun. All of us trying something new; it could be neat." Satan casually flipped a page in his book, "The creative aspect of it is definitely appealing. We'd be the masters of our own fate, and that most certainly piques my interest." Asmodeus smirked as he put the cap on his nail polish. "And you said it could be whatever we want? My, one might say that this game could help our wildest fantasies come true~" he made sure to wink at you as he giggled. Belphie, who had only just got back his pillow, scrunched up his face in disgust and launched it at Asmo. "Don't make this weird Asmo," he looked over at you and shrugged, "So long as you do all the work in putting together the character thing, sure. Why not?" Mammon looked over at you from the corner of his eye. "Ya mean to tell me, that you can make it so I'm some awesome, rich, and powerful prince?" Asmo scoffed as he pushed the pillow off his lap. "Please Mammon, even the world of make-believe has its limitations." Mammon blushed as he growled at his brother. You just chuckled and teasingly elbowed his side. "Don't listen to him, Mammon. There is a set amount of how much money you start out with depending on your class and background, but I'm sure we can find something that will make you happy." The second-born blushed even more as he grumbled quietly under his breath. Lucifer tilted his head in thought. "I suppose that if everyone else is playing, naturally I must as well," he stood and began to make his way to his office. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with MC." The next two weeks were spent planning and carefully figuring out the details of the one-shot and the characters that everyone was going to play. Levi was, of course, the first one who came to you to build his character. The two of you spent hours going through the Player's Handbook and sourcebooks to find the perfect build to recreate the Lord of Shadows. In the end, you put

together a human fighter that you gave a couple magic items to make Levi's vision really come to life. It seemed basic, but for the Lord of Shadows, it was perfect. The moment the two of you finished, Levi dove to his computer and ordered a custom-made mini that looked exactly like his character. Satan was genuinely interested in the game, especially after he learned about all the lore and rules behind the different classes and races. You had just been chilling in your room one day when the door burst open. Satan stood there with wide eyes holding a copy of Volo's Guide to Monsters. "MC, why didn't you tell me there are cat people?!" You chuckled, knowing exactly where this was going. "They're called tabaxi, but yeah, they're basically cat people. Would you like to play as one?" He scoffed and snapped the book shut. "Is that even a question? Of course, I'm playing as one." After some discussion and bouncing back and forth between classes a couple of times, Satan settled on a tabaxi druid; that way he not only looked like a cat, but he could speak to them as well. After a few days of you spending time with his brothers focusing on getting their characters ready, Mammon came to you wanting the coolest, most epic character ever. At first, it was clear that he wasn't fully invested in the process, but as he saw the customizable options and all the cool stuff that his character could have, you got his attention. You ended up designing a golden teifling rogue (you tried to tell Mammon that teifling usually wasn't yellow, but he gave you such a sad look that you couldn't say no) that was decked out with piercings and gems all over its horns and tail. He tried to act like he wasn't that excited about it, but one day during class you caught him doodling what looked like a stick figure version of the character on his sheet with a big smile on his face. Asmodeus came in shortly after Mammon finished,

insisting on having the most charming and beautiful character there was. You tapped your chin at the request. "I mean, stereotypically bards are extremely charming and...well seductive...almost too seductive. But that's only thei-" Asmo had hearts in his eyes before you could even finish. "That's what I want to be!" You sighed and made a mental note not to include any dragons in the session as you marked Asmo down to be an elven bard and helped him create his character sheet. You hadn't heard anything from Lucifer for nearly that entire first week, until one day as you were lounging in the living room, he walked in holding a stack of resource books. "Ah, MC. I've been looking for you. I wanted to inform you that I will be playing a half-elf multiclassing as a paladin and hex-blade warlock." You blinked at him as he put all the books down in front of you. "O-Oh. Would you like help putting together your character sheet?" He just grinned and began to make his way out of the room once more. "I've already done it. I must admit that this was quite a bit more interesting than I thought it would be," and with that he was gone, leaving you to try and figure out what had just happened. With only a few days left until the one-shot, you had to go find the twins and get them to make their characters. Beel apologized like crazy for you having to track him in down in order to get his character made. The poor guy was in the middle of peak Fangol season and had completely forgotten. Once the two of you sat down in the kitchen with an empty character sheet in one hand and snacks in the other, Beel gave you his full attention. He put a lot of thought in his character and wanted to make it really good since he appreciated that you were doing something that they could all do as a family. He bashfully decided to play a halfling. Not only did the little creatures share his love for food, but he thought it would be neat to try being small for once. His class was also a surprise. After carefully flipping through all of the class options, he had eventually settled on a cleric. "They're the healers, right? This way I can help the others if someone gets hurt." You gave him a huge hug then and there. Belphegore, on the other hand, was not so easy to work with. "Belphie, come on. Just flip through the book and choose something!" He groaned into his pillow and rolled onto his side to glare at you. "I told you I would play if you did all the work for me. Me flipping through a book is work. It's not happening." After an entire hour of trying to get him to cooperate, you gave up. In retaliation you made his character a goblin barbarian, just to drive in the fact of how much of a brat he was acting like.

Finally, the day came for you all to play the one-shot, and much like you expected, it was complete and utter chaos. You had tried to maintain some structure and keep everyone on track, but it was hopeless. Levi and Satan were taking the game seriously and, Diavolo bless them, were the only reason their party was making any progress. Mammon was trying to pick-pocket every non-player character that they met while Asmo distracted them by flirting. This worked great for them until Mammon got caught and would've died from the resulting injuries if it wasn't for Beel. Speaking of Beel, the poor fella was trying his best to do well in the game but kept getting confused by all the rules and different stats and modifiers. Belphegor spent most of his time, trying to explain it to his twin, but in the end, Beel accidentally ate his dice and Belphie passed out on his shoulder. And then there was Lucifer. He had been mostly quiet the entire game. Surprisingly, he let Levi and Satan take the charge in any investigations and puzzle-based interactions, but he did so with a smirk. You had a funny feeling in your stomach that he was up to something, and you were right. It was the final boss. Satan and Levi were on the edge of their seats, having worked so hard to get the party to this point. You smiled, knowing that one of the best parts of D&D was finally taking down the big bad. In this case, you had prepared a beholder for them to fight. It would be no easy task. The fight should have required them to work together in an epic battle of wits, magic and melee attacks. Only, when everyone rolled initiative, Lucifer went first. The eldest smiled as his eyes sparked menacingly. "For my bonus action, I'd like to use my hex blade's curse on it, which allows me to add my plus four proficiency bonus to all damage, and makes any rolls of nineteen or twenty critical hits. I will then use my long sword with divine smite at third level to attack him and attack him again using my extra attack," barely giving you time to process what he said, Lucifer rolled his dice twice. "And that would be a nineteen and a natural twenty, meaning they're both criticals due to the curse. That should hit, yes?" "Wha-" You could only watch as Lucifer, now with twice the amount of damage due to his critical rolls pulled out a disgusting number of dice and rolled them all. And of course, with his luck, they all rolled high. "So that's 90 points of damage plus the extra damage from the curse and the bonus from my duelist ability per attack, brings this 102 points," he smugly perched his chin on top of his hands as the table gaped at him. You gulped and looked down at the beholder's character sheet, "Y-You just took o-over half of his hit points in one round..." His grin widened at the information, "What, like it's hard?" You never got the chance to finish the game, as Satan burst into his demon form and pounced on Lucifer, the eldest laughing like a mad man, while Levi tore up his character sheet in a fit of jealous rage. Levi never asked to play with everyone again after that. ***This was just so self-indulgent and I just- I loved it. It combined two of my favourite things and I have never been happier. This was more crack than fluff, but either way, it was fun and I hope you nerds out there enjoyed it 🥰 Thanks again for the request @bagelsinatoaster!*** Taglist: @mimik248 @roseytoesy @ester-is-here

[tooweirdforyou]

Platonic! Straw Hats x Teen! Reader » Continued. PT 2

Request : Can we have more teen reader with the straw hats and they protect them and teach them things

Hi, do you mind if we get more platonic teen reader with the straw hats?

Is there going to be a part 2 of the teen reader and straw hat Pirates?

-

I FINALLY FINISHED. I didn’t realize how popular this would be, holy crap. This is the first time I had someone request for a part 2 for something, let alone 3 people. It feels kinda nice 😂

I’m trying to keep reader GN, but if I end up writing female pronouns or hints of a female reader, then I’m sorry :(

this might be in parts, ( should I turn this into a multi-fic? lol )

PART ONE | PART THREE

includes interaction w/ : Nami, Sanji, Chopper & Usopp!

Summary : continuation of life with the straw hats, as a teen. This time, they will get you to open up! >:)

-

“So, treat them nicely, okay?”

Nami’s sing-song voice fills the room as boys stare in surprise at the sudden appearance of the two girls and their younger crewmate.

You felt a little uneasy in the presence of the crew, their eyes lingering on you as you shifted you weight.

“Er.. im sorry for.. staying in my room a lot.. and.. for.. making you worry..”

Even though Nami already explained the reasoning for your actions, you still felt the need to apologize. However, when it continues to be silent, you feel yourself fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

Then your Captain spoke. Well, laughed.

“Shishishishi!~”

Everyone turns to Luffy, who is grinning widely. “Apology accepted! Who knew you were just shy the whole time? We assumed you didn’t like us! Shishishi!”

Your eyes widen at him and you felt an embarrassed blush creeping up onto your cheeks as you look down to hide it. “I-I’m sorry.”

Robin places a gentle hand on your shoulder and smiles softly to the crew. “Well, now that we know the truth, why don’t you spend the rest of the day with us? One by one.”

“I like that idea.” Nami grins before glancing down at you. “Well? Who do you want to spend time with first, [Name]?”

You blink at her before looking around to see them staring expectantly at you, offering rather kind smiles to you, patiently waiting for an answer.

“..I don’t know..”

...

The others deadpan and sweatdropped at your response before Nami sighs softly. “That makes sense, you wouldn’t know where to start.”

Nami then grins. “Then, I’ll volunteer and go first! Sound good? No complaints? Great!”

“Hey! How come you get to go first and show [Name] stuff?!” Usopp points a finger at the navigator, narrowing his eyes as he frowns.

Nami simply sticks out her tongue and gave a childish expression. “Because I volunteered! Now let’s go, [Name]!”

Dragging you away with the pull of your hand, Nami pulls you off towards the aqua lounge despite the many protests, complaints and calls after her.

“W-wait, is this a good idea?.. I don’t—“

“Of course it is. You want to spend time with us don’t you?” The navigator smiles once you two enter and shut the door.

Now it was just the two of you, in the lounge.

“Well..” you trail off, still feeling awkward and perhaps a little bit nervous about all of this.

It was pretty sudden after all, just minutes ago you were in bed reading a book and now, you’re playing play date with your crew members.

Nami softens her smile and went over to the couch and took a seat, patting the spot beside her.

“I know this is a lot. We don’t have to do much but talk, and maybe get you to open up a little more. Tell me about yourself!”

Hesitantly, you nod and walk closer towards her, before sitting down beside her, turning your body to face her.

“...what do you wanna know?..” you mumble, Nami barely catching it but still heard it anyways.

“Anything about yourself. Your family, your life before you became a pirate, your favorite foods, hobbies, any crushes you might’ve picked up along our journey~” the navigator winks at you making you blush faintly at her, turning away with a sigh.

“I don’t have any of the sort.” You scoff lightly, closing your eyes but Nami wasn’t convinced. “Oh?”

“What about that pink haired marine? Koby, wasn’t it?”

You snap your head to her quickly, brows furrowed.

“Koby? Marine Captain Koby? I’ve hardly met him. Besides, he’s a marine. Even if I did like him, it wouldn’t work out anyways.”

You turn away once more, Nami grinning at how quick you responded and how much you talked just now.

“If Koby wasn’t a marine, would you date him?” Nami hums and you kept silent, though the red hue forming on the tips of your ears were enough for her.

“..he’s attractive.” You mutter and Nami giggles.

“Okay, okay, so then, how about any of the older men we met? Traffy isn’t that much older.” She thinks for a minute, her thumb and forefinger under her chin.

You raise a brow at her question. “You mean the Captain / doctor?.. Law?.. he seems.. really annoyed easily. He’s so frowny and never sleeps.”

“Not much different from someone else..” Nami sings under her breath making you playfully roll your eyes.

“I wouldn’t go for him either. He’s attractive, I guess, but... no. I think the fact that I’m in Luffy’s crew too, he might be pretty annoyed already.”

“I think it’s just Luffy in general.” Nami sighs and you smile a bit at that.

“Okay, how about that red haired one? Eustass “Captain” Kid?”

“Too violent.”

“Ace or Sabo?”

“Luffy’s brothers.”

“Perona? The Ghost Princess?”

“I don’t like her ghosts.”

“Vivi?”

“She’s gorgeous and rich, but no.”

“Tashigi?”

“She’s into Zoro.”

“Anyone from our crew?”

“We’re family.”

“Buggy?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Any of Sanji’s brothers?”

“They have no emotions.”

“Silvers Rayleigh?”

“A silver fox, but no.”

“Anyone in Whitebeard’s crew?”

“Izo is absolutely stunning .. and Marco seems really nice, I guess.. but no.”

“That empress, Boa Hancock?”

“She’s too into Luffy..”

Nami heaves a sigh as she leans back and crosses her legs, one over the other.

“So the closest one to your attraction.. is Koby.”

You shrug and smile slightly at her defeated look. “I’m not really into anyone...”

“Perhaps you’re just young. You’ll definitely be growing in some..” The orange haired female eyes your body for a good minute, making you shift. “..areas real soon.”

“Right.. what about you?”

“Huh?”

You shift in your seat and made yourself comfortable on the cushion. “Is there someone you like?..”

Nami blinks before looking up and thinking for a moment. “..I guess there isn’t.” She answers and you raise a brow. “I thought you like Luffy..”

The navigator seems offended at the statement, recoiling at the thought. “Luffy’s a huge pain in the ass. And besides, like you said, we’re a family.”

The corner of your lips tug upwards slightly. “And Vivi?”

This shut the female quick, and you can see the pink tint of her cheeks. “Vivi’s a friend.”

“Well, that friend, most likely shares the same feelings.” You hum, looking straight at her calmly. “I mean.. you’re very beautiful. Everyone would love you.”

Nami’s eyes widens at the unexpected compliment from you, her heart feeling warm at that, but you didn’t notice.

You didn’t realize how much you ended up talking, your voice felt dry and sore in a way. Though for some reason, you didn’t mind.

You kind of enjoyed this time with Nami, despite only talking about possible crushes of yours.

Instinctively, you rub your throat and Nami notices, standing up and offering her hand. “Come on, we can talk more later. You’ve talked enough, I’ll take you to Sanji.”

“Are you sure? I figured you’d want to spend more time together..” you clear your throat and Nami just smiles gently.

“We have everyday to do so. Besides, I’m sure it’s been a while since you talked so much so I’m happy enough with what you gave me.” Nami says, helping you up and began leading you out.

“Time for you to spend time with someone else, and don’t worry, I’ll make sure the others don’t force you to talk and Sanji makes you something to help your throat.” She assures, making her way back to the kitchen, which didn’t take long.

“O-okay..” you nod, eventually making it to the door and Nami just opens it up, seeing only a few of the members, so some must’ve left.

The four in the room look up at the door and find you, instantly smiling at the sight of your form.

“Already done?” Chopper questions in confusion and Nami smiles. “I would’ve spent more time with them but there’s so many of us, so we should make it short and easy for them for today.”

Robin, Brook, Chopper and Sanji nod in agreement at their navigator and Robin smiles gently.

“So, who would you like to spend time with next?”

Nami nudges you to speak in front of them and you turn to Sanji.

“Uh..Er.. Is it okay if I spend some time with you?..”

Sanji widens his eyes, clearly a bit surprised but nonetheless, smiles in joy. “Of course, [Name]-chan!”

Nami then ushers the others out, the only one to sulk being Brook but Nami was quick to slap his skull.

The door shut closed and you awkwardly stood there, shifting your weight. You never spent much time with them, despite fighting battles alongside the crew, so you weren’t sure what to do or say.

Sanji, noticing your discomfort, smiles lightly and gestures for you to sit at the counter as he stood behind it, in the kitchen.

“So, [Name]-chan. Is there anything you want to drink?”

You look around the dining room, taking a good look since this was one of the first times actually being in here.

“..Tea?.. my throat kind of hurts...” you mumble, reaching up to rub your throat again and Sanji nods. “I know the perfect thing! Ice or hot?”

“[ Either one ].” You answer, shifting in your seat and making yourself comfortable a bit in the stool and watched as Sanji quickly went to work.

Watching him silently from the counter, you lean on your palm and thought for a minute.

What were you supposed to talk about?

You hardly knew much about them and isolating yourself from them let you absolutely awkward and unsure of what to say or do, so you hoped Sanji would do something.

But the poor blonde cook kept silent, figuring that’s what you’d prefer as he made your drink.

So you had to do it.

“Sanji?..”

The blonde hums gently, letting you know he was listening.

“Uh...so.. what’s for dinner?..”

Sanji stays silent for a moment, taking in the hesitation in your voice before turning around to face you. “.. Anything you want, [Name]-chan. What do you want to eat?”

You ponder a bit at his question before feeling your stomach growling at the thought of a particular food. “..Can you make [ Food ]? It’s from my homeland and.. it’s really good.”

Sanji’s eyes lights up and he grins widely. “I’d be honored to make a dish native to your homeland, [Name]-chan!” He deflates a little bit and leans back. “However.. I’m a little worried I won’t be able to make it as good. I know I have the proper ingredients though, I’m sure.”

Sanji’s been studying on his own time, with the small assistance of Robin, knowing she was also studying up by gathering information from your island.

You offer a small smile as Sanji turns to take the drink he made and set it in front of you. “It’s okay.. I trust that you can make it even better.”

Sanji widens his eyes at the sudden compliment and encouragement, feeling his heart warming towards his younger crew member.

You take the cup in hand and brought it up to your lips, taking a light sip of the beverage.

“I see.. in that case, we shall have [ Food ] for dinner tonight.”

Your smile widens just a little bit at his announcement and you continue drinking before seeing Sanji still staring at you. “What is it?..”

“Would you like to help me?”

You pause in your movement, eyes wide at his question. “You want me to help you? I can’t cook.” You furrow your brows at the suggestion.

I mean, sure you had some BASIC skills, but nothing as extravagant compared to Sanji.

“I’d love to show you! Besides, I’m sure you can also offer me some tips and suggestions on your home dish.” Sanji grins assuringly, bringing a small, comforted smile to your lips.

“Okay.”

And so, after handing you a spare apron and letting you prepare yourself as he got the ingredients set, the two of you got to work.

Sanji moving towards the cutting board, you point to the vegetables set out by him.

“You should start cutting these up.. they should be bite-sized.” You inform, Sanji nodding and quickly cutting up the given ingredients with ease.

While Sanji finished with that, you began to look for the pots and pans and after finding what you needed, you did what you needed, ( whether it’s boiling water, filling a skillet with oil, etc. ) and set it onto the stove to heat.

“[Name]-chan, I can handle the stove. I don’t want you to accidentally burn yourself with the fire or the oil, so I’ll leave the cutting and mixing up to you.”

Nodding your head, you move aside and let him take your place before moving towards the cutting board.

‘.. how can you cut vegetables so beautifully?..’ you sweatdrop and began preparing what you needed to do before looking around.

Your eyes widen a little in remembrance and realization and you set the items down before heading to the rice cooker. You open the lid and find the pot empty and pulled it out, looking for the rice grains.

It didn’t take long to find it, fortunately, so you began to put in a few cups, and with the amount of food you were bound to make for Luffy, more than four was needed, obviously.

You did what you needed to, plopping the pot back into the cooker to cook the rice before going to the cutting board.

“Sanji, should we.. cook the meat first or cut it first?..” You trail off, unsure yourself as you went over to the fridge to find the meat.

The blonde cook ponders for a second before speaking. “It’ll be best if we cut first, so we can cook it all a lot quicker.” You merely nod in response as you pull out the required meats and brought it over to a new cutting board set up.

“Do you know how to cut them?” Sanji inquires, turning to you, which you nod in response. “I mean.. it’s just cutting it into smaller pieces. Right?..”

Sanji chuckles. “Yeah, in a way..” He lowers the flame on the stove so the oil/water can sit before moving to your side. “Here, let me show you.”

And so, with another cutting board and knife, he teaches you the correct and efficient technique, explaining which parts to throw and which parts to save.

“And then you cut them up into this size and set it aside to use. Did that make sense?” You nod at him, making him smile as he returns back to the stove.

Prepping yourself, you began to cut the meats into bite sized pieces, getting rid of the unnecessary parts and discarding them into the trash, exactly like Sanji had explained to you.

‘This feels nice.. cooking with Sanji.. even if we aren’t talking, it’s kind of, comfortable..’

The tiny curve of your lips move upwards as you thought silently, but distracted thoughts flooded your head as you no longer became focused on cutting.

‘Maybe, I should ask to cook with him more often.. it’ll be great to learn and spend more bonding time with him.’

You were so lost in thoughts, you forgot what you were doing and suddenly hissed in pain.

The sound was loud enough to catch Sanji’s ears as he widens his eyes and turns in a panic. “[Name]-chan! Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just a cut..” you poke at the blood, watching it drip down a bit quickly. ‘Guess I cut more of my skin than I think, by the looks of it..’ you frown.

“Let’s get you to Chopper.”

“H-Huh?.. but I’m fi-“

Sanji wastes no time to pick you up, as if you broken an ankle, and began carrying you over to the medical office.

An inaudible sigh escapes you, you relaxing in defeat as you thought about the medical office.

Sure, you’ve hurt yourself plenty of times before, nothing too fatal but enough to need patching up from Chopper. You were always up and out of the office pretty quickly, so you were curious to what the room even looked like.

“Chopper.”

Sanji knocks twice before opening the door with ease and walks in, seeing the little reindeer at his desk. “Sanji, [Name]! Something wrong?” The chirpy reindeer asks, a smile wide on his face.

“[Name]-chan’s hurt.” Sanji explains briefly, setting you down gently onto the bed and you turn to the little doctor.

“It’s just a cut.” You bluntly state, showing your finger and Chopper smiles lightly. “Nothing serious, at least! We should go wash and get it bandaged before an infection comes though.”

You nod and stand back up to head to the sink in the office, Sanji offering a weak smile. “I’m sorry, [Name]-chan. You got hurt because—“

“Huh?” As you stop in your tracks and turn back to face the blonde, you peer up a bit and shake your head. “It’s not your fault... I just got lost in my thoughts.” You murmured out, turning away.

You turn back to the sink and began washing your hands. “You should keep cooking, Sanji.. I look forward to you making [ food ].” You sneak a glance back at Sanji and held a ghost of a smile to him. “Cheer up, okay?”

Sanji widens his eyes at your expression, before he lets out a relaxed smile and light chuckle. “Yeah.. I’ll get to it then.”

With that, the chef left you alone with Chopper, who returns with his supplies.

“All cleaned up? Head on over to the bed and sit again!” Chopper smiles and waddles over to the bed before hopping up onto the edge.

You follow after the tiny man and sat across from him, holding out your finger.

Chopper, who kept silent to focus, began to clean up the cut with alcohol and wrapped your finger into a bandage.

‘Guess now is a good time to spend time with him..’

“So.. you came from Drum Island.. right?..” You internally sigh for being so awkward around them. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah! It’s where I learned to study medicines from Doctorine!” Chopper excitedly claims, looking up from his task, which he finished.

“Doctorine? Oh.. you mean like your guardian?” You prodded at your finger a few times, seeing the wrapped bandage.

“Something like that. She taught me everything I know.” You nod at him and look to him. “Guess she must be a genius, since you know a lot. Right?”

Chopper widens his eyes at the compliment before waving you off with a scoff.

“Flattery doesn’t make me happy at all, don’t think you can fool me so easily~” Chopper sings, blushing as he danced on the bed.

Your eyes held a hint of amusement at Chopper as he calms down. “But you’re right. Doctorine is the best doctor I know.”

“I bet she is.” You stand up and dust your clothes, gesturing to your finger at the doctor.

“Thanks for patching me up, Chopper..” You watch the reindeer put on a wide smile and nods eagerly. “No problem! It’s my job!”

You pat his head lightly and nod, heading to the door. “I’ll get going then, see you later..”

With that, you exited the medical bay and shut the door behind you, wondering what you should do next.

‘Now what?.. Should i go back to Sanji to help?.. or should I find someone else?’

You wandered the upper deck aimlessly before making your way down to the main deck, where you found Usopp fumbling with something.

‘Hm. Usopp..’

You make you way over to the sniper, watching him suddenly jump up and cheer. “Eureka!” He hollers excitedly, startling you.

“Um.. did something.. happen?” You mumble, somewhat cautious as you step towards him.

Usopp jumps in fear when he hears you, before visibly relaxing and grinning determinedly. “Yeah, I finished my creation!”

He holds up his latest work, which seems to be an advanced archery bow.

The bow itself has an attachment that can carry arrows so you don’t require a separate bag, and it’s string seemed much more flexible to allow better accuracy and distance.

“Oh wow, that actually looks really cool..” you quietly awed, eyes widening in interest as Usopp chuckles eagerly.

“Right?! I’ve been working on it to better advance my stealth, since guns can be pretty loud, and slingshots can be tricky sometimes!”

He then smirks down at his bow and arrow in his hands and holds it up, readying an arrow upon the bow and aimed at the can that sat on the railing.

“But these bad boys are tipped with several of my ammo so I don’t need to grab the mini seeds anymore, since these arrows already have the affect!”

Usopp lets go of the arrow and it pierces the can with ease, knocking it into the ocean.

“Woohoo! Alright!” Usopp cheers, laughing hysterically. “Haha! I did it!!” He jumps around in joy, you watching with a slight smile. “Yeah.. you’re a brilliant inventor and sniper after all.”

Usopp pauses, eyes widening as he flushed a bit at the unexpected compliment, before snapping his head to you.

“You want to try, [Name]?” He smiles widely and held out the bow. “I can help you aim if you’d like!”

You thought for a bit before nodding, actually a little bit excited. “Yeah, sure. It looks really cool.”

Usopp felt his pride building up at your words and grins. “It is cool! Here, hold this and I’ll go set up the cans.”

Taking the bow, you inspect it closer with interested eyes. ‘I don’t remember the last time I touched a bow.. did I ever?’

Usopp returns quickly to your side and smiles, pointing to the cans. “Alright, [Name]. Now just hold up the bow, ready the arrow and take aim!”

You nod in understanding, steadying your arms and aimed directly at the center of the cans. Pulling back the arrow, you lined it up into position, going on Usopp’s count.

“Alright, and..... fire!”

You release your hold and watch the arrow shoot straight into the center and knocked itself into the ocean, like Usopp’s.

“I did it!” Your eyes widen and you smile to yourself. “That was awesome!” You turn to Usopp with bright eyes, but Usopp just laughs. “Nice shot!”

Usopp holds up his hands excitedly and you smile softer, hanging the bow onto your arm and high-fived him. “Yeah.”

“You sound like you’re having some SUUUPPERRR~ fun!”

The two of you turn to the source of voice and find Franky grinning at the two of you from below deck.

“Yeah, I just showed [Name] my latest creation and she just made a nice shot with my bow!” Usopp grins and Franky whistles. “Not bad, kid!”

The corner of your lips move upwards, a sheepish expression taking over your face. “Thanks..” you turn back to Franky and spoke. “What are you up to?”

“Ah, fixing something with The Sunny from down here. Almost done but it’s a little difficult, especially since I’m adding a new feature. Wanna check it out?”

You glance to Usopp, who nods that it was okay, and you return the bow, heading to Franky calmly.

“Yeah, sure.”

-

A/N : YAY, that took so long. I’m really happy with how this turned out, and I’m extremely excited to get to Zoro, Luffy and Brook’s interaction but unfortunately, I reached the limit so this is what happens, I’ll have to make a part 3. ;-;

Anyways, I’m so sorry for the long wait, I seriously hope this was worth the wait and that you look forward to the other’s interactions and then the final family interaction!! :DD have a lovely day/night, everyone ! <3

[robininthelabyrinth]

AU where all four sects take turns hosting the next generation of guest disciples, as they all have valuable things to teach - and they all start at Lotus Pier. Aka Lan Wangji being the visiting disciple in a place with entirely different rules and norms than he's used to. (Swimming lessons would be a bonus?)

Cloud Recesses, Gusu, age 15

“You don’t think they’re really going to make us wake up at mao hour?” Wei Wuxian whined. “Or sleep by the end of xu hour?”

“They’re not going to make us do anything,” Jiang Cheng groaned. “It’s just that activities will be ongoing when they’re awake, so if you miss them all by sleeping until si hour, that’s your problem. It’s not like we made them do anything when they were back at the Lotus Pier…”

“What are you talking about?” Nie Huaisang wanted to know. “You all most certainly made poor Lan-xiong stay up past his bedtime when he was visiting the Lotus Pier – and the same for the rest of us, too!”

Wei Wuxian, who had led most of the forcing-to-stay-up-late nonsense, coughed. “Yes, well…speaking of Lan Zhan, do you think he’ll be happy to see me?”

“No,” both Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang chorused.

-

Lotus Pier, Yunmeng, age 9

“You’re all going to have to do everything I say,” Wei Wuxian boasted, sticking his thumb back at himself. “Because I’m a Jiang disciple and you’re not.”

“That’s not how it works!” Jiang Cheng hissed, batting at him. “That’s not how it works at all, just stop talking –”

“Nice to meet you, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said happily. “Please take good care of me.”

“Nooooo, now you’re encouraging him…!”

“Who’s that?” Wei Wuxian said suddenly, eyes wide, and he pointed at a small boy in white jumping down from the sword of the adult he’d been flying with – gracefully descending from the sky, his white robes all fluttering around him, he looked like a beautiful crane diving down to catch a fish.

“Oh, that’s the Second Young Master Lan – he’s going to be part of our group,” Nie Huaisang said. “You think he’s fancy, wait until you see Young Master Jin, all covered in gold –”

“I’m going to say hello!” Wei Wuxian said, and rushed over.

“Well, that’s going to be a disaster,” Jiang Cheng said with a sigh, then looked at Nie Huaisang with a suspicious expression. “How good at you at swimming?”

“Uh. Outside a bathtub?”

“Good,” Jiang Cheng said, satisfied that unlike Wei Wuxian, these new visitors would not be inexplicitly excellent at all things – moving through water like a fish, taking to archery as if he’d always known it, even advancing his cultivation so quickly that he’d become equal to or even better than Jiang Cheng in the few months he’d been at the Lotus Pier. “I’ll teach you. Well, all of you, I guess. You can’t be at the Lotus Pier and not know how to swim.”

-

Unclean Realm, Qinghe, age 11

“I’ve put you two in this room,” Nie Huaisang said proudly. “It’s nice and big, with a good window, and it’s the furthest away from where I’ve put the Lan disciples.”

Wei Wuxian pouted. “They can’t still be mad about what happened last time?”

“They’re going to be mad forever,” Jiang Cheng said. “You tied up Lan-xiong with his own forehead ribbon! And you told him it was Yunmeng sect rules! We don’t even have sect rules in Yumeng!”

“I was only kidding…”

“Look on the bright side,” Nie Huaisang said hastily. “We don’t have a lot of rules at Qinghe, either – we have principles that everyone’s supposed to keep up with. As long as you can justify yourself as having intended to do the right thing, you’ll get listened to – though what actually results matters just as much, I guess. But there’s no rules against fighting!”

Two small eyes fixed on him at once.

“What do you mean, no rules against fighting?” Jiang Cheng asked, suspicious.

“Well, you’re supposed to challenge people properly, but as long as you tell them in advance that you’re going to start a fight with them and give them a little time to adjust, fighting is generally allowed,” Nie Huaisang said. “So if you want to start trouble with Jin Zixuan this time, you don’t have to pretend like you’re not starting trouble.”

“Really?”

“We’re very straightforward here in Qinghe.”

“I’m going to go punch him until shijie doesn’t like him any more,” Jiang Cheng said, sounding very pleased with the idea. “What do you think, Wei Wuxian? Wei Wuxian!”

“Huh? Oh, sorry, I was just wondering where Lan Zhan was, since he’s not on the training field.”

“Maybe he went hunting in the forest? As long as you stay inside the boundaries, you can do that whenever you like, too. Same with the caves –”

“Caves? You have caves? And we can explore them?”

“It’s not really exploring, you have to stay in the marked boundaries – ”

“It’s exploring when you go past them! I’m going to go see if Lan Zhan wants to explore them with me!”

“Leave him alone! Wasn’t it bad enough that you got him involved in stealing those lotus seeds last time? Now you want to go trespass past the boundaries and probably get lost –”

“We’re not going to get lost!”

-

Koi Tower, Lanling, age 13

“– and you’ve all been given maps to make sure none of you get lost,” Jin Zixuan concluded his introduction. “Unlike last time.”

“We didn’t get lost,” Wei Wuxian mumbled. “It was a camping trip. It just went a little longer than expected, that’s all.”

“There had to be a search party,” Jiang Cheng hissed at him. “Shut up.”

“I’m telling you, that wasn’t a real search party. Or, well, it was more party and less search –”

“Anyway, you’re all here at Lanling to learn from our Jin sect. Our values –”

“Being rich is a value?” Wei Wuxian wondered.

Jiang Cheng elbowed him, but Nie Huaisang giggled.

“– our traditions –”

“Being rich is a tradition?”

“– and history – ”

“Being rich is a – ow! Stop hitting me!”

“Then shut up!” Jin Zixuan snapped. “I didn’t say mean things about your Jiang sect when I was visiting!”

“You said so many mean things,” Nie Huaisang said.

“I – uh – ”

“It’s okay,” Jiang Cheng said, a little grudgingly. “You can still hang out with us instead of Wen Chao or your awful cousin.”

Jin Zixuan looked deeply relieved.

“I still can’t believe your dad invited them, anyway,” Wei Wuxian said. “They’re not even really our age.”

“So what is there to do here?” Nie Huaisang asked, changing the subject. “I heard there’s really good shopping.”

“Oh, definitely,” Jin Zixuan said. “You can buy anything you want, no limits.”

“No limits? Not even…?”

“We’re thirteen; we’re practically adults,” Jin Zixuan said. “We can buy anything.”

“Great,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “Now that you’ve said that, I would bet money that Wei Wuxian is going to buy someone a prostitute.”

“Why say someone?” Nie Huaisang said with a giggle. “He’s going to buy one for Lan-xiong –”

“I am not!”

-

Cloud Recesses, Gusu, age 15

“I’ll have you know that Lan Zhan and I have a very good relationship,” Wei Wuxian said. “Formed from many years of friendship.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not called friendship,” Jiang Cheng said. “More like…uh…Nie Huaisang, help me out here.”

“My brother says it’s flirting,” Nie Huaisang volunteered.

“Not that!” Jiang Cheng hissed even as Wei Wuxian turned red and started spluttering. “That is not what I meant!”

“Are you sure?” Nie Huaisang asked. “I’m just saying, because in the books –”

“The erotic art collection you started in Lanling is going to be the death of us all one day.”

“Say one more bad thing and I won’t let you borrow anything more.”

Jiang Cheng cleared his throat and shut up, his own cheeks red as well. “I was just saying –” he mumbled, and then Wei Wuxian interrupted, jumping up and down and waving his hands.

“Do you think Lan Zhan thinks I’ve been flirting with him?” he demanded. “Do you? And if he does - what does he think about me?”

[jojoboisimagines]

Johnny Joestar x Reader :: Wait for It :: Chapter 7

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Summary: Gyro is hospitalized, and now Johnny has no one to turn to. That is, until a former female rider shows him a little compassion. 

..::..

The atmosphere out in this grassy field felt much better to say the least. Probably the most comfortable you’d been throughout this whole race. No fighting, no people, and plenty of roaming space for your horse.  

You and your riding partner, aka Johnny, had mostly eaten your leftovers in silence. He had devoured the meal a lot faster than you thought he would. He’s still growing, you guessed.

Laughing to yourself earned a side-eye from him, before wiping his hands of all the leftover crumbs. Johnny heaves a content sigh, staring at the empty to-go box. The man did a couple of arm stretches, seems like the food really wore him out. Or made him sleepy.

Now that you had a chance to unwind today, you couldn't help but realize how calm he was around you. He wasn’t wary or suspicious of you as far as you could tell, and he wasn’t really pushing you away when having conversations. He was just..doing his own thing.

Perhaps he was too busy missing his riding partner to even attempt to start any real conflict on his own. 

Before you knew it, Johnny was back on his wheelchair, wheeling himself towards Slow Dancer to mount again. You were pretty much done with your own food as well. It was good, but not nearly good enough to start a bar fight for. 

Standing on your feet, you dusted any excess grass from your pants. You knew you were probably gonna miss this spot, but it was better to go ahead and move on. There was still a lot you needed to learn, according to your ‘mentor’.

A cool, satisfying breeze passed by as you walked back up to your horse Soarin’. It really was a nice day out. You glanced over to Johnny, but he wasn’t on his horse yet. Actually, it looked like he was a bit angry. Furious even, if his face getting slightly red was any indication. 

You looked up to see a familiar face, yet one you haven't seen since the beginning of the race. 

What was his name again, you thought...DJ...Damon...oh, Diego.

You had practically no idea who this guy was, aside from the fact he was British and had stolen the lead for the majority of the race. You didn’t particularly know him because he was a foreign racer, you mainly focused on the popular riders in your own country.

Yet it seemed like Johnny had some prior business with him, evident by him almost literally seething in his seat.

"The hell do you want, Dio, leave us alone!" He pointed at the taller man, hoping itd emphasize how he wanted him to back off.

"Hmm..Where is the Italian idiot anyway? It's almost strange seeing you without being latched to his side like a Chihuahua." Diego said, dismissively of Johnny's threat.

The ex jockey gripped the handle of his wheelchair so hard his knuckles might turn white in a matter of minutes. Though his face said something different, like he was trying to keep his cool but his body couldn't help but demonstrate his frustration.

He swallowed a lump in his throat.

"None of your business. Don't you have anything other to do than bother me?"

The Brit opened his mouth to say something else, before you caught his eye. The blue orbs quickly scanned you before looking back at Johnny.

"Oh? Having other racers aid you? Are you that desperate for help since you can't do anything alone?" 

Johnny sneered. Did this guy get off on confronting someone just to insult and degrade them? There was nothing stopping Johnny from punching Diego in the face (except for onlookers, which he could care less about honestly) so he wasn't sure where he thought his hubris would get him, but if Jojo has any say in it, it'll get him in the hospital.

He had been so far in his own mind after that remark that he hadn't even realized your presence beside him now. You had already spoken up before he got the chance to tell you it wasn't worth it.

"Actually, I'm not helping him, he's helping me." You corrected the arrogant man. 

Raising an eyebrow at you, he places a hand on his hip in a way that implies he really didn't care about what you said.

In that case, you wouldn't hold back either.

Dio puts his hand on his chest like a petty rich girl in high school.

"Who are you again? In all my time in this race I haven't seen you."

You knew that was a subtle jab about him being first and you being so far behind you were barely noticeable. Fists almost automatically balled up at that, but you'd control yourself for now.

"I'm sure you hardly look at anyone except your mirror. By now it's probably been splotched in horse manure by now, so really it's showing you what you've looked like all along."

Johnny snickers, and it's probably the cutest thing you've seen all day.

..in a friendly way of course.

His lip twitches, showing his teeth, a fang pointedly sticking out. Weird, you thought. You hadn't seen anyone with a fang in years.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dio tried to interrogate, but you weren't scared at all. In fact, you were just getting started on this guy.

"It means you look like horse shit, duh." Johnny answered, folding his arms. A small smirk still on his face.

“Watch it, Joestar.” Diego sneered. For someone who dished it out like second nature, he sure couldn’t take it. “One wrong move and I can ruin your standing in the race, AND your reputation--or at least, what’s left of it.”

You roll your (e/c) eyes. You’ve had enough of this guy, what was this, a playground?

“Dude shut up, if you want to prove anything then win the whole damn race and stop talking like you already have.” One more retort and you’ll fly off the handle at him.

Diego stays silent for a moment, before leaning in to your face, his nose inches from yours.

“I already have. You’re welcome to join me when you’re done playing in the mud with poor Jojo.” 

Before you could reply, he reeled back and turned on his heel. You wanted to punch him so bad, how dare he talk down to you and your friend like this..

“Don’t do it (y/n).” You hear Johnny behind you. “As much as I wanna see it happen, he’s not wrong about being able to sabotage both of us.” 

You grunted. “What could you possibly care about our ‘reputations’, Johnny? That was pure disrespect, and I can’t let it fly!”

“...”  He was looking at the ground now, seeming like he was trying to find whatever reason he could to prevent you from firing off. Johnny sighs.

“Look, I’ll be straightforward with you. I’m not in the race for money or status.”

You turned around at that, fairly confused.

“I’m in this race to..learn a technique from my friend, Gyro. I could care less about the stuff Diego desperately wants me to so he can have ammo to bug me with. However, you seem pretty set on trying to prove yourself that you can do this. I’ve seen it when we train.”

“..Seen what?”

Johnny pauses.

“Your determination. This is probably gonna sound dumb, but your eyes, they’ve been different. Like there’s some kind of fire in them now. Honestly, since joining this race, I can relate. Its part of why i’m still deciding to help you after you’ve..” His eyes become sarcastically half lidded. “Gotten me into almost two fights now.”

A scoff escapes your lips. What on Earth was this man saying anymore? Though you wouldn’t deny, it was a bit encouraging to hear.

The scoff was a bit off-putting to him, and he took another pause. He looked a little...flustered? You weren’t sure what that meant. Did you make him feel stupid on accident?

“That’s why...I’m not letting you take the chance to have Diego potentially ruin all your chances. This training would be for nothing.”

Something inside you suspected there was another reason, but you wouldn’t question it. Walking forward to him, you bent over to meet his eye level in his chair.

“Fine. I’ll beat up Diego after the race is over. Let’s get to our horses.” You take the wheelchair handles and starting walking towards Slow Dancer.

You couldn’t see it but, Johnny had a faint smile on his face.

[5lazarus]

The Old Gods of Serault

Wanderingly aimlessly through life after death, Felassan is offered a series of bad choices. Imshael guides his way through. A @black-emporium-exchange gift for RosellaWrites. Read the other works in the AO3 Collection here! Read the story on Archive of Our Own here.

Death, Fen’Harel has always said, is but the next adventure, which is the wonderful sort of thing immortals say but do not truly mean. Felassan, being dead, is mostly bored. There is not much to do when you are sundered from your body. Felassan drifts across Thedas and wonders: why the fuck did the Forbidden Ones lose a whole war for this. He sorely misses his physical form.

In the Crossroads he attempts to get Briala’s attention from his place stuck between Fade and Waking Plain, but alas! The People are sundered from their own senses since Fen’Harel raised the Veil. She does not notice him. He amuses himself for about a week, following her around. Then she picks up a new lover, this time thank Mythal not a human, and he decides it’s time to leave her alone.

In the Dales he runs into Mihris. She spits on him and shoots him with lightning, which hurts, and laughs when he screams. He can taste the ozone in the air as she readies another thunderbolt, which would surely shatter the last remnants of his spirit-consciousness. For all that he misses his body, he likes being around to watch things happening.

Felassan thinks fast, and then moans loudly. “Oh!” he cries. “Do that again.”

Mihris lowers her staff. “By the Dread Wolf, you like that?”

Felassan moans to hide the laugh building in his throat. “I just want to feel alive again!” It comes out more plaintive than pleading, but it does its job. In disgust Mihris leaves him, and prays that the Dread Wolf takes him.

“Been there, done that,” Felassan says to her back. “Nothing to write home about.” That is, of course, a lie, but a dead man has his pride. Besides, having no flesh, he is no longer concerned with the demands of the flesh. He sighs, considering what joys he has lost, and moves on.

In Serault he has more fun. The Veil is thin there, so it is easier to interfere with daily life, and Felassan has always enjoyed being a public menace. He whispers revolution in the very exciting dreams of the Well-Read Pig-Farmer. He makes the shadows dance in the Serault glass the Scornful Sorceress attempts to unlock. She has the taint of Mythal in her, he notices: poor soul. However much she plays at making eluvians, she will never have control over where they take her.

In the workshop, Felassan remarks, “Don’t worry, da’len. The Dread Wolf will set you free, and you’ll live to complain about it.” She does not even look up. Mortals are so very dull sometimes. The interest lies, of course, in how they grow and change, over countless generations. Felassan hadn’t been as interested in the petty wars of the dwarves and men as Fen’Harel had been, and it is funny in a deadly sort of way that this is the hill he chose to die on. He looks at the Scornful Sorceress and murmurs, “Come on. Be a little more fun.”

She gets herself banished from Serault but runs off with the glassworks anyway, and Felassan laughs the whole while, following her trail into the Applewood. The Tirashan has always been weird. The apples guarding the outskirts are new, and not nearly as intoxicating as the ones Sylaise’s people cultivated, but still Felassan trails a hand through the leaves and the giddy red fruit. He can almost taste them. He cannot, of course, so he sits down next to Mythal’s odd daughter and watches her chomp down on apple after apple with vicarious enjoyment.

“Oh, you’re going to make yourself so sick,” he says, amused. “Too much knowledge, da’len. You can’t binge it like that.”

The Fade-memories of the Applewood take her at once, and she shrieks as she begins to hallucinate through all the different hunts. Felassan watches for a bit. The memories leave her sensible enough to drink and shit, and once she begins to recover, he wanders deeper into the woods. Fade-touched fruit has always been used for initiates; the Scornful Sorceress seems to be tripping over rituals that will always overwhelm her. It is a shame that the preparation has been lost. It means the knowledge is gone, too.

Deeper in the woods the Veil thins, and Felassan begins to feel skin again. The leaf litter of the forest is springy under his feet. He draws in an impossible breath. The air tastes hungry, sucking greedily at his lungs. He flickers, aching, and then shakes his hands out. There is another person’s will at work here, threatening his thoughtform.

“Hey,” he calls into the deepening woods. “Who’s there?”

Imshael comes sauntering out of the twilight. He wears the body of the Seneschal of Serault: hair close-shaven, face unremarkably middle-aged, the frame fleshy but not in the way. Felassan groans. He likes Imshael, he really does, he’s always enjoyed partying with the Forbidden Ones—but it’s better when sacrifice is codified. This age ignores all their laws, and Imshael is happy to exploit those loopholes.

Imshael cocks the body’s eyebrow and says, “Dread Wolf got your tongue?”

Felassan says gloomily, “A fucking lightning strike.” He does not tell him that Fen’Harel is still too weak to banish and disintegrate spirits in the Fade. He likes Imshael, he really does. He’s always enjoyed how the disembodied spirit manages to claw his way through history, better than the rest of them from Arlathan, really. He respects the impulse for chaos—but the wanton destruction, the entrain-arrangement, and general lack of empathy? If Fen’Harel deems it necessary to disintegrate the will that is Imshael, Felassan will not complain.

Imshael says, “Tut, tut. Serves you right for believing the Old Wolf’s lies. This age is so much meaner than when we were young.” He stretches the body’s grin a little too wide for its face, pulling the edges of its mouth back as if he had stuck fishhooks in the corners. “I love it. People are so much more desperate than they were under Mythal’s justice. And there are so many new ways to entice them—not just the old ‘power, riches, virgins’ trick, I can offer them ‘lost knowledge.’ Like crop rotation.”

Felassan says, “You know about crop rotation?”

Imshael shrugs.

Felassan begins to laugh. Of course Imshael doesn’t know about crop rotation. Felassan doesn’t know anything about crop rotation. They’re spirits now, why the fuck would they know about crop rotation? He says, admiringly, “By the Dread Wolf, you are such a dick.”

Imshael says, “I don’t even need to try anymore. With your old master breaking out of the Fade, I just get to kick back, relax, and let the choosers come to me.” He forces the left eyelid of the corpse he inhabits to twitch a wink; the muscles pull at the distorted smile. Imshael lets the face relax. “Bodies—so many choices, so many little muscles to twitch! How did you handle it, having one all the time?”

Felassan says truthfully, “I didn’t think about it much.” He misses the choices he could make, to stretch his legs by the fire in the heady woods at night, to stick his fingers into loamy soil and smell the hungry earth, to edge his teeth along another person’s bottom lip. He places a finger where his lips once were, but of course he has no fingers anymore, just his own thoughtform.

“Careful,” Imshael says, dead eyes glinting. “Too much thought and you’ll break.”

Anxiety laces through him, because thought is all he has and thought keeps him whole, and in the worry he feels himself disintegrating in the old wood of the Tirashan. The scent of apples grows stronger, alcoholic, sick fermentation in blood that he no longer has—and then he remembers: Imshael is fucking with me. He wants to strike a deal. All that I have are my choices; Imshael shall not take those away. Flurrying into himself, Felassan stretches out his edges and feels the forest shift around him. The Tirashan is older than he is. The wood whispers: mine.

Felassan says, “Is that why you stuck yourself in that body? To keep the Tirashan from taking you? I quite like the Applewood, actually. Feels a bit like home.”

Imshael says, “Home that eats us alive, yes. Some of the old gods still linger, my friend.” There is a smile in his voice but he leaves the body alone. “Fen’Harel isn’t the only big thing coming. You can feel it, can’t you. That’s what drew you to the Applewood. What was once lost is no longer Forgotten.”

Felassan really has had enough of egregious poeticisms. He says, a bit testily, “What do you want, Imshael? Why are you here? Are you saying I was drawn here? Nothing compells me.”

Lacing roots ground him and the woods expand with one earthy exhale, and even Imshael’s body react electrically as the leaf litter wraps around its ankles. The Horned Knight eases out of the old tree.

Felassan breathes, “Daern’thal.”

The Horned Knight inclines his head and says, “One aspect.” The Forgotten Ones were driven to the edges of the map long before Fen’Harel raised the Veil and threw the world into catastrophe. This aspect of the old god, Daern’thal, has found refuge in the Applewood. Felassan is afraid. He would have been afraid even if he had a body, even if the Veil had not been raised. He never met the gods without Fen’Harel to protect him. Imshael is an interesting substitute.

Daern’thal has chosen the shape of a wooden man, echoing the humans who have driven his worshippers into the shadows of the glens. Halla horn bursts from his forehead. Rather than deal with the issue of mortal mucosity, the Forgotten One has placed eyes of fish scale and snakeskin into the indentation of his sockets. Thin bands of fungal mycelium bind his limbs together. Lust stirs in Felassan’s heart. He can make himself a body like that, if only he could learn how.

Imshael smiles.

One does not refuse an invitation from a god, even a Forgotten One. Felassan pushes against Imshael’s receptical’s shoulders, testing the electric nervous system of the dead flesh, but Imshael pushes against him.

“Only room for one,” he says flatly. “Unless?”

“Nah,” Felassan says. “I’m good here, thanks.” He follows the shambling corpse to the hall of the Horned Knight, a round tower in a narrow glen, dark and wet with green.

“Heartwood Court,” the Knight says, and bids them enter. The upper floors have partially collapsed into each other like dominos after they have been flicked, and Felassan stares nervously at stars glimmering between the leaves of the flowering roof. Of course, these mortal worries are beyond him. Wood and stone can do him no harm. At the center, indeed of the heart of the hall, grows a great tree, whose autumn-colored canopy provides some cover. Felassan sees a star twinkle, and then burn out: not enough.

The grass shines, dusted with shards of an old mirror. The Horned Knight has laid blankets of moss over toppled pillars, a facsimile of a great table. His servants gather, enthralled to his Will. Moss grows within their eyes and flowers bloom from their skin, patterned in the same tattooed ropes of the vallaslin.

Felassan touches the plush moss and is surprised when the moss pushes back. The Veil is thin here. He sits, suddenly ravenous. Daern’thal has hacked his way from the Void and back into the Waking World and made himself a body of earth and scale. If he can learn, he can stretch again. He can taste. He can bite. Imshael settles next to him, monstrously smug.

Felassan says, “You did this on purpose.”

“You’re welcome,” Imshael says. “Consider it a thank-you gift, for making sure I didn’t waste my time tormenting little Mihris. Here, it’s so much more fun. Subtler choices to make, with a much longer reach.” Their arms brush. Felassan starts at the touch.

He says, desire in his voice, “The Veil is very thin here.”

At the center of the great table the Horned Knight arranges himself, in a throne hewn of apple-wood. Glorious smells intoxicate the air: meat fresh-roasted over a well-loved fired, basted in its own blood. Saliva comes to Felassan’s mouth, and he swallows and licks his lips. Silent servants shuffle woodenly by the table, bearing a grotesque boar with its death scream still echoing in its mouth. Imshael reaches for the apple in its mouth and plucks it out. He offers it to Felassan.

Felassan says, “No. Not yet. No.”

Imshael smiles. “Not yet. But soon.” He lays it between Felassan’s hands, slowly gaining solidity. Felassan clenches his fists. Imshael is looking at him up from through his eyelashes. It would have a more charming effect if the body he occupies weren’t clearly dead.

There are rules of hospitality that must be followed. One does not eat before one’s host. Imshael wants him to; Imshael enjoys violation, the breaching of taboo. Felassan likes the bend and breach too, but it is easier to navigate in the Fade, where everything is up for debate. He watches his host. The Horned Knight burns with the old fire of the Forgotten Gods. The Veil warps around him, and the discordance of the waking and the dreaming syncopates into the beat of a living, muscled heart. Daern’thal figured it out. He lives, without a body, a thing of muscles and spells. He does not need to will every pump of blood. Imshael and Felassan gaze upon him with mutual lust.

“My guests,” he says. “Old countrymen from a country that exists only in our worst dream-rambles. Imshael Choice-Bringer I know has poached in my wood these two season. Small prey I grant him.”

Felassan sneaks a glance at Imshael. The corpse looks sour.

“Small prey,” Imshael rumbles. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

If Felassan had a consistent face, he would grin at that. He does like Imshael, after all. Who else would think to take on a remnant of a Forgotten One, in his own hall? What is he going to do, offer him a choice?

“And you, Slow Arrow, dropped from the Dread Wolf’s quiver, broken but undecayed. Piecemeal but awaiting restoration. Unbodied the both of you. Living not-death, I welcome you the same.”

Talk why do you do like that, Felassan thinks. Not even Solas got that bad. A flash of anger runs through him, and he is surprised to see his hands clench, and then they are gone. The moss lays undisturbed on the ruined pillar that is the table. He smells the dinner, he does not smell it. One does not need sensation for an appetite. He hungers. Imshael smiles.

Out of the corpse’s mouth Imshael says, “You’ve guarded the Tirashan well against the Evanuris and their lapdog. A shame this hall’s in ruins. What happened? Don’t you miss your temples?”

“The People worship us enough,” the Horned Knight says calmly. He carves a slice from the spit and places it on a golden plate. “Those the Evanuris would have seen erased have writ themselves large on the landscape. I am, in eternity, lord of these woods.” He has started speaking subject-verb-object again, Felassan notes. He is irritated. The Forgotten Ones were always easy to wind up. Then he realizes—

“What meat is that?” Felassan asks faintly. “Boar?” He hopes it is not halla; even the most degraded of their descendants still hold their kin sacred.

The Horned Knight’s fish scale eyes gleam in their own dark fire. He repeats, “The People worship us enough. They understand sacrifice, how to wear and tear ’til blood seeps into the Dreaming and yanks it awake.”

The Horned Knight passes the plate to Imshael, who passes it stiffly to Felassan. He catches it, flesh rapidly outlined, and places it onto the moss-tablecloth. A servant across the room smiles vacantly; the same moss that adorns the table covers her eyes. Onion flowers dot down her face in the slash of an X. Her skin is coated in red ochre. She does not taste of the Tirashan. She stinks, but not terribly, of Mythal. It is the Scornful Sorceress, Mythal’s troublesome little daughter. That means there is a limit to the Horned Knight’s reach; while he can eat and he can drink, he cannot smell. He does not know the presence of other gods.

Imshael and Felassan look at each other for a long moment. Wordlessly they agree, and let the girl be.

The Horned Knight cuts himself a prime slice and takes a bite. His teeth are the spiraling arms of living crinoids, tearing at the cooked flesh. His tongue is a flash of autumn leaf.

Imshael whispers, “Well? Aren’t you going to eat?”

Felassan whispers, “Aren’t you?”

“I don’t have a digestive system anymore.”

“Well, I’m dead. I don’t either.”

Imshael says, “Do you really think Daern’thal is living? Death eating death. How much of him is simply the Tirashan’s mycelium? Sacrifice won’t keep you whole for long.”

The dryad servants sway in time with the rustle of the leaf-wind. A woman with willow for hair pulls out a bone flute and begins to play. Richly the notes come like a sunset, winding around him like a drink. He is hungry for a body. Daern’thal has one. Perhaps he can share. It is about time he begins killing gods, rather than letting them kill him.

Imshael says, “Good choice.”

Felassan says fondly, “Get the fuck out of my thoughtform.”

The Forbidden One laughs, a rictus of death. The sacrifice steams on the plate over the altar. Neither of them eat. The servants are singing now, in the tree’s breath. First a rumble comes deep from their throats, then the rising chorus of sun and sugar, salt and carbon, bark and heart’s wood. They sway like young birches in the bite of winter’s breeze. He knows the steps and would dance it, if he had feet.

“Dead man’s shuffle?” Imshael offers.

Felassan says, “No.” He can do better than piggybacking off a decaying corpse, tricking mortals into giving up their form and discarding them as soon as they begin to rot. He watches the Horned Knight eat. It’s horrible, but it is living. He says, “I want that body.”

Imshael says, “Good choice.”

The Scornful Sorceress is not quite swaying in time with the others. The moss covering her eyes is thinner. A flower has fallen from the X-shaped vallaslin. Quick, Felassan thinks. Quick. Make your choice before it’s made for you. Don’t be like me.

The Horned Knight says, “My horn. Let us drink, and trade a story for a story, a boon for a boon.” The living wood comes forth bearing a lyrium-laced drinking horn in the shape of a silver halla, legs folded. Around the rim a scene is wrought, of a dying god clawing his way out of the Void to return to the Tirashan. The god becomes the wood, his body woven by the network of fungal decay that keeps the hivemind of the trees living and speaking. He says, “I was a spirit and I was a god and once I was a mere elf, running to the shelter of a Tirashan. The woods took me into their heart. Daern’thal made this horn, to safeguard against the Old Wolf’s tricks. I drank from it. We persist. What are your stories, my countrymen?”

Imshael says, “I refused to be limited by the boundaries of a body. A singular outline defers choice. I am Opportunity and I am Envy. Without a body, I can be both. The choice is yours.”

Felassan says, “Yes. I was the Dread Wolf’s Slow Arrow, the last-ditch plan he broke. I lost my body, but where there is thought, there is form. I am still living. I will persist. What do I need to do, to drink from that horn?”

Imshael smiles. The ochre woman is not even swaying at all.

The Horned Knight says, “You may drink of it only if you stay to the truth of your name. The Veil is breaking. Old magic returns, beyond what we have hidden in the Applewood. I grant you both this life if you stay true to it. Remain Imshael, the impossible choice. Stay the Slow Arrow, which flies the course.” The bark-cut mouth twists into a smile, fossil-teeth bared. “But know this. Once you drink of it, you are of it. The Tirashan has its due. You may remain distinct, but the mycelium persists. You are Felassan, but you will become the Tirashan too.”

Felassan pushes away the plate of flesh. He says, “Would I be able to leave the woods?

The Horned Knight smiles again. He says, “We know what is to come. What is to say that in the end, there will be anything but the woods?”

Fen’Harel is coming to break every chain. Fen’Harel is taking down the Veil and restoring Arlathan and its dark woods. The time of the quicklings is coming to an end. Slow magic, eating away at life, survives, neither flora or fauna.

Felassan says, “No,” and the ochre-servant snatches the horn from the Horned Knight’s wooden hands and sprints out of the hall, shifting into a massive bear. Imshael cackles with laughter. He says, “That’s no choice at all. Careful, there. You’ll put out Imshael out of a job.”

Imshael smiles. “And that’s no choice at all.”

[yato-sensei]

Five of the most relatable anime villains

So over the past couple of weeks, we have been flooded with images of cosplayers at Comic Con and various events, where they were not only dressed as their favourite heroes, but as their favourite villains. It started to make us think about why people dress up as these characters and why they resonate with them. Yes, some villains are just evil personified, having no emotion and simply wanting to take over the world. But some villains in anime have a deeply rich backstory and have amazing relatable backstories. They might want to destroy humanity (which we don’t agree too of course) but there is some complexity to them. We might not agree to everything that they do, but we can still relate to how they feel on some level.

Anime offers some of the best-written villains you will ever see in fiction, offering the viewer a more vividly realistic world that is not simply black and white. These memorable characters stick in our heads because they have personalities and characteristics that are simply relatable. Below we have listed a roundup of our favourite villains that have stuck in our head over the years - but of course there are hundreds of amazing villains with extremely interesting motivations and circumstances.

1) Isabella (Mom) from The Promised Neverland.

Despite the final season being terrible thanks to its terrible delivery of the source material, the development of Isabella’s character is quite interesting.

We’ve included her in this list as she has become one of the most controversial and talked about characters in the anime fandom. It might be well over two years now that the show ended, but fans are still debating the true meaning of her actions. But in our opinion, she had a job to do. She couldn’t refuse. If she told the demons no, they would have just killed her straight away and brought in another mom. Isabella did everything in her power to stop the children from escaping and getting killed too early, she didn't refrain from mental and physical punishment either. She 100% believed that there was nothing she could do to change things.

There was so much love at Grace Field House from both the child and mom. You could see that she cared for her children deeply. And while we can’t agree with the physical and mental abuse she caused the children – In order to survive, she had to do things she didn’t want to. She was in a tough situation.

2) Tsukasa Shishio from Dr Stone#

Now this is a character we’ve seen a lot over the last few years at Comic Con. You can instantly relate to this character. Tsukasa has good intentions and at his core, he is a good person. But you can see that his viewpoint of life is vastly different from the main character Senku. While Senku has a deep devotion towards humanities scientific endeavours and achievements, Tsuakasa’s has his sights on a different future. After having to fight people to pay for his sisters’ medical bills, Tsuakasa believes we need a new world without technology, where younger people can start again and have a fresh, fair life.

Yes he goes about it the wrong way, but deep down, Tsuakasa represents the percentage of the world who has lost faith in not only science, but humanity itself. As the divide between the rich and the poor grows larger each day, we are now seeing more and more reports of corruption within society. Do we need a new world order? Do we need to do something drastic to make change? We don’t know.

Either way, Tsuakasa’s character is an interesting one. Yes, his methods might be a bit extreme, but there is something about him that resonates with the fandom.

3) Madara Uchiha – Naruto Shippuden

So Madara Uchiha was the main antagonist of the show until the master plan of Black Zetsu was revealed, whose title was then passed on to Kaguya.

If we end up writing a top ten of the most badass anime characters in the next few months, Madara would feature at the top ten. Early in the series, he was seen as this hyped-up bad guy with no real back story and just generally an evil dude. But the motivation behind this character is revealed later and you can see why he wants to change the war-loving shinobi world from hell to heaven. Yes, his methods are a bit extreme, putting the world into a GenJutsu with the Infinite Tsukuyomi. But each person would then make their dreams a reality. His actions were drastic, but his intentions were stemming from the need for peace, albeit from a bloody and controlling way. 

4) Zeref – Fairy Tail

As one of Fairy Tail's main antagonists, Zeref is portrayed at the start of the series as the most powerful and evil mage to ever exist, and a practitioner of dark, forbidden magic. He created numerous demons that killed many innocent people and destroyed many countries. You would believe that he was truly evil.

But Zeref, however, was not evil by choice. When the dragons killed his family, Zeref tried every form of magic to revive his dead brother Natsu. As a result, he was cursed with immortality. Furthermore, anyone who chose to get close to him was killed as part of his curse. Having no chance of death, Zeref and his lover Mavis became Achnologia's tormented playthings. So, Zeref wanted the power of Mavis to kill Achnologia.

Within his darkness there is a deep layer of tragedy and sin, which makes Zeref a character of interest. Even after creating demons, they were not good enough to defeat him. He even managed to resurrect his brother as a demon called E.N.D, but in the end, it was love that killed him.

5. Scar - Fullmetal Alchemist

There is no doubt that Scar remains a sympathetic yet terrifying anime villain, regardless of which version you watch. He is introduced as a cold-hearted killer who has a mission to kill State Alchemists with his powerful right arm.

But as the show progresses, you start to learn about the tragedy of his people. Scar is a survivor of the genocide of his people, the Ishvalans, who whom were exterminated by the Amestrian army (who the State Alchemist work for). You soon work out that Scar is driven by revenge, and while he is not without his own sins, his hatred of State Alchemists is understandable considering everything that has happened.

Rather than letting revenge consume his life, Scar ultimately comes to regret his actions, as he realises hate begets hate and holding onto a grudge serves no purpose. While slaying the Rockbells (war doctors) was clearly unjustified, you can kind of see why he went after the soldiers, especially as one of the people to have died was his brother.

Obviously, murder is wrong, but could you relate if you lost family and friends?

Thanks for reading,

Daydreamer & Moonflower

[internalsealpanic]

Love Through the Ages (Tim Drake)

Summary:  Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part two of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots.  Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans.  I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist. 

You watch the rusty green of the warehouse wall disappear behind a spray of orange paint. There is nothing more satisfying than watching paint make old things new. 

A whistle interrupts your reverie, making the can slip from your hand. You swear, the harsh syllables echoing in the empty air. The can bounces down the scaffold and lands in someone’s hands. Tim’s face gets sprayed with a mist of orange. He makes a noise and rubs at his face. You bark out a laugh and he grimaces at you. The begrudging fondness obvious on his face. 

He waves at you, eyes still stinging from the paint. Giddiness flourishes in your chest. “I knew I’d find you here!” He shouts in a dialect of Mandarin that you hadn’t heard in ages.

It takes you a moment to understand him. You’re honestly extremely rusty. It takes you another moment to realize that it made no sense for him to find you. “How?” You shout back in Romanian. 

Tim shakes his head, throwing his hand over his shoulder. “Open canvas.”

You snort, looking down at him. Tim’s breath catches as he stares up at you, your smile. You’re haloed by sunlight. You look like an angel descending from heaven.

Tim’s forced to pick up his jaw when he hears your voice again. You’re tapping your watch. The words are lost to him.

“What?!”

You shake your head, strands of hair coming loose from behind your ear. “I asked...” You shout in a coarse frawl. “... Isn’t it a bit early for you to be here?”

It was. 

He was only 30 minutes early. No big deal. 

He shrugs. “I just wanted to watch you paint.” He says, trailing off. Oh God, Tim thinks. Does he sound lovesick? Is Cassie right? He pushes the thoughts down, opting to look at the building instead. On the side of the building was an immaculate portrait of the Red Hood rendered like a saint, haloed in golden light and surrounded by your orange marigolds. It would look at home in any grand cathedral. Your talents never ceased to amaze him.

“Should I ask why you’re defacing a building?”

You turn back to the building picking up a can of yellow paint. You tilt your head. “It’s a massive improvement, yes?”

Tim looks around. The pavement is littered with wet trash mixed. The buildings were rusted. Everything else is covered in grime. “You’re rude…  but not wrong.”

You preen, electing to ignore the first half. You turn back to your canvas before Tim can get another word in. He knows he’s lost you. 

“So, why *the* Red Hood?” 

You look away from the portrait, setting the can of yellow spray paint. It sprays your sweatshirt and Tim laughs. You stick your tongue out at his face flushing. You liked this sweatshirt. He gave it to you the last time you had meandered into Gotham. “Why not? We’re in the Bowery. He’s like a saint here.” You snip, switching to Russian. Ok, that made sense. You toss your sweatshirt into Tim’s face. The fabric is lousy with the smell of paint and of 5-hour energy drinks. It was an improvement over the pungent odor of garbage. 

He tries to rub the orange paint on his face away before he tucks your sweatshirt beneath his arm. You’re still looking down at him, wry amusement on your face. “I’ll paint your beloved Red Robin when I get to China Town. Heard he was quite popular in those parts.”

Tim’s heart flutters.  He stutters out his next question. “Why are you using spray paint for this type of illustration?”

“Kon said I couldn’t do it.”

Tim snickers, “As if Kon could tell the difference.”

You frown only realizing your mistake. You curse under your breath. Tim doesn’t stop laughing at you. “Shut up!” You snarl.

Tim dodges the next paint can you throw but the next one hits him square in the face. You grin triumphantly. Tim raises a middle finger at you and you giggle in response. You feel bad, seeing him wince in pain. You’d buy him apology tea later but for now, you clasp your hands and call out to him sweetly. “Sorry, Timmers!”

Tim, equally as mature and well aware that you’re only half sorry, blows out a breath, muttering something colorful before shouting back: “we should get going if we wanna eat out after looting the museum.”

At that, you launch yourself off the scaffolding, your body feeling weightless as it falls. Tim drops your sweatshirt as he holds his arms out to catch you. He catches you easily. You two spin as you wrap your arms around him. 

“You are certifiably insane.” He laughs. His nose smooshed against yours. 

“And so are you.” You snort, hugging him. 

He hugs you back. You hum so softly into his hair that Tim wouldn’t be able to tell it from a breath if he were human.  Tim holds you close, hugging your waist tightly. He doesn’t really want to let you go. You don’t either.  You and Tim stand there for a bit when you hear his cell beep. 

“Why does your phone sound like a pager?” 

“Because Babs told me how to.”

“That literally explains nothing.”

“I’m not taking crap from the gremlin who had ‘Baby Shark’ as their ringtone for 12 months. WILLINGLY.”

You pout at him, your face so close to his. Tim’s only half paying attention to your defense. To be fair, it basically boiled down to ‘it isn’t that bad’ and ‘Bart’s ringtone is worse’. 

After a short shopping trip and a cab ride later, you arrive at the museum in fresh clothes and less paint on his face for Tim. 

“All the World’s a Stage. They botched it! The nerve! The barbarity of it all. It's just like when they botched ‘Words with Friends’ or ‘In Ice We Trust’ or even ‘Tomcat’. That last one was pretty much gift wrapped for them!” You say throwing up your hands nearly hitting Tim and whatever poor bastard was unlucky enough to be behind you. 

“For someone who isn't invested in modern media, you're getting fired up.” Tim chuckles, eyes flickering behind you. You had managed to miss the people behind you but you do have a rather conspicuous space behind you. 

“They had such good material to work with”  you say, gesticulating wildly. “And- and they butchered it.”

“You need a 5 minute breather?” Tim asks, resting a hand on your back. 

 “Shut up,” you laugh.

Tim grins at you as if he had no idea what this ultimate betrayal feels like. 

Determined to prove him wrong, you say : “C'mon, Timothy,  you ranted like this when they botched the star thingy.”

“It’s Star Wars, you heathen.”

“Star. Thingy.” You repeat, crossing your arms. 

Tim squints at you. You know he’s not gonna blow up at you but somehow that’s scarier. 

“You can pay for your own cab later.” He grumbles. 

“Star. Thing-Y.” 

Tim turns to leave. This always worked. Always without fail, you grab at his hand, lacing your fingers with his. Tim tries not to smile.

“Fine.”

“Was that so hard?”

“It was excruciating actually.”

“You're being dramatic.” He says, showing the woman behind the ticket counter your passes. 

“Excuse me, I left all my drama in the Renaissance.”

“Oh really?”

“Ok not really but admit that both Andromeda and Stars, Forgive Me have better writing.“ You bite out.

 “I- That’s unfair,” he says. You raise your brow in response. 

“...”

“Fine,” he sighs. “But admit that Andromeda should have been named ‘Space Whores’.”

You squint at him then smile. “Oh abso-posi-tute-ly.”

 “Have you seen this dirty old hockey mask?” You ask, tapping the glass as if the hockey mask would react if you just agitate it enough. 

 “What is that?” Tim asks, looking over your shoulder. His brows crinkles when he sees the mask. “How is that romantic?”

You hum. “Ask the curator?” You suggest, looking around. He was usually out and about. He could never sit still even if he tried. You lean down narrowing your eyes at the plaque. “Says here some dude called Jason terrorized 3 kids over summer.”

“That’s very romantic for our Jay to do.” Tim says, crossing his arms and switching to Cantonese. It was a weird habit but you knew why. Apparently for all Jason’s skill in languages he somehow could not get a handle on Cantonese. 

 “Not that Jason.” You say, smirking. 

“You sure?” Tim asks, leaning closer to you. 

You snicker,  “As in character as that would be...”

“True,” he says, edging closer and closer to you. You rock on your heels nervously at the proximity. “It’s a shame, I thought there would be a machete to match too…” You can feel Tim’s breath on your cheek. 

“OH LOOK AT THIS.” You say twisting away and pointing to a black and white photo. Tim’s hands leave his sides to grab for you, to pin you to his chest, but he has enough self control not to. Instead, he follows you.

“It’s just a man and a woman in business suits. Yanno something you can see in any metropolitan city.”

“Yes but,” you say, tracing a nonsensical pattern into the air, “I’ve heard a story about this, they were both extremely rich and heads of their companies, went from enemies to lovers - my all time favourite.” 

Tim looks closer at the photo of the man and woman with their backs to the camera just holding hands along the NYC sidewalk. It’s cute. “I thought your favorite was lovers to enemies.”

“Well of course, it is! The drama, the absolute tragedy. It’s better than any trope in existence. But I love that this is just black and white. You don’t need anything else to indicate they’re in love with each other.”

Tim is all too tempted to point out that that likely wasn’t intentional, that it was a limitation of the time, but the look in your eyes robbed him of his breath, so he swallowed his thoughts. 

Your eyes rove over the room frantically in search of something. 

“So is there any reason you wanted to go to this exhibit instead of watching lavalantula 10 in theaters?” Tim says, tapping another case. 

You turn to look at him, shock etched into your features.“10? We've seen lavalantula 1 through 9 in theaters? Why did I agree to that?”

“Cus you love me?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Probably not.”

Tim gives you a hurt look. 

You scowl at him. You have no idea why everyone thinks he’s the nice Wayne sibling. He is a manipulative little shit who plays you like a fiddle. And yet here you are falling for it. An absolute buffoon. 

You grumble an apology under your breath before continuing. “This is more cultural Timmers and lord knows we need more culture.” You wave sarcastically. 

“I think we've lived enough culture.”

“it cannot hurt to experience more Tim,” you snort. He rolls his eyes. You grab onto his arm and look up at him bright eyed. Two can play it at that game. “Please Tim....”

He scowls at you. “Fine-”

“Yes!”

“-but you owe me a movie marathon.”

“Fine. Fine,” you nod, “just don’t pick something dumb.”

“I just got the new star trek box collection.” He beams. 

“You could just shove me into a grave.” You sigh dramatically. 

Tim grins. “The Renaissance called-”

“Oh fuck you, Grackle.”

He snorts and you hate that you fall in love with him more every time he laughs. 

You cross your arms giving him a hard look. “Fine but we have to have an intermission of my choice.” You say, offering a hand. 

“Deal.” He says, shaking your outstretched hand. 

“Great, you've just agreed to watch the Great British Baking Show with me.” You say smug. 

Tim curses himself. 

"Are you still looking for that one painting?"

You tip your body back to look at him, your eyes wide and startled. It takes no time at all for them to shift to their usual angry shape. "Yes," you say quietly. It's Tim’s turn to be startled. Your hands curl into a fist. "It wasn't done and those bastards took it." 

Tim reaches out to put his hand on your shoulder. 

You cast your hands up to the sky dramatically.  "The barbarity of it all!"

Tim smiles, letting his hand fall to his side. You would be ok. 

You two walk on as Tim rants about StarGate  could have had a bigger fanbase if it hadn’t excluded so many people. You add StarGate to the list of things to not remember. 

You stop.

Your heart presses a bruise in your throat. 

Framed in  wood laden in ivy and marigolds is a painting that was painfully familiar.  Even unwashed, you can still see the bright reds of rose petals, the wild greens of the women’s skirts, the brilliant oranges of marigolds, and the blinding whites of cobble stones. The image was a practice in entropy made into perfection. The chaos of Valentine's day in a small town square reduced and captured in an infinitesimal moment.

Damian told you that people had started calling them Warsaw’s Faceless Sweethearts. You hated that.  A part of you wants to scream. You want to tell them that this wasn’t for them. This painting was made for one person and one person only.

You’ve been staring at it too long. Tim looks at you. You’ve known him too long to not know that he’s worried. That he’s feeling that stupid surge of protectiveness he always does when you go quiet. It’s in the cautious way he reaches out to you, slow and steady the way you approach a spooked animal. You want to lash out at him but he’s your Tim. Besides, too much of your mind is trapped in the painting, in the white gazebo, in between the couple who’s stuck in the moment before a kiss. 

Tim stands closer to you, his fingers lacing into yours with centuries worth or practice. He looks at the painting. “This painting looks familiar.” Tim says for the lack of anything better to say. It was yours. He knew that with only a few seconds of looking. 

“I… I don’t think so,” you say clumsily, “that’s definitely not the painting I’ve been looking for. Yup that one looks completely finished. Yup definitely.” You tug at Tim’s arm. 

He gives you a look, staying perfectly in place, before turning back to the painting. His gaze draws low. In a glass case sits scraps of paper lined with charcoal.  It takes an embarrassingly long time for Tim to realize that they’re sketches the artist did. Tim recognized the baker, the blacksmith, the seamstress, and even the constable. Most glaring of all he recognizes your marigolds.  His eyes drift to the sketches of the couple in  the gazebo. They were numerous, haphazard and unsatisfied. You were clearly frustrated with the groom’s face. Tim wonders who the poor guy could be. 

In the corner of the page in the center, he sees it.  “Wait… is that me?”

“NO!”

“Is that you?” He asks, pointing to the figure next to his. In the sketch, your lips are brushing against his. Tim’s lip tingles trying to replicate the sensation. 

You’re frozen stiff. You try to pull your hand away. You want to bury your face in them. Scratch that, you wanna be buried six feet under. Tim doesn’t let go of your hand. 

“That’s the umbrella you lost back in London.”

“I lost a lot in London, Timmy.” 

“Well...” Ok. Yeah, you did. Hence why he can’t get you to London even with the promise of letting you ‘improve’ Buckingham palace. But that isn’t the point. “(Y/n), this is gorgeous.” He says, turning to you. You look at him stunned and scared. He squeezes your hand.

You shake yourself out of his grip. Tim lets you. He knows when to back down. 

You step forward leaning on the rope separating you from your work. “I told you it wasn't finished.” You say, glaring at the painting as if willing the colors to move. 

“What happened?” He asks, bumping his shoulder against yours.

You bump your shoulder against his. “Warsaw.”

“I don’t follow.”

“That little town in Warsaw. It was kind of hard to finish the painting when soldiers were setting fires to houses. Ok, they didn’t do it directly but there was smoke.”

“Yeah kind of.” Tim agrees, smiling sadly. He looks back at the painting. “I want to keep it.”

“What?” You blink not quite following the shift in conversation. 

“Darling, I think we should have it. It’s ours after all.” Tim says holding your hand in his. Your mind is bouncing between too many things. He called you darling. He’s holding your hand. He’s smiling so sweetly at you. You’re addicted to that look in his eyes, pure unadulterated adoration. 

You cover your face with your free hand, feeling the smile on your face go uncomfortable wide. You feel something on your forehead, a kiss like a raindrop. It comes again and you feel like you’re going to collapse. 

“It’s yours..” He trails off hesitantly. “..if..” You look up at Tim, waiting with bated breath. Tim squeezes your hands. “...if you’ll be mine. ”

@batarella​, @anothertimdrakestan​, @lucy-roo​, @multifandomgirl-us​, @bungunz​, @birdy-bat-writes​,  @boosyboo9206​, @americasmarauders​ , @l-inkage​, @arestorationofbalance​ , @cloudie-skay​, @wunderstell​   @hyp-oh-critical​ @glorified-red​

[luxekook]

RESPECT ✩ namgi

✩ as part of @btswritingcafe​‘s mots: 7 collab ✩

✩ pairing: king namjoon x witch reader x king yoongi

✩ genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, angst, smut, fluff, a sprinkle of crack

✩ summary: in a land where the only openly acceptable magic is intrinsic soulmate bonds, what is a lowly witch to do when she is called upon by not just one king but two?

✩ word count: 7.1k

✩ warnings: 18+, cursing, magic, societal oppression, mention of snakes, reader has hella trust issues, begging, general cheesy fluff, smut [dom!reader, dom!namjoon, switch!yoongi, threesome (duh), throne sex (yuh), yoongi gets taken to paris and then the reader gets double teamed (aka double penetration)]

✩ beta’d by: the MAGNIFICENT phia @meowxyoong​

✩ banner by: the ILLUSTRIOUS danica @dee-ehn​

Magic danced at your fingertips as you summoned ingredients from the shelves behind you. You had been brewing this potion for hours - a tedious and tumultuous process that always accompanied the crafting of wolfsbane. It was a badly kept secret that you supplied the temporary suppressant along with a variety of other magical remedies, spells, and an occasional curse or two. 

There were - of course - limits on what you would provide. You did not take too kindly to townspeople that asked for dark spells or soulmate switches. Your fellow magical and supernatural folk in the kingdom of Meridian were ostracized enough as it was by the majority of the wealthier classes. To add on to your bad reputation would be a foolish endeavor.

Magic - it seemed - was a poor man’s trade. Why would the rich deign to ask for help from lowly witches and warlocks when they had access to the best doctors, the furthest overseas markets, and the fattest bank accounts? The occasional upper class individual would stray from the norm and enter your shop, but that was a rarity. And thank god it was.

The rich and the royals often feared what they did not understand – whether it be foreign powers, lower class revolts, or magical beings. For centuries, supernaturals like yourself clung to the outer rim of the kingdom out of necessity. Some who were able to pass as human lived closer to the castle at the center of the kingdom; but, you had long since lost your cover, choosing to openly use your powers for good and for a source of income. 

While the two current rulers had lifted the outright ban on supernaturals and magical beings a few years ago, centuries of prejudice and trepidation could not be quickly unlearned. 

It always struck you as ironic how easily the magic of soulmates was accepted, but a simple spell of healing, for example, was not. Perhaps the acceptance of soulmate magic was out of the longevity of its presence or the necessity of its inevitability - perhaps a combination of the two. You were taught from a young age that soulmate bonds felt like a welcomed tether to another person - a connection celebrated and cherished. And, in most cases, that rang true.

However, you knew too much to hope for a soulmate of your own, having heard too many stories from your fellow magic wielders. You knew all too much about the severance of soulmate bonds and the pain that accompanied the process – the pain that never left. 

Obviously, you were downright terrified of finding your soulmate and the almost certain rejection that would follow over the mere fact you were a witch. You would stick to your spells and your potions, thank you very much. 

Giving the wolfsbane one final stir, you reached for the empty bottle next to your cauldron, only to be interrupted by a thumping knock on the thick wood of your front door. Sighing, you set down the bottle and doused the flames beneath your finished brew with a flick of your hand. 

Turning to the door, you cast a quick reveal-spell at the dividing barrier between you and the newcomers. The magic dripped down the door, erasing it from your sight. 

Kim Taehyung waited expectantly on the other side, body practically vibrating with anticipation. You rolled your eyes. That boy always carried way too much energy with him. He pounded again on your door. You smirked, it always seemed funny when visitors would continue to knock on what was - for you - an invisible barrier. 

You waved the spell away with another wave of your palm. Pulling open the door, you failed to get a word in before you were swept into a giant hug. “(Y/n)!” Taehyung bellowed in your ear while he swung you around.

“Tae,” You wheezed, “Can’t. Breathe.”

The werewolf let you stand on your feet once more. “How is my favorite witch?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, chuckling slightly, “Tae, I’m the only witch you know besides Sinestra, and she scares you.”

Taehyung gasped, “She does not scare me! She’s just mean. She threatened to turn me into a cactus last time I went to her shop!” A pout formed on his face.

“Well,” You cannot resist teasing the boy, “She did say that you were being a prick.”

Taehyung shot you a playful glare and mumbled something about damned witches sticking together.

Deciding to let him off the hook, you headed back over to where the wolfsbane was left waiting to be bottled. “It just finished,” You told Taehyung as he trailed after you. “But, Taehyung, you really should just tell him.”

The reason that Taehyung repressed his wolf each month was none other than his soulmate - a human named Jimin. Tae was terrified of Jimin’s reaction to discovering his supernatural side. You thought his fear was justified, but you also figured that Jimin would be accepting of Tae just from how the werewolf described him.

Besides, it seemed inevitable that Jimin would catch on at some point. And Taehyung seemed to know that, too.

Tae’s shoulders sagged, “I know, (y/n). I’ll think about it.” 

With that, you nodded and dropped the subject, pouring the portion of the potion Taehyung needed into a bottle. Capping it tightly, you handed it to him, “Here. Remember to take it with food this time, okay?”

He smiled widely, clutching the bottle close to his chest. “Thank you! I will, (y/n).” Pulling you into one more hug, Taehyung waltzed out the door with a wave.

You smiled wistfully at his departure. So full of life, that one was. You just knew that his soulmate would accept him. You also recognized that you were not like Taehyung. You weren’t as vibrant, as gentle, or as beautiful. Would your soulmate be able to look past all your magic and stay for you? You didn't think so.

Shaking yourself from your negative thoughts, you carefully bottle up the rest of the wolfsbane for your stores. Even though you had long since stopped charging Taehyung, there were other werewolves nearby that you sold the potion to for quite a pretty penny. 

You had barely begun to shelve the bottles when another knock sounded at your door. Cracking a wry smile, you yanked the door open, “Tae, what did you forget to tell me this ti—”

The knock had not been from Taehyung. Instead, two palace guards stood there, shoulder to shoulder. 

Oh, this was not good. Having any lingering association with the palace would hurt your business. It was always best to deal with potentially hazardous situations quickly. Pulling open the door wider, you stood with hands on your hips, facing the two intruders. They both gaped at you, and you arched an eyebrow at them. “Can I help you, boys?” 

You took their continued silence as an opportunity to flick your eyes up and down each of the men before you.

The one on the right looked like he had just passed the guards’ test with his widened doe eyes and his flushed pink cheeks. The one on the left looked slightly older but no less youthful as he seemed to bounce on his toes with energy.

Seconds ticked by until - finally - the second guard exclaimed, “You’re (y/n)? The witch?” 

“Last time I checked, yes,” You addressed the guard who had spoken. You dubbed him ‘Happy’. “Were you expecting me to look differently?”

“I heard that you were super old! Like over one hundred years old!” Doe-eyes unhelpfully answered before widening his eyes in panic, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being old! I mean, I love old people! But, not, like, romantically! I mean—”

Happy seemed to notice your mood darkening with each word his partner spewed out. Shoving the younger guard aside, Happy puffed out his chest and announced with pride, “We are members of the Royal Guard sent to escort you to the palace, Miss Witch.” 

Doe-eyes nodded swiftly next to him, cowering slightly as you continued to glare at him. 

“First of all, please never ever call me ‘Miss Witch’. My name is (y/n),” You uttered, completely unamused, “Second of all, what happens if I refuse your escort?”

The guards slid each other a look.

“Ah, I see,” You murmured, mood darkening even still, “Was there an implied ‘by any means necessary’ tacked on to the end of that sentence that I didn’t hear?”

“She’s a mind reader!” Doe-eyes gasped, leaping behind Happy and peering slightly around his shoulder at you.

You rolled your eyes at the sight of his quivering form, “Calm down, kid. I’m not into non-consensual mind reading.” Shooting the baffled duo a wink, you turned to open your door further. “Please, come in,” You insisted. It was obvious there was no avoiding your summons, but that did not mean your business would suffer.

“But our orders...” Happy failed to follow through with his attempted protest as he practically jumped past you into your little cottage. What an intense curiosity that one had, you mused. Meanwhile, the younger guard seemed more trepidatious, practically tiptoeing across the threshold and into your humble abode.

You shook your head at the way the two palace guards were quickly captivated by your gathered crystals, your worn spellbooks, and your wall of potion ingredients. Swiftly, you shelved the rest of the wolfsbane potion like you had tried to do before being interrupted. 

Your clients would have to pick it up themselves. Scrawling a quick note to your fellow witch Sinestra about the recent events just in case, you vanish it to her with a snap of your fingers.

“Whoa,” Two awed voices sounded from behind you. 

“It went ‘poof’!” Doe-eyes yelled, tugging on the sleeve of his fellow guard, “Did you see?” 

“Do you want to go ‘poof’, too?” You smiled evilly, wiggling your fingers in his direction.

“Ah, hyung! She’s threatening me!” 

“Get it together, bro,” Happy rolled his eyes. Turning to address you, he asked expectantly, “Ready to go now, (y/n)?”

“As I’ll ever be,” You muttered, grabbing your cloak from the rack by the door. Ushering the two men out before you, you quickly cast your protective charms on your home. Now, no one besides your most trusted clients should be able to enter.

Satisfied, you trailed behind the guards as they walked over to where their horses were tied to one of the many nearby trees surrounding your cottage. At least they didn't seem to be malicious in their intent. Their backs were to you, either a sign of trust or blatant stupidity. Only time would tell, you guessed.

"You'll ride with me," Happy smiled at you as he held his palm out for you to take. You shrugged, ignoring his hand to mount the horse on your own. "Alright then," The guard muttered as he seated himself behind you, "Let's go."

The journey towards the heart of the kingdom was not one you made often. It was only out of necessity that you sometimes ventured to the more expensive markets for key ingredients. The looming castle always stirred up inexplicable and foreign feelings of longing and fascination. You feared that actually entering it this time would be almost too overwhelming. 

As the three of you made your way through the town you lived in, you received some tentative smiles and concerned looks from those in which you interacted with regularly. Visitors from the palace were rarities in these parts of the kingdom. You didn't blame people for being concerned by the guards’ appearance and by your departure with them. 

The day wore on as you made your way through village after village, stopping only for a quick lunch. All too soon the palace appeared on the horizon. The looks you received from the townspeople were no longer cordial or concerned. They were full of suspicion and condescension. 

You shrugged it off as best you could. You had bigger things to worry about - starting with whatever was waiting for you on the other side of the looming palace gates.

The large engraved metal doors swung open with your approach as Happy and Doe-eyes nodded to the guards posted there. Your breath caught in your throat. The castle was magnificent. The stone structure seemed to shine with a silvery sheen. Large stained glass windows gleamed from the many stories and towers adorning the palace. Vines wound their way up the walls despite the best efforts of the gardeners to stem their growth.

You stifled a laugh as one such gardener attempted to do so, but the vine refused to budge. Maybe there was some magic here after all.

Two other palace guards walked over to where the three of you had come to a stop inside the palace gates. Doe-eyes dismounted first and then offered a hand in your direction. This time, you decided to take the olive branch and accepted his assistance.

“Okay, ready?” Happy nodded at you and pointed towards the castle doors. “Let’s go. We don’t want to keep the kings waiting.”

“Oh, no,” You gasped, slapping a hand to your heart, “That would be a travesty.”

Doe-eye’s mouth quirked at the corners like he had stifled a laugh, while Happy spluttered something about respect. The short walk to the front entrance was much too short for your liking. You felt like you were walking to your doom - and maybe you were. The two guards had given you no clues as to the purpose of your summoning. That was such bullshit.

The heavy gold encrusted front doors creaked open as you approached. The foyer of the palace beckoned to you with that familiar pull. You sighed as you took in the expensive decor. From the shiny marble floors to the heavy purple drapery, you could see yourself living here all too easily. Why did you feel so called to this place? Well, you had always thought of yourself as a queen. 

Laughing to yourself, you let yourself be ushered down an adjacent corridor to the right of the foyer. You barely noticed where you were headed since your attention lingered on the gorgeous paintings that lined the walls. You probably should have been more alert because you suddenly found yourself at the cusp of the throne room.

The second you entered the room your attention was captured by the two men lounging on elevated thrones at the focal point of the room. These must be the kings, you mused. You had never seen them in person before, but their reputations preceded them. Your magic surged as you neared the kings. Was there a threat nearby? You shift a glance throughout the wide hall. 

Courtesans were scattered amidst large marble columns adorned with intertwining gold and silver accents. The majority of those gathered gaped at you in distaste, while a small handful simply spared a few curious glances. You couldn't spot a single person you knew in the bunch - not that you had expected to - nor could you find a source of outright danger.

Still, your magic thrummed louder within you as you continued on your way towards the kings. 

Your heart sank. This was not a reaction based on imminent danger. No, you knew what this was; someone here was your soulmate. And, when your eyes finally landed on the two men who summoned you, you had to choke down the hysterical laugh that bubbled up inside you.

King Yoongi reclined lazily on his ornate silver and black onyx throne, his body lax but his eyes sharp. His laser-focused attention on you made your stomach flip. You held his gaze as best you could, taking in the delicate dark silk of his diamond encrusted tunic and the tousled auburn hair on which his silver crown resided. He was beautiful.

And he was your soulmate. 

Could he feel the tether between you? Had he known about it somehow before you did? Was this why were you here?

Your eyes slid over to the right, unable to take the heat of King Yoongi’s gaze; King Namjoon’s curious eyes met yours. Unlike his partner, King Namjoon leaned forwards on his gold and emerald throne, avidly taking you in like you were a subject of study. And perhaps you were… You studied him right back. This king was no less intimidating in his scrutiny than the other. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands steepled in front of his face as he stared you down. The intelligence you saw within the depths of his brown eyes clued you in that this was a king that no one could fool.

And, since fate was clearly a bitch, he was your soulmate, too. 

You came to a stop before the kings amidst the sea of murmuring courtiers. “Bow,” Doe-eyes whispered to you, urgently prodding you in the side with his hand. You only stood straighter. You bowed to no one, and you certainly would not bow to your soulmates - no matter their status.

“Leave us.” At King Namjoon’s command, the room emptied. Your two escorts remained behind you. “Hoseok, Jungkook, that includes you,” King Namjoon lifted his chin as he swished a hand in dismissal of the two guards.

“But, sire—”

King Yoongi spoke for the first time, effectively cutting Happy off, “Don’t worry, Hoseok. What can one little witch do to us?”

Oh, you could think of a lot of things. Your thoughts must have been written all over your face because King Namjoon glanced at you and immediately let out a deep chuckle.

Glaring at the two men before you, you decided that one way or another they would learn to respect you. The guards you now knew to be Hoseok and Jungkook exited the room, leaving you alone with the two kings - your two soulmates.

Now, it seemed that you were somehow in a staring contest with both of them at once. Fine, if they didn't want to talk, you would. 

“So, nice weather we’re having, huh,” Your tone could not be any drier.

“Indeed,” King Namjoon quirked a half smile, and you realized you might be in over your head as his dimple made its first appearance.

You hated the whole power imbalance thing going on right now - the two of them sitting silently on an elevated platform lording over where you stood. Gathering all your dignity and lack thereof, you placed your hands on your ample hips and raised your eyebrows, “Well? Did you summon me just to stare?”

“No,” King Yoongi drawled, cupping his chin in his hand, “But you are quite delightful to look at, soulmate… That is, if this is your true form.”

You let the backhanded compliment simmer as King Namjoon chastised his partner, shooting him a warning look.

“Ah, yes,” You finally say, swiping at a nonexistent tear, “You’ve caught me. My true form is actually so old that it’s partially decomposed. Ah, silly me. I thought I would spare you from the grotesque monstrosity.”

King Namjoon burst into uproarious laughter. “Yoongi-ah,” He wheezed, “You’ve really met your match this time.”

Opposite him, King Yoongi scowled, “It was a fair question! The last witch that we summoned could shift into an owl.”

“You’ve met Helvetica?” You blinked, thinking of the only witch you knew with that ability, “She’s legendary.” Then, it registered. “Wait, what do you mean she was ‘the last witch you summoned’... Why have you been summoning witches left and right?”

“Isn’t it obvious now?” King Namjoon smiled, “We’ve been looking for you.”

“You see, (y/n),” King Yoongi purred your name, inciting a shiver down your spine, “Namjoon and I are also soulmates.” He gracefully shifted to his feet before walking down the few steps to where you still stood. 

Circling you like a shark in water, King Yoongi continued, “But we had been feeling lonely despite our connection. We couldn't figure out why.”

“That’s right,” King Namjoon chimed in from his throne, “We tried everything to fill that void.”

“And we mean everything,” King Yoongi whispered in your ear, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

“We were quite desperate,” King Namjoon laughed lightly. He, too, rose to his feet and made his way to stand before you. 

Your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest from the sheer sensation of being caught in between these two beautiful men. King Yoongi continued to play with your hair from his position behind you. King Namjoon’s heavy gaze pinned you in place with its wicked intent.

“Desperate enough to contact King Seokjin of Andolia and request that his top Seer be sent to us to do a reading.” King Yoongi’s words caused you to jolt back slightly in shock. Andolia was known to be a more liberal kingdom than yours. It was a kingdom of magic, of carnal pleasure, of beauty. 

Plus, King Seokjin was practically famous for his good looks and for his love of otherworldly entertainment. 

“You outsourced from Andolia? Couldn't you just have asked one of the Seers here in Meridian?” It seemed absurd to you that these two kings reached out to another land so unlike their own for assistance - especially when you knew of at least four Seers in your own land.

King Yoongi and King Namjoon exchanged a look. “The Seers in our kingdom weren't exactly forthcoming, (y/n).” The taller king in front of you withered under your responding glare.

Could they really blame the Seers for not coming forward to help the very kingdom that had rejected them for so long? You certainly didn't think so.

King Yoongi continued, “Well, King Seokjin sent us his personal Seer Moonbyul… And imagine our surprise when she took one look at us and laughed.”

“‘No wonder you’re lonely! You’re missing one,’” King Namjoon quoted the Seer’s past words with air quotes. You had to bite down a smile over the cuteness of his action. “And not just anyone… a witch no less!”

His tone was light, jovial. You couldn't tell his feelings on your magical status no matter how hard you searched his twinkling brown eyes. Turning slightly, you assessed the other king who looked no less unreadable. 

Still staring at King Yoongi, you questioned, “Okay, so you knew your other soulmate was a witch, and you just decided to summon every witch in Meridian to check them out? Do you have any idea how much that would scare us?”

The shorter king had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. “I guess we were too excited by the prospect of finding you.”

You fought down the hopeful feeling inside you. There was no way these two actually wanted to keep your bond to them, right? Not in this economy…

“I’m just going to be straight up with you.” You pulled away from their hold and paced away to climb up a couple steps so you were finally the same height. “I think you searched for me because you want to sever our bond.” 

The two kings moved to interrupt you, but you just held a palm in the air, “No, let me finish. Look, I’ve already come to terms with the fact that my soulmate wouldn't want to be tied to a witch. And why should I even want to be with someone who doesn’t respect me or my craft?”

You lowered your palm, effectively lifting the unspoken silencing charm you had cast on them. 

The first thing that King Yoongi said once he recovered his voice was: “Damn, that was sexy.” 

And the second? “I would rather sever my left arm than sever our bond.”

“Well,” You blinked as King Namjoon nodded emphatically besides his partner, “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“Please don’t write us off that easily, (y/n),” The taller king begged, “Don’t you feel it? The tether between the three of us? Can’t you see we were made for each other?”

Oh, you felt it. You felt the pull so deeply that you feared you might lose yourself within them.

But if the spark you felt for them was akin to a flame, you weren’t sure if you were the darkness longing to be brightened or the moth destined to be burned. 

Would it be worth it to give up your current life to be with them? Could you leave Taehyung and your little cottage? Could you survive in a court that held no love for your kind?

Your prolonged hesitance clearly worried the two kings before you. 

“What can we do to show you how much we want you here with us?” King Yoongi implored, his hand drifting out to clasp with King Namjoon’s. 

Staring down at the unified front the kings presented, you realized that your soulmates could offer you so much if you let them. By accepting the bond, you could gain the ability to help others more broadly than just offering simple spells of assistance. You could feel safe and secure. And, you could even allow yourself to love and be loved. 

“Hm,” You mused, “I think I need to take a seat.” You lounged on the very throne in which Yoongi had lazed just a half an hour prior. 

“Just when I thought you couldn't get any more beautiful,” King Namjoon murmured as he stared up at you as you reclined on the silver and black throne.

King Yoongi hummed in agreement, “We’ll need to make hers resplendent just to even come close to her radiance.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” You lied, secretly basking in the warmth of their praises, “Would I really get my own throne? You’re not planning on shoving me in a far away tower?”

“We were fearful of this,” King Namjoon walked up to the foot of the throne with King Yoongi in tow. Pausing briefly, they both fell to their knees before you. King Namjoon continued, “We feared you would think the worst of us. And for good reason.”

King Yoongi’s gaze pleaded with yours as he explained his partner's words, “We grew up to be scared of magic. We were sheltered from it and were told falsehoods about its ‘malicious nature’. It wasn’t until a few years ago that we first travelled to Andolia and met King Seokjin that we realized how wrong we were.”

“We were ignorant,” King Namjoon said lowly, “We removed the outright ban on magic and supernaturals immediately, but unlearning such prejudiced ways has proven to be difficult for our kingdom.” 

You took everything in. You did not doubt that they were being genuine; however, one thought still lingered in the back of your mind.

“If I stay here with you...” Both kings eagerly stared up at you and you rolled your eyes, “And I mean if I do, will you see me as an equal? Will you respect me as such?”

The kings exchanged a confused glance before replying that they already did. You weren’t convinced. You decided to lay everything on the table.

“Okay, but do you really respect me? Or do you just want to fuck me?” 

“Do those have to be mutually exclusive?” King Yoongi asked, his hands clenched at his sides as if he was holding himself back from touching you.

Your lips quirked, “I suppose not.”

“Thank the gods for that,” He growled, “I’ve been hard since you sat on my throne.” Both kings moved forward with clear sensual intent, but you sent a wave of magic forward - effectively halting their movements.

Their eyes blazed with desire for you that you were certain was mirrored in your own. You take in the magnificence of the sight before you. Your two powerful soulmates on their knees before you, desperate to touch you, to taste you. Your eyes traveled over the expanse of Namjoon’s shoulders to settle on his black velvet and gold choker. Then, you shift your gaze to Yoongi and his long ring adorned fingers, the smooth skin of his chest that peeked from the v-neck of his tunic. 

They really were quite a pair. What in the universe had you done to be fated to such beauty? You guessed you probably shouldn’t question it.

Waving away the magical barrier between you, you began, “Earlier you asked what you could do to show that you want me here with you.”

“That’s right,” Yoongi rasped, his heated gaze locked with yours as he lightly trailed a finger up your calf. Beside him, Namjoon inclined his head in agreement before taking your hand in his.

Trying to ignore the rising tension, you forged onwards. It was important that you made these points before this went any further. “Well, I have some requirements.”

Namjoon cracked a smile, “I would be disappointed if you didn’t, my soul.”

Your cheeks warmed at the endearment but didn’t let it distract you. “I want to draft an ordinance that explicitly declares equity for those with magical and supernatural abilities.”

“Done.” Your soulmates agreed in unison.

You paused. That had been almost too easy… “And also an amendment stating that discrimination against said subjects will not be tolerated by any means.”

“Agreed.” 

You were on a roll now. “I like practicing magic. It’s a part of me. I don’t want to have to hide it.”

Namjoon pressed a kiss to your palm, “We don’t want you to hide it.” 

“Your magic is beautiful, (y/n),” Yoongi’s hand slid further up your leg, “You should never feel like you have to hide an intrinsic part of yourself - especially around us.”

Your body burned under their touch, but you still held back. Were they just going to agree to any old thing you threw at them? “I also want ten thousand Burmese pythons.”

That took them a second to process. “We can easily get you around six hundred, maybe seven?” Namjoon squinted as he seemed to calculate the math in his head, “I’ll have to talk to our allies about trading for the remaining amount.”

Spluttering out a laugh, you shook your head, “I was just kidding about the snakes, my gods. Although… now that i think about it, maybe one would be cool?”

Yoongi pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. When had he pushed your skirt up that high? “Anything for you, my queen.” 

It was official. You were ruined.

Your soulmates had effectively stymied your doubts and quelled your fears, leaving you with only the intense desire to be with them. 

And so you caved. “That just leaves one last stipulation... You say you want me, need me. Well then show me how badly you want me to be with you.”

The words barely left your mouth before they were on you. Yoongi pushed your legs further apart so that he could get closer to you. His hands slid around your waist, tugging your body flush against him, and he fused his mouth with yours. 

You smiled into his kiss as you felt Namjoon sidle up to you and begin to place fevered kisses across your collarbone. A witch could get used to this, you thought as Yoongi’s tongue tentatively swiped across your lower lip. What a good boy he was to not take more than you offered. 

Your hands tangled into Yoongi’s silky strands before they came to a halt at his crown. Carefully, you slid the crown off his head and onto yours. Pulling away from Yoongi’s mouth slightly, you murmured, “Well? How’s it look?”

“You look like our queen,” Namjoon whispered hoarsely as Yoongi just looked at you like he might devour you whole. 

At Namjoon’s words, you turned to face him, hooked a finger around the choker adorning his neck, and tugged his mouth onto yours. His hand immediately flew up to cradle your cheek as he kissed you as if you might slip away from him if he stopped. You almost laughed at how obvious it was to you now that Namjoon was the more dominant of the two.

He had just mastered the art of patience amongst the other things you only hoped you could have the pleasure of discovering. His teeth playfully nipped at your bottom lip, and you returned the affection in kind.

Meanwhile, Yoongi refused to let you forget about him as he settled into his position of kneeling between your legs. His lips kissed and sucked at your neck while his fingers danced up your thighs, taunting you with their light touch.

You decided you had been teased enough. Tugging away from Namjoon and shifting Yoongi back from you slightly, you paused briefly to focus your magic and then snapped your fingers. Your dress and undergarments disappeared from your body and reappeared a few steps away folded neatly. 

“Fuck, I love magic,” Yoongi breathed as he takes in your naked body for the first time. 

Without hesitation, you hitch one leg over one of the ornate arms of the chair. “Well?” You arched a brow, looking over your two speechless soulmates, “Are you just going to stare? Or are you going to get naked?”

The speed at which they shed their clothes almost gave your magic a run for its money. 

You marveled at the two men before you, their bodies chiseled, their cocks hard. 

“How do you want us?” Yoongi asked, practically thrumming with anticipation. 

You arched an eyebrow at Namjoon, “Is he always this eager?” 

The taller man grinned, “Occasionally, but this level is rare form for him.” 

Yoongi scowled, “Please, Joon, like you aren’t dying to sink your cock into our soulmate’s pretty little pussy.” 

“Oh,” You sighed, “Someone has quite a mouth on them… Why don’t we put that to good use while Joon teaches you some discipline.” 

Not even thrown off at the notion of being punished, Yoongi gladly sunk to his knees before you once more. Namjoon hesitated, and you quickly realized the problem. Summoning your magic, you materialized some water-based lubricant for him.

“Yeah,” Namjoon laughed, “Magic is a fucking beautiful thing.” Taking the lube from you, he leaned down to prep Yoongi. “Ready?” His deep voice sent shivers down your spine. Yoongi nodded.

“Gods yes,” You barely finished your thought before Yoongi buried his face between your legs, his mouth immediately kissing and exploring your pussy. The first stroke of his tongue tore a moan from you as your back arched into the cool metal behind you.

“(Y/n),” Namjoon growled, “Look at me, my soul. Watch me fuck our soulmate while he tastes you. I want you to feel each of my thrusts in every jolt of his tongue.”

Despite not being one to typically take orders, the heat of Namjoon’s words pulled your attention immediately and the sight before you made it stay. You watched enraptured as Namjoon slowly sank his cock into Yoongi’s ass. 

Yoongi groaned and the vibrations sent another rush of arousal through you as he continued to greedily tease your clit with his tongue. Your hands dug into his auburn waves, pushing his face harder against your pussy. 

Namjoon slid out of Yoongi and then drove back in. The visual of his hard cock pumping feverishly in and out of Yoongi’s pert ass was indescribable when every stroke caused Yoongi’s tongue to thrust inside you and his nose to nudge against your clit. 

“How does she taste, Yoongi? Is she as sweet as she looks?” 

You scowled at Namjoon for causing Yoongi to pause his worship in order to answer. “She tastes like the fucking sun, Namjoon.”

“Now, that doesn’t even make sense— Fuck,” You moaned as Yoongi’s mouth sucked hard on your clit, effectively shutting you up. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you felt the arousal build and build inside of you. Your legs shook as Yoongi sucked and hummed on your clit as Joon continued to pound into him. 

Your eyes focused on the sharp movements of Namjoon’s hip and the flexing of his muscles as he alternated in thrusting and rolling his hips. Gods, you wanted those hips to drive that cock deep inside of you.

“Does this please you, my soul?” Namjoon growled, “Do you like watching me wreck Yoongi while he gives you pleasure?”

“Y-yes,” Your breath hitched as Yoongi teasingly nipped at your swollen bud. “But I want you to wreck me and then I want to wreck you both.”

Namjoon’s thrusts stuttered to a halt as your words connected. Yoongi tore his mouth from your folds. Placing your foot on his forehead, you gently pushed Yoongi back so you could stand, “I want both of you inside me.”

Panting, Yoongi gasped, “Please, please wreck us, my queen.” His lips shone with your essence and you swiped a finger along their seam. Bringing your finger up to Namjoon’s plush lips, you tilted your head with a sly smile, “Well? You wanted a taste, didn’t you?”

Without a pause, he took your finger into his mouth, his tongue curling around the digit, tasting you. His dark eyes remained on yours as he released your finger with a pop. “So fucking divine,” Namjoon groaned, his hands darting out to grab your hips, his hard cock pressing into your stomach. 

Yoongi once again mirrored Joon’s actions from behind you. You could feel his hardness against your ass, and you couldn't help but to grind slowly into him. “(Y/n),” Yoongi moaned into your neck as his cock practically throbbed with need for relief. 

Tugging Namjoon closer to you, you whispered, “My love, go sit on your throne.”

Your soulmate appeared confused but nonetheless did what you said. Pausing only briefly to admire the way Namjoon looked on his throne, you extracted yourself from Yoongi and sauntered over to stand over Joon. 

“You know,” You murmured, grabbing his cock firmly, eliciting a gorgeous moan from the man, “I think I want to sit on your throne, too.” Your hand stroked him teasingly as his head leaned against the back of his throne.

“As you wish, my soul,” He rasped out, his thighs tensing.

With that, you knelt over him. Immediately, Namjoon’s hands rested on your ass and squeezed. “What a greedy boy,” You murmured, placing a soft kiss on his lips, “That’s for Yoongi, my love. Or is my pussy not enough for you?”

As you spoke, you slowly sunk down his thick cock inch by inch. And at the mention of his name, Yoongi practically shoved Namjoon’s hands off your ass and replaced them with his. Echoing your own words, he teased the younger king, “Yeah, Joonie, don’t be greedy.”

Namjoon shot the two of you a half-hearted glare, but before he could say a word, you clenched your walls around him. “F-fuck,” He moaned, his eyes squeezed tight, “You feel so good around my cock, so wet.”

You slid up and down his length, reveling in the building heat consuming you. From behind you, Yoongi slowly teased your other opening. The coolness of his finger assured you that he had done this before. His finger slid into my ass with ease, the lube no doubt helping with that. You both moaned.

“You like that, my queen?” Yoongi growled, beginning to push his finger in and out.

“Oh my gods, yes,” You felt wild from the sensation of being so full of your soulmates, but you couldn't help but want more. “Want your cock inside me, too, Yoongi.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” He responded, pulling his finger out of you. After a moment, you felt the gentle nudge of his cock head against your ass. You stilled your motions, bottoming out on Joon’s dick as you waited with anticipation of being stuffed full with both of them. 

Slowly, inch by inch, Yoongi pushed into you.  “Fuck,” He bit out, “Joon, I can feel you.” 

You felt so satisfied as Yoongi’s hips pressed into you, his cock buried deep inside you.

Namjoon’s cock twitched inside you as he no doubt could feel Yoongi right back. “Please, my soul, I need to fuck you. Let us fuck you,” He begged, gazing down at you with pupils blown out wide.

“No,” You shook your head emphatically, “I’m going to fuck you.”

With that, you started riding Namjoon’s cock. Moving up and down his thick shaft, you guided Yoongi’s hands to your hips as he thrust in and out of you in time to your movements. Every time you sank down on Namjoon’s shaft, Yoongi thrust into your ass. It was exquisite.

You felt your orgasm coiling within you, burning brightly. You squeezed down, trying to prolong the sensation, rolling your hips.

“Godsdamn,” Yoongi moaned, “Your ass is so tight, my queen. I’m not going to last much longer.”

You shook your ass slightly just to tease him. Yoongi responded by biting your neck and muttering, “You’re such a witch.”

“You fucking know it,” You gasped out as Namjoon suddenly rolled your clit between his fingers. Pleasure shot through you as you writhed on top of them. Your walls clenched down as you hurtled towards bliss, your world going white. 

You could feel both of them coming inside you, painting your walls. The heat of their releases only added to the intensity of your orgasm as you flew over the edge, milking them with every pulse of your pussy. 

Slowly, you came down from your high, breathing hard. Collapsing against Joon’s chest, you nuzzled his neck.

You felt his chuckle before you heard it, “I think we tired her out, Yoongi.” 

“Yes, I think so, Joon,” Yoongi replied, slowly pulling out of you, “Let’s get you cleaned up. We have a private hot spring just outside.” 

Not one to be outdone, you straightened, hopping off Joon. Placing your hands on your hips, you leveled each of them with a devilish smile, “Hey, maybe I was pretending to be satisfied for your benefits, you old men.” 

“Old!?” Yoongi bellowed, so easily riled up. 

“Hmm,” Namjoon’s arms encircled you, hugging you to him. Bringing his mouth to your ear, he whispered, “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you, my soul?”

“Undoubtedly,” You whispered back as Yoongi still fumes over being called old. Yeah, a witch could really get used to this.

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[mrwritesalot]

Psychology of Money

Today's topic is about money as you all might have guessed about from the title. But it's not about how to earn money as that is something we all know. Even a beggar earns money and we are far more knowledgeable than beggars so. And plus as the author of a great book Rich Dad Poor Dad, Robert Kiyosaki described that it's not about how much you make, it's about how much you keep. It's one thing to earn a million dollars and another to make billion from them.

Handling money is a skill that we all lack or don't have. We all make a great amount of money by god's grace but what about keeping them? Now it's a debatable topic, we confuse between 'living your life to the fullest' and 'making sure about creating wealth'.

Now I agree on living your life to the fullest, hang around on every Saturday night and everything but how often do you think about earning for that Saturday night let alone multiplying. This is the main difference between The Rich and The Poor. The rich don't care about dancing around in a bar being drunk on a Saturday night. The rich focuses on the important part and that is creating wealth and improving health.

The thing is we usually think being good with money have something to do with being so smart about it, no that's not write. I mean if IQ played an important role, Warren Buffet wouldn't have been one of the best investor in the history. It's about behaving well with money and taking right decisions at the right time.

Now when I talk about behaving it covers a lot of things. First off, why don't we talk about money that much? By talking I don't mean asking everyone's salary, I mean talking about creating wealth. We have built various stereotypes among ourselves about money and the first one is we think earning money is hard, it sure is not. The rich think earning money is like a game and it is.

The rich set their expectations high, like unreasonably high. I mean at the age of 20 they think of becoming a billionaire, that is unreasonable according to US. But that's not the case. If you keep a goal of becoming a billionaire do you think it's hard? It's not, you just have to make some sacrifices and make right decisions at the right time. They fulfil their expectations if not 100% then by 80-90% but they surely do.

Next thing is seeing and behaving with money as a friend. Why do we think money is not our friend? We always talk things like money is not important and it can't buy you happiness and we think he's the right guy. But if thinking of money as a friend and behaving accordingly makes me the wrong guy than i want to be that wrong guy. Personify money as if he's your friend. How about talking about money in our family meetings? or friends get together? (I surely don't mean talking about dividing your fathers wealth for you and your siblings)

Another point is thinking that getting rich is not natural. I mean being rich and travelling the world and experiencing great pleasures is our birth right and that comes with being rich. We in our society have the stereotype that not everyone can be rich. I strongly disagree because I can give you examples of people being rich who once were nothing, people who were from middle class and then became rich and people who inherited wealth from their father and yet multiplied. So there's nothing like not everyone cannot become rich, anyone can be rich. The only thing is we don't think of becoming rich because we think of satisfying our short term pleasures rather than long term.

One thing I want to point our is deciding when it's enough. Because the world has unlimited to offer, you gotta decide when it's enough for you or your whole like would go out chasing money. Planning and sticking to it is very important. Why this is important is because there is always a bigger fish, you don't have to compare with them you just have to decide what's good for you.

I guess this might be enough for the blog, to summarize, always think of money as your friend. It's not bad talking and discussing about money around your friends and family, start that if you're not doing it. Don't be pessimistic about money, you'll get what you desire if you have the capacity of letting go some short term satisfactions. Some people will get the message which i am trying to explain from the quote written below -

'Don't be cheap, be reasonable'

Thank you for your time

yash.

[admelioraii]

Thousand and one nights

Magic Carpet

Prepare to join our magic carpet ride through hot, dry deserts and fresh, star filled, jasmine scented nights.

There are lots of things to learn and much to compare.

Some of the facts in this “world of extreme”might surprise you.

Sit back, enjoy the ride and remember, here is where anything is possible!

Thousand and One Nights: The Story

Shahryār ( Middle Persian for “ holder of realm'' ) is shocked to learn that his brother's wife has been unfaithful.

Only to later discover that his own wife’s infidelity has been even more obvious, and consequently he kills her.

Because of his deep love for her he gets bitter and concludes that all women are the same. Frustrated and upset, he begins to marry a succession of virgins only to execute them the following morning, before they have a chance to dishonour him.

Eventually the wasir (vizier), whose duty is to provide them, can no longer find more virgins. Shahrazād, the vizier's daughter, offers herself as the next bride; her father agrees reluctantly.

On the night of their marriage, Shahrazād begins to tell a story, but the story does not end. The king, who is fascinatingly listening to the story, falls asleep before hearing the end.

Curious about the ending he decides to postpone the execution.

Next night, as soon as she finishes the tale, Shahrazād begins another one. This time, as well, the king falls asleep before hearing the end of the new story. Again,this time even more eager to hear the end to the story he once more finds himself forced to postpone the execution.

And so it goes on for a thousand and one nights, after which Shahryār has fallen in love with Shahrazād and as he no longer can execute her, he is forced to spare her life.

Museum of Islamic art, Qatar

The 1001 side stories Shahrazād was telling every night are a collection of Middle Eastern folktales that were gathered over centuries by various authors, translators and scholars across west, central and South Asia and North Africa.

The word thousand has in Arabic more meanings than just a number. It is also a way of expressing an uncountable amount, something excessive or enormous without meaning the exact number.

As we will see later on, the Arabs greatly admire cleverness and Shahrazād’s creativity and intelligence to continuously end her stories in a cliffhanger and by doing so, both helped solve the King's personal issues as well as saved herself from execution , are highly appreciated in the Arab world. Furthermore her patience and persistence during all of those nights to keep on trying to solve the problems without giving up, is in the Arabs eyes praiseworthy, as patience is also highly valued.

Being an Arab is more of a cultural trait rather than a racial one.

The Arab world consists of many different communities, groups, religions and races, even though they are different, it is rather the similarities (linguistic, geographic and cultural) that unite them. Just as Americans are mixed in race, ethnicity and religion.

There are 22 Arab (and Arabic speaking) countries, these are;

Algeria, Bahrain,Comoros, Djibouti, Egypt, Iraq, Jordan, Kuwait, Lebanon, Libya, Morocco, Mauritania, Oman, Palestine, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Sudan, Syria, Tunisia, United Arab Emirates, and Yemen.

As you can see Turkey and Iran are not Arab countries!!!

The Arab countries have a total of 414.5 million Arabic speakers, making it the fifth most spoken language in the world.

Here are some characteristics that are highly prized in the Arab world;

Hospitality

Patience

Creativity/ Intelligence

Starry Desert night

Hospitality.

Arabic hospitality, which is the best in the world, always puts the guest first.

Arabs are renowned for their hospitality. According to Arab costumes, when you are invited to eat by them, your host will offer you the very best he has and the food is prepared with love, respect and appreciation for you as a guest. The Arabs always eat and drink with their right hand.

An Arabic saying is “Bayti Baytak “ funny enough the saying's translation to English is a British saying as well; My home is your home. Hospitality is important not only to Arabs but all people as it creates friendship and good relations between people!

Camel

"The camel is one of the most patient animals."

Patience.

To be patient is to hold one’s soul from being impatient and displeased, and it is a very important asset in the Arab world. The Arabic word for patience is "Sabr" meaning refrain or stop, from doing what is not good. Spiritually it helps us overcome complaining, panicking and despairing, in times of grief.

A wise man said; “The one who has patience is the one who has trained himself to handle difficulties.”

This is true as patience makes you grow stronger.

Jasmine Flower

"The jasmine flower releases its fragrance at night, after the sunset, especially the nights right before full moon.

Jasmine has a “cooling” effect when drunk as tea."

Creativity/ Intelligence.

The Arab world is a world of extremes, just like the desert has temperatures that range from extreme cold (in the night) to extreme heat (during the day). Most other things here follow the same pattern; poor-rich, hard-kind, good-evil.

Creativity and intelligence are of utmost importance in these harsh environments, that’s why a good education is highly prized in the Arab world.

Creativity and intelligence help us solve problems and broaden our ways of thinking, it is beneficial for ourselves and others.

Middle eastern lanterns

Finally we would like to give you some Arabic wisdom for your mind and soul as a consolation, a reminder or simply something worth thinking about.

It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.

The hand that gives is above the hand that takes.

Patience is the key to the solution.

The first time you cheat me, is your fault, the second time you cheat me, the fault is mine.

Ears are useless to a deaf brain.

Things are not to be valued for the time being but for the trace they leave after.

Don’t try to correct the shadow of a crooked stick.

A person who wants to achieve something finds a way, the one who doesn’t want to do anything, finds an excuse.

Don’t open your mouth if what you are about to say is not more beautiful than the silence.

One hand alone can not applaud.

The deeper the river the less sound it makes.

Thousand and one nights is also known in English as Arabian nights.

[p---ink]

Stark Contrasts: Chapter One

Author’s Note PLEASE READ: Hi, this is my very first published fan fiction, and I wrote it because its so rare to find Tony Smut. Everyone wants him as a dad, while I want him as a daddy. Please give this story a chance, and if there are any grammar errors let me know. I proofread the shit out of this, but there's always the chance that I missed something. When you write something it could make perfect sense to yourself, but 0 sense to the next person. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my story, I really enjoyed writing it! Also as aforementioned (hope I’m using that word right), this is my first story so go easy on me! I only have room to improve. PLEASE DON’T REPOST MY WORK!

Summary: AU where you're dating Tony Stark’s son, even though it’s Tony you really want. He isn't ironman in this one guys sorry.

Warnings: Smut, cheating, daddy kink, some other shit I already forgot about. :)

Song: The song I listened to while writing this was Kiss it Off Me by Cigarettes After Sex. 

Word Count: 7.4K 

Parts: one | two | three | four | five

Disclaimer: Gif is not mine.

You and Edward James Stark had been dating for a solid six months before you both declared your undying love for one another. Had you known he was lying through his teeth you would have never said those three words. Not even a month after that, you found him in bed with another girl. You see, he was a serial cheater who didn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants. You can’t say you didn’t see this coming though, you weren’t the best at picking them. 

Edward was not the first, and he would not be the last to break your heart. Blame it on your daddy issues, or maybe blame it on the shit-head men who insist on eating their cake and having it to. Of course he gave you every bullshit excuse in the book to keep you from leaving. “We were really drunk” is what he came up with when you first caught him cheating. “Those are my cousin's”, was what he said when you found a pair of panties that weren’t yours in his penthouse. Your favorite excuse though, was the one where he blamed your all-night study sessions on his latest fuck-up due to the lack of attention you were giving him. 

 You didn’t know why Edward was still with you, especially since he could have relatively any woman he wanted. Perhaps it was because you were great for his brand; you were a good girl, straight-A student who made everyone around you fall in love. You could charm the pants off of your professors and peers, and you were one of the nicest people anyone would ever meet. It didn’t hurt that you were easy on the eyes either. Above all however, was your modesty and selflessness. You always put others happiness above your own, which made you completely different to Edward’s arrogance and narcism. 

You and others often questioned how you even fell for him. You had a theory that he only dated you, because you were what the other guys wanted. 

Whatever the reason he chose to stay, could not matter any less than it did to you…because the reason you stayed, was because you were hopelessly in love with his dad. 

Tony Stark—girl, did God take his time with this one, was a more seasoned, mature version of his son. Don’t get me wrong because he was just as cocky, but in a more attractive way. And the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, because the billionaire playboy had just reached a divorce settlement due to his infidelity. In other words, he was just as much of a piece of shit as his son, the only difference was that he was trying to change. He was older than any of the men you had ever been with, but maybe, like him, you needed a change of pace. 

You met Tony seven months into your relationship with Edward. He had hoped if you saw how rich his family was, you would want to stick around. If he knew you were still with him because you wanted to fuck his dad he would have lost his shit. Yea, Edward was the type of guy to throw a bitch-fit if you so much as blinked at a guy in the wrong way, yet he wouldn’t hesitate to fuck a bitch for breathing. 

Though Tony had a notorious reputation for being cruel to the women he either slept with or wanted to sleep with, he was good as gold to you. He appreciated your love and passion for your studies and crafts. He thought it was refreshing that you spoke your mind with no fear of repercussions, most people kissed his ass with the hope that he would give them a handout or put in a good word in terms of life-changing opportunities. What he loved most about you, was the faraway look you had when you were thinking. He thought that your carefree spirit was the secret to your beauty. 

It was not lost on you that Tony at least felt some of the same feelings towards you that you did to him. You’d be an idiot to not notice the long trips his eyes would take across your body, or the fact that he insisted on doing menial tasks for you that you could easily do for yourself. The sexual tension and flirty conversations with hidden meanings were enough to have the two of you in a bedroom for hours, but you both would never act on your feelings. He didn’t want to hurt his son, and while you couldn’t care less about Edward’s feelings, you didn’t want people to think you were that kind of girl. That being said it really surprised you when he offered for you and Edward to move in with him. 

You had known each other for several months now, and up until then you two avoided each other when you could, due to your feelings, but Tony claimed his house was too big for just him since Pepper, Edward’s mom, was now gone. Edward was on board with the idea, because it meant more time to kiss his father’s ass in hopes of him eventually letting him inherit Stark Industries. 

“..anyway, I think it’s a good idea.” Tony explained, ripping you out of your daze. You all were currently sitting in his dining room drinking coffee and discussing the move. “I have plenty of room, and all I ask is that you pull your own weight. Your mother took the housekeeper along with–“Edward interrupts.

 “Yes dad I know, along with–“ Tony cuts him off.

“Hush Eddy, daddy is speaking. Along with my beloved corgi Jarvis who was like the son I never had”. Edward rolls his eyes, while you stifle a chuckle that earns a glare from Eddy, and a wink from Tony. 

“Anyway,” Eddy starts, “We think it's a great idea dad, we’ll do it.” You internally groan at his use of we. What the hell does he mean we, you weren’t that out of it to not remember if he had asked you how you felt. There he goes again thinking about himself. 

“There you go again thinking about yourself.” Tony mocks, once again pulling you out of your thoughts, as if he could hear them. “You didn’t even ask poor Y/N how she felt about all of this.” He turns his attention to you and starts, “Now I know your university is further away from my place, but I could provide you with a car–“ This time you interrupt.

“Hold on Mr. Stark, this is too much. We’re only three months into our lease, I don’t want to impose on you, and you shouldn’t be just giving cars out like its noth–“

“Y/N” Tony starts, holding eye contact with you, “…daddy is speaking”. You felt small because of what he just said, but in a good way. Your panties were getting wetter the longer he looked at you so you broke eye contact. Tony relished in your submissiveness. Eddy, as clueless as always brushed off his dad’s comment and decided it was just another one of his eccentric quirks, but you knew and Tony knew what he was doing. This is why you didn’t think it was a good idea to move in.

 “And for the one thousandth time, you can call me Tony. Now where was I? Ah, you didn’t let me finish” he continues, “I could provide you with a car, or a driver, as long as you’re comfortable with it. I’ll never do something without running it by you to make sure its okay”. That there was the reason you loved Tony more than you would ever love Edward. Eddy rushed into things with no regards for your feelings, and when you voiced your worries or concerns he’d blame it on you for not telling him or guilt-trip you into just going with it.

Tony took his time with you. He was patient, and he tuned into how you perceived things. He was a real man. And if this was how he was with you now you could only imagine how attentive he would be to your other needs.

“Maybe we can work something out with your lease. I can continue paying your bills. That way if you guys need an escape away from me to fuck your brains out, its still there”. You cringed at that last part, which didn’t go unnoticed by Tony, who was always watching you. 

You don’t sleep with Edward. Besides the fact that he was a cheater, he never made you cum. He was the type to chase his own nut at the sake of your own. 

“I really think having young people around here would liven the place up.” Tony finished. “So what do you say kid, you wanna move in so we can have some fun?” Tony asked briefly raising an eyebrow.

 His hands were clasped together on the table, while his long pointer finger taped his closed fist absentmindedly. His mouth was tucked in a firm smile and his honey brown eyes, which were focused on yours, were gleaming with hope. You smile back and brace yourself. How could you say no to this?

♡♡♥︎♡♡

Three months had passed since you and Ed moved in with his dad. While your relationship with Edward began to decay more than it already had, the one you had with Tony only blossomed. 

You became more comfortable around him. The two of you would watch movies together, go grocery shopping with each other, cook, bake and sing embarrassing songs out loud without a care in the world. Your favorite part of your relationship however,  was the late night conversations the two of you would have when you couldn’t sleep. They happened more often than sometimes. How in the world could you sleep, when the two of you were in such close proximity. 

Naturally, your feelings for each other only grew stronger, which was exactly what you were afraid of. Though the two of you still had Edward to worry about, he never seemed to care about your budding relationship. He was too involved with himself or one of his latest escapades to notice the events unfolding in front of him. And if he did notice, he thought it was innocent. It was just his girlfriend and dad bonding. 

Tony and you never discussed how you felt about the other, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. The only thing in your way was his son, but that was about to change since Edward’s ass-kissing began to work. His dad was finally about to give him a feel for how to run the company.

 This of course meant more responsibilities, more control, and more time away from home. Tony couldn’t take it anymore. Part of him wanted to remain faithful to his son, but the other part couldn’t sleep peacefully knowing you were just a wall away. At least with Eddy being gone, he could see if the two of you could resist each other. He wanted to test himself, and see if he had really changed. And if he hadn’t, at least he would get you out of it. This was a good thing, he would tell himself. While Edward worked hard to prove he was worthy to his dad,Tony would work even harder to prove that he changed by forcing himself to resist you. If only you would make it that easy for him. 

You were innocent enough, but that’s what drove him crazy. The way your knee would brush against him when you guys were sitting close watching a movie. Or when you would accidentally tap your foot on his when you sat across from each other at the dinner table. Don’t get him started on the way you’d look away from him, when you realize you said something that may have crossed the line. Anything you did would set him off, and he was beginning to regret sending Edward away. 

“Y/N”, Tony shouts, trying to find out exactly where you were in the house. It was 2 p.m. and he had just got home from training Eddy. The car he brought you was still in the driveway so he knew you were home. “Y/N, could you come here for a second.”

“I’ll be there in a minute” You shouted back. You had just had a workout, as you usually spent your mornings in his home gym to relieve stress. You jogged into the kitchen where you had heard his voice earlier. Tony heard you bouncing through the hallways, but his focus was on the trash that you failed to take out this morning. 

“I thought it was your turn to take care of the waste” He states, taking his glasses off before turning his attention to you. “Kid, we had an agree–“ He stops his rant when he realizes your risky attire. You had on a sports bra that accentuated your full breasts perfectly, and your track shorts didn’t leave much to the imagination. Your curly afro sat on your head like a crown, while a few stray pieces fell into your eyes like bangs. Your pecan-tan skin was currently glowing with a sheen of sweat from your previous workout. You looked like the Goddess Aphrodite hand-sculpted you herself. 

“I can take care of it now, I’m sorry. I just got a bit distracted” You apologize. 

“N-No, I can do it, besides these old bones need the exercise from the walk anyway” Tony stutters, patting his arms and averting his eyes. “You can continue whatever it was you were doing”. He excuses himself from the kitchen, but not without giving you one more lingered glance. 

You smile to yourself, knowing you were the reason he was so flustered. Sweaty from your morning activities you decide to grab a shower. You jog upstairs, grab a towel and head into you and Eddy’s shared room to prep. Grabbing your bathroom essentials you quickly get naked, and wrap the towel around yourself. While reading a text, you walk towards the bathroom.

 Not paying attention to where you were going, you crashed into Tony who was heading in from taking out the trash. The sudden contact was so hard that you had to catch your towel from falling and exposing your naked person. 

“I'm so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going” you apologize, but when you look up at him, his expression is blank, only his eyes were a darker shade of brown than his usual soft honey. 

A moment passed before he held you upright and patted your shoulders, “Just be more careful next time” he simply states. On that note he walks off towards his room, leaving you alone to be the one who’s flustered this time. 

♡♡♥︎♡♡

About twenty minutes had passed since your little hallway accident. Tony had tried throwing himself into a book, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how soft you felt in his arms for the split second he got to hold you. Being so enthralled in his thoughts, the loud thud and the yelp that followed caused him to jump out of his skin. 

Immediately running to your aid, he rushed to towards the bathroom to investigate the noise. Flinging the door open, expecting to find you bleeding out on the tub’s floor, he is surprised to see you on top of the counter, eyes wide in terror. The thud came from a fallen bathroom organizer. All of its contents were sprawled across the floor. Tony looked from you, to the mess, then back to you, silently demanding an explanation.

 “I thought I saw a spider…but it was just a clump of my hair, I’m so sorry” You cried. He looked at you with tired eyes, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. You imagined what he must think of you.

How could such a smart girl, be so dumb, you thought. You felt so embarrassed. The circumstances almost made you forget the position you were in. Like before, nothing but a tiny towel to cover your soaking wet body. Tony didn’t know if he believed in God, but if there was one, he was testing him. 

“It’s okay,” he began,

 “Go put some clothes on, while I clean up this mess.” 

“Tony I did it, so I should handle it” you try to argue, but like always he cut you off and insisted, 

“This is my house, and you’re a guest. Now go do as I said.” He was firm with his words. So you hopped off the counter, and went to do as he said, face and neck hot from the embarrassment you just endured. You just wanted to lock yourself in your room until you gained the courage to face him again. Which is exactly what you did.

♡♡♥︎♡♡

Hours later, you woke up from a nap and found yourself growing hungry. Figuring that around this time of night Tony would be in his study, you venture downstairs in hopes of finding some food.

After eating, you fix yourself a snack and choose a movie. As of lately living with Tony, made you feel sexually frustrated, so you chose Fifty Shades of Gray thinking nothing of it. Edward would likely not be coming home tonight, since he usually blew off steam with a whore or two after work, and Tony was most likely settled in for the night.  You would be all alone with your thoughts and fantasies. That was until Tony plopped himself down on the couch next to you. 

“Watcha watching?” He teased in a childish manner, eyes glued to the screen. 

“Um, Fifty Shades of Gray” you replied, immediately regretting your choice of entertainment. I mean it was a shitty movie, why were you watching it in the first place?

 “Hmm interesting. You know believe it or not, I’ve never seen it. Mind if I watch it with you?” He asks, looking at you briefly before back to the screen. 

“Well you can watch it, but I was just about to do some cleaning” you answer, standing to your feet. 

“Are you kidding, that can wait. We always watch movies together, besides they’re better with company. Sit down.” He commanded, though he said it in a playful manner, his eyes challenged your own. You sit back down. 

“Maybe we should watch something else, this movie is pretty terrible” you suggest. 

“Silly girl, I just told you I haven’t seen it. Let me be the judge of that.” He insists. How the fuck were you supposed to escape this awkward ass situation?

“If you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week” Christian declares to Anastasia, before leaning down to take a bite of her toast. 

“I like the way this Gray thinks” Tony whispered. 

You heard, him but you elected to ignore him. The two of you had tested the waters way too much today. 

Shifting in your seat to make yourself more comfortable, your thigh brushes against his warm hand. You slightly jump further away, the gesture making you realize just how close the two of you were. Tony chuckles at your actions. He always loved making you squirm. You think he got off at how worked up you’d get. 

“What’s funny?” You challenge, eyeing him because you were getting a little agitated at this point. 

“Nothing” he simply replies, eyes never leaving the screen. The hand that you brushed against was now hanging over the edge of the couch, he had crossed his legs so that his foot rest on his knee, and there was smug look on the bastard’s face. He looked too comfortable with this shit. 

You thought about all of the seats in the room. You even thought about all of the tv’s he had in his house. Why was this smug son-of-a-bitch sitting so close to you after everything that happened today? Did today’s events mean nothing to him? Did it only bother you? Maybe you only imagined that Tony had feelings for you.

 “Look kitten, I know how sexy I am, but would you mind watching the screen instead of me?” Tony states, finally meeting your gaze. You hadn’t realized you were still staring, so you apologized, fell back in your seat and began browsing apps on your phone to distract yourself from your growing shame. 

Fast-forward into the movie, and you guys come across your first sex scene. No matter who you were watching them with, sex scenes always felt uncomfortable to you. You thought of ways to escape the room. You reached into your popcorn bowl, and immediately found your way out. “I’m gonna go and get some more snacks.” You yell, jumping up to remove yourself.

 “But there’s plenty of popcorn, how much do you need?” Tony argues, startled from your outburst. 

“Well we could always use more, my stomach is like a black void.” You state before taking the half empty bowl, and running towards the kitchen. 

Finally away from him and that wretched movie, you had minute to collect your thoughts. While you act like you’re doing something, you fail to notice the footsteps slowly approaching.

“What are you doing to me?” Tony questions, his sudden presence making you jolt away from the task at hand. 

“Tony, you scared me” you sigh, grasping your chest. Thinking about his choice of words, you quirk your eyebrow and ask, “What does that question mean?” You’re genuinely confused about his random interrogation. He was leaning against the doorway on the other side of the kitchen. His gaze was currently fixated on your figure, eyeing you up and down. His dark hair looked like he had just ran a hand through it, and his arms were crossed forcing his muscles to bulge. He pushed himself off the wall and started towards you slowly, the closer he got the further you backed away.

 “It means, why are you running around here half-naked one minute, then acting innocent the next? Hmm? Are you trying to test me?” He accuses. 

 “I don’t know what you–“ 

“Don’t act stupid Y/N.” Tony warns. “You’re a smart girl, and you know what you’re doing”. His voice is raised slightly, and though he isn’t the tallest, his height towers yours at the moment. “Do you know how hard it is to control myself around you? You didn’t make it easy today.” At this point he had you backed in between the kitchen island and himself. He was close enough that you could smell his skin. A mixture of sandalwood and citrus assaulted your nostrils, and sent your mind into a blissful haze. He wasn’t lying, you knew exactly what you were doing. Even if it wasn’t intentional, your body craved him. It was as if the two of you were being pulled by a gravitational force towards each other. You just couldn’t help not being around him. 

You stayed silent. Your only form of communication was the look you were giving him. As your doe-like eyes bore into his, your lips quivered with anticipation. 

“Kid, you shouldn’t look at me like that.” He warned.  Straightening himself, to appear more intimidating, he asks, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy” was all that you could say. You swear you didn’t mean to, but your body betrayed your better judgement. Would he believe you if you told him that?

“Oh fuck” he sighed, before throwing his self-control out of the window. His hands were on your face pulling your lips to his in a fevered manner. He licked your lips begging for entrance, and you immediately obeyed his request. Although his lips were softer than any you’d ever felt, they were rough against you, desperate to show you the months of pent-up sexual tension in one heated session. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed the area beneath your thighs, and lifted you on the island. You reached your hands up to his hair, to tangle your fingers in the almond strands pulling him closer in the process. You wrapped your legs around his waist to feel his hardening bulge against your entrance. He groaned at the gesture, holding your waist in his hands.

 He pulled back for air, but it wasn’t long before he attached his lips to your neck. You tried to bite back a moan, but Tony being the arrogant prick he was sensed that, and took it as a challenge. He dug his fingers into your thighs, and slowly dragged them closer to the hem of your shorts tugging at them while simultaneously sucking hard on your neck. This action produced a whole slew of moans from you. Between the burn from the trails his nails made, and the spots he licked on your neck, you were in shambles. You placed one hand on the back of his neck, and used the other to claw at the fabric of his dress shirt. But then, he suddenly stopped. 

You opened your eyes to figure out what had distracted him, when you saw he was focused on the phone beside you. It was vibrating and lit up to reveal a notification from a close friend. But the text wasn’t what Tony focused on. It was the lock-screen that Edward made you save of the two of you. Son of a bitch, you thought. Suddenly consumed with guilt, Tony removed your hands from his neck and shoulder. 

“Sweetheart, we can’t do this. I’m sorry for coming on to you like that” He sighed, upset that he let things get this far. 

“Tony please don’t stop, I’ll do anything you want,” You beg, grabbing at his shirt and tightening your legs around his waist “please just stay.” You plead. 

“Maybe if you were never with my son, we could make this work, but you know that we cant. I’m sorry princess.” He unwraps your legs, and kisses your fingers before bringing your hands down to your sides. As he walks away, you shout, 

“I don’t let him touch me.” He stops in his tracks, “You’re the only man I want inside of me. Please don’t go.” You pleaded one last time. It takes every bone in his body not to turn around and take you right there, but he continues walking, grabbing his keys and heading out the door, leaving you all alone.

♡♡♥︎♡♡

When he had left, Tony originally planned on going to a bar to drink his problems away, but he just couldn’t start the damn car. He opted on sitting in the driveway for two hours instead. He contemplated going on vacation for a few days to get himself together. Or maybe he could spend his days at the company like Edward did. He even thought about packing you up to run away with him to the Poconos. That way you’d be away from Edward, and away from judgmental eyes. But alas, the best thing to do would be to go inside, talk out your issues, and decide from there. So that’s what he would do. 

When he entered the foyer, he immediately noticed the packed luggage in the entryway. It was yours. Oh hell no, he thought, she doesn’t just get to leave. 

More determined than before, he marches upstairs ready to confront you and beg you to stay. If anyone was gonna leave, it’d be him since he started the situation. Just before he knocked on your door to speak with you, he stopped due to the faint noises he heard on the other side. Were you already talking to someone? No.

 What he heard were needy pants and moans, and what he thought was his own name. Carefully opening the door slightly ajar, he peeked in to see you lying in bed. Your eyes were closed, and you had changed into an over-sized tee. Your hair was sprawled across your pillow, and your hands were busy at their own tasks. You had one underneath your shirt, toying with your nipples, and the other was underneath your panties finger fucking your hole. 

This. This was his breaking point. A man could only take so much.

 He burst into your room, alarming you so bad you leap out of your skin and sit up on your elbows. He began loosening his tie while he continued his stalk towards. He wasted no time crawling on top of the bed to hover above your face. He placed a hand beside your head to hold himself up, and then he ripped your drenched fingers out of your panties to examine them. Eyeing your slick digits, he pushed them into his mouth and slowly removed them, groaning from the taste. 

“Is this all for me?” He whispers, loud enough for you to hear. 

You didn’t answer him because you were still stunned from his unexpected appearance. Growing impatient from your silence, Tony slaps your pussy, causing you to whimper. “When daddy asks you a question, he expects an answer, okay kitten?” 

“Yes daddy” you choke out in a strangled moan. 

“Mmm, good girl” Tony praises. He grabs your hips , and positions you so that you're face down while your bare legs dangle off of his lap. 

“You know Y/N, you’ve been a very bad girl” Tony starts, as he takes off his tie. “Maybe I should teach you a lesson for being such a tease” As he says this, he wraps the fabric around your wrists, tightly securing it. He then proceeds to remove your panties. You can feel his dick getting harder. You squirm, placing your heat over his. “Don’t move.” He commands, before he places a hand on your ass, rubbing circles on it. “Now, be a good girl and count em for me.” Before you could protest, Tony delivers a harsh smack to your left cheek, you try to stifle the squeal that escapes your throat, which just makes him even more aggressive. 

“Fucking count, and if you hold in another sound, it's only gonna get much worse.” He cautions. 

“One” you cry. Smack, “T-two” the second blow was much harder than the last. 

Eight smacks later, and you can finally end this torment. “Ten!” you cry out, voice shaking, and  tears streaming down your face. By the time he got to ten, you were sure he’d left a handprint. Your tears stained the sheets, but he wasn’t done with you yet. He soothes the areas he smacked earlier with his hands. He leans down and begins to place kisses on your throbbing skin. You whine at the feel of warm lips, yearning for more, “I’m sorry about today Tony. Just please…no more teasing.” You beg, already dreading what he has in store. 

Tony pauses to respond, “You’ve been saying sorry quite a bit today, kitten. But it’s not gonna work this time.” He soothes, ignoring your pleas. 

When he’s done planting kisses, he takes two of his thick fingers to run between your sopping wet lips. He lightly brushes a finger against your clit, causing you to wiggle. “Look at daddy’s girl. So nice and wet, just for me.” He moves you both so that he’s face to face with your ass. “Such a pretty pussy.” he praises, in awe of how beautiful the sight before him is, dick growing harder by the minute. Fed up with waiting, he inserts his tongue into you. You taste even better than he had imagined. You fist the sheets underneath you, crying in bliss. You could feel the hair from his beard ticking the inside of your thighs. That, paired with the thick tongue inside of you, made you a moaning, writhing mess. 

He’s biting and sucking on your lips, carefully making sure to collect all of your juices. His tongue occasionally darts between your folds, causing you to yelp and squirm. You can’t help bucking your hips backwards to relieve some of the tension. To focus better on your clit, he reaches one of his arms under your leg, and plants  his hand on the area above your ass to hold you steady. He uses the other hand to finger fuck you while his tongue toyed with your clit. 

Pushing yourself against his tongue was all that you could do since your hands were still tied, but Tony had a death-grip around your waist now.“Please untie me daddy, please I can’t take this anymore”, you whine, getting overwhelmed from the pleasure. 

He comes up for air, and says “Since you asked so nicely princess.”,  and with that, he flips you over so that you’re on your back, unties your wrists, then trails kisses down your body until he reaches your pussy again. He was hungry, and you were the only one who could satisfy him. 

You tangle your hands in his hair, pull him closer to your mound, and start to grind yourself against his face.You were chasing your orgasm at this point and any kind of friction helped you get closer, but he didn’t seem to mind; it just turned him on even more. Tony begins sucking on your clit like his life depended on it. He used his fingers to stretch you open. First it was just one, then two, and now a third had you feeling full. Unable to stand the pleasure any longer, you began pushing him away. He placed an arm over your waist to restrain you. Still fingering you, he looked up to say, “Stay still. I’m just trying to make you feel good”. You throw your head back in response, moans roaring from your chest. 

 Even though you were just lying there, the sounds you made, and the way you tasted were setting him off. He wasn’t eating your pussy just to please you, he was doing it to please himself too. He started to hum into you, and the vibrations sent you over the edge. “Tony I’m so close” you cry, as you try to push him away one last time. The feeling was too new and foreign to you, “Fuck daddy, I’m cumming!” you screamed, just before you came all over his face.

He continues licking and sucking to help you ride out your high. Tears were clouding your vision. He finally comes up, meeting your eyes. He sits on his knees in between your legs, and begins to wipe away your tears. “You see the mess you made?” He questions, referring to his wet lips and fingers. You take the long appendages into both hands, and without breaking eye contact, place them in your mouth only to slowly remove them, repeating his actions from earlier. 

“What am I gonna do with you?” he says more to himself than to you. 

“Anything you want.” You reply. 

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you in awe. You take advantage of his silence, to get up and meet his level. You both just stare at each other for a moment. He’s the one to make the first move. You two share a slow and passionate kiss. He fights for dominance, and you obey him. 

Your hands are placed on his shoulders to steady yourself. He rubs his hands up and down your sides, contemplating whether or not he wants to get rid of your baggy t-shirt. He decides he does. He breaks the kiss to pull the material over your head. He’s instantly met with your perky brown breasts, and the chocolate buds that grace the middle of them. 

Grabbing your neck to pull you back in for a kiss, he begins palming at your chest. You move away from his lips to attack his neck. You slowly lick a stripe up towards his ear, biting the lobe when you meet it. Tony growls at the gesture, tugging your hair and making you whimper in the process. You continue endeavors, sucking and biting. You blow cold air over the bruises you make, which drives him crazy. He starts tugging at one of your nipples with and brings his free hand down to play with your clit again. You kiss your way passed his neck, to meet his collarbone. Before you can go any lower, he stops you.

“Not this time princess. Tonight is about you.” He coos, grabbing your chin up to meet your face. “Trust me we’ll have plenty of time for that in the future.” You can’t help the small smile that comes to your face at the mention of this happening again. 

“Look at that pretty smile, I can never get enough of that.” He returns a smile to you, and begins unbuttoning his dress shirt. He stands up to pull the fabric off his shoulders, and tosses it to the other side of the room. You crawl over to him, and begin unbuckling his pants. “Impatient are we” he chuckles, cupping your chin. He bites his lip, turned on by how eager you are. 

When you finish unbuckling, he pushes you back on the bed to finish releasing himself. His member is bigger than you imagined and you wonder if it will even fit. 

“Get over here” he commands. You do as he says. He pulls you to the edge of the bed and lines himself up with your entrance. He teases you both by pushing himself between your folds to gather some lubricate. His head was big, so even that felt a little uncomfortable. 

When he felt he collected enough wetness, he pulled back so that his tip aligned with your opening. “Do you want me stop?” He asks, sensing your uneasiness. 

“No. Keep going” you respond, you’ve wanted this for so long, a little pain wasn’t going to stop you.

He eases his head into you, causing you both to let a string of obscenities. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so tight.” He growls, hunched over trying to ease the rest of himself in. Your mouth was wide open, and you didn’t breathe out of fear that you were gonna pop. Tears began to well up in your eyes. For one, you hadn’t been fucked in so long it felt like you were a virgin, and two, Tony had the biggest dick you’d ever taken. 

“Sweetheart just relax for me” he urges, the veins in his dick were pulsating against the walls of your pussy. He would explode if he didn’t fuck you within the next two minutes. You try to do as he says. He reaches between the two of you, to apply pressure to your clit, which immediately makes you welcome him. He waits for you to adjust to his size.  When he feels you clench around him, he pins your hands above your head, and starts to fuck you into the mattress. His strokes start off slow, but hard. He’s rolling his hips into yours, and his grunts and your moans are filling your ears. You shut your eyes, the pleasure beginning to overtake you. Tony reaches between you to pinch your clit. You yelp and fling your eyes open. “Don’t take your eyes off of me baby.”

He picks up the pace, and starts to fuck you faster. His hips are smashing into yours, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. “You look so pretty with my cock stuffed inside of you.” He growls, “Who else fucks you like this, hmm?” He questions. 

“No one, Tony” you whimper, relishing in his dirty talk.

 “Better not be” , he warns before delivering a particularly hard thrust that makes you cry out in pain. “You look so good underneath me. Fuck!” He grunts. “Say my name, princess.”

“Tony” you whimper, which was apparently the wrong answer because now he’s fucking you at an inhuman speed. 

He pinches your clit again, “Silly girl, thats not it. What’s my name?”

“Daddy!” you scream,

 “Good girl” he grunts, before burying himself into your neck claiming your skin. He doesn’t give a fuck about Edward at this point. He’s fucking you in his son’s bed, and he wouldn’t even care if he caught the two of you right now. That would be his punishment for the way he treated you.

His hand still on your clit, his throbbing dick inside you, and even his bare chest rubbing against your nipples is enough to make you explode. “D-daddy I’m gonna cu-umm.” You stutter, your words becoming incoherent. The pleasure was so intense you couldn’t think straight. 

“Cum on Daddy’s cock, kitten.” He whispers into your ear, sending you over the edge. 

“Fuck!”, you screamed, when he kept fucking you even after you came. Tony was close too, his thrusts were becoming more inaccurate, and he began to pull out before you stopped him. 

“Cum inside of me.” You begged, wrapping yourself around him. 

And that’s when you see something in him snap. You didn't have to tell him twice. He kicks up the pace sending your body up and down against the mattress as he urges himself to give you what you both want. 

And after one more thrust, he lets out a sound so animalistic, and spurts his seed into your sex. All you can feel is his hot cum filling you up, as you both come down from your highs.

 Staying put for a moment, he looks down at you, both of you covered in sweat, and tired from tonight’s activities. You both are gasping for air, trying to catch your breath. Tony was usually a man who kept his composure, so to see him before you now, sweat rolling down his body, disheveled hair, gasping for air, completely fucked out,  was a memory you hoped to never forget. 

He finally decided to remove himself from you, and you instantly felt empty. He left the room for a moment, only to return in a pair of sweatpants. He also had a damp washcloth, that he used to clean you with.  “Who knew you could be so sweet” you murmur grabbing your t-shirt off the floor to pull it over your head, before you push yourself under the covers of your bed. 

“You’re right. Now I have to kill you.” He responds, making you giggle. He smiles, “That’s such a sweet sound.” He whispers. You stop smiling and avert your gaze. 

“You don’t get to be shy now.” He says before crawling into bed next to you. You’re positioned so that your back is against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, and you intertwine your legs with his. He nuzzles his face into your neck, and plants a kiss. 

“Can I ask you a question?” He asks, while playing with your hair. 

“You just did, but I guess that’s not what you meant” you say, earning a nip to the ear. “Ow! What’s your question, stupid?” you ask, chuckling. 

“Where were you gonna go? I saw your bags packed downstairs.” He asks. 

“I was gonna go back to my old apartment.”

‘I need to stop paying for that right away’, he thought. “ Well what stopped you?” He pushes. 

“I saw your car in the driveway and didn’t want you to try to stop me, so I just went back upstairs until you were gone. I guess I was still pretty horny from earlier.” you admit. 

God, did he love this girl.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Don’t ever think about leaving” he cautions. 

“Me too…and I won’t” You start. Changing the subject you say, “You know…i’ve never done that before.”

“Done what?” He prods.  

“Ive never came before.” You confess. 

“Are you serious?” He half yells, making you jump slightly. 

“Well yea, not even by myself.” 

“So you mean to tell me, Edward never made you cum? I thought I raised him better than that.” He states, making you laugh.

“Well you two are completely different.” 

“One could say, that it's a Stark contrast.” He jokes, laughing to himself.

“Remind me to never fuck a dad again.” You sigh, before turning around to give him one last kiss goodnight. 

A/N: Please tell me what you think if you've gotten this far ;)! Like, reblog, comment. Also do not repost.