#they’re putting good out in the universe but I want it to be more muddled good

[tennessoui]

I always figured throat Obi-Wan and Anakin would end up, like, dismantling slave rings. Obi-Wan gets to work for justice and help people, Anakin gets to dismember any slaver who does not instantly surrender and/or says something mean to Obi-Wan. Everyone wins!

I almost feel like that that’s too morally good and too much karmic good for throat fic obikin to be putting out into the galaxy though you’re right it’s a pretty good compromise - obi-wan is definitely a calming influence on his master in a way that most padawan obi-wans are for their master anakins, but this obi-wan also has his own sort of dark side/bloody side (one of the things anakin loves about him) and I think that any sequel for throat fic that gets published explores obi-wan’s capacity for darkness

….especially because it’s told from vaderkin’s pov so there’s more time to show the master’s manipulations on the former padawan when the first fic showed the successful manipulations from padawan to master

[wri0thesley]

Hello Nat! It's me! The same anon who sent the Househusband Risotto asks a few weeks ago. Could I request a fic of Risotto with no.21(a Househusband au) and some pregnancy fluff? Congrats on 5k (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

brand new - risotto x reader

you have something to tell your husband. 

warnings: soft fluff, sfw. afab reader, no pronouns. pregnancy, talk of children, brief allusions to risotto’s past life. 

You’re surprised by just how easily Risotto falls into a domestic life.

You’d thought that his past would haunt him more; the fallen comrades, the Mafia business, the blood on his hands – but he’s surprisingly pragmatic about it, when you hesitantly bring it up.

“It happened,” he says. “I miss them. But I’ve been given a chance that they didn’t get, and I intend to take it.”

It’s more than your stoic, quiet husband usually says at once, and you feel it pierce your heart like an arrow. Your hand brushes over his broad shoulder in as much comfort as you can give him, and Risotto looks at you with the lightest smile on his lips that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the whole universe.

Risotto becomes the house-husband as if he’s been waiting to be able to do it for his whole life.

Oh, he makes some mistakes – some little things, like washing a pair of your red underwear in with some shirts that you wear for work. Planting the wrong kind of seedlings at the wrong time of year – trying to fix the plumbing himself instead of calling a plumber.

You two muddle along, but as a whole Risotto seems to be thriving, and that makes your heart leap in your chest like a prima ballerina.

Your heart thumps double when you come home after a long day of work and he already has dinner simmering on the stove, an apron wrapped around his broad frame – it’s emblazoned with the legend; “Hot Stuff Coming Through (and I don’t mean the food)”. You breathe in the scent of his cooking; something deep and rich.

You come up behind him and wrap your arms about him, resting your cheek on the centre of his back.

His muscle has gone a little soft now that he’s not working out so often or in as many life-or-death situations, but he’s still broad and amazing and perfect for holding onto.

“Smells great,” you say, sighing, kicking off your heels in kitchen to be put away later. Risotto’s eyes stray to them all higgledy-piggledy on the floor, and he frowns;

“Nonna’s recipe,” he says. “Aren’t you going to put those in the shoe rack?”

“I’ve only just gotten home,” you pout at him, but your pout quickly breaks into a smile as you see the exhaustedly fond expression on his face.

Now that he’s not an assassin – now that he doesn’t need to hide everything he’s feeling under the guise of being cool and cold and collected – Risotto’s face seems to move more. He finds it easier to express his emotions. It’s still little things; twitches and furrows, instead of his entire face transforming – but it’s more than before.

He’s comfortable. He’s happy.

You, and him, and the little world that you’ve build all around you two.

You bend over to pick up your heels, opening your mouth to say something over-dramatic about his newfound house pride – but you’re stopped by an ache that shoots down to the centre of your back, a noise of pain escaping you before Risotto can turn lightning quick and wrap a strong arm around you.

“Are you alright?” He’s asking, brow creasing slightly in concern. Panic flares in your stomach – you don’t want to tell him like this.

“Y-yeah,” you laugh it off, straightening up with your shoes in your hand, the other going to massage your back where you can reach. “Guess I was just sat in the wrong position at work for too long, huh?”

Risotto looks sceptical, but he can’t leave his boiling pots for too long. With a searching look at you, he returns to the stove, murmuring low;

“I’ll give you a massage later.”

You smile at his back as you walk towards the shoe rack in the hallway. You know that saying that will have made him blush; despite how long the two of you have been married now, he’s still nervous about things like that. His hands still shake a little when he goes to hold you. He still licks his lips before he kisses you, murmuring in a deep voice;

“Is it really alright?”

You always wind your arms around his neck and pull him in as your way of reassuring him that it’s perfectly fine. It’s hard, you think, for him to accept that he deserves all of this – but you’re eternally glad that the two of you get to share it together.

Little reminders of your shared home and life are scattered all about your home. A picture of you and Risotto at your wedding, framed and hung in the hallway; his suit is a little too tight, because he left it too long and it couldn’t be tailored properly to address the fact that he’s built like a superhero.

A bookshelf that has your romantic novels next to his own gothic horrors; a skull candle that burns red from its eyes as it melts perched on top. Also perched on top is a trinket dish that he made and painted for you at a pottery class he attended to try and get him out of the house whilst you were at work – you use it to dump your keys in.

It’s supposed to be a heart shape, but it’s more of a very uneven kidney.

The carpet you two had chosen together; you’d wanted something cheaper, but Risotto had insisted you could afford this one – he’d been right, and it’s soft beneath your stockinged feet.

You love him so much.

Your hand cups your stomach protectively now that you’re out of Risotto’s sight. You think of the tiny life inside of you; half Risotto, half you, already loved more than they’ll ever know even without Risotto knowing that it’s there. You can’t wait to tell him.

His hands are gentle on your shoulders, big and warm and softer than they once were. They’re still a little calloused from the garden work he enjoys doing, but he no longer handles weapons and you buy him sandalwood-scented hand cream instead.

They feel so good as they slide down your shoulder blades, brushing the notches of your spine, soothing circles pressed into your skin with his thumb. You sigh, relaxing into him. The feel of the palm flat against the small of your back – where the ache is the most pronounced – makes you relax even further into him, toes curling, a sigh escaping your mouth of relief.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He asks you, his voice measured. Your eyes flicker open from where they’ve closed in comfort.

“W-what’s wrong?” You ask him, nervously, and Risotto makes an ‘mm’ noise in the back of his throat. His hands do not stop the massage as he goes.

“You’ve been out of it for days,” he tells you.

(He’s right. You’ve been out of it since Monday, and it’s now Thursday; Monday is the day you’d woken up with your stomach heaving, remembered how long it had been since your last period, and bought a pregnancy test on your way to work. You’ve done three more since then, and all of them have showed the exact same result.)

“Have I?”

His hands move to your shoulders, gently twisting you around.

“You have,” he says, his red-and-dark eyes fixed firmly on you. “If there’s something wrong, I’d like to fix it.”

“It’s nothing you’ve done!” You say, all in a rush, but Risotto has successfully caught you nonetheless; his eyes narrow.

“So it is something?”

Heat rushes to your face. You forget, sometimes, because he cooks dinner and does the gardening and goes to his pottery class, that he was a battle-hardened mafia assassin who has done more interrogations than you will probably ever know (you never bring up his former employ unless he brings it up first). He’s an expert at gently needling the truth out of people.

“It’s not something that’s wrong,” you say, weakly, but his eyes are still pinning you in place.

“Tell me,” is all he says.

You think, in the back of your head, you’d had some kind of grand plans to reveal your secret – maybe involving balloons, and a cake, and a little party hat perched on top of Risotto’s silvery pale hair. You think you wanted to make a big deal out of it; one more reminder that the world he left behind is well and truly in his past now. But now you’re on the bed with him and he’s looking at you so tenderly in a soft grey shirt for sleeping and a pair of loose boxer shorts, all ruffled and sleepy and domestic . . . Now feels like a good time too.

“I’m pregnant,” you tell him.

You swear that you could hear a pin drop.

He blinks at you, as if he can’t properly process the statement.

“You’re—”

“We’re having a baby.”

“Oh my God.” His voice is very small. He reaches out, hesitantly, eyes wide – big hand hovering over your stomach. “Can I . . .?”

“Yes,” you say, breathless as his hand rests on it. It’s not curving, yet; the fancy test you’d bought today and done in the bathroom at work had said it thought you were well past three weeks, but that’s still early days. Your eyes stare down at Risotto’s scarred, huge fingers – so careful with you, despite what he’s had to do to survive.

“I can’t believe it,” he tells you, and your throat feels tight.

“Me neither,” you admit. “But . . . I’m happy.”

He meets your eyes. There are tears brimming in his – you have never seen Risotto Nero cry. You’ve seen him sad, of course (a sad downturn to his mouth when a dog dies in a movie, or when the rosebush he’d been carefully cultivating had failed to achieve a single bloom) – but there’s an actual tear rolling down his cheek, sparkling in the bedroom light.

“Me too,” he says, and it seems entirely natural. Entirely true. Your heart aches with how much you love him.

You two don’t say anything for a few minutes, content to just look at each other, the warm knowledge of what you’re sharing making the air seem hazy and unreal.

You think about the pitter patter of little feet. The spare room you can turn into a nursery. Going to pre-natal classes with Risotto, choosing baby clothes, seeing him out and about pushing a fancy perambulator (you’ve always wanted one of those tacky, over the top ones that look like a Victorian nanny’s contraption, and you know that Risotto will agree to it--).

You think about him in the delivery room, your nails making crescent moon cuts in his palm. You think about his encouraging tone; you think about the hand-grown flowers he’ll no doubt bring you.

You imagine him cradling a little bundle of joy; tiny in his huge arms. His lips leaving gentle kisses on tiny foreheads. Him reading to your baby, him tending to scrapes, him and you and your child and the life that neither of you ever thought you’d get to live together.

His face is shining, fully transformed. He sees you looking at him with droplets shimmering in your tear ducts and he wipes them away with one big, warm thumb.

“I know,” he says. “It’s not just for me. It’s for all of them, too.”

“Yes,” you say to him. Your voice breaks, pitches, as you manage to get out: “I’m so happy we get to spend the rest of our lives together.”

He looks at you, so tender you feel like you’ll come apart under his gaze.

This moment is going to shimmer in your memory forever, you think. You’re glad that this was how the reveal went. This is much more like the two of you than any fancy reveal or ribbon or cake (you might still get a cake, anyway – Risotto has a sweet tooth).

“I love you,” he says, like warmth that wraps about your heart. And then; “What about naming it Formaggio?”

There’s a beat. You stare at him.

Both of your mouths stretch into a smile, a soft huff of laughter escaping his lips that makes you feel like you’re listening to a symphony.

“Maybe we should workshop names a bit more,” you tell him.

He agrees.

[mondayrobot]

120-Day Fanfiction List (M)

A collection of my recommended Eren/Mikasa fanfictions for the first one-hundred and twenty days of the year.

Warning: The contents contain adult themes.

Rating: Mature

A Prompt for a Romp by Timid Mew

A bunch of short stories compressed together in one big pile. All of which are EreMika and AruAni.

Across Realities by BladeOfRain

Eren stands on Paradis Island as its saviour. Yet he could not help but question if the sacrifices he had made were worth it. They were free, but his demons still haunted him. He was ready to let go, but a second chance sparked hope inside him, hope that he had not felt for a long time. In this new reality, he strives to protect those he had lost and protect the future of Paradis.

After It's All Done by somecatastrophe

In another life, there was no one waiting on the other side of the sea. Thus Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman get to live the peaceful and domestic life they always wanted.

Came Out Swinging by fevversinherhair

Nine months ago, Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman fought for the first time. Eren pursues his MMA career, Mikasa goes off to college. When his first big amateur match brings them back together, old memories and new feelings muddle the issue.

Encounters by rainycliff213

Mikasa had not expected to find a creature like him, supposedly extinct for millennia, wandering in the same woods as her. The monsters had for centuries terrorized humanity, and it seemed she was the next victim.

Yet, after her escape, it seemed that neither the princess nor the monster could shake their encounter.

fide et amor by hellsiren @zoldyckvevo

drabbles. Eren, Mikasa, and a different kind of love.

Four Years by Kaekiro @kaekiro

A collection of drabbles that center around Eren and Mikasa's life after running away together.

Hearts afire by Sharinganblossoms

Collection of eremika snippets exploring the spectrum from canonverse to AU.

In another life by Sharinganblossoms

In a world without walls and burden and dreadful fate their paths collide once again.

Matrimony by waddlestreet

A marriage of convenience between Azumabito Princess, Mikasa Ackerman and General of Eldian army, Eren Jaeger.

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore by ygrittewildthing @ackermanstyle

Historia Reiss could not have approached Mikasa Ackerman with the idea of joining a band at a better time. After a falling out with Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger, Mikasa decides to take her up on her offer joining alongside Ymir Langnar (bassist), Sasha Blouse (drummer), and Annie Leonhart (guitarist). With their new keyboard player and lyricist, they set off on a journey that takes them away from their hometown. After winning the battle of the bands, they scored a record deal. As they set out to record their first album, their past begins to catch up to them.

my most beloved by misswongs

Within the false reality he's created, in a cabin that encompasses all of the selfish desires he'll never have, Eren makes sure Mikasa is happy. She’s here, and for a quiet, fleeting eternity, she’s his.

Mysterium by dialectus @dialectus

She sees him change, he sees her grow. After discovering a piece of the world to call their own, two troubled souls find solace in each other

Never again by iliankasmoulinka91 @ili-akkaman

On the verge of death, they both regret what could have been but was never. But there is always an afterlife.

Oath by StormyInk

She didn't want to leave Eren but her past had caught up with her and she refused to let those shadowy fingers reach him, refusing to keep putting him in danger, even if it meant tearing herself out of his life. "Are you coming?" Levi asked her & she looked away from the boy who'd saved her life all those years ago. It was time to keep the oath she'd made. "Yes. I am."

On a Beautiful Mountainside, I Love You by sentimentalblue @isayamasideblog

How easy it was to run. Runaways. That’s what they are.

Sight Beyond Sight by Timid Mew

Mikasa ponders over the loss of her sight, making her feel isolated and detached. Eren, however, quickly shows her that even though she's lost the use of her eyes, she still has him.

Somewhere Impossible and Lovely by rainycliff213

Could they escape it all, if they ran away? Would a life in peace be worth it?

Stress Relief by Pepin-Bones

Soldiers lead stressful lives, which means they need ways to unwind and cope with the stress of what they see and what they do - sometimes in unconventional ways. But Eren thinks it's ridiculous, or at least he did...

Teenagers by theothardus

In a world of no Titans, they would be normal, and normal teenagers might snuggle up, and Mikasa might be the one to make the first move.

The Journey by adieemus

Running away to the edge of the world with her lover, makes a soldier wonder how to get back living in her own body, after holding another in her arms for one night.

The Life I Wished For You by Timid Mew

Eren never expected to find a woman tucked away in the dark depths of a deep cave when finding shelter from the rain. He also never expected her to be a mythical creature only depicted in books.

the way home by bacondestiny @@inbothourhandsgloria

Eren crosses the ocean on the backs of his Colossals.

They can swim; he cannot. This body is too huge, too dense. He has arms but they’re useless. He has legs but they drag after him. He scuttles along the ground on his hundreds of protruding ribs. He feels them puncture the soil, the sand. Rocks scrape against the exposed bone, and when he stands on the blisteringly hot exposed muscle of his Titans, the water steaming up around, it would be enough to char if it weren’t for his healing. He’s kept on the brink of burning, unable to let the heat kill his nerves.

It hurts.

But it only lasts a few hours.

And while the steam still burns, while the pressure on the points of his ribs is odd and painful, now, it is time for others to hurt —

—“Mikasa,” Eren says, shaking her awake. “Mikasa, wake up.”

this love we share by MintToy @minttoy

She loves him and he loves her back. On the surface, it seems easy, but she knows in some dark crevice of her mind, that even though love is selfish – escaping to these mountains was selfish – it is also good.

Her source of strength. The root of his humanity.

Time will come when it will teach her to grow, too.

Through Thick and Thin by Moonstars (Flamingo27)

Eren is a university student with a bright future ahead in the field of medicine, very much like his father. At the same time, Mikasa is a student in the same university, specifically in the nursing school. Just like the green-eyed boy, she is very much considered a genius in her department. When the two met, they fell in love and it was widely known in the university for both of the students had a promising future in their respective fields.

However, a sudden revelation had shattered both of their future plans: Mikasa’s unexpected pregnancy.

Till Death Do Us Apart by misswongs

Through the confined expansions of the wood that it's made of, through the grass, the trees, the birds soaring in the skies, they feel each other. They exist for one another, holding on to whatever is left of their fragmented bodies and withered souls—for everyone will be bone and ashes soon but they're still here, still flesh and blood, still alive.

Still alive.

And for now, just for now, it's enough.

we'll never be those kids again (but we can try) by rilakkuma5 @uhhstar

She had hoped this would happen differently. In an ideal world, it would have. They’d have been blushing and fumbling. Awkward laughter. Unsure hands. Soft kisses. All of it. In an ideal world, this would have played out like her fantasies—tender and loving.

But the world is ending. For the umpteenth time. She’s lost count.

What Ifs by qeen124

"I love you, Eren."

She gasped as soon as the words came out of her mouth. There was a sense of relief, followed by a wave of panic. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly, she saw his shoes step closer to hers, and felt his fingers lift her chin up, allowing her dark eyes to settle into his.

He didn't speak a word but what he did next was more than enough as a response.

Your one and only Dark Knight by kuchenackerman @kuchenackerman

In the daytime I’m Eren. Just a normal boy with a normal boring life. But there’s something about me that no one knows yet. Emphasis on yet. ‘Cause I have a secret. No, but seriously, can I at least tell her? It's so unfair...

You can also check out: 2020 Eremika Fanfiction Masterlist

[thepapergirlandthespiegelman]

Castlevania Season 4: I’m not mad, just disappointed

Season 4 is poorly written fanfiction, which is...better than a lot of things could be, I guess.

Spoilers below the cut.

Content warning: trauma, sexual assault, psychological manipulation

The Gods Have Had a Change of Heart

Or, “Season 3 Blocked and Ignored”

Season 3 felt like the fabric of the universe had been twisted just to inflict additional pain. Season 4 overcompensates in the other direction; trauma evaporates, and good things happen for no other reason than to make our favorite characters happy.

The Season 3 finale left two characters in particular totally devastated: Alucard and Hector. Alucard is violently betrayed in a horrifying sexual assault by the first two people he’s spoken to since Trevor and Sypha left. He ends up killing them in self-defense and puts their bodies on stakes outside the castle, alluding to his father’s habit of doing so and potentially hinting at a turn toward evil. Hector is seduced by Lenore and then enslaved using a magic ring.

Yet at the start of Season 4, it’s as if these things never happened. Alucard is troubled, but not totally devastated, certainly not evil. Taka and Sumi are referenced in exactly one conversation with new character, Greta, in which she says the rather tactless throwaway line, “I had a boyfriend and girlfriend at the same time once. But they never tried to kill me.” Hector is nominally imprisoned, but immediately seems highly agentic, perhaps even more so than before. He studies, lays traps, and makes secret plans with other people. Furthermore, his relationship with Lenore is completely transformed. From falling to his knees in abject horror and despair at being enslaved, he suddenly switches to light banter, in what is apparently a basically okay, mutually enjoyed romantic/sexual relationship. Manipulative, selfish Lenore is now a sympathetic character struggling to reconcile her own role and feelings with Carmilla’s plans.

The events of season 3 happened, remaining canon in the most basic, literal sense. But the emotional weight attached to them has disappeared into thin air.

Not gonna lie, I did breathe a sigh of relief when I saw that Alucard and Hector were okay. I’m soft-hearted! I don’t like seeing characters I like suffer! I mean, conflict is important, and I can deal with (or even enjoy in a certain sense) seeing characters suffer if it makes sense and serves a narrative purpose. But as far as I can tell, the season 3 finale was nothing more than lurid, meaningless violence. I probably wouldn’t have continued watching the show if it devolved into nothing more than finding novel ways to torture the characters.

Still, it doesn’t feel quite right to pretend like nothing happened either. Or, really, not that nothing happened, but that those things didn’t matter, didn’t hurt, didn’t leave lasting scars. That’s...almost kind of worse.

But, I thought, I can sort of forgive this sudden shift in the stars, given that there may have been some sort of change in creative direction relating to Ellis’ decreased involvement with the show.* Plus, season 3 was insanity. It’s not like it was full of great writing choices, so if we quietly ignore some of them, maybe that’s for the best.

*I only later learned that Netflix actually chose to continue with Ellis’ season 4 scripts. It is not lost on me that maybe Ellis doesn’t know how to write about the lasting effects of traumatic sexual experiences or how power dynamics can make a sexual relationship problematic because he doesn’t understand that those things exist.

Characters Being Nobody and Nothing Happening

Pretty Pictures, Not Much Else

Unfortunately, the disconnect between seasons 3 and 4 isn’t the only problem with this season. Although I felt that season 4 was a bit less boring than season 3 (I particularly enjoyed some of the earlier episodes of season 4), it suffers from the same basic problems of Characters Being Nobody and Nothing Happening.

None of the characters experience any significant development, let alone any sort of coherent arc. Sypha has changed slightly, becoming more rough and jaded. I did really like the scene where she talks about becoming the kind of person who says “shit.” I think it really speaks to how entering into a relationship with someone means taking on aspects of their lifestyle, and how that can change you in ways that you can’t predict and therefore can’t exactly “agree” to. Sometimes those changes are good, sometimes they’re bad, sometimes they’re neutral, and sometimes it’s difficult to know. But you have to accept that you’re sacrificing some aspects of the person that you could have been if you chose to live completely independently, or with someone else.

Trevor really hasn’t changed since season 1 when he first decided to take up the mantle of hero again. Likewise with Alucard. Hector and Lenore change, as previously noted, but that change is sudden, jarring, and occurs completely off screen in between seasons 3 and 4. Carmilla dies as exactly as she lived: bitter, angry, and violent. Saint Germain just kind of...gets fucked over in a nonsensical subplot, which is its own whole can of worms.

We also get several new characters in season 4, none of whom have developed personalities or motives, nor do they develop any of those things over the course of the season: Greta, Zamfir, Varney, Ratko.

And nobody. Does. Anything.

Trevor and Sypha spend the entire season trying to explore and aid Targoviste, which comes to absolutely nothing. They’re unable to help anyone, Zamfir dies, and they end up just jumping through a magic portal to the actually relevant subplot in the finale. Carmilla literally does little more than draw maps until she’s ultimately killed. Hector plays a minor role in Saint Germain’s extraction of Dracula from Hell; otherwise, he and Lenore basically just exchange banter. Saint Germain does sort of do some stuff? But it’s often unclear how he’s made his connections, who the people who are helping him are, or what exactly he’s doing in terms of his magic beyond “whatever it takes to get back to his lover.”

Sure, there are fight scenes, but they feel meaningless. There’s no context, no stakes. There’s also a LOT of dialogue, and it is. Not well written. Exposition is embarrassingly clumsy at times, and the philosophical musings are cliche at best, muddled and confusing at worst. There’s just not all that much going on.

That is, except for Isaac. But more on him in a second.

What Kind of Show Is This?

When the plot line adapted from Castlevania III: Dracula's Curse ended with season 2, the show struggled to establish a new identity.

Despite nominally dealing with themes like whether humanity is inherently good or evil and how to cope with wrongdoing and loss, seasons 1 and 2 ultimately boiled down to a pretty generic action-adventure/fantasy plot with found family/power of friendship elements. Main characters Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard don’t really wrestle with big philosophical questions or suffer any major defeats. They know that they have to take down Dracula for the good of the world, and they work together as a team to do it, with a little character development relating to their various backstories sprinkled in.

Then season 3 happened, and things got weird. The trio is broken up for what feels like a pretty trivial reason—Alucard has to protect the castle and Belmont hold, I guess? And the result of that decision is that the dynamics for the three main characters are completely unbalanced.

Ellis openly admits that he basically went feral with the writing of season 3, and it shows. The messaging in seasons 1 and 2 was cliche, but consistent. The message of season 3? Anyone’s guess.

Season 4 reversed the darkening of tone from season 3, but shares its inability to pick a story and tell it.

Isaac is the Main Character

Always has been.

While I can’t say that his character or arc are perfect, I can say that he actually has a character and an arc. He starts off motivated by his fierce loyalty to Dracula, then has to struggle to find his purpose once Dracula is gone. He goes from subservient to agentic. He goes from fully endorsing the genocide of humanity and not caring about his own life to seeing some worth in humans and genuinely wanting to live. He has an interesting moment that deepens our understanding of what night creatures are, while also serving as an exploration of the meaning of one’s fundamental nature. Most importantly, these changes happen naturally over the course of the show. They never feel forced or out of the blue, and while I feel like even more could have been done with Isaac’s character, there’s a lot to appreciate about what is there.

If there’s any thread holding Castlevania as a single, coherent work together, it’s Isaac. Not only is his character the best executed and the most coherent over the course of the show, his character explores themes that are larger than himself and relevant to the show as a whole, like those mentioned earlier: misanthropy versus a belief in the value of humanity; the ability to go beyond one’s “nature” or initial circumstances; and how to respond to being wronged or losing something important to you. Exploring the individual lives of characters is great, but really good writing usually requires going beyond that to reflect on broader questions and ideas. Isaac is the only character here that serves that larger purpose.

Sorry...I Just Don’t Buy It

The season 4 finale is crazy, although in a different way from season 3′s.

Varney being Death makes no sense on several different levels. I’m not going to spend a lot of time picking that particular plot twist apart, but I will talk about why I think it doesn’t work at the largest scale, and how I think season 4 might have been done better.

Last minute twists with zero foreshadowing are rarely a good idea, and this is no exception. Why introduce this “Death” entity at the last minute to be the most important battle of the season? The finale of the entire show, even? Besides the lack of logic or emotional buildup, this robs the show of the opportunity to make use of the antagonists that it already has. Since Dracula died, Carmilla has been the obvious choice for a new big bad. Why hasn’t she done more?

Season 4 feels crowded with characters and plot lines that amount to nothing. Why not bring some of these characters together? If Carmilla is the main antagonist, how come she never meets any of the protagonists (except Hector, who is a pretty minor player in this ecosystem) or even affects them in any way?

Season 4 feels like maybe it was trying to make something out of season 3 and the model that it presented, but it ultimately fails to do so. The writers throw the trio back together at the end anyway, so why not have them rejoin sooner and work together? Maybe Sypha and Trevor’s past experience with Saint Germain could have helped Alucard and Greta piece together what he was plotting sooner, rather than all four of them being completely blindsided by it in the penultimate episode. (Sypha and Trevor know that someone is trying to resurrect Dracula, but they fail to find out any actual detail about the plans, despite their supposed attempts.) Have characters actually do stuff, figure stuff out, advance the plot!

Likewise, maybe Carmilla becomes aware of Saint Germain’s scheming, sees it as a threat, and tries to take him down. Maybe she tries to get involved and somehow use alchemy or the Infinite Corridor to her own benefit. What does it look like when power-hungry Carmilla, who wants to rule the world, finds out there’s an entire multiverse out there? That could easily set her up to be a foil to Saint Germain, causing him to realize that what he’s doing is wrong.

What actually ended up happening in the show feels disjointed and often empty. In particular, most of the events that happen in the last two episodes just don’t really work for me. I didn’t like Trevor suddenly sacrificing himself to this random, new, super powerful enemy, or how the gems and dagger that he found just happened to be the perfect weapon to kill this new enemy, or how he inexplicably returns from the dead.

This kind of thing is what I mean when I say that this season feels like fanfiction. Trevor comes back from the dead for no discernible reason other than that it would really suck if he died. Greta as a character seems to literally only exist to be Alucard’s girlfriend and support him so that he doesn’t have to continue to be alone and potentially turn evil. Alucard’s trauma from Taka and Sumi and Hector’s trauma from Lenore are both conveniently erased. Even Dracula and Lisa are resurrected somehow and get their happy ending. And it’s like, I guess I prefer deus ex machina to the opposite (Does that have a name? When everything is going well but then something terrible happens for no reason other than to make things worse for the characters?), but they’re both bad writing.

God. This isn’t even getting into what happened with the Council of Sisters. And I don’t even really like those characters, but that doesn’t mean I want to see their characters handled poorly.

I’m not sorry that I watched until the end, but I can’t in good faith recommend the show as a whole. If you’ve yet to watch Castlevania, just stop at the end of season 2. While there are some shining moments in seasons 3 and 4 (4 more than 3), it’s just really not worth it.

[fruitcoops]

Homeward Bound

This is the third part to the Greyback audio series! The first is Silver Screen and the second is Oh, I Want to Linger, both linked here. The original ask for this was tragically deleted, so sorry to whomever sent it in! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for discussion of past injury and threatened forced outing

Cameras were already flashing as Remus cleared his throat and gripped the edges of the podium, desperately hoping that his shaking would not be noticed. “Remus?” Alice touched his arm gently. “Whenever you’re ready. All you have to do is read.”

Remus nodded silently and looked down at the paper before him. The words blurred together and he glanced back up at the rows of reporters with their notepads primed. There was a bit of movement along the side of the room—Sirius came into focus, his face calm and full of love. Remus cleared his throat again.

“Good afternoon, everyone.” His voice trembled slightly and he took a deep breath. “Good afternoon. My name is Remus Lupin and I’m a player on the Gryffindor Lions hockey team. Yesterday, a section of security footage from my time as a player at the University of Wisconsin was leaked to the press, who in turn sold it to the larger media.”

He looked over at Sirius again, who gave him an encouraging nod. He looked down at the paper again and his watch face caught the light. Mon voeu.

“I am here to confirm that the two people in the recording were myself and Fenrir Greyback, an old teammate of mine. He cornered me in the locker room after a game and dislocated my shoulder, then continued to pull until several tendons were damaged and needed reconstructive surgery.”

Remus swallowed thickly. “Everyone has secrets. I thought Fenrir Greyback knew mine, and he used that power to blackmail into calling this attack an accident. I was terrified that he would expose my sexuality to the world if I told anyone, even those closest to me.”

There was a moment of rustling as the reporters took notes and pictures. “We are now opening the floor to questions,” Alice said. Immediately, hands went up and several people began shouting. Remus looked over at her and she smiled; he looked to Sirius, who blew him a kiss. Here goes nothing.

“Yes, you in the front?”

--

To say Remus was exhausted was an understatement. He had answered about eight thousand questions before the forty-five minute time slot ran out and all he really wanted to do was go home and cuddle his fiancé.

As soon as he stepped out of the press room, something barreled into his legs and nearly knocked him over. “I love you,” Jules said, his voice muffled in Remus’ sweater.

Remus immediately crouched to give him a proper hug, squeezing his eyes shut. “Hey, buddy. I love you, too.”

“Why wasn’t I allowed to come with Mom and Dad?”

“Because—“ Remus sighed and ran a hand through Jules’ hair. “Because a lot of people are sticking their noses in my business right now and they would be bothering you about it. None of us wanted that because those people are annoying.”

“Remus! Remus, we have one more question for you!” The click-clack of high heels echoed in the lobby and he glared at the approaching woman and her posse of reporters. “How did this affect your relationship with—"

He stood up, pushing Jules slightly behind him. “Fuck off and let me hug my brother. I’ve answered all your questions and I’m going home now.” The woman’s face went slack with shock and he turned to usher Jules down the hall, placing himself between him and the cameras. “Don’t tell mom I swore in front of you, okay?”

“Okay.”

The locker room was empty, save for his packed duffel bag and Sirius leaning against his stall. He immediately broke into a smile when he saw them and held his arms out for Remus to fall into. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“That was the worst.”

Sirius hummed in agreement and ruffled Jules’ hair in his periphery. “People are already blasting him on the internet. The league officially suspended him an hour ago and it looks like they’re going to kick him out. Even the Knights posted a statement about it.”

“God, I’m tired.”

“It’s a good thing you’re done now, eh?”

Remus nuzzled into his sweatshirt and pulled Jules close against his side. “Let’s go home. How are mom and dad doing?”

“Your mom was stress baking when I left, and your dad was pacing. They’ll be glad to see you.” Sirius bent down so Jules could climb onto his shoulders as they separated; Remus put his baseball cap on, only for someone to grab the bill and turn it around immediately.

“It’s sunny out, I need that!”

Jules flicked the brim until it made soft thwip thwip noises in Remus’ ear. “It looks better backward. You look almost cool.”

“Gee, thanks. That means a lot coming from my little brother who wears Power Ranger pajamas. Keep that up and I’m putting mom’s cookies out of your reach, Tiny Tim.”

“Hey!”

“What are you laughing at?” Remus asked as Sirius ducked his head to hide his snickering. “What is it?”

“You two bicker like nobody I’ve ever seen before. It’s like watching someone argue with a mirror, I love it.”

“Rude,” they said in unison, which only made him laugh harder as they walked into the parking lot. The cool, fresh air soothed Remus’ muddled emotions and his muscles relaxed slightly.

“Is that your car over there?” Jules asked, pointing across the nearly-empty lot.

“Mhm.”

“Put me down, I have to do something.” Sirius raised an eyebrow at Remus, who shrugged. Jules was running the moment his sneakers touched the ground. “I call shotgun!”

“What?!” Remus sprinted after him, leaving Sirius in the dust as he burst out laughing. He caught up to Jules about ten feet before he reached the car and swung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Oldest gets shotgun, that’s the rule.”

His phone pinged as he sat down in the passenger seat and buckled up; several people had sent him supportive messages over the last hour and Twitter was losing its collective mind, but only one person had texted in the past few minutes.

New Message From: Mom :)

Proud of you

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART SIX - A Rogue One Fanfiction

This is a shorter installment, and maybe pointless… maybe I’m dragging this out too long… But also, who cares, I’m doing this for fun. I just love playing with them!

Read on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Six

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some coarse language. References to wounds. And… Cuddling?

Words: 1,720

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The Death Star had come for them.

Again.

But Jyn couldn’t bring herself to care. It did seem a little strange to have been spared the last time only to probably be destroyed this time, barely a week later. But either way, it was the end to her life she now knew to be her fate, or whatever. It just felt right. It just was. Not the Death Star specifically, but,

Jyn Erso would die in Cassian Andor’s arms.

Whether it should’ve been on Scarif. Or it was here on Yavin 4. Or the next day. Or thousands of days in the future.

And there was a sort of peace in knowing that. One that allowed her to climb into his bed, slide her arms around him, and bury her face in his shoulder. He stirred and her heart skipped a beat. It was easier when he was unconscious, to consider how she felt about him, how she’d been attracted to men before, even had something akin to a relationship with one or two, but it had never felt like this.

“Jyn…?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re on the base on Yavin 4. Safe. In your quarters.” It was easier to preempt any confusion or alarm Cassian experienced when he woke from his heavy, partially drugged, mostly just exhausted from his body’s healing, sleep.

“How long?” he asked, then realized there were static-laden voices broadcasting over the basewide intercom. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve been asleep for 12 hours,” Jyn said, moving closer and partially on top of him to prevent him from trying to get up in a rush and falling flat on his face. Also, she was admittedly afraid on some level, afraid to be alone and facing death. When he was near her, when they were physically entwined in some way, she felt like everything would be okay. Even if she died, if it was in Cassian’s arms, then everything would be okay. Irrational, yes. But that didn’t make it any less her truth.

“The Death Star is here,” she said, once she could tell he was awake enough to understand, not muddled by pain meds. “The Alliance is scrambling their forces to engage. They’re leaving the comms open, since you know…”

“We’re all dead if they fail.”

His arms wrapped around her and engulfed her in his warm embrace. Cassian Andor, a man who, she didn’t think she was wrong to guess, hadn’t received much at all in the way of affection in his life, somehow was so good at holding a person he made the pain of the universe go away, made the entire universe fade away except for his hands on her body, gentle and undemanding but also firm and reassuring, his breath hot on her neck, sending shivers down her spine, and his body beneath hers, so strong despite his injuries.

“Are you okay?” she asked, remembering the physical state of him.

“Mmm… Yes.” His hands tightened their grip on her side and shoulder, reflexively, a gentle squeeze as he murmured into her neck. “Feels good.”

He probably meant he felt fine, but oh, yes, it did feel good. Or maybe he was still quite medicated?

“My weight isn’t putting pressure on your injuries?” Jyn asked. “Maybe I should…”

“No.” Somehow he managed to pull her further into him, her breasts flattening against his chest, her hip practically fusing to his, her breath hitching momentarily and then joining the rhythm of his own breaths...in and out… in and out… in and out...

Cassian sighed, made a frustrated, growling sound.

“I need to use the ‘fresher,” he said, loosening his grip on her.

Jyn rolled off from him, swung her legs around to sit on the side of the cot and waited to see if Cassian could manage to stand. He slid to sit on the edge of the bed next to her and took a moment. She didn’t press him, though an instinct inside of her wanted to offer assistance, wanted to take care of him, wanted to ease the pain and struggle his recovery was.

He stood, again pausing for a moment, then walked slowly across the small room to his private refresher facilities. Apparently, it was one of very few benefits to his officer’s rank, for the small quarters were nothing more than a glorified closet. But she supposed it spared him from having to sleep in a large barracks with a bunch of others, not that it would’ve deterred Jyn in the least from crawling into his bed.

Part of her felt like she shouldn’t watch his laborious movements, out of respect, but she couldn’t look away. What if he needed her?

Force, what if he didn’t need her? Not like she needed him? Aw, fuck. She needed him.

She watched the muscles in his naked back twitch, stiff from inactivity and injury. But her eyes were inevitably drawn to the perfectly uniform lines of small circular marks running down his spine. She knew there was a matching sort of trail along his ribs. Injections of some sort of bacta cocktail meant to speed the fusing of the fractures in his vertebrae and ribs, injections straight into the bone. How painful would that have been if he’d been conscious, she couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t help but want to wrap her smaller body around as much of Cassian as she could, run her hands gently over his scars, old and new, make sure his wounds were healing and his bruises fading, hear him sigh contentedly against her skin, hold him forever.

As he disappeared into the ‘fresher, Jyn realized she was hopeless.

Cassian Andor had taught her about hope. And had made her absolutely hopeless at the same time.

But why fret about it? What did it matter?

Jyn was used to dealing with life moment by moment, day by day. And she might not have many more moments, anyway.

The loud, static-laden voices crackling over the basewide intercom announced the launch of yet another squadron of fighters, then abruptly switched over to some ship’s communication officer announcing visual confirmation of the target. The Death Star.

Looming on the horizon like a moon, a harbinger of death, bringer of eternal night. Cold, austere, which made it somehow more terrifying, somehow worse than staring down an angry brute about to put a knife in you. It was just so inevitable, indomitable. Made her feel so small, insignificant, so alone.

“Do you mind if I turn this off?”

Jyn startled. How had she not noticed Cassian reappear in the small room? He pointed at the comm, which was broadcasting the prelims of a battle to determine all their fates.

She didn’t want to listen to it either.

“Please do,” she said, already feeling less… alone.

She watched Cassian lean over to switch the speaker off, wincing in sympathy with him as he straightened again, taking a deep breath that expanded his chest and shifted the muscles beneath his skin, mesmerizing her more than a little. His mostly naked body preoccupied far too many of her thoughts.

But what else had she been supposed to do? She’d woken up drenched in sweat that first night in his quarters, had to strip out of the heavy infirmary clothes, found Cassian tossing in his sleep, nearly feverish, removed the sweltering clothes from his body, as well. Little did she know, how enthralling she’d find his lean muscles, the shape of his body, the feel of his bare skin, his-

His hands cupped her face and Jyn looked up at Cassian Andor, his kriffing gorgeous dark eyes fixed on her. His fingers swept some stray hair from her forehead, tucked it behind her ear, returned to swipe gently over the nearly-healed scar above her eyebrow, in her hairline.

“Are you okay?” A knot formed in her throat. Cassian was a good man, despite every questionable thing he’d done and tortured himself over. Of course he would care about her wellbeing. It didn’t mean-

“Ow!”

“Your blaster wound still hurts?” His fingers feathered over her shoulder, not touching the freshly healed injury this time.

“It does when you jab your finger in it.” She grabbed his wrist and tugged his hand away, throwing him off balance so that he fell into her and she managed to catch him and ease him onto the bed, right where she wanted him.

A chuckle escaped him and he smiled, making something flutter inside of her. And then he was reaching for her, pulling her close.

His embrace was everything she’d never known she’d wanted. His hands stroked her back and he buried his face in her neck, nuzzling a sensitive spot just behind and below her ear.

She sighed, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying the fingers of her other hand in his messy, soft hair. She pressed gently as she massaged his scalp down to his nape, eliciting a hum of pleasure from him that vibrated against her bare skin and into her flesh.

If this was to be her last moment, Jyn held no regrets. It was a good moment.

“Jyn?” His voice had a lethargic but happy edge to it, thick and low and sleepy. She could sympathize.

“Yes?” She twisted her finger in a lock of hair curling about his neck.

“Please don’t let me sleep so long this time.” His whisper tickled her ear. “No more than 10 hours. Okay? Please?”

He wanted her to wake him up in 10 hours… Like there wasn’t a battle raging in space nearby… Like he didn’t believe they were quite probably going to die soon, incinerated by a weapon her own father helped design. Like he didn’t believe they were going to lose, after all. Somehow, he believed they would be there, together, ten hours from this moment.

Hope.

Such a man as Cassian… The most unexpected thing she’d discovered about him was his belief in hope. That he possessed any at all after all he had done, all he had seen. And then he’d given it to her.

And again, it warmed her, deep inside, that small seed of hope. She snuggled closer to the man, hoping for something she couldn’t even begin to conceive of. But yearned for it, with every fiber of her being.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s S2 R&S - Glacier Navigation

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a Rumours & Secrets, 冰川行舟, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

This R&S features S2 Shaw

In terms of sequencing, this is Shaw’s first S2 R&S!

[ Chapter One ]

On this rare break, a phone call from Shaw brings me to the entrance of Loveland University.

At the school gate, a huge “Welcome New Students" banner waves in the wind. The osmanthus petals at my feet exude the unique scent of late summer and early autumn.

I follow Shaw through the bustling crowd and towards the graduate student registration point.

MC: The registration office... this should be it.

Shaw: Are you sure it's here? Just look at these registering students - how do they look like graduate students?

MC: You’re clearly the one who doesn’t look like a graduate student, okay?

Shaw glances at the long line outside the door of the office. Clicking his tongue, he eventually stands at the back properly.

Not having to wait for long, the both of us reach the head of the line.

MC: You don't need me to accompany you for the registration, do you?

Shaw: What are you thinking? Are you treating me like a kid?

MC: Then why did you drag me along to school...

Shaw: I just took you out for a breather after seeing you squatting at home for a few weeks.

He waves his hand at me in self-assurance, turning his head and entering the office.

I lean against the wall, waiting for him. As soon as I take out my phone, the tall figure walks out of the office fiercely.

MC: ...how did you settle it so quickly?

Shaw doesn’t respond. He suddenly leans forward, his eyes almost within reach. His half-squinting eyes contain slight irritation.

MC: W-what do you want... Ah! Don't touch my hair!

I raise my hand to protect my hair, but my cheek ends up getting pinched twice by two of his fingers.

Shaw: This is your punishment for leading me to the wrong place.

MC: No way, we really went to the wrong place?

Shaw: This is the registration point for the Chinese Department. The Archaeology Department is in Zhi Hua Building.

MC: Zhi Hua Building... I remember now. I think we passed by it earlier.

Shaw: Really?

Knowing that I was in the wrong, I quickly lift both my hands up as a guarantee.

MC: Really, I definitely won’t be wrong this time!

Shaw: Fine, I’ll reluctantly believe you this time. The last time.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

Since heading to the wrong place led to quite a delay, the door to the registration office of the Department of Archaeology is completely empty.

Shaw knocks on the office door. Inside, there’s only one middle-aged teacher who is currently reading the newspaper.

Teacher: A freshman? Come, fill in this form. Did you bring a copy of your ID card? If you didn’t bring it, give me the original. I'll make a copy for you.

Shaw: I brought it.

Teacher: What about the one-inch photo?

Shaw: Here.

Teacher: Oh, the boy's ID photo is so handsome! Sit for a while, I have to make a record.

Shaw: Mm, thanks for the hard work, teacher.

The teacher sits in front of the computer leisurely, then casts a curious glance at the door.

Teacher: Is that young lady outside your girlfriend?

Shaw: No.

Shaw pauses, then adds on.

Shaw: Just a friend.

Teacher: Oh... I understand~

The middle-aged man reveals a meaningful smile, and can’t help but gesture at the young man in front of him

Teacher: Young people have to be braver. How can a boy be so shy!

Shaw suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, squeezing out words one by one from between his teeth.

Shaw: Teacher, are you done with the registration?

[Note] There are different ways of saying “you” in Chinese, depending on formality! When being polite and respectful, especially to an elder, 您 (“nin”) is used. When talking to friends or someone younger, 你 (“ni”) is used. SHAW USES 您 HERE BECAUSE HE IS A POLITE BOY

Teacher: Yes yes, sign here. There’s one more thing I have to tell you. Because you filled in your identity as an Evolver on the form, I’ll have to trouble you to submit a copy of the Evol inspection report.

Shaw: The notice didn’t mention that I had to bring it.

Teacher: It’s a new requirement. It conveniences the school in terms of management, so I hope you can understand. Last semester, an Evolver lost control of his ability and almost lifted the entire classroom. The STF were called down for a day, and it was very troublesome. 

When he hears the term “STF”, Shaw’s expression stirs slightly. Then, he clicks his tongue impatiently.

Shaw: So troublesome...

Teacher: What did you say?

Shaw: Nothing. Can I hand it in another day?

Teacher: It's fine, just come back within five working days. Here, your notice.

Shaw: Thanks.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

Schoolmate A: Schoolmate, want to check out our e-sports club? We organise competitions every month, and you can receive exquisite merchandise!

Schoolmate B: Schoolmate, come take a look at our basketball club! Handsome guys and beautiful girls gather and keep fit...

Today happens to be the club recruitment day. When Shaw and I pass by the public square, students constantly stop us, asking if we wish to join their clubs.

I look at Shaw curiously, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in any clubs. He walks quickly, not even giving them a glance.

When we’re about to leave the public square, we are once again stopped by a student.

Schoolmate C: Schoolmates, I can tell at a glance that you’re both from the Arts Department, right? Tsk tsk, your outfits have such an artistic quality. I’m from the rock club of our school. Even though the club was only established this year, I believe we have great potential! Usually, the club will organise activities introducing various instruments and music appreciation for hobbyists. Our club president even formed a band himself! They’re performing over there. Do you two want to have a listen?

I initially thought that Shaw would once again ignore him and leave. Unexpectedly, he suddenly stops in his footsteps, then arches his eyebrows with interest.

Shaw: Oh? You guys have a band?

Schoolmate C: Of course! We don't do covers. They’re all original songs!

Shaw: Let’s have a listen then.

MC: Do you actually want to join this rock club?

Shaw: We’ll talk after listening.

After saying this, he walks towards the area surrounded by a cluster of people.

The venue is simple, but there’s a sizeable number of audience members. The band members in the middle are wagging their heads while performing a song.

The vocals are discordant, and the sound quality is inferior. I’m unable to hear the lyrics clearly, but the melody is really catchy.

MC: I didn't expect them to look like an actual band... Shaw?

Shaw: ...tch.

Shaw grabs my arm, leaving the scene without saying a word.

MC: What’s wrong?

Shaw: Hearing plagiarised songs dirties my ears.

MC: That song from before was plagiarised?!

Shaw: They copied an unpopular old song from the 80s. No wonder these people didn’t realise it. You should also improve your musical literacy so you wouldn’t be confused by copied songs.

MC: So what you mean is... I should listen to your band’s songs more?

Shaw: Of course.

I burst out laughing, and Shaw raises his eyebrows in dissatisfaction.

Shaw: What are you laughing at?

MC: No, no, I just think that you’ve always been very serious about your band...

Shaw: You seem pretty concerned about my band?

MC: Mm. I know that you really like this band.

Shaw glances at me, as though verifying the sincerity of my words.

Then, he turns his gaze away, and sunlight touches the corners of his sharp and slightly raised mouth.

Shaw: Even if it’s just for fun, I’ll do even better than everyone else.

He says these words matter-of-factly, as though so long as he’s willing, every difficulty can be stamped out by him.

Shaw takes a final look back at the noisy public square. Retrieving a pair of earphones from his pocket, he hands it to me.

Shaw: Wear it properly. I’ll let you listen to truly good music.

-

[ Chapter Four ]

Shaw: Let’s go. Also, we’ll stop by the supermarket along the way. I’m buying some daily necessities.

MC: I really couldn’t tell that you’d be willing to stay in a dormitory.

Shaw: Who said so? I don’t plan to stay in a dormitory.

MC: Huh?

Shaw: I never stay with outsiders. 

Shaw: Anyway, there’s a small room in Live House, and I plan to live there. Rehearsals will be convenient too.

MC: Oh... but your place is really too empty. Aside from a bed, it doesn't look liveable.

Shaw: Hm? How’d you know that my place is empty?

MC: I...

I bite my tongue, hurriedly tossing out a reason to muddle through it.

MC: I don’t even have to think about it to know. Judging by your personality, your house definitely has nothing but bare walls.

Probably because of my self-assured tone, Shaw retracts his scrutinising gaze, pursing his lips. 

Shaw: That’s not how you use “nothing but bare walls”. Did you even pay attention in school... Let’s go.”

[Note] The reason why Shaw says this is because what MC used was 家徒四壁 (“jia tou si bi”), which is an idiom literally translating to “nothing but bare walls”. However, this idiom is supposed to describe someone who is very poor!

Shaw has always been very proactive. When he finishes speaking, he quickly takes me to the nearest supermarket from school.

After a short while, the shopping cart is stuffed to the brim.

Shaw: ...wait. I asked you to get a washbowl for me. Why’d you get me three? Do you need to use three washbasins to wash your face every day?

MC: These three washbasins have their respective uses! This one is for washing your face, this one is for washing your body, this one...”

Shaw: Washes what?

MC: Fruits!

Shaw: So troublesome. I might as well buy fruits that I can eat directly without washing.

MC: This is a refined life, okay? If you think it’s too much, then I'll reduce... Hey, what did you put into the cart?

Shaw: Daily necessities.

Lowering my head to take a look, I see three boxes of animal-shaped clothes hangers. The chubby little animals have their cheeks puffed out, lying in the washbowls I’m buying.

MC: Wow, so cute! You’re quite good at picking things too! ...but why are you buying three boxes?

Shaw: I learnt from you. One box for clipping towels, one box for clipping clothes, and one box...

MC: Huh?

Shaw doesn’t finish the second half of the sentence, and I subconsciously look up at him, meeting his sly eyes.

Shaw: Since you came out to run errands today, I’ll give it to you.

-

Shaw leans against the door of Live House, quietly watching the taxi drown in the neon glow. Suddenly, the phone in his pocket vibrates slightly.

An unknown number appears on the screen. Shaw frowns, then lifts his hand to tap the answer button.

?: I heard you reported to school today?

Shaw: Looks like you guys are really free. You even have to bother about my enrolment in school?

?: How is it? Is everything going smoothly?

Shaw: It’s fine. Some situations cropped up, but I’m still in a pretty good mood. Also, you guys have to help me with something. The school wants me to submit an Evol inspection report. Forge one for me.

?: No problem. You can collect it from the usual place. Is there anything unusual about Nox from BS recently?

Hearing this alias, Shaw subconsciously glances into the distance. However, all that is visible is the gorgeous night of the city.

Shaw: She's been very busy recently, and seems to keep working overtime. That's it.

?: You know that’s not what we’re asking about.

Shaw: ...what’s the rush? I haven't finished investigating what you guys want to know.

?: Let me remind you not to mix in unnecessary emotions. Don't forget your mission either.

Shaw: I know. I'm hanging up.

The streetlights lining the long street light up in succession, dyeing Shaw’s hair in a warm colour.

He looks at the phone for a long time, and an untamed smile surfaces on the corners of his lips.

Shaw: I have the final say on how to deal with her.

He takes the long skateboard he had set by the side, lifts his ankle slightly, and skates into the night without hesitation.

More from S2: here

[seekingseven]

Last one: Twilight & Legend bonding! I'm thinking maybe they get stuck somewhere after a world-switch, and that means they actually have to talk to each other and work together. And not lamenting over lost loves - rather, learning how to work together despite their differences (e.g. Legend's use of magic and Twilight's avoidance/lack of)

they are my favourites and I'd love to see them together more!

Linked Universe Prompt Request #9!

What an awesome prompt to end off this little series with! It was really fun to work on this one; I hope you'll enjoy it too!

(You can also read the fic here on Ao3, or view the entire drabble series here!)

"You really think they left without us?"

Legend chewed idly on a fingernail as he stared at the ground, eyes fixated on a sprig of daisy blooming in a pavement crack. Beside him, Twilight crossed his arms and huffed.

"Not intentionally, I'm sure, but yeah. They're gone."

"How could they forget us?"

Legend's question was flat-toned, but his syllables pinched at the corners in his characteristically melodramatic way. Twilight rolled his eyes. Of all the people he could be stuck with in an unnamed Hyrule in an unnamed timeline, it had to be the veteran.

Oh well. Could have been worse.

"I guess they didn’t realize we were still here,” Twilight began, taking a seat on an upturned rock and flicking ants off his arms. “Still a surprise to know that those portals don’t wait or anything.”

Black steam curled off the pavement by Legend’s feet, the only memory of the gaping portal that had stood there just seconds ago. Legend carded his hands through his hair and gripped the back of his head.

“What are we supposed to do now? How can we get back to them? Are we permanently separated? Are you even listening? Twilight! Hey, are you just going to stand there? We need to find someone to give us directions!"

"Directions?" Twilight snorted. "We don't need directions."

"We do, too!"

A swing and a clatter of metal, and Twilight was back on his feet. His arms were crossed tight across his chest. 'We're heroes, we don't need directions."

"Yeah, if we want to get lost! Listen, let's at least buy a map."

"For what? Where are we even planning to go?"

Legend opened his mouth, then closed it again, lips pursed and pulled to the side. "Huh."

"Getting all huffy about nothing. I suggest that we just stay here."

"Stay here? We're in the middle of some goddess-forsaken road, who knows what'll come along and trample us!" With a dramatic sweep of his arm, Legend gestured to the crumbling brown pavement underfoot and the greying sky overhead.

Goddess-forsaken might have been a little bit of an understatement.

"Well, what else do you suggest we do? Walk off and let the others try and find us?"

"That's what they did to us, in case you weren't paying attention."

"Do you really think being petty is going to get us anywhere?"

"What, so you think being high and mighty is going to get us out of this?"

Blue locked with blue. Legend narrowed his eyes. Twilight snorted. The veteran's personality was like corn whisky--pungent and sharp, and pleasant in only small doses with a generous distance. The rancher's upper lip curled at the thought.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Legend demanded. Twilight's eyes remained trained on the ground. Legend tried again. "Twilight? You listening?"

"I don't know, maybe."

"Listen, man. I'm, uh, sorry."

"...what?"

"Don't--just, uh. Sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm a little stressed, obviously, but that isn't an excuse, and I apologize. I didn't mean to make it sound like it's your fault or something." Legend's eyes flickered to Twilight's, whose own had widened to take up half his face. He coughed into his fist before continuing. "I...uh...if you think it's best that we stop here, then we can. They'll come back. Probably."

Twilight was still staring. The muscles along his arm relaxed, and the bitterness from earlier faded to guilt.

"Oh," he began, "I didn't mean to make it sound that your idea was bad. I was just worried...I don't know where we could go from here."

Legend nodded. The move wasn't sympathetic, not yet, but at least his mind was doing the talking. "Yeah. Do you think we should stay?"

"Here? I think so. What do you think?"

Silence. Legend's eyes slimmed in thought. Mind goaded on by the quiet, Twilight slipped into his own brooding bubble. His eyebrows flickered upward as he alighted on a compromise.

"Legend?"

"Yeah?"

"How about we wait? Maybe an hour or so, and if they're still not back, we can move on?"

Legend nodded slowly, then beamed. "Yeah! Let's do that. Okay then, huh, could you scooch over? I want to sit too."

Cloth ruffled as Twilight slid to the side, then patted the grey rock beside him. Legend sat down with an awkward grunt. A hot breeze swirled up debris on the side of the road, and a squirrel hurried across the pavement. Far away, a goat brayed.

"We really are in the middle of nowhere," Twilight mused.

"It's not so bad, though. The sky is pretty."

Twilight glanced at the pinking, sunset-flecked clouds overhead. "Yeah. Huh. It's sort of a nice day, isn't it."

"Mhm. Hey, I've got a question."

"Shoot."

Legend idly knocked the sheaf of rings on his finger against his teeth. "Magic. You have some sort of problem with it. Am I right?"

If Legend's earlier apology hadn't soothed Twilight's prickliness into an ashamed buzz, there was no telling what his response might have been. Yet with the clouds puffing their way across the sky and the gentle hum of music, distant, Twilight's reservations faltered.

"It's just not my thing," he began. "I like doing things myself. With what I've already got. Augmenting things or changing them...that's not my deal." Upon noticing the incredulous look on Legend's face, Twilight's mouth pressed into a culpable smile. He scratched the back of his neck as he continued. "But maybe I'm just old fashioned, favoring my hands and whatnot. It's nothing against you."

It was only upon Twilight's last words that the tight look on Legend's face faded. The veteran really did take things too seriously and too personally, didn't he? Maybe that's why he panicked so easily.

"Well," Legend began, "I guess I can understand that. You should try it sometime, though. Magic."

Twilight raised an eyebrow. That familiar stubbornness, the complete lack of tact...sometimes he forgot that the others were quite literally iterations of himself. "Thanks, but I'm good."

"Really, Twi, I mean it. I mean, of course it takes some time getting used to, but I think you'll enjoy it. It's more down-to-earth than you think."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. And anyway, it takes you way too long to start a campfire with a twig and a flintstone."

Twilight huffed, then, upon seeing the frustratingly serious expression on Legend's face, leaned forward and flicked his nose.

Legend's eyes went wide. Twilight recoiled. Had he gone too far? It was just instinct--he had flicked the champion's nose more times than he could count, but never the veteran's...had he crossed some sort of line?

His internal monologue stuttered to a stop with Legend flicked his nose right back.

"Hey!" Twilight protested, shielding his nose and surprised smile behind his arm, "cut that out! Cut it--cut it out!"

"Not unless you promise to try on some of my spellcasting rings."

"I won't!"

Flick!

"I--hey! Stop that!"

"Say 'Legend, I promise to practice magic with you and I'm sure you'll be a good teacher' and then I'll stop."

"Are you crazy? No way!"

Flick!

Twilight tried to protest again, but his words muddled into an embarrassingly high-pitched giggle. He blinked quickly against the water building in his eyes and tried to hide his head between his knees.

Flick!

"Fine, fine!" Twilight exclaimed, hands in the air and nose pink. "I'll do it! I'll do the magic thing with you. Just--uh, you promise to go fishing with me. Or something. Don't--Legend, I swear to Hylia, if you do that again I'll kick you in the nuts."

Legend paused, pointed finger pressed behind his thumb in a menacing 'o,' and considered the peace offering (and auxiliary threat) presented. After a tense moment, he let his hand drop into his lap.

"Fine. Surrender accepted."

"Wh-surrender? I didn't surrender anything."

Legend smirked and laced his hands under his chin. "History is written by the victors, you know. Now, stand up."

"Why?"

"And take these," Legend added, dropping a few golden bands into Twilight's lap. A faint vibration, like music rumbling from the floor, oozed off the polished metal. "Put 'em on and stand up."

Twilight did as instructed and slipped on the rings. His mind caught up with his arms just as he began to stand up.

"Wait, hold on; are we starting this thing now?"

Legend raised an eyebrow and crossed one leg over the other. He bore a surprising resemblance to an irritated schoolteacher. "Of course we are."

"By Nayru's teeth, are you serious?"

Flick!

~~ Fine ~~

I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so so much to everyone who submitted prompts--I hope you enjoyed how they came out--and a big shoutout to everyone who read them! I hope some of them were able to make you smile :D

Until next time!

[Previous Request]

[lucefrs]

          tl;dr: luce thinks about how she should have never ended up at georgetown in the first place, and the domino effect it had on her life. after flunking out of gallagher, she savours the summer. her and scott break up sometime after new years. a quick onslaught of success makes her feel wary, unsure how to not take up space she doesn’t deserve after doing it so many times before. she performs her own song in the lower east side.

                                                                      insp for the song she plays at the end. 

BEFORE.

luce is a bright child but lacks in the area of self discipline and application. she would benefit from paying closer attention during class discussion.

she knew from a very young age that she was not smart. at least not by the metric that institutions measure by. the unlucky curse that has kept her in the stream of academia is this: luce frear is smart enough. to graduate secondary school because it’s a key that unlocks america’s golden arches. to pursue higher education when she gets the encroaching feeling that she’s going to be found out that she doesn’t actually have any family friend's as guarantors. at the time, she doesn’t know how impossible georgetown is. but finding herself in the company of a man who will pay for her to do well, with a tutor that makes the s.a.t’s boil down to a formula of memorization and deduction is a genius move. those three hours are brutal, she struggles but she struggles through it, proud that only a handful of questions were left unanswered. it’s only after she's sat for it that she realizes how impossible georgetown is with it’s fourteen percent acceptance rate.

she uses his mailing address to apply, so it’s him that greets her with a sealed envelope that makes her stomach turn as soon as she opens the door. out of the corner of her eye she sees a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. she knows what the letter will say: her sat score’s a valiant effort, enough to get her into any state school, but by no means exceptional. bracing herself for his disappointment she pushes the folded paper towards him so she can pretend his disappointment’s directed at the words on the page and not at her. but the skin at the corner of his eyes pinches and there’s no crease between his brows and she knows something is very wrong. or very right. she’s not sure, at the time it’s all very muddled, thinking about how much she likes that there's no place for his smile to hide, and how that's going to be one of her favourite parts of getting old. his smile that runs right to the tip of his nose, bumps against her cheek when he kisses her. he’s kissing her. he’s happy. because of her. she’s made him happy. that's good. she's happy too. then he’s by the kitchen counter, shaking off the champagne from his hand that’s flows over the lip of the bottle and she’s saying things like, ‘   my sat scores were no where near the average,    ’ and he counters that she shouldn’t disregard the importance of supplemental essays and she makes fun of how he talks because she always does. a girl’s got nothing but a gut to trust, and every glass of champagne’s a fuck you to it. luce never pukes from having too much to drink. she pukes in his shower. luce is not smart, but she’s smart enough not to question how she got into georgetown university.

‘   god, you’re so smart luce. we could call it the boyfriend guesses my lip gloss challenge.   ’ she only hears the first part, boasting a smile that makes the apples of her cheeks swell, all rosy like. at the time gallagher had felt like a enticing romp, bound by infatuation, the glint of the dew that hung at the end of the school’s weeping willows sparkling so bright that her heart-shaped sunglasses couldn’t subdue it. luce has never waited for anything, but her first few months at gallagher felt like a gift the universe had hand-picked, oblivious of her christmas list doodled with music notes and brand names of dresses that cost seven hundred dollars, it felt like finding treasure. smart’s an understatement, genius is more apt. she lets this sentiment lead, when the offer to stay comes soaring towards at her like paper plane that falls right into the palm of her hands. it makes logical sense to stay. scott’s here.

she’ll adapt. but gallagher starts to feel worlds away, and as much as she digs her heels into the gravel, gravity starts to slip from her grasp. but how could she can complain? in outer space, anywhere she looks there’s an endless landscape of stars, bright and twinkling, beckoning her towards the nearly planet. but it makes her want to cry when she sees the blue-green dot recede into the distance.

PRESENT-ISH.

luce has her final exam tomorrow and she’s going to crush it. she’s so excited she can’t sleep. there’s no way she could fail it, unless she slept through it but that won’t happen because she has five alarms set and a scott for safe measure. she’s so excited her heart’s sprinting from her sternum to her stomach and it would be classified as nausea if she didn’t know it was just plain excitement. she winces at the brightness from her phone as she checks the time. 3:36. if she falls asleep in the next four minutes she’ll have a solid four hours, but as soon as she closes her eyes her heart runs like it’s just heard the start of the piston, and the percentage she needs to get in order to pass the class rings aloud and reverberates against her brain. forty six percent. she doesn’t even need to pass the exam in order to pass the class — she’s going to be a gallagher girl. whether she likes it or not. in the dark, her hand finds the nob of his bedside drawer, carefully sliding it open, her fingers tinkering inside to feel for whatever weed scott has, gifted joints or a prized gram for winning a dumb luck game. he always has something, even after he passes some of it on to seb. she doesn’t go far, slips out of his grasp and onto the lantern lit cobbled pavements, follows it strictly like she’s on a board in a game of snakes and ladders, stopping every time she takes a drag. she eventually falls against a bench like an abandoned rag-doll, limbs splayed every which way and falls asleep until she's woken up by the rev of a motorcycle engine set as her alarm. luce goes through the pre-test motions with due diligence, takes a shower and eats a proper meal, as though there's someone waiting to accuse her of self-sabotage. she picks up her tote that's packed from the night before and gives the test her all. it's not her fault that her focus wavered in five minute blocks, or that nerves make her feel as though there's an ongoing tussle in her tummy. she treats the residual high as something she couldn't possibly have controlled, it should've left her system by now. and she’s a hero for persevering through it. she tried her best. and in spite of it all, she still fails. thank god.

SUMMER.

she doesn’t want the summer to end. it does anyways.  

INTERLUDE

she's not the type to tuck herself into the booth, but harper’s gone to the bathroom and luce has a gnarly blister on the back of her heel, and her head’s been swimming in cheap liquor all night with no reprieve. she can’t get her head above water for more than a minute before falling back under. her gaze catches a couple in the corner, slow dancing to david guetta and her lips curl into a wry smile, his lips cushioned against his neck, murmuring something she’ll never know, and then they’re laughing — maybe about the fact that they’re slow dancing to memories, or because they’re in love, everything’s funnier when you’re in love. a tiny giggle, lost to the boom of the speakers escapes her, because she’s so in love too.

i miss you.   missing ur 🍆 spare nudes? 🙏🏼 ft? x

she holds down the backspace key and puts her phone away.

                                                         ***

‘   i don't know how to miss you in the right way,   ’ she says after a bout of silence, it makes her stomach lurch, like stepping off a ledge and finding the ground lower than expected. there’s no chance to blink back the tears, and she’s so in shock from what she’s just said that she makes no motion to cover her face from him, staring down the barrel of the webcam, like she’s on the brink of death. she’d give up the forty years of her life to get to the part where she can look back on this fondly, of a great love that once was. her child-like whimpers have her grappling for breath. ‘   it hurts.   ’ she manages to sputter out, and she knows it’s hurting him too. eventually, luce will blink away the last of her tears, because she needs this picture to really believe it.

SOMETIME, SOME DAY.

she's not so much herself as she is everyone else. there are pieces of her in the crescendo of what billboard deems the song of the summer. she’s etched in the familiarity of the bass in the last song played before last call — the resonant thrum of waking up blacked out on the front lawn of an ex best friend. the producer that the lead singer can't function without. the origin story of a grammy nominated album which started on the fire escape, exiled by roaches, a guitar slung like a rifle entering the wild wild west of cicadas and greeted by an empty ashtray save for a half abandoned spliff. a story deified for late night talk shows with parrot hosts and their fake squawks. it’s all made up names in CD booklets that no one looks at anyways. it doesn’t make her an enigma, she has a wikipedia page. record labels take her out for lunch, and she goes because she likes people, even the kind who gawk at her pretty face, drooling at the dollar signs in her doe brown eyes and blonde hair. of course, they love her, a girl who orders salad but doesn’t skip dessert — a reluctance toward fame but endlessly optimistic about the future of the music industry, splits the bill and turns a handshake into a hug when they express their keen interest in working with her. there’s a twinkling note of laughter when she pulls away and says, ‘    you’ve never even heard me sing. i’m not good enough.   ’ and she realizes with a twitch of bitterness that she doesn’t have to be, and things working out feels more like a curse when it isn’t deserved.

she talks but can't write unless it's in time signatures and treble clefs and if she does manage to write in a language comprised of letters ( which has only ever happened once ) she can't sing - unless it’s for boys she likes. so she poaches a voice, scrolling through the repertoire of people who have held her heart in their hands. her song is the last song of his set and it sounds like this. they smile through every note, she laughs at his falsetto in the last chorus. she plays her heart out with a vigour that leaves her palms moist, expecting that when the song ends there’ll be a silence broached by the slow clap of j.k simmons. luce lives in a movie and can feel the montage scene catch up to her. she can feel the lingering memory that never existed : a swollen belly and walls painted pink, a toddler that makes their white picket fenced garden a stomping ground, a cinematic pan across a fairy-lit paris, and night walks. when she looks over, she’ll see him, but she’s going to change the ending. her pinky hovers above the last key she played, letting the sound ring out into silence, before they’re met with fervent applause and whistles. this is the moment. luce looks into the crowd. she looks into the crowd and none of the faces are him because why would they be ? she hadn’t told anyone. the only person who knew was herself. it was hers. this moment is hers and she cradles it close, because she’s never had something of her own before. not really. but she likes the way it feels. the man who once held her heart in his hand kisses the top of her head and praises her with a plunging bow. she looks into the sea of strangers who watch her and she watches them back. this is the moment. hers alone. and she’s never felt less lonely.

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (1/8)

This is the sequel to “Of the Eight Winds,” which began from a small simple prompt from Sunflowerdeedsandscience: “Mulder is unhappily married when Scully is partnered with him, and while he doesn't cheat (because sorry that's not romantic), he falls for her so hard that he finally gets the courage to end the marriage and start fresh.” That prompt took on a life of its own that became ‘Of the Eight Winds.’ This fic immediately follows the events of that piece — I would encourage reading it first if you haven’t.

This is not written in the same Rashomon structure as the original — it is absolutely linear. Hope that doesn’t throw anyone.

I’ll be posting the first two chapters today, and then one chapter a day until next Monday. You can also find it on AO3 here.

PROLOGUE

They say in the heat of the moment, you have five seconds to make a decision. Five seconds between right and wrong. Five seconds between life and death. As Mulder stood watching one gun pointed at his children and another pointed at an immensely pregnant Scully, five seconds seemed an eternity.

XxXxXxXxXxX

6 Months Earlier

She watched the house from the shadows. Occasionally from her car. It was harder to follow the woman as she worked at a secure government facility, but the man was easy. He had a small private psychology practice in a townhouse in Old Town. He usually ate lunch at a Panera near the office or brown bagged it from home.

The kids both attended a private prep school out in McLean. The girl drove herself and her brother most days. The boy would often stay late for sports practice (ice hockey, if the equipment was any indication) and the man would usually pick him up. Their lives were pretty routine.

After two weeks, she finally made an appointment with the man’s scheduling service and waited nervously in the outer office. Right on time, he opened the door.

“Olivia?” Dr. Mulder smiled at her, “come on back.”

She passed him through the doorway and settled into a plush leather couch.

He sat down in a chair across from her and crossed his leg, looking relaxed. Up close, she noticed that his hair was starting to grey at the temples, but he still looked fit, and conveyed an easy manner.

“Thank you for seeing me,” she said, trying to calm her nerves.

“Of course,” he said, looking down at his notebook, “I see you were referred to me by Dr. Heitz Werber?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself,” he said.

She took a breath.

“I grew up here in DC. After grad school… My father worked for the State Department and I, uh, went into the family business.”

Dr. Mulder nodded, his expression neutral.

“I can imagine that’s pretty stressful work,” he said.

“It was,” she said, “I don’t do it anymore.”

He nodded again, waiting for her to fill the silence. She went on.

“The work I did… it hurt people. And I’m… I’m trying to make amends.”

His expression gave nothing away. She steeled herself, took a deep breath.

“Dr. Mulder, my name is Olivia Kurtzweil. Our fathers knew each other a long time ago. I’m here to warn you. You and your family are in danger. Your wife and her baby…”

His nostrils flared, but he maintained his composure.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out several pictures.

“I can prove it,” she said, “This is me and my father, this is me and your sister Samantha. And this is our fathers together.”

“I think you need to leave,” he said, his voice tight for the first time. He was not looking at the pictures.  

She rose.

“There’s not a lot of time.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with a phone number on it, set it next to the pictures, which she left on the office’s small coffee table. “Call me at this number. Soon. I’ll tell you all I can.”

With that she left, her heart hammering in her chest.

CHAPTER ONE

Arlington Cemetery May 2nd, 2018

Mulder descended the stairs quickly, the leather bottoms of his dress shoes scraping loudly on the dusty grit of the steps. The occupants of the underground lair were the perfect people to call when you needed information, but good housekeepers they were not.

He entered the code on the security box at the door at the bottom of the staircase, and the door swung open.

“Guys?” he called into the cavernous space once the door sealed shut behind him.

“In here!” he heard a muffled call from near the back.

He stepped around gunmetal shelves awash in circuitry and computer parts and turned right into the sanctum sanctorum of the place: the desktop on which sat the AMD Threadripper 3000. Two men were hunched over the screen, one sitting, one standing just behind him.

Grease-stained napkins were wadded up next to the keyboard and crinkled butcher paper sat nearby, sporting the red-splotched remains of marinara sauce and a few errant banana peppers.

“You want a meatball sub, Mulder?” came the nasally voice of the man standing, “We got extra.”

“I don’t relish the thought of being up all night with heartburn, Langly, but thanks,” Mulder said, and Frohike turned from the chair, his wispy hair now more white than grey.

“They’re from Gino’s,” he said around a mouthful, “you’re missing out.”

“Tell that to Gino,” Mulder said, “didn’t he die of a heart attack in ‘04?”

“His wife is still running the place, bursting with health,” Frohike said, and reached for a styrofoam cup.

“But she doesn’t eat the subs,” said Mulder, and swung into a nearby chair. “Where’s Byers?”

“Staying with Suzanne for the weekend,” Langly said, like he couldn’t imagine why.

“Is that safe?” Mulder asked. The Gunmen had been hiding out in a government-built safehouse under their own graves in Arlington Cemetery for more than a decade.

Langly shrugged.

The three men looked at each other for a moment. Finally, Mulder spoke again.

“What did you find?”

“Enough,” said Frohike, turning back to the screen. Mulder stood and walked up behind him.

Frohike tapped a picture on the screen.

“Olivia Kurtzweil,” he said, “born December 4th, 1963, daughter of Dr. Alvin Kurtzweil and Ruth O’Brien Kurtzweil. Graduated from Sidwell Friends School in Washington DC in 1981, got a PhD in both Biology and Virology from Boston University in 1987. Employment records get kind of muddled after that, but it would make sense if she worked for the State Department, though what a Biologist/Virologist would be doing for State is troubling.”

Mulder leaned back. It was the same woman who’d been in his office earlier that day.

“And the pictures?” he asked, “of our fathers together? Of her and Samantha?”

“The real McCoy,” Langly said, “they don’t appear to be altered in any way. Sent them to Chuck Burks, too. He concurs.”

Mulder sighed heavily.

“What’s going on, Mulder?” Frohike asked, his tone serious.

“She came to my office today, Olivia Kurtzweil,” he said, nodding at the screen, “she told me that Scully is in danger.”

“In danger?” Langly said, puzzled, “how?”

“Scully is…” Mulder paused, “she’s pregnant,” he said, and he saw both men’s eyebrows go up. “This woman told me that our family... that Scully and the baby are in danger.”

Frohike and Langly traded looks.

“We haven’t told anyone about the pregnancy,” Mulder went on, “and Scully’s OB is an old friend from med school that she trusts implicitly. This Kurtzweil woman knows about the baby and insists it’s in danger. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Firstly,” said Frohike, who stood and put a hand on Mulder’s shoulder, “Mazel tov.” Mulder smiled at him. “Secondly,” he went on, “it appears as though this woman is telling the truth -- at least about who she is -- I would talk to her. See what you can find out.”

“How’s Scully taking this?” Langly asked.

“I haven’t told her yet,” Mulder said, and the boys traded another look. “I didn’t want to scare her without knowing more.”

Frohike squeezed his shoulder again and then let his arm fall.

“Let us know, huh?” he said, “However we can help.”

Mulder nodded and drifted back toward the door, a ball of worry sitting heavy in his gut.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Where are the kids?” he asked as soon as he walked in the kitchen. He hadn’t even taken off his coat.

“I had a good day, thanks for asking,” said Scully with a grin. She was loading the dishwasher and turned to look at him. Her face fell, turning serious. “The kids are upstairs. What’s wrong?”

“I had a patient come in today…” he started, and her features softened. She probably thought it was just empathy for one of his patients, a tough case. “Scully, she showed me a picture of herself as a kid. With Samantha.”

“What?” Scully said, standing up straight, “how?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and moved past her and into the living room, making for the bookshelf that held old family photo albums. He pulled one out and skimmed through it. Pulled out another. Halfway through, something caught his eye and he flipped back a couple of pages until he saw it. A picture from the same 70’s-era party at his childhood home on the Vineyard that Olivia had shown him. There was his father standing next to Alvin Kurtzweil, and down in the corner, both wearing swimsuits and gap-toothed smiles, pigtails frizzy and wet, sat Samantha and a 7 year-old Olivia Kurtzweil.

He felt his breath leave him.

Scully had come up quietly behind him, put her hand on his arm.

“Mulder?” she said.

“I need to make a call,” he said.

He pulled the note Olivia had left with him out of his pocket. She picked up on the first ring.

“Olivia, this is Dr. Mulder,” he said. “We need to talk.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning at 9:00am, they found themselves sitting across their kitchen table from Olivia Kurtzweil, Special Agent Monica Reyes, ASAC John Doggett and Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

Scully was sitting, arms crossed in front of her defensively, at the head of the table. Reyes sat next to her, looking at Kurtzweil with an equal amount of curiosity and distrust. Doggett was too amped up to sit and paced through their kitchen. Skinner sat, quiet and still, looking as menacing as ever at the far end of the table.

Mulder felt a certain odd protectiveness toward Olivia, and couldn’t help but treat her a bit like a patient.

“Olivia,” he said calmly, “why don’t you start at the beginning.”

The tale she spun was as fantastic as anything they’d ever heard in their years on the X-Files. Olivia had been groomed from childhood to work on what she called “The Project.” When Samantha Mulder had been abducted, The Project had used her DNA to create alien-human hybrids. Throughout the years, these hybrids had been used by different factions of The Project to further their agendas in relation to a colonization project that Olivia said once threatened the world. She had fought with others to bring it down and now, The Project’s last ditch effort to resurrect itself lay in the cells of the child Scully was carrying.

“How was my father involved?” Mulder said, his voice like ice.

“Your father did everything he could to protect you and your sister,” Olivia said after a pause. “He was the person I initially approached when I became disenchanted. He and I worked together for years dismantling everything we could.”

Mulder narrowed his eyes at her.

“You were at my father’s funeral a couple years ago,” he said, recognition dawning on him, “I saw you at his wake.”

Olivia nodded.

“He couldn’t save your sister,” she said, “but he saved you. And in the end, he saved me.”

“My sister,” Mulder said, his stomach feeling as though it were in his feet, “is she alive?”

“No,” Olivia said, “I’m so sorry. And that’s the problem. Your sister’s DNA was the only one that was able to create viable hybrids. Her DNA was the key. And the last living hybrid sacrificed herself before a rogue faction could get her. That rogue faction is after Scully and your baby for the DNA markers particular to your family.”

“Then why aren’t they after me?”

“The particular markers they’re looking for are rendered dormant after a baby is born. The genetic material they can use is only found in--”

Scully spoke for the first time, finishing Olivia’s explanation. “Embryonic stem cells from our baby.”

Olivia looked pained and nodded. “It’s their last, best hope for restarting the program,” she said.

“How do they even know about the pregnancy? We haven’t told a soul.”

“A hack on your medical records is my guess. HIPAA means nothing to these people.”

“I’m less concerned with the how and more concerned with the why,” Mulder said. “You say embryonic cells. That means they’re on a clock, right? Once the baby is born...”

“Destroy the umbilical cord. The placenta. Those cells are only found in a few places. Destroy anything they might be able to use. After that… you and your baby will be safe.”

“So no one else in our family is in danger?” Scully asked. Her eyes darted unconsciously to a family picture that was framed on the wall above Olivia. It was a candid photo, taken the year before when they had hired a photographer to take Lily’s senior portraits. In it, Mulder and Scully were holding hands, looking at their two kids who were laughing about something Will had said. They were all smiling and carefree. In the moment, it felt like a world away.

“I know the technology and the biology it draws from,” Olivia said, “I helped design it. Their only hope is getting their hands on the embryonic stem cells from your baby. If you were planning on getting an amniocentesis test -- don’t.”

“Why not?” Skinner asked, “why not just give them what they want?”

“Because they’ll never stop,” Reyes said.

Olivia shook her head sadly. “She’s right. They take and they take, and they don’t care who gets hurt or what is lost.” She looked to Mulder. “Your father and I worked for years to shut it down. Finish it. Hide your wife. Protect your baby. Once it’s born, you should all be out of danger.”

“Tell me about this rogue faction,” Doggett’s voice coming from the corner of the kitchen startled everyone.

“Mercs for hire,” Olivia said, “Only one of them that I know of is familiar with the working pieces of The Project. I don’t know him well. I only ever saw him in the periphery.”

“Do you have a name?” Doggett asked.

“I doubt it’s his real one,” Olivia said.

“We’ll take whatever you can give us,” said Reyes, who shot a look to Doggett.

“I only ever heard him called ‘Krycek,’” she said.

Mulder felt his gut drop.

XxX

“What do you think?” Mulder asked Scully, as they sat together around their empty dining room table. Doggett, Reyes and Skinner had left and it was nearly noon, the sun bright outside their windows. Nevertheless, the room felt cold. Mulder could feel anxiety press on him from all sides as though he were under water.

“I don’t know what to think,” Scully said, a hand resting unconsciously on her stomach, which had just started to push out. “Mulder, for almost fifteen years our lives have been ordinary, calm. After all this time…? It strains credulity.”

“Scully I would agree with you. But… some of the things we saw when we were on the X-Files… We know credible threats. This feels like a credible threat.”

“Do you really believe everything she said? About your sister?” He could see her skeptical reserve crumbling.

Mulder let that question sit in the air for several long moments. “Just tell me if the science checks out,” he finally said.

Scully huffed an almost amused sigh. “I couldn’t even begin to-” she started.

“Scully, you yourself were filling in the blanks of Olivia’s story. If what she says is true, does the science check out?”

Scully gave him a long look. “Yes,” she finally said.

He held her gaze, a feeling of overwhelming affection coming over him. “Scully,” he said quietly, “we have to get you somewhere safe.”

She looked down, added another hand to her abdomen so she was cradling it with both. On the countertop, there was a half drunk bottle of Deer Park and a single yellowing banana. Someone had left their iPhone headphones sitting in a semi-coiled loop, and there were crumbs in front of the toaster, dishes in the sink. They sat in the middle of a half-lived life.

“I won’t leave without you,” she finally said, “without you and the kids. We all do this together. If the threat is really what Kurtzweil says it is, I couldn’t bear the thought of them trying to use you or the kids to get to me.”

Mulder nodded curtly.

“I’ll go to the guys,” he said, “see what they can do for us. Skinner and Doggett and Reyes will do what they can to protect us, but I think given everything we’ve heard, it’s best to avoid… governmental oversight.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Scully said.

“We need to leave soon. We can’t wait.”

Apgar jumped on the table then, looking for affection. Scully, who normally wouldn’t tolerate a cat on any eating surface, reached out and pet the cat absently, her eyes far away.

“Where are we even going to go?” she asked.

[seducing-a-vampire]

ON BEING HONEST AND WHY I THINK SIMON WILL BE THE FIRST TO SAY “I LOVE YOU”

Two things sparked this meta:

Baz yelling “you’re so beautiful” to Simon, but Simon not hearing it— the moment that lives rent-free in my head 24/7

Rainbow’s recent Fall for the Book interview, when she said that she thinks that Baz is “settling for Simon” in Wayward Son

Here’s something we all know: our guys really suck at saying nice things out loud to each other. For two people are constantly thinking nauseatingly sweet and loving things about each other, they almost never actually verbalize them. 

I ended up going through a lot of quotes and tracking some of the nice things that they actually do say to each other, and I’ll offer some very  r a m b l i n g  thoughts on what I think Simon and Baz’s respective paths indicate for AWTWB. 

I was interested in the intersection of when Simon and Baz are being honest to each other (aka saying some of the nice things that they’re always thinking) with when Simon and Baz are being honest about themselves (aka self-acceptance).

TL;DR, my prediction for their path through honesty is:

Simon’s self-acceptance (which starts at the end of WS)

Simon’s honesty to Baz re: love

Baz’s honesty to Simon re: love

Baz’s self acceptance

**Below the cut because it got super long, yikes**

Phase 1: Simon being nice/honest in CO

The first nice-ish interaction between Simon and Baz in Carry On is when Simon follows Baz up to the Mage’s office, and they find Baz’s baby photo:

“Here,” [Simon] says softly, holding it out to me. “I’m… sorry.” (204)

Simon tones down his initial hostility in this scene after he sees the photo. This moment, along with Natasha’s visitation, catalyzes a real change in how Simon views Baz, and it’s indicative of the larger shift (vulnerability → Simon seeing Baz as more than his enemy → Baz wearing jeans → oops I love him). This trajectory continues during their truce-- there are still a few moments of hostility, but honestly on the whole, Simon is pretty nice to Baz:

“You don’t want to hurt me,” I say, trying to push him back. “Isn’t that right? I’m sorry. Look at me, I’m sorry.” (210)

“I’ll help you,” he says (217)

“Baz,” I yell. “No! You’re flammable!” (238)

All of this culminates in the kisses in the forest, and Simon says a few more nice and affirming things around that point:

“They say your soul dies.”   “That’s tosh,” he says. (300)

“You’re not a monster,” I say. His face is cold as a corpse in my hand. “I was wrong. All those years. You’re a bully. And a snob. And a complete arsehold. But you’re not one of them.” (339)

“I won’t,” I say. I’ve never turned my back on you. And I’m not starting now.” (340)

Something that stood out to me after reviewing these moments is that Simon’s shift from enemies to lovers is actually pretty linear. As he learns more about Baz during their truce and they grow closer, Simon hates Baz less and consequently says nicer things to him, until he ultimately realizes he doesn’t hate Baz at all, so he kisses him and asks him to be his boyfriend. Weirdly logical behavior for someone so thick. Simon is being pretty open and honest, and this makes sense because Simon understands himself pretty well at this point. His big crisis of character comes in the next book. 

The thing is, at this point in Carry On, Baz has not said a single nice thing to Simon. The closest you could get is when he asks Simon to come to his house for Christmas, which is a great moment but is quickly muddled by their ensuing fight. 

(awesome thoughts about that moment here)

Baz has acted nicely, but he has remained sarcastic and aloof even after Simon kisses him. 

We get a few compliments of Simon’s power:

“You have to stop doing that.”  

“What?”

“Godlike displays of magic.” (348)

“You’re the most powerful magician alive-- who’s ever lived, probably.” (355)

I won’t repeat @super-duper-twelve’s brilliant meta on this, but this category of compliment is not ultimately that useful for their general communication.

Simon keeps pushing, despite the cold walls Baz tries to put up, and he asks Baz to be his “terrible boyfriend.” Honestly, it astounds me how much confidence Simon must’ve had to just shoot his shot there, because Baz was not giving him a ton of reason to think he’d go for it. Me as simon would’ve definitely been like: ok cool, nice kiss, he definitely still hates me though.

Phase 2: Baz being nice/honest

I want to be clear: it’s perfectly understandable why Baz, a flawed fictional character, is not nice to Simon. His trajectory from enemies to lovers is completely different, because he’s spent years loving Simon while acting like his enemy. He’s had great practice at that, and it’s the most relatable thing ever that he is afraid of getting hurt when he’s believed Simon to be an impossible dream for so long. This is also understandable when viewed through the lens of self-acceptance because huge facets of Baz’s identity are constantly being covered up and ignored by himself or by the people close to him (vampire, gay). He knows himself, sure, but he’s a very long way from self-acceptance.

Anyway, Baz does actually agree to be Simon’s boyfriend, and we get a couple of honest Nice Things that they say to each other during that brief period.

Unfortunately, this mutual honesty/niceness is incredibly short lived, because everything changes quickly after this: Humdrum, Mage, Ebb, etc. Simon’s world falls apart, and Baz is there to comfort him, affirm him, and (finally) be honest and nice. Their whole dynamic turns on its head. 

“You did it, didn’t you?” Baz whispers. “You defeated the Humdrum. You saved the day, you courageous fuck. You absolute nightmare.” (491)

“It’s going to be okay… it’s all right, love.” (492)

“You were the centre of my universe,” I say. “Everything else spun around you.” (506)

“Looking at you was like looking directly into the sun.” (507)

“You’re still Simon Snow. You’re still the hero of this story--” (507)

“It was brave. It was brave and selfless and clever. That’s who you are, Simon. And I’m not going to get bored with you.” (507)

“I choose you,” I say. “Simon Snow, I choose you.” (508)

To summarize and possibly oversimplify:

Up until the night of the Mage and Ebb’s death, Simon was the one pushing forward, being honest, and looking to break down the boundaries and walls between them. 

After that point, Baz finally feels ready to be all in with Simon, and Simon retreats inward. 

Phase 3: Wayward Son

We see this dynamic play out in Wayward Son, with almost no change throughout the whole book. Right from the very first chapter, Simon is thinking:

“Everything that happened with the Mage and the Hum-drum just made Baz more of who he was meant to be… He proved himself as a man and a magician. He proved himself right: The Mage really was evil! And I really was a fraud—’the worst Chosen One who’s ever been chosen,’ just like Baz used to say. He was right about me all along. “ (8)

I think it’s really notable that Simon can use his boyfriend’s words to justify his own worst self-doubts and self-loathings, because it indicates the consequences of them spending way more time insulting each other than ever being honest and affirming.

In Wayward Son, tender and honest moments between Simon and Baz are few and far between and mostly in the form of post-battle kisses. The only real communication that we see between them comes in flashbacks, wherein we see how much Simon has pulled back from Baz (the descriptions of his reaction to physical intimacy being one example of this). 

Even when Baz says nice things to Simon and affirms him, Simon’s presumed depression largely keeps him from believing and internalizing those things (through no real fault of either person. Again, very understandable ways for both of these flawed characters with traumatic pasts to behave!!!!!). Baz yells, “you’re so beautiful” to Simon, and he doesn’t even hear him (a gutting moment that I consider indicative of the general dynamic between them throughout the book).

Now, we get to Rainbow’s comments about Baz “settling for Simon.” I feel this. Simon is pushing Baz away and giving Baz basically nothing, and that is not a healthy dynamic. Baz is going through his own crap and self-doubt and self-acceptance, and Simon is not there for him apart from fits of jealous rage. As we learned in Carry On, it takes a lot for Baz to even feel remotely comfortable expressing his feelings for Simon, and with many months lacking that, it starts to wilt. 

What’s next: Prologue and AWTWB

Of course, the moment of truest communication in the second book comes at the very end:

“Why can’t you just admit that you’d be happier here?” “Why can’t you see that I wouldn't be happier anywhere without you?” (353)

I think the key to understanding what might come after this agonizing moment lies with Simon’s thoughts as he sits alone on the beach.

Before Baz arrives, Simon’s not thinking about his boyfriend. He’s thinking about himself. He’s contemplating his role in the World of Mage’s (hello, synopsis for AWTWB), and he’s taking a good, long look in the mirror. He’s starting to be honest about himself and accept himself (not perfectly, and I think this imperfect acceptance is reflected in his expressed desire to get rid of his wings, but he’s getting there). 

When Simon talks about Baz staying in America and being happy, Simon is not closing himself up and pushing Baz away, which he had done for so long and which caused so much miscommunication up to this point. Rather, this is a moment of true honesty on Simon’s part. 

Baz does need to learn more about himself and his vampirism. Simon recognizes this about Baz, just as Simon is trying to understand himself, too. In this moment, Simon is being true and vulnerable and speaking from a place of love. Baz refuses to self-reflect honestly and understand the truth in what Simon is saying, instead clinging to his love for Simon (without actually verbalizing that love). Throughout WS, Baz makes very stunted progress (see: his floral clothing as symbolism, being able to retract his fangs, meeting other vampires and learning about immortality and all that fun stuff), but in the end he doesn’t let himself actually think about that in any real way. Despite what Simon says, Baz has not yet “become more of who he was meant to be.” 

Importantly, this is in the “Prologue,” the beginning of the next phase in their healing and their relationship. As the balance shifts, this could be the beginning of real communication, but Simon needs to take the next step. At the end of WS, Baz is the one holding back. Baz isn’t able to accept himself honestly, so he won’t be able to fully let Simon in, either. 

Until Simon says “I love you,” they won’t get anywhere in their relationship. Simon needs to say it first, he needs to be vulnerable and honest in a way that he hasn’t been since before the Mage’s death, and Baz needs to understand those feelings in order to fully express his own. Then, I see Simon’s fully expressed love and support as a catalyst for Baz’s final self-acceptance. 

I think Simon will be unable to fully express his love for Baz until he has understood and accepted himself. However, Baz will continue to prioritize Simon/love over his own self-acceptance until either (A) Simon and Baz break up, or (B) Baz finally has confidence and security in their relationship because Simon has broken down the barriers of honesty and said “I love you.” Simon needing to say “I love you” first also gets at the idea of Simon needing to become someone that Baz deserves (per Rainbow’s words). 

So, I predict this as their path through honesty:

Simon’s self-acceptance (which starts at the end of WS)

Simon’s honesty to Baz re: love

Baz’s honesty to Simon re: love

Baz’s self acceptance

And then they will live happily ever after. The end.

*** Please let me know what you think and if this makes any sense!! ***

[927roses-and-stuff]

Miracles in Gotham: Chapter 7: A Brewing Storm

A/N: So, with Season 4 of Miraculous Ladybug officially starting, this is a reminder that this fanfic is non-compliant with any events after Season 3, even with the added lore in canon. I know this is also a crossover so that’s to be expected, but because this fic is also dealing with Miraculous lore, I feel the need to put this up. Please don’t comment about canon disproving any of the material here, because I am already fully aware of the fact. I don’t really care for the show anymore, and the only thing keeping me in the fandom are the fanworks. Like many in the Maribat fandom, I discovered the more vast lore of DC through this, so there is a mix-up of canon from different worlds/universes (e.g. Young Justice, New 52, and Prime Earth), I just don’t care enough to discern which wiki I’m getting my info from.

That said, thank you to everyone who is taking the time to read this fic, and I hope that you like it. An extra thank you to everyone who has given this a kudos, bookmarked, and/or commented. I appreciate you all so much.

Also, shout out to jackmand1, Sp8cefluff and BenRG who commented on ways to open the box (getting Bunnyx to get the tablet before Hawkmoth, and asking the box to open), which is all mentioned in Marinette’s diary entry.

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: : @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn @iloontjeboontje

First Previous Next Fanfic

Dear Diary,

There’s still no luck with the Miracle Box. After we tried Chat’s idea of dropping it from the Louvre using the chew toy as a pressure point, we tried hitting it with our weapons (didn’t even make a dent!), Chat asked the box to “please open don’t close up on us like my dad did” (we had a talk about that but he didn’t want to delve too much into it, and it didn’t work), the kwami tried phasing through it (thank god kwami don’t get concussions), and we even tried contacting Bunnyx, but goodness knows where she is and after Chat Blanc, I didn’t really want to see her anyway. We gave up sometime in the early morning, and now it’s shoved in one of my luggage carts, ready to bring to Gotham tomorrow. I hope it doesn’t trigger any of the airport security.

In better news, it’s been a few days since Chat and I officially introduced our new Ladybug and Bee to the scene. For the most part, I think they’re doing well- better than I did when I first started, anyway. It took a bit of time for Luka and Kagami to get used to the new set up, but Chat and I were there to help them, so it wasn’t too bad. Luka, or Bleu Acier, took a while to get used to the yoyo (who knew Luka had a fear of heights?), but he’s gotten used to it...after we had to convince him he wasn’t going to splat into the pavement or anything like that. Kagami, who decided on the name Shūyō, had to adjust to short-range fighting and not using Venom too soon, but she managed to navigate the top and cause a lot of damage to the akumas that we dealt with in the last few days. I think Hawkmoth has some idea that Bustier’s class is on the move because we’ve had an akuma attack every day so far. I’m hoping it’s just Hawkmoth becoming more desperate, although hopefully Bleu Acier and Shūyō threw him off a little bit. As of right now, I’m using the Snake Miraculous as Couleuvre, so it’ll be easier to-

One moment, Marinette had been settled comfortably in her chaise, and the next, a large crash through her bedroom walls threw her across the room, her back hitting the wall hard enough that she felt pain upon impact. When the world around her gained focus, she spotted a large woman-like figure in front of the hole in her wall cackling. The woman’s glassy skin that was translucent, yet she could also see a muddled reflection of her own face. Upon her head she wore a heavy silver crown adorned with gems that was reminiscent of her skin and a white, flowy dress that trailed behind her from the waist. In her hand was an open contact mirror that contained no reflection except for her own blue-bell eyes.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! I am Mistress Mirage! Soon, I will show you the darkest parts of yourself, the secrets you hide behind your so-called truths!” she bellowed, her voice echoing in Marinette’s ears. In the background, she could barely hear her parents’ muffled screams and bangs against her bedroom door.

“Who-” she hissed, trying to balance herself and stand up. “What did I do to you?”

As far as she knew, she hadn’t angered anyone in the last hour she had been home for lunch.

Mistress Mirage zoomed towards her, her face shoved near into hers, her burning cold fingers choked her. Marinette backed into the wall, grabbing onto Mirage’s marble wrists, a pain shooting up her spine. Marinette could only struggle in place, her legs kicking listlessly, as the glassy, bright green emeralds Mistress Mirage had for eyes stared into her very being. The longer she stared into the empty gems, trying .

“Your weaknesses, your darkest secrets will be mine, Dupain-Cheng.”

Her voice, tinkled within Marinette’s mind, and she watched as the woman’s glassy skin shifted and soon she was faced with a kaleidoscope version of herself, blue sapphires glinting harshly, her breaths now ragged and shallow.

“Wha-” Marinette tried taking a deep breath, but Mirage’s fingers tightened their hold. “Why?” she managed to weakly choke out.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Mirage’s voice, no longer bellowing nor echoing, but now a whisper right in her ears, sounding eerily like her own. “That you aren’t enough? That you will never be enough?”

Marinette shook her head, trying to ignore the voice as it taunted her endlessly.

“What are you hiding, Marinette?”

“Why do you hide from the world?”

“How pathetic. You claim to hate liars,” Marinette felt Mirage’s fingers tighten around her. “But aren’t you a liar too?”

Tears stung the corner of her eyes. She didn’t know what was going on- Mistress Mirage wasn’t saying anything incriminating. If it were any other situation, she could brush off these accusations, but as Mirage continued to taunt her in her voice, doubts and fears, both new and old, she usually ignored were brought to the forefront of her mind.

‘I’ll fail as a Guardian- I’m not enough.

I’m abandoning my city to find a man who might not even be alive.

Chat Noir will never trust me again.

My parents want to send me away.

Why doesn’t Alya believe me?

Alya would’ve made a better Ladybug.

If Tikki could see me now she’d be disappointed.

What a failure I turned out to be.

“What a failure you turned out to be.”

Mistress Mirage’s emerald eyes glinted gleefully, a wide smile cracking into the glassy expanse of her skin. Her voice echoed Marinette’s thoughts and Marinette repeated her words as much as she could, her breathing becoming more shallow. Mistress Mirage couldn’t actually read any of Marinette’s secrets, however, she could read her psyche, a doubtful, anxious little thing, and she only said out loud what Marinette had already been telling herself to make her putty into Mirage’s hands. A neon violet butterfly appeared over her face, reminding her of her duty to get the Miraculous.

But for now, she had Marinette in her grasp. Once Marinette was in her trance, shaking slightly and mumbling nonsense as tears streaked down her cheeks, Mirage grabbed her and headed to the Trocadero, when three figures- black, steel blue and honey yellow- surrounded her in the middle of the street. The two new heroes stiffened at the sight of the girl in her arms. Chat snarled at Mistress Mirage.

“Marinette!” Chat yelled, rushing forward with his baton at Mistress Mirage. “What are you doing with her?!”

Mistress Mirage smirked. “If you want her, you’ll have to give me your Miraculous.”

She leapt out of the way only to stumble beside Shūyō who held her yellow top- flatter than Queen Bee’s with a long, black handle- the tip poised to the side of Mirage’s ribcage.

Before Shūyō could enact Venom however, Mirage turned and kicked the bee heroine away from her, holding out her compact mirror, creating a wall of mirrors that trapped Shūyō on the other side. She rearranged Marinette in her arms, ignoring the silent struggles of the bee thumping against the mirrored walls and swearing at her.

Chat Noir extended his baton towards Mistress Mirage. However, she jumped and landed on top of the baton, sending Chat sprawling through the air. Bleu Acier attacked at the same time. Mirage was quick and held out her compact to the two heroes, entrapping them in their own mirror dimension. The butterfly outline appeared again, and Mirage set off. She had special plans for Marinette.

Within the mirror dimension, Bleu and Chat were trying to navigate their way around crystallized walls which reflected everything around them. They had tried to find Shūyō, only to realize she was a reflection, then had almost been driven over by a car that had then disappeared.

“What is all this?” Chat muttered, nudging his surroundings. “It’s like, some of it are just reflections, but some of it is real.”

Bleu Acier nodded. “The reflections have to come from somewhere, so the real objects and people are in here somewhere.” He looked up and pointed a little ways forward. “Look, you can see our reflections.”

“Hope they’re getting my good side,” Chat quipped. “We have to get Shūyō and Marinette soon.”

Bleu Acier blinked, as he caught his yoyo when it hadn’t rebounded against a wall. “Do you know her personally?” He asked. He hadn’t been aware of Marinette’s close relationship with the Parisian heroes.

Chat gave a stiff nod. “She’s worked with Ladybug and I a few times. I met her when we fought Evillustrator.”

“So, do you and Ladybug often have civilians fight for you?” Bleu frowned. He scanned the area, and turned left.

“Only when we really need to,” Chat scoffed. “It’s not ideal, but it’s just me and m’Lady and sometimes we need help.”

Bleu could sense a resonating low, flat tone emanating from Chat. “That’s horrible. You guys look like you’re still kids.” Chat shrugged in response. As they walked onwards, investigating every inch of the way, Bleu noticed a figure dressed in a black and yellow-patterned fencing uniform, wearing a striped domino mask, thumping against a transparent wall. “Chat, look.”

Cat’s eyes widened at the sight. “Shūyō!” he yelled and rushed forward, only to be trapped in a corner with several reflections of the bug-themed heroine. Chat’s breath quickened. “Shūyō! Can you hear us?!”

Shūyō’ perked up and looked around. “I can! But where are you?” She shouted, her voice vibrating through the air.

“Shit.” Chat stared at his hand, before clenching it and turning towards Bleu. “I think we might need that Lucky Charm now.”

He nodded. “Lucky Charm!”

A bright red object with black spots dropped from the sky followed a series of chimes. Bleu Acier’s eyes widened as he held up the wind chime, eight hollow tubes ringing against the slapper in between, the clear, steady ringing piercing all around them. The wind chime was half the size of his torso, so fortunately, it was lighter than it looked.

It was a curious thing Ladybug had noted, that most of Bleu Acier’s Lucky Charms were sound or music-related.

“Well, this blows. You going to chime a pretty tune there, Bleu?”

He held back a chuckle. In the week he and Shūyō had been working with Chat and Ladybug, he had grown to appreciate Chat’s humour and the jaunty tune he associated with them.

“Maybe,” he said. Raising his voice, he addressed Shūyō. “Can you hear this?!” He asked, shaking the wind chime from its hanger.

They could see Shūyō’s reflection moving around, her eyes closed in concentration. “Sort of!” she answered, echoing slightly. “Are we able to use Chat Noir’s Cataclysm?!”

Bleu stared at Chat who was staring at his hand in deep thought. “Probably! We just need to make sure I’m not using Cataclysm on something real!”

“Maybe it is not my place to say as your junior, but this is not the time for hesitation!” Shūyō yelled back.

A beep echoed in Bleu’s ears. “We should hurry. I only have four minutes.”

Chat nodded. “Alright!” He looked around, scanning nearby walls until he found a reflection of himself- a sure way to make sure he hit the mirror. “Cataclysm!”

The walls around them crumbled in seconds, revealing the world around them. Chat smirked, and they scouted for Shūyō who met them in the middle.

“Why did you not use Cataclysm in the first place?” Shūyō asked, when they reconvened.

“I didn’t want to accidentally use it on the wrong thing,” he said, flexing his fingers. “Come on, we have less than five minutes. Don’t use Venom until you receive my signal.”

Shūyō nodded.

Chat turned to Bleu Acier and pointed to the wind chime. “Keep that on you and look out for opportunities.” He turned around and headed off. “Let’s go!”

In the end, Mistress Mirage was defeated quickly. In their absence, she had grown arrogant, and the three heroes found several clones of Mistress Mirage atop the Palais de Chaillot, a crowd having gathered at the bottom. Each clone had a Marinette bound in front of them, at the edge of the roof, standing listlessly. Despite this, Mistress Mirage was not prepared for the ambush of the three heroes. Bleu’s wind chimes were used as a distraction for the real Mistress Mirage while Chat and Shūyō attacked from behind.

“Shūyō! Use it now!” Chat yelled, as he grabbed Marinette and set her down on the ground below, and allowed the paramedics to deal with her.

“Venom,” Shūyō muttered. She dropped beneath Mirage and her top, stabbing her opponent beneath her ribcage. “Gotcha.”

Mistress Mirage froze mid-air, one leg in the air and both hands outstretched. Chat’s eyes widened when he didn’t see her holding the akumatized object. Chat pounced back onto the roof, ignoring the second beep from his ring. He noticed the satin sash that was wrapped around her waist.

“Shūyō, the akumatized object is the mirror she carries around. It should be in her sash,” he said, his cheeks tinged pink. “Can you- uh-?”

Shūyō nodded. “I do not understand your need for modesty at such a time, but it is commended.”

Chat’s cheeks reddened further. “It’s just polite! I don’t want to be touching anyone without their consent!”

Shūyō took out the compact mirror that had been tucked into the sash just above her left hip. She tossed it to Bleu Acier who quickly broke it and captured the akuma.

“It’s just the principle of it!” Chat squawked as the trail of tiny red ladybugs flowed throughout Parisian skies.

She snorted. “I understand. I was just teasing.” She turned to nod at Bleu then at Chat. “You two are close to de-transforming. I will bring both victims home.” Shūyō then grabbed Lila, who had been the akuma and was now disoriented, and jumped down to retrieve Marinette.

When Marinette had woken up from the akuma attack, she had been escorted home by Shūyō, who had fussed over any injuries she may have gotten before eventually leaving with a pack of honey macarons. Marinette smiled. Chat had made a good choice with Kagami. After, she had endured cuddles and hugs from her parents who were now even more determined to get her out of Paris.

Later that evening, after reassuring her parents and making sure the kwami were okay. She headed off to patrol where she had to answer for her absence, and where Chat had regaled how they did. Marinette smiled, knowing she made the right choice. After the patrol, which had been less of a patrol and more of a small goodbye ceremony, she returned home and recorded the events in her diary, slowly anticipating the trip.

The next day, she had just made it to the airport an hour before boarding. Everyone had gone through the usual airport processes and she was the last to arrive with her passport and airplane tickets in her carry-on shoulder bag. When she arrived to the waiting area where her friends were (with Adrien’s bodyguard nearby playing on his phone), she was met with a lot of mixed reactions.

Alya had rushed over and hugged her, frantically asking if she was okay. Several classmates had joined her, like Rose, Juleka and Mylene. She hugged them back and reassured them that she was alright, and wasn’t going to jump off roofs anytime soon (though she didn’t remember that from yesterday anyway). They then moved on and Alya asked her a question that stopped her in her tracks.

“Why were you arguing with Lila yesterday, anyway?” Alya asked, leading the two of them to sit down.

Marinetter furrowed her eyebrows and frowned. “What are you on about? I’m not talking to Lila at all.”

Alya frowned. “She told us that’s why she was akumatized yesterday. Apparently you called the mirror she got from Bruce Wayne as a birthday gift, fake.”

Marinette forced herself to not roll her eyes. “What? Why would I care about anything like that? She’s lying!”

Alya frowned even more. “Lila said you’d probably say that. Why can’t you two just get along?”

“Alya, you’re the one that believes Lila has a lying illness. Why don’t you believe me when I say she’s lying and that I didn’t even see her at all yesterday outside of class?” Marinette tensed. How petty did Lila think she was? How petty was Lila?

“She did get akumatized yesterday. Her story matches the events,” Alya said. “Marinette, you’re my best friend. That’s why I want to know why you did what you did.”

Marinette snorted. “And I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything. Is this what the whole class believes? That I’m so shallow that I would akumatize Lila over something as trivial as a mirror?”

Alya blanched. “No, of course not. We’re just saying you two had an argument and Lila got upset enough to turn into an akuma. We’re not saying it was intentional on your part or anything.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Look, my version of events is that I went home for lunch, was in my bedroom, got attacked by the akuma, and was out for it until that Bee hero Shūyō brought me home. Believe what you want, but don’t expect me to apologize to Lila for something I didn’t do.”

Marinette stood up and was about to go before she was stopped by Alya grabbing her wrist. She looked back and watched as Alya looked down at her clenched fist, biting her lip.

“I,” Alya sighed. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I’m not saying I don’t believe Lila either. Either way, both of you were the victims yesterday. I’m sorry I was asking you stuff like that.”

Marinette frowned and sat back down. She wasn’t sure what was happening between her and Alya. Alya had been spending more time with Lila, even ending up as her seatmate on the plane and her roommate for the hotel. It made Marinette uncomfortable that they were becoming so close, considering who Lila was. But, Alya was a good person- she just wanted her friends to get along, and it’s not like she could force Alya to cut off her other friendships, even if it was to manipulative lying rats like Lila. That had to be on Alya’s terms. All Marinette could do was be there for her and hope she’d return the sentiment.

She forced a smile. “You’re forgiven.” Alya looked up and smiled, reaching out to hug her. “Now, let’s hang out for a bit before we’re stuck in a plane for twelve hours.”

Alya smiled back. “Yeah! By the way, did you hear that Jagged Stone knows Bruce Wayne?”

And just like that, they had spent the rest of the hour waiting to board the place. The plane that would take them to whatever was awaiting them in Gotham City.

A/N: So that's the end to the first arc I guess, if I intentionally have arcs lol. The rest of this fanfic will be in Gotham. Thank you again for joining me this far and I hope you continue to read it!

Other notes: Bleu Acier is based on the Steelblue Ladybird, with Bleu Acier meaning Steel Blue. Shūyō has three meanings in Japanese, but here, it’s used to mean self-discipline (because that’s something I associate with bees and hard workers). Couleuvre is just another way to say snake in French because Marinette sucks at names.

P.S. I don't hate Alya. In fact, I think we often brush over the fact that Alya is fiercely loyal and in the show, doesn't have all the facts so she's not too suspicious of Lila.

[aliendes]

Natural Borns - Prologue

ahhh finally posting this fic that I’ve had a bare-bones outline for, for over a year. I absolutely adore the idea behind this fic and the world that I am creating for it. If you like what you read here, please follow my blog for updates. My goal is to update this series at least once every two weeks, but I will likely post the first few chapters in the next couple of weeks. I look forward to growing this au, reblog if you enjoy! 

dystopian!au / futuristic!au 

Series info/genre: Angset, fluff, (possible) smut NSFW due to darker themes Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual) Warnings: this series will have different trigger warnings listed for each chapter (if there are any), but as a whole, this series will include violence, mentions of depression & other mental illnesses, cursing, abuse, drugs/alcohol, some shitty medical descriptions because i am NOT a doctor, self-esteem issues, fluff, and possible smut in future chapters (but that’s undecided). i will add more warnings/tags in the future if there are any. Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it? Word count: 1569 (future chapters will be longer, this is just a prologue!)

In a world where social status is determined by looks, it’s beneficial to have the label ‘designer baby’. 

In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are now what society considers a ‘designer baby’. This term designer baby, coined in 2051 when scientists in Sweden successfully incubated a baby to term by splicing different genes together, is what people call babies born in a lab. It is commonplace now for people to walk into a lab, go through a catalog of traits, pick out their favorites, pay a high price tag, and wait about 9 months for their baby to fully incubate. Then they can take their new bundle of joy home without all the pain (and sometimes heartbreak) of a pregnancy and labor. Most expecting mothers never go through pregnancy anymore, and labor and delivery wards have become nearly obsolete in the richer areas of the world. In their place, companies began to spring up on nearly every street corner that allowed hopeful parents to pick out their future offspring. 

The process was actually incredibly simple. Scientists are able to take the DNA of both prospective parents, and splice their genes with other genes of their choosing by removing certain markers for things like eye color while not compromising the parents original DNA structure, and create a zygote in a lab. After about 9-10 months of incubation, this zygote will eventually become the perfect baby, or at least, those parents' version of the perfect baby. The only reason the practice took so long to take off was because of the many protests and movements that took place in the late 2000’s. After the first designer baby was successfully ‘born’, people began to protest the process, saying that it was ‘messing with fate’ and that people shouldn’t have that much power over other humans. After decades of fighting and protests, the first designer baby company launched in 2108, in Seoul, South Korea. Since then, there have been smaller groups and nonprofit organizations that try to fight against gene splicing, but it is mostly accepted worldwide. 

Always at the forefront of technology, it was no surprise that the first designer baby company was in Seoul. Hundreds of years later, the largest population of designer babies and companies still reside in Seoul. Over 75% of the population of South Korea is made up of people who were created in labs and have the perfect balance of genes. Some call the country the most beautiful place on Earth. 600 years ago, people would say that because of its rich culture, and scenic countrysides. Now, it’s because the citizens are nice to ogle at. 

Designer babies are so common in South Korea, that schools, office buildings, and even entire apartment complexes were built for them. In today’s society, your job, your relationships, and your status is determined by how beautiful you are. It’s easy to tell who is a designer baby and who isn’t. Most people born in labs have distinct features, mostly from the same pool of genes. You see, after a while, scientists started running out of natural DNA to use that people still thought was unique enough. Now, most designer babies have features that stem from the same catalogs, as they are the most popular. Sure, they’re pretty, but they’re beginning to look a lot alike. 

Part of the reason natural DNA is so hard to find now, is because a lot of designer babies end up procreating with what scientists dubbed ‘natural borns’, or people with 100% natural DNA, and so most people's DNA is muddled throughout generations. These people are not good candidates for gene splicing as the outcome is not easily controlled. Coming across a true natural born is extremely rare these days and the ones you do find are almost always average looking in society's eyes, so labs don’t bother trying to splice them. It’s not that there are NO natural borns willing to give up their DNA. Companies have applicants all the time, what with the hefty sum they pay their donors, but most do not make it past the application stage once said companies determine their genes unusable for various reasons.

Another problem laboratories run into is the willingness of participants in donating their DNA. The process isn’t as simple as a cheek swab. Once applicants learn about the often painful procedures involved in donating, they tend to back out before signing a contract. These contracts, depending on the company, usually requires the donors to live on company property until they have successfully spliced their DNA. This process involves the donor to take different cocktails of drugs, be put under anesthetic, and be poked and prodded by scientists for weeks at a time. It isn’t the most comfortable thing to go through, but they’re often offered substantial compensation, especially now with the shortage of true natural borns. Some larger companies have been accused in the past of abusing their donors, locking them in prison-like cells and depriving them of food and water, treating them as nothing more than a business transaction, which has also caused natural borns to stray away from donating.

Finding natural borns, or at least partial natural borns isn’t all that hard, though, as most natural borns live in smaller communities outside of larger cities. Because the population of designer babies only continues to grow, most employers no longer hire average looking people. There are even separate schools and hospitals that cater specifically to natural borns, often run by natural borns, since there are a significant portion of designer babies who do not socialize with naturals. Naturals are often considered low-class, and are looked down upon by those in high society. The crime rates against natural borns is becoming increasingly high, which has unfortunately pushed a lot of them outside of metropolitan areas. This resulted in a new social hierarchy where natural borns are at the bottom of the food chain, often poor or even homeless, struggling to find jobs. 

In recent years there have been more protests and rallies ran by both designer babies and natural borns who believe in rights for everyone, they are humans after all,  to try and fight against the discrimination that is heavily ingrained in today’s culture, but not much headway has been made yet. Currently, all world leaders and politicians are designer babies, so going up against them hasn’t been the easiest. 

Because protests are happening more often, companies are having to be even more discreet when it comes to ‘scouting’ potential candidates for donating DNA. They’ve become more desperate to find the new and innovating genes, something unique and different that will drive business in time where labs are a dime a dozen and new genes are hard to come by. 

You would know all about that, though. You are living in a small rural town outside of Seoul with your mother and father, both natural borns. Your family has owned a peach farm for the last few decades and makes enough money to upkeep the small orchard by selling to local markets and restaurants. You’ve been approached multiple times by companies, offering enticing amounts of money to you and your parents, promising things like apartments in the city, college tuition, and fancy cars, if you sold them your DNA. You were a true natural born, a rarity, especially in Korea. Not only did you have pure DNA, but you were unique. You weren’t average looking, no you were ethereal, gorgeous, spectacular in many people's eyes. Not for the reasons that you would’ve liked, though.

People only wanted you for your DNA. Whether it be companies who wanted to splice your genes, or other natural borns who wanted to court you and keep you for themselves, breed you and sell their children off to make a quick buck. It was sick, and that’s why your family kept you close. After you graduated high school, you didn’t attend university and didn’t get a job. You stayed on the farm and helped out your father in the orchard. You knew the dangers of the big companies and citizens alike who only wanted to use you. It made you wary of people, shy, and sometimes insecure about your own person. Your parents did their best to keep you safe, shield you from the horrors of the world, and make sure you felt loved. But oftentimes, you felt lonely, left out, especially when you didn’t have many friends. You felt like an outsider, and even though you were considered incredibly beautiful, you didn’t feel like it.

Growing up wasn’t the easiest for you, having gone to a poor, all natural born school from preschool until you graduated. You didn’t have many friends, most of your classmates bullied you, telling you that you didn’t belong there, that there was no way you weren’t one of those designer babies from the big city and that your parents were lying to you, or you were adopted and didn’t know. These comments were hard to hear, but in the end, you know the truth. You are a pure natural born, and your parents loved you and would do anything to protect you.

But when a mysterious company won’t leave you alone about donating your DNA, you start to question your parents protectiveness over you. Among other things, your biggest question was; what made you so special? 

To be continued...

[sluttyten]

sweet like honey

summary: the day you meet johnny suh and park seonghwa is the day your dreams become reality. fucking two super hot idols? who would say no to that. but the catch is that neither of them know about the other until the secret comes out, and the following competition is one that you never want to miss out on.

words: 13,338

tags: fuckbuddies, kinda dom/sub, possession kink, choking, spanking, kitty/daddy kink, oral (female and male receiving), threesome, jealousy, lots of smut, maybe a tiny bit of angst?, idk there’s some aftercare in there if you squint

pairing: johnny x reader, seonghwa x reader, johnny x reader x seonghwa

When you got the opportunity to work closely with idols, this dream had clung insistently to you: meeting and falling in love with one of the dozens of gorgeous idols you were given contact with. At first, it hadn’t seemed likely. Not that the idols you worked with weren’t attractive or anything like that, but they were always busy, distracted, and focused. They didn’t have time to fall in love with you.

And then you met Johnny. 

NCT was massive and you were the lucky (or possibly unlucky depending on how things swung) staff member who would be taking care of the needs of not only NCT but several other groups who had their dressing rooms in that cluster. You had NCT, Ateez, Stray Kids. 

They had their own staffs, their managers and stuff, but you worked for the broadcast company and it was your responsibility to make sure that they were actually supposed to be where they were supposed to be at the right time in a good mood ready to go, all mic-ed up and everything.

And Johnny was something else. From the moment you walked through the door he caught your eye. He smiled and laughed, a larger than life personality, and as you were talking with them, going over some basic things, he was staring at you with such an intensity that you were almost uncomfortable, but also fairly turned on as well. 

The look in his eyes was something like hunger, like he could devour you whole, ravish you, ruin you.

You fled the room as soon as possible, feeling very warm, possibly a little sweaty. Your head spun and you pushed into the dressing room next door to give the same talk on basic things as you’d just done.

Immediately you collide with Ateez’s Seonghwa.

“Oh, are you okay?” He asks, catching you by the elbows as you bounce back off his chest. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” You straighten the headset you’re wearing just as someone begins speaking in a low buzzing voice for all of the staff to hear. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Seonghwa looks down at you, his eyes gentle on you, taking note of your flushed cheeks. His thumb almost absentmindedly strokes your elbow and your knees feel a little weak from that minimal touch.

He looks at you as if you’re the first girl he’s seen in a while. His gaze drops to your lips, and you have to snap yourself out of it before you let him draw you into doing something you’ll regret, his magnetism too strong for you to deny when he’s touching your arm and looking at you like that.

You look away and see that a few of the group’s staff members are looking at you and Seonghwa, so you pull away and move over to make your announcement.

Luckily, dealing with the other few groups you’ve got isn’t as difficult. There are no attractive members muddling your mind with their eyes or touch.

Things run smoothly that day and you think that’s that. You survived the day and now you’ve even got a little bit of something to feed your fantasies. You think you’ll be clear of dealing with them again, of having your mind fucked like that.

Just as you’re about to leave for the day, hanging up your headset and grabbing your bag, another member of the staff walks in.

“You heading home?” He asks, dropping off his headset as well. Then he looks toward the door, glances around, and looks back at you, and quickly whispers, “Earlier one of the idols gave me his info.”

“Oh, really? That’ll be fun!” You smile, thinking it’ll be nice for him to find a guy. He’s told you before that he’s rather picky about guys plus he’s not comfortable going out to places that are specifically gay. If he’s met a gay idol who’s interested in him, you’re excited for him.

He frowns for a moment, and then says, “No, not for me. No, he said he wanted you to have it. I told him it’s against the rules, but he just gave it to me in case you’d want it.”

He passes a little slip of paper over to you, folded up small. You look down at it, then back up at him. The doorway is still empty, everywhere around you still quiet, so you risk asking, “Whose is it?”

“NCT’s Johnny.” He bites his lip around a smile. “If he wants you, then you’d better go for it. Have you seen him? If I were you I wouldn’t miss out on that opportunity when it comes knocking.”

You know he’s right. Johnny had you feeling like a hot mess earlier when he was looking at you like that, and honestly you would love to have a fun fling with an idol as hot as Johnny. So you pocket the little slip of paper, tug on your coat and grab your bag, thank your coworker and tell him goodbye.

You’re so lost in your thoughts as you walk down the hallway toward the stairs, that you don’t pay attention as one of the dressing room doors opens and a figure starts to step out.

For the second time that day, you collide with someone.

For the second time that day, you collide with Seonghwa.

His arms fully wrap around you now, keeping you from crashing onto the floor.

“We meet again.” He smiles. “Sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention, but I was trying to hurry.”

“Shouldn’t you be gone by now?” You ask him, possibly a bit unkindly. 

He blinks. “Yeah, I forgot my phone though, so I came back. My manager is waiting in the van downstairs, so I was trying to hurry.” He helps you back firmly to your feet. “Sorry about running into you again. We need to stop meeting like this. Maybe next time we should plan to meet instead of just literally running into each other?”

He takes your hand and produces a pen from somewhere. The tip of it tickles against your skin as he writes on your hand, inking his info onto your skin, his breath a gentle warmth on your fingers. 

You look at the side of his face and wonder if maybe you’d somehow fallen into an alternate universe. Months and months of doing this job and you’d never had an idol look twice at you, but today you’ve had not only one idol give you some of his private information, but two idols have given you the means to contact them.

“Message me sometime,” Seonghwa says with a wink. 

And then he’s gone, jogging down the hallway to rejoin his manager in the van.

Later that night, once you’ve gotten home and showered and tucked yourself into bed, you stare at your palm and the piece of paper, your phone unlocked in your lap.

Maybe it’s wrong to do this, but you enter in both of their information, message them both. It’s not like anything that happens with either of them will be really serious, right? They’re both busy idols, they don’t have time for real romantic lives, just for the occasional hookups, and that’s something you can do. 

Sex. No strings attached. Totally non-exclusive to each other.

You meet up with Johnny first. It’s only fair. He made his move first, messaged you back first, made it obvious that he wants you.

“Can you meet me now?” He messages you one day. 

It’s mid-morning. Normally you would be at work. You would think he’d be busy working or sleeping right now too. But you’re off work today, and you’ve got no plans because it’s a chilly autumn morning that made you not even hardly want to leave bed.

“Where?”

He sends you a location, and you only wait long enough to shower quickly and put on something nicer before you’re on your way.

Over the past few weeks since you first met him, you’ve been messaging almost every day. He made it obvious quickly that he was just looking for sex, and you accepted that just as quickly. Since then, you’d been talking about history, experience, likes and dislikes, kinks. There’d been plenty of dirty talk from him, featuring a sexy pic or two from you (he was hesitant to send nudes for obvious reasons, but had sent you a couple of selfies and even audio clips). 

So going to meet him, you were ready for it. 

You find it hard to believe that he actually invited you over to his dorm to fuck, but the building you arrive at definitely looks like an apartment building, and when you text him that you’ve arrived at the building, he sends you a floor and apartment number.

It’s then that you start to feel shy, to feel a bit nervous. 

But when you arrive at the door, rap your knuckles against it, it is Johnny who stands there when the door swings open.

“Hi,” He grins slowly, leaning against the door as he holds it open. “Come in.”

You can tell as soon as you step inside that this is definitely the dorm he shares with the other members. It just seems clean but still slightly messy. Definitely has the feel of young men inhabiting it. 

Johnny closes the door and explains, “Everyone’s gone today, and I figured if you weren’t busy, now would be the ideal time for us to make those messages come true.” He touches your waist and you turn to look up at him. Johnny still looks at you with such a hungry intensity. “I’ve been dying to touch you since I saw you blushing in that waiting room.”

Heat zips up your spine when he pulls you closer. Johnny leans in.

You let your bag slide from your shoulder, your coat slipping off in the same move, and you raise your hands to his shoulders just as Johnny’s hands move down to your thighs. He lifts you up, your arms circle his neck and your legs tighten around his hips, his hands firmly under your ass.

“Can I kiss you?” Johnny asks, his breath already on your lips. His eyelashes draw such fine, long lines down his cheeks, and you’re close enough to count every last one. 

You nod.

Johnny kisses sweet and softly, warmly and welcoming. 

He moves, sits you on the edge of the sofa’s back. His fingers fall to your clothes, unzipping or unbuttoning whatever needs to be undone. Your shirt falls apart, leaving you in only a bra. Johnny groans and wraps his arm around your waist, pulls you tighter as he kisses you deeper.

You can feel him growing hard against your thigh, and when you drop a hand down to run over his stomach, he jerks. You nip at his bottom lip, drag your fingers against the edge of his pants, pop undone the button and then dip your hand inside.

He’s just as big as you wanted to believe, hard and thick. 

Johnny had told you a few days before that it had been a while since he was able to do this. Months if not nearly a year since the last time he was able to have sex with someone.

Still, you don’t expect him to moan and buck into your touch. His hand on your back slips and you slide back a bit, almost falling away from him until his arm tightens again. 

“Johnny,” you murmur, “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to just fuck. I’ve been wet since the moment you messaged me.”

You take his free hand and pull it down between your thighs, guide him to touch you through your panties, to feel how wet and needy you already are for him. 

“Okay, fuck.” Johnny backs off, pulling you with him until your feet are firm on the ground again. “Get on the sofa. I’m gonna grab a condom, don’t go anywhere.”

“As if I would.” You call as he moves quickly out of the room, disappearing down a hallway.

You move around onto the sofa, strip your pants off and fling your shirt to the side as well, so you’re just lying there in the cute lingerie you’d chosen. Just as you’re about to call his name and tell him to hurry, you hear your phone chime from the pocket of your pants, so you dig it out and look at the notification.

From Seonghwa: are you free tomorrow night? I don’t have any schedules, I was hoping we could run into each other?

To Seonghwa: Tell me where and when. I’ll be there ;)

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and lie back on the sofa, the cool air of the dorm pricking against your skin, your nipples peaking up the thin fabric of your bra.

You stare up at the ceiling, at the light dancing there, and you wonder about how you’re about to fuck Johnny, how you’re going to see Seonghwa tomorrow night hopefully to do the same. You wonder how it would be if Seonghwa was here now instead of just messaging you, would he touch you while you wait for Johnny, or would he sit there and watch you now and watch what’s about to happen?

Just imagining Seonghwa seeing you with Johnny, his handsome features set in focus at Johnny’s hands on your body, noticing the fine curves and the cling of your lingerie to your breasts before Johnny comes to peel it off you.

You feel flushed with heat, your hands drift to your chest and you can’t help touching, pinching and rolling a nipple between your fingers.

That’s when Johnny reenters the room, stripped down to his boxers, an unopened condom in his one hand, the other hand on his cock. 

“Don’t keep me waiting,” You beg him. You part your legs, Johnny quickly fills the space between them, falling over you until his lips can drag along the line of your throat, down between your breasts, to your navel and then the edge of your panties.

You want so badly for him to take them between his teeth and drag them off of you that way, to cover your pussy with his mouth and bring you to an orgasm on his tongue. But you feel his fingers fumble against your ass and then they’re wrapped around the waistband, tearing them down your legs and off.

You arch up into his touch, wanting him, and Johnny hushes you when you whine, and you watch as he pushes his boxers down and rolls the condom down his length. 

He teases. Presses close enough to let you feel him, he moves his tip against your clit, down over your opening, and back up. You whine and buck up, and Johnny just grins and places a hand on your hip, holding you down.

“Fuck me,” You beg him. “Don’t you want to feel how warm and wet and tight I am for you, Johnny? All for you, please.” You reach up, scratch your nails lightly down his chest. “I need you inside me. You’re so big, you’ll make me feel so full, you’ll fuck me so good, Johnny.”

“You sound like a whore.” He groans and at long last he pushes inside you. 

The feel is incredible. The stretch, a slight burn as it’s been a little while since you had someone who was quite as big as him. You let out a squeal, squeeze your legs up against his hips, reach for his shoulders.

“My little whore, right?” He pulls back just a bit so he can thrust in harder, deeper. “All mine?”

You bite your lip and whine.

Johnny puts a hand to your chin as your eyes start to slide away from his, he squeezes and makes you look up at him, and the dominance in something as simple as that touch sends a hot burst of heat through your gut. You clench around him. 

His gaze burns with that intensity, the hunger. The possessiveness. You want to be consumed by him, enveloped in the pleasure you know he can give you. 

“Johnny,” You moan, dig your fingernails into the back of his neck, attempt to bring his mouth down to yours. He resists, his eyes sweeping from yours to your lips, down to your chest, and then even lower to glimpse where he disappears inside you, as deep as he can go. You let out a low moan, “Fuck, you feel so good.” 

“This pussy belongs to me.” Johnny says, snapping his hips forward. “You’re all mine. Just mine.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, bite your lip. You don’t let the truth show through, can’t let him see just in case he’ll stop fucking you if he learns this isn’t an exclusive thing.

Again, the thought of Seonghwa comes back. You picture him sitting across the room in a chair, his ankle crossed over his thigh, arms folded as he watches Johnny lay his claim to you, watches you taking Johnny’s cock while you moan like his whore.

When Johnny’s lips crush against yours, you groan and your eyes open. You move your fingers into his hair, knotting there as he rocks into you, moaning into the kiss. His cock hits deep inside you, filling you every place. 

Johnny pulls away for a second, his breath panting against your lips, and for another moment his eyes lock on yours. He holds himself up on one elbow, the other hand he snakes down between your bodies, and he watches you closely when his fingers finally give your clit some attention.

He savors the way you whimper and hiss, squirm for him as he rolls his hips and stimulates that little sweet bundle of nerves. 

“You’re so cute, so pretty, baby.” Johnny kisses you once gently. “I want you to cum for me, and I want to hear you moan my name when you do.”

“Johnny,” You moan, grabbing for his wrist between your bodies. That doesn’t make him slow down, and you feel yourself racing toward your orgasms though you want to hold off. “Johnny,” you whine.

That knot in your belly grows tighter, his fingers on your clit, his cock filling you so well inside. 

You roll your head back, arching against him as shivers begin to wrack your body, and you can’t help the sweet, low moan of his name that pours from your lips. Your orgasm spills through you, squeezing and squirting around his cock, sending him into his own orgasm. Johnny pushes in deep, his hips jolting as he groans and fills the condom.

He sinks over you, holding himself up from crushing you with one arm, and when you nudge your chin forward, Johnny kisses you again, long and slow and sweet once again. 

He pulls out after a moment, leaving you feeling empty and needy, so you wrap your arms around his waist and tug, whine at him, “Don’t leave yet.” 

Johnny leaves only long enough to tie off the condom and bury it in the garbage bin in the kitchen, then he’s back, wrapping himself around you for a cuddle.

“Was that good?” He asks. You only have the energy to nod. “For me too. Sorry about the whole possessive bit, I know we’ve not talked about that or anything, but I’m definitely into that. Monogamy, I guess.”

You twist slightly and hide your face from him. He doesn’t have to know, you tell yourself.

Seonghwa told you to meet him at his company building. “Wait outside for me. Around back.” His voice sounded tired, but when you suggested that, he denied it. 

So there you stood, waiting for him around the back, your arms wrapped around you in the chilly air. You wish you could wait inside or at least in the front of the building where the wind wasn’t hitting so bad, but once you’d arrived you understood why he told you to wait in the back. There was plenty of foot traffic, fans waiting out front. 

“The meeting is almost over and then I’ll be right out.” He texted. 

You leaned back against the wall, wondering where this was going. You knew that he wasn’t likely to take you back to his dorm. His members were all going to be present unlike Johnny’s. You wondered if he was going to suggest going back to yours (a possibility) or maybe a hotel or something. 

When the back door of the building opens, Seonghwa steps out. When he spots you, he grins and holds his hand out, glances back over his shoulder once, then tells you, “Come here.”

You do. 

“What are you doing?” You ask as he takes your hand and guides you inside. “Aren’t we going somewhere?”

“Just come with me, sweetheart. I’m trying to get you home with me without anyone paying too much attention.” His fingers lace through yours as he brings you deeper inside the building.

You look around, a bit nervous and even more confused. “What are you going to do? Stuff me in your bag? No offense, but I don’t think I’ll fit and we’ll definitely be caught.” You tug on his hand and Seonghwa turns around. “I thought when you asked me to meet you here, we’d be going somewhere.”

“Like on a date?” Seonghwa asks, lowering his voice as a woman walks out of a room nearby. “Sweetheart, I thought you didn’t want this to be more than sex. You made it sound like that.”

“Yeah, I know.” You look down at your feet. “But I’m hungry and thought we could at least grab a bite or something before we do whatever we’re going to do.” 

Seonghwa’s fingers slip under your chin, tilting your face up toward him, and his thumb glides over your bottom lip. “Kitten, if you’re hungry I’ve got something that can fill you right up.”

Your mouth falls open slightly, and Seonghwa takes that moment to dip the tip of his thumb inside. Your legs feel weak, your insides liquefy, and you would happily jump on his dick right there in that open hallway, but he pulls away, shoves his hands into his pockets, and smiles the sweetest smile as another woman comes out of that room nearby.

As soon as she vanishes, he takes your hand again. 

“You’re coming with me. To the dorm. Half of the guys are going straight from here to the studio.” He reaches for your cheek, brushes his fingers sweetly over the heat of your blush. “San’s going to fuck his girl too, lucky for him she lives in the same building. Mingi and Yunho are going out somewhere. It’ll just be you and me for a while.”

Seonghwa guides you through the halls of the building until you’re just out of sight of the lobby. He reaches into the bag on his shoulder, pulls out a black hoodie, and hands it to you. “Put it on. Tug the hood up. When we leave, get in the front seat with my manager.”

You do as he says, though you’re sure you’re going to look a bit suspicious walking along with the group, with a hood pulled up as if you’re trying to hide your face. 

When the other members as well as a few staff members join the pair of you a moment later, you understand. A few of the guys, and some of the staff as well, are wearing matching hoodies to the one Seonghwa had just handed you, a few of them with their hoods up as well. You’ll blend in perfectly.

The few fans gathered outside start snapping pics the moment that the boys become visible and you hide yourself among the cluster of members and staff moving toward the exit, moving toward the van waiting outside. 

You don’t understand why there are fans waiting outside even here, but you assume that they’re the stalker fans you’ve heard about. The ones that follow idols everywhere, know everything about them, to a severely creepy extent.

You listen to Seonghwa’s instructions, following him to the van that he and three of the other members are getting in, and as you reach it, you open the front passenger door and slide inside. Their manager in the driver’s seat glances over at you in alarm, but Seonghwa pops his head between the front seats.

“She’s with me, hyung. Don’t mind her.”

The manager scowls, and looks as if he’s about to berate Seonghwa, but then he thinks better of it and settles for shaking his head and staring forward.

The ride from there to the dorm is quiet. You watch the city lights pass by outside the car windows, and you stay quiet when the guys start a livestream in the back, putting on their best faces for their Atinys, keeping them updated and entertained, though they bring the live to an end when they near the dorm.

Just as Seonghwa had told you, Mingi and Yunho disappear almost as soon as the manager’s put the van in park. They’re out and gone. San vanishes a moment later, walking away on his phone. The manager shakes his head and pulls out a cigarette, leans against the side of the van, and tells Seonghwa, “Use protection, I’m begging you.”

You feel very hot after that, but Seonghwa takes your hand and leads you away.

He kisses you the moment you’re inside the dorm, his hands moving to unzip the hoodie, peeling it from your shoulders, he tosses it aside, his hands on your waist as he backs with you across the room, navigating you without having to look, and you follow where he leads.

“Get on the bed,” He groans after a moment, gently pushing you away, but reaching for your chin to touch your lips again. “I want your pretty mouth so bad, kitten.”

You like when he calls you that, a curl of pleasure in your belly each time he says that little pet name to you. “Yes, sir.” You step away from him, moving toward the nearest bed, laying back on it, and Seonghwa stands before you, his thumbs tucked under the waistband of his pants.

You can see his bulge and your mouth waters for him. You shift onto your hands and knees at the edge of the bed, facing Seonghwa, and he steps forward, pushing his pants down. Reaching for him, you pause, look up for approval, and when he nods, you shift a bit closer and drag down the elastic band of his underwear. 

His cock is just as beautiful as the rest of him, though not as thick as Johnny, he’s probably just as long, and again you find yourself wondering how you got so lucky as to have two amazingly hot idols wanting you.

Seonghwa puts a hand on the back of your head, lacing his fingers into your hair, and he urges your mouth forward, wanting to feel you on his cock. And you don’t want to let him down.

You start out with a kitten lick to the tip, holding the rest of him with your fingertips. When he rolls his head back and hums in satisfaction, stroking the back of your head, you do it again and then push forward taking his tip in your mouth. 

You push yourself further each time you go down on him, and the first time he finally loses his restraint and thrusts down your throat, gagging you around him, you jerk backwards, pulling off of him with a thick string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick.

“So pretty,” he moans, “I want to ruin your lips, kitten. Bet you’d look so pretty with your face covered in my cum.” 

You’re sure you would, but you don’t want him to waste his cum all over your face. With your fingers still around his length, slowly massaging him, you lean forward again to mouth at his tip, not going much deeper, not because you mean to tease, but because you’re not a fan of being choked on cock by surprise.

Still, he rolls his hips forward, trying to get more from you. His tip leaks blurts of precum onto your tongue, and the taste of him has you hornier than you’ve been all day. You’re dripping in your panties, and you wish he would touch you.

Again, you find yourself fantasizing about your other lover when you’re with your current one. 

Would Johnny sit and watch or join in? As the elder of the two, would he take responsibility, dominating you, telling Seonghwa what to do, how to touch you, telling you how to please him? Or would Johnny passively sit by and admire the way that the younger has you sucking his cock, would he watch as you squirm in desperate need of being touched?

What if he touched you while you blew Seonghwa? If you had Seonghwa in front of you, Johnny behind you with his fingers so deep in your pussy that you could feel him in your belly?

You moan at the thought, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get any kind of friction for your needy core.

“Poor, kitty,” Seonghwa coos. “You’re getting nothing right now.” His hand goes to your shoulder, easing you back off of him. You sit back on your heels and look up at him. “Do you want Daddy to touch you?”

“Fuck, please.” You slip backwards, spread your knees apart. “Yeah, I want you to touch me.”

Seonghwa smirks so rude, his hand falls to your knee. “Oh, kitten. If you want something from me, you need to address me properly.” He sinks to his knees, hands on both of yours. “Call me Daddy, kitten, and I’ll give you a treat.”

You squirm on the bed, run your hands down your body to meet his hands. “Daddy, please, touch me.”

Seonghwa bites his lip and reaches up, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and gently draws them down your legs. “Sweetheart, I wanna taste you so bad. When you ran into me that first day, when I felt you against me so soft and warm, smelling so sweet like honey, all I wanted was to kiss you. It’s been ages since I got to hold a girl in my arms, to taste her kitty so sweetly.”

His hands squeeze your thighs and he jerks, pulling you to the edge of the bed. He lifts your legs onto his shoulders, and when he lowers his head to your belly, his lips brushing over your skin, his teeth catch the band of your panties and he drags them down with his teeth.

You shiver as the cool air of the dorm and the heat of Seonghwa’s breath touch your newly bared skin, your wet pussy. 

“Seonghwa-- Daddy,” You moan, lifting your hips with need.

He dives in, his hot tongue and lips lavishing between your legs, his tongue swirling around your clit, dipping inside you. He moans against you, his hands tight on your thighs and hips. You grip at the bedsheets, wrinkling them between your fingers, and it’s no time at all before Seonghwa brings you to an orgasm on his tongue.

The moment he pulls back, lips wet with saliva and your cum, he fills you with his fingers instead, his thumb against your clit.

You writhe and whine at the oversensitivity you’re feeling, but Seonghwa doesn’t let up, even as you roll onto your belly, his fingers curl inside you. 

“You’re so sweet, kitten. I could taste you again and not get tired.” You feel his breath on your ass, the brush of his lips, and then his teeth dig in, and you moan at the pain tinged with pleasure. His free hand comes up and spanks your bottom. “Do you want Daddy to fuck you? Your cunt is probably desperate to be filled. Do you want me?”

Of course you want him. 

You nod desperately, bury your face in the sheets when his fingers find that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“Good girl.” He pulls back, leaving you empty and cold. “Ass up, sweetheart.” His hands jerk your hips up into the air, pussy bare and exposed for him. You can feel yourself dripping down your thigh you’re so wet for him.

You look back over your shoulder and you see him ripping open a condom, you watch him put it on, rolling it down his cock. He’s probably just as long as Johnny, though not as thick around, and either way, you know he’s going to fuck you good.

Seonghwa pushes into you hard and fast, not at all gently, but exactly what you wanted. He grinds in deep, rolls his hips forward, a hand pressed flat to your tailbone. “Shit, kitten, you’re so tight for me.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You grind back against him, trying to get him somehow even deeper. You love the wet, slippery feel of him fucking you, thrusting in deep, his hips rolling, snapping against your ass. “Just for you.” You moan as his hand pushes you into a slightly different position, his dick hitting just right inside you.

Seonghwa moans, and you glance back over your shoulder to see him staring down at his hips jiggling your ass, his cock disappearing inside you, and he bites his lip, his sharp eyes focused.

His eyes lift to yours, and his next thrust slows, torturously slow as he rolls forward. And then he stops just short of filling you completely. He holds there, his eyes on yours. 

You can’t help clenching around him, grinding back, needing him deeper.

You want to feel so full, fuller than even Johnny had you feeling just the day before. “More,” You groan, pushing back and circling your hips on his cock. Seonghwa smirks and brings the flat of his palm down against your ass, and you quickly add, “Daddy, more.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Seonghwa digs the fingers of one hand into your hip, hard enough to bruise, and the other hand goes to your hair, twisting it around his fist and pulling so your back arches and the angle he’s hitting inside you has you squeezing around him with every thrust, sweeping bursts of hot tingling sensations through you.

You imagine again a scenario that brings Johnny into all of this, him standing on the bed before you, presenting his fat cock for you to take into your mouth while Seonghwa fucks you like this. As if Seonghwa has some inkling of what you imagine, his hand loosens his hold on your hair, moving his way around until his fingers touch your lips.

“Open up, kitten.” 

“Yes, Daddy.” You obediently open your mouth and Seonghwa’s fingers fill your mouth, giving you something to suck on as you imagine choking on Johnny’s cock, him being forced deeper in your throat with every one of Seonghwa’s thrusts. How great it would be to be caught between the two beautiful men, both of them inspiring a lust in you like you’ve never felt.

His fingers drag out of your mouth, over your lips, and you whine his name, taking the brutal force of his thrusts as his hand falls down your body, his wet fingers finding your clit, and your back rest against his chest. 

Your moans shiver through the room. Seonghwa’s hot breath is on your cheek, your ear as he says, “Are you gonna cum for me, kitten? I want to see you lose control. You’ve always been so reserved, professional at work, almost innocent in your messages.” His teeth graze your earlobe, his fingers pinch your clit, and he thrusts right against your G spot. “Cum, sweetheart.”

And you do.

Seonghwa doesn’t let up. He keeps fucking you, keeps rubbing your clit until you’re jolting in his arms, whining and crying, begging him to stop.

He lets you fall forward onto the bed, burying your face in the sheets as he keeps fucking you, and you do love the overstimulation, the slight pain of it that feels so good, all of your nerve endings burning. Seonghwa has both of his hands bruisingly gripping your hips, and his pace of thrusting into you is so intense, but still there’s a small part of you that doesn’t feel quite full.

If Johnny was here too you could have them both, have them filling you all the way. Both of them inside you cunt, fucking you with their big cocks.

Seonghwa swears behind you, his cock twitching deep in your belly. He does several of those rolling grinds of his hips forward, and you can only think of how well Johnny’s thrusts would compliment these moves. 

To have them both in you would be a magical miraculous thing. Separately they’re great. Together they would have you never able to leave their beds again.

A deep thrust has you moaning, breaking loose any filter you have, and the words spill out without a thought.

“Oh, Johnny,” You moan. 

The instant the name leaves your mouth you regret it. You bite your bottom lip, eyes going wide, and every movement goes still. 

Seonghwa’s hand slides up your back, and you prepare yourself for his fingers to twist in your hair, tug you back by your hair.

His hand curls around your throat. “What did you just say, kitten?”

“I’m sorry.” You moan again as his fingers flex on your throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Didn’t mean to moan another man’s name while I’m inside you?” Seonghwa slaps his other hand against your bottom. “You’re really a little slut, aren’t you? Are you fucking Johnny? Johnny who? From NCT?” You don’t say a thing, but your pulse betrays you, beating faster beneath his fingertips. “He always has seemed like a man whore. Every time I’ve seen him he’s flirting with everyone in sight. Does he fuck you good, kitten? Is he rough with you, man enough for you? He must not be if you’re here now in my bed.”

You moan.

“Bet he’s not got the big cock everyone thinks he does. If he can’t fuck you well, you’re always welcome to my cock, kitten. Do I make you feel better than he does?”

His fingers on your throat draw you back up against his chest. He grinds his cock into you even as you swivel your hips down on him. 

“Answer me, kitten.” His lips drag your cheek, his tongue too dangerous to have you feeling anything less than severely turned on. “Does Johnny fuck you as well as me?”

“No,” You moan, gasping as he releases his hold on your throat. “I’ve only fucked him once, Daddy. You’re both so good, big cocks that fill me so well. He wants me to be his, but I kept thinking about you when I was with him.”

Seonghwa swears, a quick and quiet barrage of fucks as he pulls out of you, his hands on your shoulders spinning you around, and you slide down so your face is level with his cock as he tears off the condom and jerks his hand over his length.

He cums over your face, hot strings of semen shooting over your cheeks, your open lips, your tongue. Seonghwa moans and swears and tells you that you look so pretty with your face covered in Daddy’s cum.

You lick your lips and slump down onto his bed, somehow finding a pillow in your arms, held against your chest as Seonghwa leaves the bed.

He returns an instant or two later, a cool damp cloth in his hand as he wipes at your face before he moves down between your legs. It feels so nice on your hot skin, and he leaves little kisses on your thighs, your bottom, and then he’s at your head again, his hands so gentle, his touch so light you barely feel his fingertips on your cheeks as he draws you in for another kiss.

“How do you feel, sweetheart? Good? Sore? Do you want to shower?” He asks, his voice soft. You shake your head and move a little closer to him, as close as you can be with this pillow in your arms. “Do you want to sleep?” You nod.

“Okay, sleep.” He kisses your forehead, barely more than a brush of his lips. “I’ll wake you when you need to leave.”

For now, you’re not even worried about that. You’re just floating in the feeling of sexual satisfaction.

A few days later as you were curled up in bed, texting Johnny while you talked to Seonghwa on speaker, he brought it up.

“So how long have you been fucking around with Johnny?“ Seonghwa asks. 

You sigh, “Literally the day we started talking was the first day he and I started talking. I’ve only had sex with him once, same as you. I didn’t think I needed to tell either of you about it. I didn’t think either of you would want more than just sex.” 

Your phone buzzes with a message from Johnny. A pouty selfie that you can tell he’s sending you from a late practice. You send back your own of you in bed, just a thin strap of a camisole visible above the line of your blankets. 

“Does he want more from you?” Seonghwa’s voice drops, “Than just sex?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t really discussed it, honestly.” You roll over onto your stomach. “Why? Are you jealous? Do you hate the idea of sharing me?”

Seonghwa makes a noise. “You’re not mine, Y/N. I don’t own you or anything, you’re perfectly at liberty to fuck whoever you want. I was just wondering.” There’s silence for a moment in which Johnny texts back just one word: fuck. Then Seonghwa says, “Does he know about me?”

“No.” You answer, possibly too quickly. 

“Oh?”

Johnny sends you a follow up video of him dancing, his phone aimed at the long stretch of mirror in front of him so you can see him rolling his hips and biting his lip, playing up a fuckboy kind of vibe. 

“He’s not like you.” You say, replaying the video again, unable to help locking your eyes onto the bulge at the front of Johnny’s sweatpants. “He is jealous. He seems pretty possessive anyway, which is kinda hot in the moment, but I don’t know. I’m pretty sure if I told him I was seeing anyone else on the side he wouldn’t be too into that.”

“And you’d be upset to end things?” Seonghwa sighs.

“I don’t know,” You softly admit. “I think I’ve only fucked each of you once and both of you blew my mind. I don’t want to call it quits on either one of you right now because it’s too much fun.”

Seonghwa hums. “I think you’re underestimating--- overestimating? I don’t know-- I think you’ve got him wrong. I think he’s like me in more ways than you think, and if he learned you were fucking another guy he wouldn’t be as ready to let you go. You’re captivating, and Johnny has to know that. He won’t want to lose something like you.”

And you definitely don’t want to lose him. Watching the way his cock looks in his sweatpants in that video, all you can think about is him fucking you into your mattress, but it’s Seonghwa’s voice you’ve got in your ear.

You squeeze your eyes shut and suck in a deep breath. 

The day that they’re both back at your studio, their schedules overlapping once again, you feel absolutely on edge. It’s been a few weeks since this all started. You’ve been talking to both of them almost every day. Johnny’s invited you to random places for quick fucks, and you’ve accepted a few times, and each time he leaves you more satisfied than the time before.

You always end up telling Seonghwa about these encounters, especially when you meet him in the back of a building or between parked cars to make out and maybe have him finger you against a car. You think he gets off on it, because he’ll have your lip between his teeth, his fingers inside you, and he’ll growl something about Johnny, telling you to recount your latest rendezvous with the older idol.

And after all these weeks, you still haven’t told Johnny that he’s not the only man in your bed. Things are still non-exclusive, so you certainly don’t feel obligated to tell him about it. 

But now they’re so near each other again, and you know they’re bound to see each other, so you try your best to steer clear of not only their dressing rooms but that area of the building all together.

Of course, fate would have it another way.

You’re in the cafeteria, grabbing something to eat when there’s a slight commotion and Johnny comes striding into the room, looking like a model. A few of his members are with him, but he doesn’t shy away from smiling and sending a wink your way. 

And then Seonghwa walks into the room right behind them. Yeosang is with him, talking about something, but Seonghwa’s focus is on you.

You flush with heat and try to hurry to finish eating, to get out of there before their paths cross, converging on you.

A few other idols are scattered around the room, so it’s not unusual to have the visiting idols in the cafeteria, but god you’re just itching to get out of there. 

Yuta slips away from Johnny’s side and sits down at a table where Pentagon’s Yuto sits. And then Seonghwa and Yeosang approach Johnny and Taeyong. 

Your heart stills in your chest as you see them greeting each other. Yeosang and Taeyong begin talking, and you watch closely the way that Seonghwa seems to be sizing up Johnny, looking him up and down, searching his face. Johnny’s smile falters ever-so-slightly, and his gaze flicks towards you for just a second.

You sink into your seat a bit, ignoring your coworker beside you who is in the midst of trying to say something to you. 

Seonghwa hasn’t even said a word to Johnny beyond “hello” but still you feel this odd energy that connects the three of you, a burning string that passes through the room binding you and Johnny and Seonghwa together. 

Seonghwa tugs up the hood of his white sweatshirt, tucks his hands into his pockets, and suddenly you can no longer see his face, can’t see if his lips move. You can only read Johnny’s face and his body language, see the simplest shifts of his body in the tight black t-shirt he wears.

Then suddenly, Johnny throws his head back and lets out that lovely laugh. Seonghwa is laughing too, and he turns slightly and catches your eye while he laughs with your other lover. You feel a burn in your gut, and you’ve never been less certain of the cause--arousal? jealousy? heart burn? nausea? You’re really not sure.

Taeyong and Yeosang have moved on, but Johnny and Seonghwa stand there talking to each other, looking too damn beautiful together for your sanity. Johnny is just a bit taller than Seonghwa, and you shiver in your seat imagining how it would feel to be pressed between them. You bite your lip absentmindedly.

Johnny’s in the middle of saying something to Seonghwa when he looks over at you again, catching you staring at him with such obvious lust. His words falter, and then Seonghwa’s looking as well. Both objects of your pure, unadulterated lust are looking at you.

You quickly look away, stand up, grab your food and move toward the exit, unable to handle being in the same room as the two of them any longer. And perhaps it really is best that you didn’t stick around to witness what happened in the moments that followed. You only learned of it later.

You’d invited Johnny over once before, late at night when his practice ended and you were incredibly horny and Seonghwa was busy. Johnny had told you that there was nowhere you could meet, so you sent him your address and told him that either he would show up or you would have to take care of it yourself.

So he’d come over.

And now he had once again come over, this time uninvited though not unwelcome.

It was already relatively late when he knocked on your door. You were huddled up under a blanket on your sofa wearing an old threadbare tshirt and a pair of short shorts that you were planning to sleep in. You certainly weren’t dressed for guests, but as soon as you saw it was Johnny standing your door, you’d opened it wide.

Johnny came inside, immediately sweeping you into a kiss, his arms fast and strong around you, the press of his lips hot. You moaned and ran your hands over him, wanting more and more and more. Johnny was happy to give it to you.

He kicked the door shut, backing you into your apartment, swallowing your moans and pouring some of his own back into your mouth.

When he accidentally runs you into a piece of furniture, you yelp and break the kiss, but Johnny trails fiery kisses over your jaw, your neck. He licks and sucks at a spot just above your collarbone that makes your knees nearly give out and you feel a gush of arousal.

“Say you want me.” Johnny growls. His hands sweep down to your ass, gripping tight, massaging. “Tell me how much you want me.”

“God, I want you,” you moan. You let him lift you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. He always makes you feel so little, and you love it. “I want you so much.” You crush your mouth to his again, and this kiss feels like fire, burning through your veins.

Johnny doesn’t move farther than there, just holding you and kissing you, but then he pulls back slightly, presses just a slight kiss to your lips and then another as he sucks on your bottom lip to hear you whine for him.

“You want me?” He asks again once he’s released your lip. His voice is little more than a low rumble. You nod, your fingers at the back of his neck. You do want him so badly, your pussy is already throbbing in need of him. Johnny grins and hovers his mouth right above yours. “Are you sure you don’t want someone else instead? Park Seonghwa?”

You freeze. The fire burning inside you turns to ice. Johnny’s body suddenly feels stiff against yours, but he doesn’t let you down and you don’t try to move either.

“So he wasn’t fucking lying.” Johnny growls. “You’ve been fucking him too? Oh, baby, I thought your pretty pussy was all mine, but you’ve been sharing it with him? Even while you’ve been telling me that it belongs to me?”

You feel his jealousy, possessiveness. A feeling that’s not quite anger radiates off of him, and you can’t put your finger on what that feeling is.

“Johnny, I’m sorry.” You don’t mean it. You’re not sorry about a thing, but you know those are the best words you can offer him in the moment. 

Johnny shakes his head. “No, baby. see, Seonghwa had a lot of interesting things to tell me earlier after we saw you looking at us like a little bitch in heat right there in front of everyone. Which one of us were you thinking about then? Me?” Johnny’s fingers brush against the seam of your pants, right over your damp core. “Or him?”

You can’t help squirming against his touch, and your answer comes out as more of a squeak than anything else. “Both!”

“What?” Johnny dips his head and his lips brush your throat. “What was that?”

“Both of you,” You moan. “In the cafeteria I was thinking of both of you. Both of you inside me, around me, touching me. I want you both.”

Johnny hums, the vibrations move beautifully under your skin. “Right answer.” 

Suddenly you’re on your feet again and Johnny’s stepping back, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. He nods toward your front door. “Now open the door. I’ve brought a present for you.”

Your hands shake slightly as you lift them to open the door. 

Seonghwa stands outside, huddled in his white hoodie, his hands buried in the pockets, his shoulders drawn up toward his ears. And even though he’s clearly cold, he still tries his best to give you one of those smiles that makes your heart skip a beat, and he says, “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Come inside.” You reach out, grabbing onto one of his sleeves and tugging. He stumbles through the doorway, and you immediately close and lock the door and then glom onto him. He’s freezing.

“Are you really gonna fuck us both?” He asks. His teeth only chatter a little bit, and you hate that he was standing out there in the cold while Johnny stoked your internal fire hotter and hotter in here. 

You frown a bit over at Johnny and look back at Seonghwa. “I didn’t say I was going to fuck either of you tonight, actually. You’ve both shown up here unannounced, uninvited.”

“But definitely wanted.” Johnny butts in. When you throw another frown his way, he lifts his hands in surrender. “Seonghwa suggested the idea of us together with you. He said you might be into it. After he coerced me into telling him that I thought you were hot and then that we’ve been together, then he admitted he’s been having sex with you too. I probably would have been a bit angrier, made more of a scene, if it wasn’t for my suspicions.”

You wait for him to explain.

“I knew I didn’t leave that many hickeys. I barely touched your ass, yet you had light bruises sometimes. Just small things that I brushed off, thinking maybe I just didn’t remember exactly right where I’d kissed you, how rough I’d been with you.” Johnny shakes his head. “But as soon as he said that, then it all made sense.”

“She likes a little bit of pain,” Seonghwa says then. His cold fingers slip under the edge of your sleeve, circling like a band of ice around your wrist. “Don’t you, kitten?”

You turn to him and bite your lip, struggle not to simper at the cool look in his eyes. 

“He told me that you’ve told him about us, about some of the things we’ve done. “ Johnny tutted and shook his head, taking a step closer to you and Seonghwa. “And he told me more, like the fantasies you’ve mentioned to him. And how hot he was sure you would find it if we fucked you together. Is he right about that?”

You nod. 

“Do you want us to take you to bed?��� Seonghwa asks you. You don’t even care if they wait for the answer, but they do, so you nod. It’s Johnny who sweeps you into his arms, planting a firm kiss on your lips, and he leads you away, navigating through your home to the bedroom, as if he’s done this dozens of times before instead of just the once.

“How’s this going to work?” You ask as you step into your bedroom, Johnny kissing at your neck from behind, and Seonghwa steps around you to take a look at your room. “Like is one of you going to watch? Is one of you going to fuck me while the other gets a blowjob or something?”

“How do you want it, baby?” Johnny asks.

You whine, a bit unsure about how you want it. You’ve fantasized about it so many different ways, now that you’re presented with it in reality, you don’t know how to choose.

Seonghwa sits down on your bed, making himself quite comfortable. He spreads his legs and pats his thigh. “Come sit, kitten. Let Daddy help you.”

Johnny snorts, but says nothing as he releases you.

You come over to Seonghwa and he looks so comfortable on your bed, that you just want to have him hold you, to bury yourselves in your sheets. He looks so soft though you know he’s not usually so soft with you. But you just want to touch him.

It feel strange to settle down over him, to straddle his lap while Johnny stands behind you, his gaze so intent on the pair of you that you can feel it burning against your back where Seonghwa’s hands move to rest on your hips.

You twist your hands in the bottom of his hoodie, and whisper the plea, “Kiss me.”

“Anything for you,” He murmurs, and his lips are soft when they meet yours. The kiss doesn’t stay so soft and innocent for long, very quickly Seonghwa pushes forward, turning things steamy as his tongue meets yours and your hands dip beneath the edge of his hoodie. Your cool fingertips on his warm stomach, and he moans.

Seonghwa allows you to pull his hoodie up, exposing more and more of his stomach and chest. He chuckles when he pulls back to let you drag it over his head, and he shakes it loose of his shoulders, down his arms, and he throws it into a pile on your floor. 

You hungrily kiss him, your hands on his chest, his shoulders, delving into his hair, touching him everywhere while he kisses you senseless. Seonghwa’s hands fall to your thighs, and he squeezes, urging you to move on him. 

You moan and shift, rolling your hips forward, finding his cock bulging the front of his pants for you to grind against.

“Yeah, like that, kitten.” Seonghwa’s lips drift to your cheek, his hands keeping you moving against him in a steady rhythm and you’re not sure when the room got so hot, but suddenly you can feel the heat flickering like flames on the bareness of your arms and legs

“That’s enough,” Johnny growls, suddenly right behind you, and you open your eyes as he wraps his hands around Seonghwa’s wrists, forcing his hands away from your body. “I’m the oldest, I had her first. I call the shots, kid.”

Seonghwa glowers up at Johnny and shakes his hands away only to lean back, still staring up at the older man. “Make your move then, Suh. Show me how much better than me you are.”

You don’t know what expression Johnny sends back, but Seonghwa averts his gaze at last, dropping his attention down to your chest still hidden by your shirt, your nipples obvious through the thin material. An instant later, Johnny’s hands are on your tits, touching them through the material, and you lean your head back and let out a barely contained moan. 

Seonghwa watches, his gaze hot and judgmental, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he sees the way Johnny’s fingers have you pressing your chest into his touch, but still you roll your hips down against Seonghwa’s bulge. 

Johnny leans over you, his fingers under your chin to tilt your mouth up against his, and he kisses you slowly, opening your mouth gently and tasting you, teasing his tongue against yours until you’re begging him for more. His fingers curl in the fabric over your chest, and he murmurs a soft and quick sorry, then you hear a sound, feel a tug and a burst of cold. 

“Fuck, kitten, you’re so beautiful.” Seonghwa moans, his hands fly to your chest, now exposed as Johnny drops the shreds of your shirt.  Seonghwa twists your nipples sharply between his thumbs and forefingers, and the sound you make has both men latching onto you.

Johnny kisses you deeper, Seonghwa buries his face against your chest, kissing your breasts, your collarbones, the base of your throat and over your shoulders. He traces his tongue down between your breasts as Johnny rubs circles against your jaw with his thumb and works magic with his kiss.

You whine and buck your hips, begging into the kiss, “Please, please.” 

“Please what, baby?” Johnny asks. 

“Can I cum? Please make me cum?” You swivel your hips down on Seonghwa’s clothed cock. 

Johnny says, “Of course, baby” at the same time that Seonghwa says, “Absolutely fucking not, kitten.”

You want it so bad, and it’s hard to know what to do when you have both of them giving you contrasting answers. So you just sit still in Seonghwa’s lap and whine like a hopeless kitten for your Daddy. You reach for him, dragging your fingertips down his chest, his abs, down to the waistband of his pants, and when you start to dip your hand inside, Seonghwa jerks back.

“No.”

You shiver at the tone of his voice, so dominant and in control.

“What? You don’t want her to touch you?” Johnny asks. “What’s wrong with you? She gives great head. Don’t you, baby?” 

All you can do is nod for him.

“I know how good she is at giving head,” Seonghwa snarks back at Johnny. “She’s blown me plenty of times. I also know that she prefers when I give her head over you. She’s told me so. Says you eat pussy like a messy dog cleaning off a plate.”

Your eyes go wide. You can’t believe he just said that. Yeah, you had said something similar to that once, but only because Johnny had been really lazy about eating you out, clearly not into it then, and you’d ended up faking your orgasm just to get him to fuck you instead. But it was only once.

You twist in Seonghwa’s lap, reaching for Johnny’s waist. “Johnny, no. No, I didn’t say that. You’re great at eating me out.”

Seonghwa’s eye roll was nearly audible. The surprise slap of his hand against your ass was definitely audible; it rang through the room so loudly that you almost heard it before you felt it.

“She’s a liar, this little slut of ours.” Seonghwa tells Johnny. Then to you he says, “You know what happens to naughty, lying sluts, kitty?”

His hand is still warm on your bottom. Yes, you know what happens.

Johnny watches as you slide back off Seonghwa’s lap, standing beside the bed as Seonghwa repositions himself so he can bend you over his knee to spank you. The elder of the two watches in absolute silence as you bend over, your ass in the air.

“She’s good for me. Is she this good for you?” Seonghwa asks as he tugs your shorts down to your knees. He tuts when it’s revealed that you weren’t wearing any panties beneath. “Such a slut. It’s like she knew we were coming, dressed like this and without any panties, all clean and pretty for us.” He trails his fingers ever so lightly over your wet, bare pussy lips. “Johnny hyung, wouldn’t you agree?”

Johnny groans, and Seonghwa strokes between your legs again.

You wiggle and whine until his hand comes down on your ass again. 

“Stay still. Count for me, kitten. You know Daddy’s rules.” Seonghwa tenderly touches the warmth of your ass. He’s done this with you a few times now, slowly growing rougher and rougher with you after that first night, testing the limits he can take you to. So far, he has yet to find your limit.

You hear the faint whistle of his hand moving through the air. Feel the sharp burn as it shoots through your body. 

“One,” You sigh.

The sweeping burn of pleasure through your veins again, the origin his handprint on your bottom.

“Two.” You twist your head to the side, glancing back over your shoulder to see Johnny, his eyes slightly unfocused as he watches Seonghwa bring his hand down again. “Three!” You moan this time. Johnny licks his lips, shifts a bit, and when Seonghwa’s hand comes down a fourth time, when you feel yourself beginning to drip with wetness, Johnny’s hand falls to his cock.

By the time Seonghwa reaches ten, you feel breathless, so turned on that you struggle to not grind your clit forward against his thigh. Johnny’s openly touching himself, his dick the first to make an appearance this evening as he runs his hand over his length, making slow work of it.

You’re absolutely dripping when Seonghwa dips his fingers between your thighs, tracing the pads of his fingers ever so lightly, yet they come away soaked, glistening wet.

“I think she’s ready.” He says, looking up at Johnny. His gaze flicks briefly down to Johnny’s hand jerking himself off, then he looks to his face again. “Do you want me to show you how to truly eat her out?”

You bury your face, whining with need. You just want to be touched, to be allowed to cum, to be completely and totally taken apart by one or both of these two men that you’ve found yourself in bed with on multiple occasions.

Seonghwa lets you up, and you stand on shaky legs, your ass burning as he lightly pushes you toward Johnny. “Make your choice, sweetheart. His cock or my tongue?”

“Can’t I have both?” You reach out both hands, one coming up against Johnny’s wrist, the other brushing Seonghwa’s cheek. “I want both of you. I thought that was the purpose of this evening? I want your tongue, daddy. You’re so good with it, it drives me wild. But Johnny, fuck, your cock feels so good inside me. You’re so big and thick, it’s like absolutely nothing else I’ve ever had. You both make me cum so good, so hard. I want you to be rough, fuck me, use me, ruin me. Are there any options for that?”

Seonghwa licks his lips, his tongue dancing lewdly for a moment, and then he grins, “I think there could be an option for that.” He looks past you to Johnny. “I want to have her sit on my face. You can fuck her pretty mouth like you were so eager to do.”

Johnny bares his teeth and says, “You might dominate her, boss her around when it’s just the two of you, but I’m not your submissive or even your equal, kid.” He slips San arm around your waist, drawing your body back against his, and you feel his hard erection against your back, the wet tip leaking against your skin. “Baby, you want your pussy filled, don’t you. And no one fills you better than me, right?”

You moan, twist your head to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut. You won’t admit to anything, and you can’t look them in the eyes even if it is true, even if you were saying it just moments ago.

“Her wet, dripping cunt is mine.” Johnny slides a hand down your belly, over your mound, slips two fingers between your lips down there to tease at your clit then dip back further and inserts them right inside you.

You moan, your knees almost buckle, but his arm around your waist keeps you from falling.

Johnny pumps his fingers slowly, his head bent low to press his lips to your ear. “Look at him. I want you to look at him watching me touch you. I should fuck you raw, baby. Leave you dripping my cum, ruined, laid out for him but still all mine. Would you like that?” Johnny’s teeth scrape lightly over your shoulder.

You shiver, tracing your hands down and over your body. One hand you move down to hold at his wrist, to feel his forearm flexing as he fucks you slowly on his fingers. The other hand comes up to your chest and you touch your breasts.

Seonghwa rises a moment later, unable to stand it any longer. But he doesn’t remain on his feet for long, dropping to his knees before you, he drags Johnny’s hand away, leaving your pussy hungry for his fingers, but Seonghwa just stares up at you as he sinks in, flicking his tongue against your clit. 

It takes you another moment to realize it’s not actually you he’s staring at but Johnny, his challenge evident in his eyes.

Johnny’s cock twitches against you, and he groans. “I said she’s mine.”

Seonghwa hums against your lips down there, making your insides twist into a knot, and your grasp at his hands situated on your hips. He smirks and leans back just a bit. “I don’t know about that. She’s pretty weak for me. Maybe she’s actually been mine all along.”

You feel hot, both of them put their hands on you as they argue, both laying a claim to you, and you love the possessiveness. You want to feel their teeth on your skin, their cocks both pushing into you, jealousy leaving you a ruined mess of cum and sweat and so much pleasure when it’s over.

Johnny drags a finger up your spine, causing you to shiver intensely, but then Seonghwa’s warm mouth is back on you, his lips sucking around your clit. You feel your eyes rolling back, and you lean back against Johnny with Seonghwa’s hands still holding tight to your hips. 

“Daddy!” You roll your hips down against Seonghwa’s face.

“Pretty baby girl,” Johnny hums, kissing your temple. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

His voice is so low that Seonghwa probably can’t hear it. You can barely hear him over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears, but you bite back another moan and nod. 

When one of his fingers presses down between your cheeks, venturing toward your pussy, you roll your hips again, and a moan breaks through your lips. “Johnny, please.” You close your eyes, almost whining.

There’s a sharp pinch on your thigh and then a hand moves up your body, easily reaching your throat. Seonghwa.

“Gonna moan his fucking name when it’s my tongue making you feel so good?” He asks, his fingers tightening so sweetly around your throat. You try to swallow but under the pressure of his palm it’s tight. His thumb presses in and you feel the waning. “Moan for me, kitten. Come on.”

“Daddy!” Your voice is barely more than a croak, but it satisfies Seonghwa. Until you moan Johnny’s name half a second later as he stuffs you with his cock, filling your pussy up in one deep thrust while Seonghwa was distracted.

It feels so good to have him use you so roughly, fucking you from behind while Seonghwa chokes you.

A fucked-out smile starts to work its way onto your lips.

Johnny moves fast, hard, and deep, guiding your hips back to meet his thrusts. Seonghwa licks at your clit again, his hot lips kissing over your hips and inner thighs, but when his mouth is back on you, when each of Johnny’s thrusts pushes you forward against Seonghwa’s hot tongue, your body feels overheated, tingles swirling in your belly until one good thrust, one sweet suck from Seonghwa unleash it all.

“Oh god, yeah, Daddy! Johnny!” You cry out, one hand flying to Seonghwa’s hair, the other curling around the back of Johnny’s neck as they both carry you through your orgasm.

They both slow, but neither of them stop.

Seonghwa lets his fingers take over from his tongue as he stands. He catches your chin between his fingers and holds your gaze as he licks his lips in the most over-the-top sexy way. His gaze slides from yours to Johnny, and you gasp in surprise when Seonghwa jerks you away from Johnny, spinning you around and pressing your back down against your bed.

He covers you with his body, and you pull him closer, just wanting to feel full, not caring which one of them it is. Seonghwa slides in quickly to feel how wet you are, and you’re instantly clenching around him, nearing a second orgasm from this constant stimulation you’ve been experiencing. He slides his hands up your thighs, pushes them up toward your chest, letting him reach even deeper inside you.

The mattress shifts, and there’s Johnny’s kneeling beside your face. His big dick is right there, still glistening with your wetness. It takes no prompting from him to have you leaning up on your elbows to take him in your mouth.

You sink into the feeling of being stuffed on both ends, the rhythm of sex, rocking motions. The pleasure swells inside you, taking over completely, swallowing you down into the depths of it until you’re drowning in the headspace.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when Johnny hits the back of your throat, when Seonghwa fills you so deeply you can feel him in your gut. Johnny rocks his hips against your face and you just take it all, gagging and choking, dripping saliva and tears and sweat and your wetness. 

“This--” Johnny groans, pulling out for a second to tease the head of his dick against your tongue before you swallow him down again, too hungry for it to let him go for long. He clears his throat and tries again, “This is so good. Better even.”

Seonghwa moans and he reaches for one of your breasts. “You normally feel absolutely heavenly, kitten. But, shit, Suh, you’re right. She’s so wet, so horny for the two of us. Taking us so well, sweetheart.” 

You moan in response, loving the praise. 

“What if we let a third guy fuck you too, someone else who we know would fuck you just as well as us.” Johnny groans, thrusting down your throat, his fingers tight in your hair. “He’d fill your pretty ass while Seonghwa fucks your pussy and you choke on my cock. She’d be so pretty with all her holes filled. Probably feel even better too, be more of a little slut for us. All ours.” 

“Fuck, yeah, she would be.” Seonghwa holds your thighs, his hips slapping against your skin. He groans, “You’d be so fucking tight, kitten. Filled with two cocks, so tight and warm. And imagine how full you’d feel, you always talk about wanting to feel full.”

You do. You so want to feel full. If you were at a point in life where you felt you could risk getting pregnant, if you felt you meant enough to either Johnny or Seonghwa that you would risk it, you would love to have them truly fill you.

Seonghwa’s hand comes down sharp against your thigh, making you moan around Johnny’s cock deep in your throat. His thrusts are growing slower, more intent less about prolonging the pleasure now and more about just getting there.

You squeeze your thighs at Seonghwa’s hips, suck along Johnny’s cock as you pull back only to have him fucking in deeper with his hand twisted in your locks. You roll your hips up trying to get Seonghwa there. You choke around Johnny’s cock.

When you close your eyes and all you’re left with is the pleasure, the sound of your heartbeat muffled in your ears, your pulse vibrating in every last cell of your being, the moans of your two lovers sounding like the sweetest song. 

Seonghwa moans deeply, pushing in as deep as he can, his fingers pinch your clit, pinch and roll one of your nipples, and another orgasm explodes inside you so intense that you don’t know how your body holds itself together. 

Rolling and drowning, caught in the ocean of them. Crashing waves against your body, and you just let them carry you, sweep you away, drown you and ruin you all at once.

You don’t know when Johnny leaves your mouth, only that suddenly you can suck in lungfuls of breath again.

“I’m gonna cum.” Seonghwa grunts, still rolling his hips, his cock in his hand now, and you struggle to sit up a bit. You reach for your tits, push them together, and give him a place to aim as he bites his lip and rolls his head back and bucks forward as he cums.

It’s so beautiful to see his pretty cock shooting cum on your chest. The way it leaks down his length has you wanting to lean forward and clean him up, but before you can, Johnny’s there, licking at your breasts, his hands gentle on your waist as he eases you back onto your back.

You curl your fingers against his neck, lifting your chest to his lips, moans spilling from your lips as easily as breathing. It’s second nature to part your thighs to make room for him, and Johnny takes his place. You’re so tired by now, your legs ache from the way that Seonghwa had you, but Johnny’s hands now move gently from your waist to your thighs, back up and down. 

He sucks hickeys on your chest, taking level slow thrusts, his breath hot where it touches the wet marks he’s left behind. You dig your nails into his shoulders, keen his name until Seonghwa’s lips cover yours, silencing you. 

Johnny goes entirely silent when he cums, pulling back just enough that you feel his cum bubbling hot against your clit, dripping down over your pussy but not inside you. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your legs around his hips. Johnny rests his head on your chest while Seonghwa kisses you breathless, slowing it down after a moment until the kiss is little more than just your lips resting against each others. 

The three of you stay like this for a while until Seonghwa’s breathing goes quite sleepy. Johnny pulls away from you, but he doesn’t stray far. He picks up the scraps of your shirt and wipes his cock and stomach, your thighs and in between your legs. 

Seonghwa groans and flops over onto his back, and Johnny kneels between his legs, still holding the shirt. He’s tender, maintaining eye contact with Seonghwa as he carefully runs the remains of your shirt over Seonghwa’s stomach and his cock. The younger of the two sucks in a breath, looking up at him, but he doesn’t say anything.

You sniffle and turn onto your side, reaching for a pillow to hold to your chest. 

Johnny looks at you.

“Baby, how do you feel?” He tosses aside the rag, sliding over to wrap you in his arms. “Was that good for you?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is a croak from the abuse your throat has suffered. “Very good.” 

Seonghwa touches your throat lightly with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was so good. I loved all of it.” You release the pillow in favor of curling up against him instead. “Trust me, Daddy. I can handle whatever the two of you want to do with me. Just be sweet with me afterwards and I’m all yours.”

Johnny snorts, fitting himself right behind you. His fingers ghost over your cheek, down your arm until he slots his fingers between yours. “You’re ours. Our sweet.” His lips press against the back of your shoulder. “Competing for your affection is futile, isn’t it? You’d rather have us both in turns?”

You nod. “Want you both. The day you both came into my life was the best day ever. Just wish I didn’t have to keep it a secret so I won’t lose my job.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You have us, why would you ever need a job?” Seonghwa says. “You be our sweet as honey girl, and we’ll be your sugar daddies.”

Well, now that would be a hard offer to turn down, you think as they both scatter more kisses on your cheeks and shoulders, showering you with affection as moonlight shines through the sheer curtains over your window, casting everything in a wonderful, perfect, and dreamy light.

a/n: park seonghwa is an absolute menace, too sexy for his own good and is singlehandedly ruining my life and turning me into an atiny. I was talking with the fantastic and amazing @vernon-van-chwe​ about him and also about johnny because seonghwa currently has that whole cherry bomb era johnny look and it inspired this whole long mess of a piece of smut. it was definitely not supposed to be this long (which i say like every time i post something) but seriously, I was hoping to get it done that day and now it’s been like a week..... so yeah

anyway, i hope you enjoyed it. if there are any atinys reading this who are new to my blog! hi, nice to meet you I’m Bea an nctzen who really usually only writes for nct/wayv but I was truly inspired by the god park seonghwa. likes, reblogs, comments (through messages or tags or whatever way) are always and forever appreciated 😘😘😘

[scottspack]

SO YOU JUST FINISHED THE UNTAMED AND YOU WANT TO READ SOME FIC

Congratulations Jen @jlf23tumble on finishing The Untamed (tomorrow)! Now that you’re done with the show (tomorrow), you can finally dive into the wide and wonderful world of untamed fic!!! I’m ecstatic to be personally curating your reading experience! LET’S BEGIN!

I’ve started off with a list of 5 fics I think you should read in this specific order to 1. get some resolution from the end of the show and 2. get you acclimated to untamed fics! Then, I’ve listed a bunch of fics in different categories for your perusal to read at your leisure! This is an unbelievably long post holy shit brace yourself.

I’m like fairly certain that all of these follow the tv show canon BUT also its very typical for authors to combine many aspects of all of the different forms of canons to their liking. Therefore, I feel like I need to give a quick explanation of a couple things from the novel that show up frequently in fics that idk if you know already or not:

In the book, when Wei Wuxian is resurrected, he is brought back in Mo Xuanyu’s actual body and has his face and everything. Mo Xuanyu was pretty young when he died, I wanna say maybe 17 or 18??? and he was also short and pretty and flamboyantly gay. This is where the references to their crazy height difference come from, but again, I think I tried to include mostly fics that skew more heavily to the tv version where WWX keeps his same body and he and LWJ are more evenly matched physically.

Its novel canon that LWJ smells like sandalwood incense and has golden colored eyes. This is mentioned in like almost every single wangxian fic ive ever read, even if the author said they were strictly adhering to show canon lol

At the end of the novel wangxian run away together and elope! Obviously in the show that’s not how it goes down, but I think a couple of the fics I’ve recced might mention it in passing. (Oh also when they elope they make a pact to fuck “everyday,” a concept that might be mentioned as well.

Obviously, we have to kick it off with some fics that both reunite wangxian and give more resolution to the actual show. If you’re like me, it both took you a while to get all the way through the show AND took 100% of your brain power to remember all of the characters and plot lines. If that’s that case: these fics should be helpful in serving as a kind of emotional refresher for the show to wrap up some loose ends and to dive deeper into some of the things the show glosses over for one reason or another!

1. A Lot of Edges Called Perhaps by hansbekhart (Wangxian, E, 21k) 

The funny part is - and it is a little funny, even if Wei Wuxian has no one left to share the joke with - they never have. Not anything. He has never kissed any part of Lan Zhan besides his slim hands; never been even partially undressed with him anywhere besides a miserable, xuanwu-infested cave. It’s always been like this between them, this simmering need, this desperate understanding: a knowledge so deep that it lives somewhere in his bones, that if he wanted to have Lan Zhan he could have him, and if Lan Zhan wanted Wei Wuxian he could have that too. But they never have.

I found this fic on someone’s blog when they said that it was the definitive fic to read directly after finishing the series so i saved it, read it directly after finishing the series, and felt COMPLETE. Beautifully written, seamlessly fits with canon, and has a super fulfilling resolution. The perfect way to kick off reading untamed fic!

2. One Rogue Spark In My Direction by hansbekhart (Lan Wangji/Xiao Xingchen/Song Lan, E, 5k)

He’d thought, in Yueyang, that they’d seen something in each other, something familiar. That maybe they’d recognized something in him. But it’s been many years, and many things have happened since, and he’s guessed wrongly at other people’s hearts before. Lan Wangji looks back down at the table, at his steaming, bitter tea. He’ll beg if he has to.

In “A Lot Of Edges Called Perhaps” Wangji mentions that he has had sex before and this is the in-universe story of that time and WHEW BABY!!!! AHHHHHH!!! While this fic is like, almost pure smut, I think there is a ton of value to it in terms of emotional perspective on how fucked up LWJ was after WWX’s death. Also, it’s very hot.

3. Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses by hansbekhart (Laz Sizhui & Lan Wangji, G, 19k)

Later, when he’s older, it’s this that A-Yuan will remember most: the stretch of silence, the two of them both dirty and shaking with fever, as he looked at Brother Rich, and Brother Rich looked back at him.

This is a fic about Lan Wangji raising Sizhui from when he rescues Sizhui from the Burial Mounds until they bring WWX back to the Cloud Recesses after he’s resurrected. It made me cry about 18 times and I consider it fully canon in relation to the show. I think this gives a lot of emotional depth to the Wangji/Sizhui family relationship that is very important in most fics, so this acts as a good base since the show doesn’t really talk about it too much.

4. Your Name, Safe In Their Mouth by astrolesbian (Lan Sizhui & Wei Wuxian, G, 10k)

“You’ve got a fever,” Wei Wuxian says soothingly. “You just keep still as well as you can. We’ll have you fixed up soon.”

Lan Sizhui recognizes his tone—this is the voice that Wei Wuxian uses on hurt people and young children, a very calm and no-nonsense voice that has none of the mischief and cheer of the way he sounds the rest of the time. Lan Sizhui looks up and meets his eyes, and they are dark, stormy gray, muddled and concerned.

“I’m all right,” he croaks.

“Hush,” Wei Wuxian says, in a low croon, like someone quieting a baby. Then he blinks, and looks away, awkward. “I mean—you shouldn’t speak. You’re tired. Rest if you need to.”

or: lan sizhui gets sick on a night hunt. wei wuxian comforts him. they both have a lot of feelings about it.

The Wei Wuxian and Sizhui bonding fic that I so desperately desperately needed to read. Since we got the emotional depth to Wangji/Sizhui in the last fic, here’s some emotional resolution for Sizhui and his other dad!!!!!!!!!! Scratched the very particular itch of “but have they REALLY talked about what it means that they’re reunited after 16 years???”

5. climbing up that coastal shelf by Sour_Idealist (Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng, & Wei Wuxian, T, 15k)

Jin Ling had begun to suspect years ago that there were parts of his family history that had been crossed out; long streaks of black where Wei Wuxian had been. The truth is more like whole books being brought up from their hiding places again.

Or: Jin Ling tries to figure out what family means, now.

OKAY!!!! Last emotional resolution before I send you on your way to explore! This is the emotional resolution for the other half of WWX’s family. Featuring just a FUCK TON of family feels and a lot of TALKING that this fucked up family needs so damn bad. *chefs kiss* muy delicioso! ALSO i think this is a good introduction to a lot of the naming conventions that are used frequently in untamed fic that took me a while to pick up on!

WHEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now that you’ve gotten some post-show catharsis in the form of a few extremely well-written fics, it’s time for a full rec! I’ve divided it up into seven categories: long fics, smutty one-shots, 3zun (lan xichen/nie mingjue/meng yao) fics, fics about the juniors, family fun fics, some miscellaneous fics, and then some yizhan RPF! I wouldn’t have put any of these fics on here if I didn’t think they were worth reading, BUT! I did mark my particular favorites with asterisks to demark the crème de la crème of the bunch. SO! LET’S DIVE IN!

EPIC TALES (LONG AND/OR IMMERSIVE)

My Age Has Never Made Me Wise by idrilka (Wangxian, E, 63k) ***

“We hear that His Excellency might be married by summer’s end,” the merchant’s wife says and Wei Wuxian freezes, his heart in his throat. “The Gusu Lan sect has been buying enough red silk and brocade that the merchants in Caiyi can’t satisfy the demand.”

He feels himself grow brittle inside, like a flick of a finger to his temple might make him shatter. His ears are ringing.

“Who’s the lucky bride?” he asks despite himself. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

Or: The story of a marriage.

I LOVE THIS FIC. YOU MUST PROMISE ME YOU’LL READ THIS FIC. The absolute best kind of slow burn and I think such an extremely accurate representation of the canon material. I’m always surprised by the authors in this fandom’s ability to write shit that is so concretely grounded in the universe. This could and should be a real companion novel. Amazing. I love it. (Also I know you said you’re not into fics that are long just to be long and I think this fic is the exact opposite of that, it’s long but for good reason and has such an insanely satisfying payoff that it’s completely worth dedicating a few hours to!)

The Year of Drought by idrilka (Wangxian, E, 24k)

Wei Ying could not be contained by the walls of the Cloud Recesses, alive again and overflowing with it, bursting like a dam in spring with the force of two lives unspent. And so he had to go. Lan Wangji understands that—he understood it when Wei Ying told him of his plans, looking at Lan Wangji above the rim of his cup with an apologetic smile, like craving freedom was something to apologize for.

Wei Ying would go, and Lan Wangji would see him off; this has always been the only way it could be.

Or: In the absence of Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji waits.

The previous fic but from Wangji’s perspective. Absolutely required reading if you read the other one. Wangji baby.......i love you.....

further than the grave by idrilka (Wangxian, E, 32k)

There is something about grief that turns Lan Wangji numb. He cannot be certain if it is not some kind of defect inside him that makes him so. But just as he grieved his mother’s passing with dry eyes and a stone in his chest, so he grieves Wei Ying: quietly, frozen inside, without tears. Beyond the Jingshi window it might be spring, but Lan Wangji’s body and mind are still held within the winter’s grasp.

As the anniversary of his leaving seclusion approaches, Lan Wangji ponders the nature of grief and healing.

One last fic from the same verse as the previous two, this talks about Wangji post-WWX’s death and then them dealing with the past post-marriage. Its just as good and immersive and amazing as the previous two parts, but this is the only untamed fic that actually made me gasp out loud and if you read this and can guess what it was we will be best friends forever. (There are two other fics in this verse that are also good but these three in particular are god-tier in my eyes.)

Vagabond by xantissa (Wangxian, E, 66k)

Wei Wuxian comes back to Cloud Recesses after a year of wandering the world, hoping to start a relationship with Lan Zhan. He doesn’t expect to come into the middle of a case of sleeping sickness mysteriously killing people, nor does he expect what follows, putting everything he holds dear on the line once again.

OOOWEE CASE FIC! CASE FIC! This is truly the twisty turny intense and INTERESTING type of fic from this fandom that blows my mind. This could fully be a stand alone novel its that good and there’s that much to it. Another one that isn’t long just to be long, it has so much PLOT!!!!! REAL GOOD SHIT!

Seldom All They Seem by Fahye (Wangxian, E, 25k)

or, one hundred and thirty-three principles of the Gusu Lan, pertaining to the state of marriage

***

He bows to Wei Wuxian, sword in hand, sleeves falling properly. Wei Wuxian bows in return, and the sect leaders begin the opening courtesies, and for all of ten minutes Lan Wangji is under the impression that he is betrothed to a boy who is perfectly normal and acceptable apart from an unfortunate tendency to fidget with his clothes.

That impression does not last.

A canon-divergent fic exploring “what if Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were betrothed from when they were young like Yanli and Jin Zixuan?” It’s extremely good and very compelling and also made me cry multiple times. (The confrontation in the rain doesn’t get any easier even if they’re betrothed!)

Half Cloak & Half Dagger by Fahye (Lan Xichen/Meng Yao, E, 13k)

Jin Guangyao lifts his head and smiles. "I'm considering a problem."

"Can I be of any assistance with it?"

He drops a kiss on Lan Xichen's chest. With the nail of one finger he lightly traces the characters for irony on Lan Xichen's side. "Not this one, er-ge."

A follow-up fic set in the “Seldom All They Seem” universe but focused on xiyao. Has hands down the best written characterization of meng yao in any fic ive read so far. I continuously come back to this fic just to read the absolutely genius way this author writes the Head Bitch In Control of the cultivation world.

The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (Wangxian, T, 20k)

Wei Wuxian’s hand jolts, spilling a drop of wine onto the tabletop. “Love?” he croaks, then clears his throat and tries again. “Lan Zh— uh, Hanguang-jun, in love?”

“Have you not heard the story?” the other young woman asks, looking pitying. “You must, it is a truly heartrending tale of star-crossed romance and mutual pining — go to any storyhouse in town, everyone has been requesting a reading of this book.”

“There’s a book?” Wei Wuxian says blankly.

In which the junior disciples (namely, Lan Jingyi, Ouyang Zizhen, and a reluctant Lan Sizhui) turn to RPF in an attempt to rehabilitate Wei Wuxian's reputation so that he and Hanguang-jun can get together and get married and live happily ever after. It's... surprisingly effective.

I kept avoiding this fic, even though it was really high up on the list of most popular fics in the fandom, bc the premise sounded pretty goofy BUT I finally bit the bullet one day and AHHHHHHHH!!!!! Very very very cute and fun, made me smile like an idiot throughout the entire thing. Heartwarming and very well written!!!

never let me go by yiqie (Wangxian, E, 69k)

Wei Wuxian has certainly hoped so ardently in his two lifetimes, for so many different things, in so many different ways, that he could have summoned the demon to his front door with his bare hands. His eyes wander to Lan Zhan, settle on the back of his head, the blue-black curtain of his hair. Oh, how he has hoped.

Another extremely good and super immersive case fic. If you ever just want to sink really deep into an untamed fic, this is a great one for it.

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (Wangxian, E, 24k)

“Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian repeats. His heart clenches. He wants—but he’d really meant to have this nightmare stuff down before they met again, so he wouldn’t find himself relying on Lan Wangji’s nearness. He’s not supposed to go back yet. But he’s so tired, and his will crumbles. “Yeah,” he says. “All right. Take me back to Gusu with you.”

You want hurt/comfort? I gotcha hurt/comfort RIGHT HERE!

shadows in the sun rise by Yuu_chi (Wangxian, E, 25k) ***

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, voice slow and a pitch too quiet. A second later Wei Wuxian understands why. “I cannot hear.”

Or; Lan Wangji is cursed into internal isolation. Their ability to understand one another remains as unwavering as ever.

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD. I have been thinking about this fic nonstop since I read it. It is…..fucking incredible. One of the best qualities of wangxian is that they’re so in tune with each other and able to work so cohesively with little communication and this fic is like “what if we take that and DIAL IT UP TO ELEVEN” and i was like AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

I hope that you will come and meet me by feyburner (Wangxian, M, 28k) ***

The second time Lan Zhan said Wei Ying, come back, Wei Wuxian did.

okay so this is literally getting added to the fic rec one day before i send it to you because i just finished it and WHEW BABY!!!!! YES it is just another wangxian post-canon reunion get-together fic, BUT 1. i cant get enough of that specific brand of fic and 2. ITS SO GOOD. ITS. SO. GOOD. achingly tender and incredibly soft but also funny and sweet and very in-character! i love it!

THE BONE ZONE (WANGXIAN SMUT)

Sweet Night by corteae (Wangxian, E, 10k)

It was like coming back to life again, like being restitched into existence, cell by cell, nerve by nerve. From the surface of his skin to the marrow of his bones, everything new and purposeful. Like being pulled back from oblivion into an embrace of pure light. A feeling of absolute asylum.

That’s what it felt like, to realize Lan Wangji was in love with him.

An in-show au of “what if they just admitted they’re in love and fucked during episode 43?” Soft and romantic and hot!

the crucial point by dissembler (Wangxian, E, 7k) ***

Months after parting on the mountain, Lan Wangji makes up his mind, plots his course on a map, and has faith.

I LOVE THIS FIC! Very realistic and sweet wangxian reunion fic from wangji’s perspective. Has so many good little details and is very true to their characters. Good shit. Great.

Stainless by Fahye (Wangxian, E, 6k)

"I'm starting to feel," says Lan Xichen, "that this was a counterproductive suggestion."

Wei Wuxian looks down onto the pristine, tranquil cold springs of the Cloud Recesses. Sitting in the water, their bare shoulders rising like dumplings carefully spaced in a steaming-basket, are a large number of Lan disciples.

"They seem to be doing better," he says, encouragingly. "If they--oh, no, I see what you mean."

At the near bank, someone has pressed someone else against the rocks and is kissing them frantically.

What is getting into a new pairing if not an excuse to read sex pollen in new and exciting ways!

To Recklessly Confess by la_dissonance (Wangxian, E, 8k)

Lan Wangji has a fantasy. Wei Wuxian gets several clues.

The “what if they just fucked in episode 43” au but from a different angle.

all the depths of me, real by northofallmusic (Wangxian, E, 15k)

Wei Wuxian is dealing with a curse a little worse than he'd like to let on, and Lan Zhan is a little less than willing to let it slide.

Another “what if they just fucked in the show” fic, this time set when WWX has the curse on his leg and Wangji has to carry him back to the inn. 

Every Day, Learning More by phnelt (Wangxian, E, 6k)

The pink was high on Wei Wuxian’s cheeks. “I mean I haven’t been able to… that I can’t. Not without you.”

Lan Wangji stared. “In this body, the whole time you’ve had it -- you’ve never…”

Wei Wuxian kicked his heels into Lan Wangji’s back. “I just said that!”

I knew at least one of these was more book verse than show! WWX hasn’t been able to jerk off in his new body, LWJ helps him out :-)

the meaning of the ritual by newamsterdam (Wangxian, E, 8k)

“Lan Zhan… wants to bed me?”

The hand on his chest is shaking, slightly. “Mn.”

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian breaths out.

There’s something— something powerful, about that. Lan Wangji wants to bed him. Lan Wangji wants to sleep with him. Lan Wangji wants to touch him, and kiss him. The immovable, implacable Second Master of Lan, with a face and principles both carved from jade, wants him.

“Is this a fantasy of yours?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Forcing all the demonic energy out of me with your—”

Lan Wangji claps a hand over his mouth. “Silence, now.”

When the entire cultivation world turns against the Yiling Patriarch, Wei Wuxian makes a risky gamble— he'll agree to participate in an ancient ritual for cleansing the spirit, so that his character can no longer be called into question. The catch? He has no idea who his partner for the ritual will be.

This is also book-verse! As the tag says “Let Lan Wangji Fuck the Yiling Patriarch”!!!!!!!!!!!

Hurricane by gdgdbaby (Wangxian, E, 6k) ***

"Haven't you heard?" Nie Huaisang replied, clicking his tongue, though he was clearly pleased that he could be the one to break the news. He leaned in to announce with a dramatic flourish: "Lan Wangji just took emergency family leave this past weekend."

WANGXIAN AS SPIRK STAR TREK PON FAR AU!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEWOO WEEWOO WEEWOO!!!!!!!! This was actually recced to ME by CHI and I have not stopped thinking about this fic for a full month. It’s like author gdgdbaby sat down one day and was like “Tumblr user Liv Scottspack deserves everything she wants in this life.” and then wrote this fic. Thank you author gdgdbaby, I love you.

WORLD’S WORST THROUPLE (3ZUN)

The body is a blade by rheawrites (3zun, E, 2k) ***

In which Lan Xichen is taken by surprise, Nie Mingjue takes what he can get, and Meng Yao gets what he wants.

This was the first 3zun fic I ever read and whew baby, got it in one! It’s actually a slight AU but it gets their characterization so right and is a very fun read. One of those fics I go back to frequently because it does so much with so few words.

shang tiantang by fuckwarlock (3zun, E, 4k)

They wanted so much, and with the way A-Yao gasps at the saber-calloused hand unfastening his belts, he does, too. The night air twirls with the scents of osmanthus and cinnamon and melon. Lan Xichen smiles, leans in, and ghosts his lips over the crook of A-Yao’s neck. What kind of brother would he be if he didn’t give A-Yao what he wanted? “I think it’s your turn to ascend, A-Yao.”

The Venerated Triad celebrates the Mid-Autumn Festival the best way they know how.

Truly the only way the venerated triad works is if meng yao gets Destroyed :-)

Favour and Fate by soulgusttheguardian (3zun, E, 8k)

There have been times in Meng Yao’s life when he couldn’t help but wonder how he came to be in his current situation. Found himself reflecting on the choices leading up to whatever misfortune had befallen him that day, and pondering why fate hated him so.

Granted, there had also been times when he couldn't help but wonder just what he had done to earn the favour necessary to be rewarded with certain things...

The current situation he found himself to be in, however, was definitely the latter.

More of the same! Truly I personally can never get enough of the 3zun dynamic in smut fics its just too goddamn motherfucking GOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!

the stars do not take sides by everyearning (3zun, E, 4k)

Mingjue isn’t sure he’s ever seen Xichen do anything other than treat the boy like a porcelain doll and it’s laughable to him, to think of Meng Yao as something breakable, instead of the sharp, deadly object he is.

Okay one last “Destroy Meng Yao” 3zun fic! Enjoy!

never as alive as we are right now by ThirtySixSaveFiles (3zun, E, 12k)

Three perspectives on three sworn brothers, at three different times in their relationship.

(Or, three times 3zun got it on and some of the feelings they had along the way.)

Wait actually I want to end the 3zun fics on this one because it has true Emotional Resolution at the end and I think they deserve a little healing.

BABY BOYS. BABIES. (THE JUNIORS)

A Civil Combpaign by Ariaste (Jin Ling/Lan Sizhui, T, 20k) ***

“And,” said one of the pompous ministers, “there’s the matter of a marriage to consider as well!”

Jin Ling, who at the beginning of that sentence had expected to slam into the very last wall of his patience and lose his temper entirely, paused. “A what?”

Thing was… it wasn’t such a bad idea.

A MUST-FUCKING-READ!!! Jin Ling gets it in his head that as sect leader he should get married and sets his sights on Lan Sizhui. I cannot stress enough how FUCKING CUTE this fic is!!! Sizhui being the best boy! Jin Ling having more uncles than he knows what to do with! Jiang Cheng being the worst at relationship advice! It’s so fucking good it love it so much.

Anyway, Here’s Wuji by kakikaeru (Lan Jingyi/Lan Sizhui, T, 18k)

The melody gets a little clearer when he breaks out of the trees, and Jingyi changes course with certainty, barreling down the back hill and through the Cloud Recesses, dodging scandalized disciples left and right. He throws open the doors to the Receiving Hall without announcement and bows nearly double, eyes on the floor instead of on the shocked faces of the Mei delegation and the impenetrable gaze of the Chief Cultivator.

"Forgive this disciple," Jingyi shouts, because he's going to get punished for rule breaking regardless. "From the back hill, Hanguang-jun, there is a song in the wind!"

Lan Jingyi comes of age.

A Jingyi-central fic about Jingyi growing up and falling in love and being a hero and being the second best boy of my heart right after Sizhui. Not only is this fic sweet and romantic but it’s another one that explores a lot of interesting things within canon and all of the supporting characters are written very well and are just as interesting as second best boy Jingyi.

Ok, JiuJiu by kakikaeru (Jin Ling/Ouyang Zizhen, T, 16k)

Uncle's jaw works in the way that suggests he's about to say something irredeemable. Jin Ling, in a move of diplomacy he hopes the Chief Cultivator appreciates, distracts him with spicy food and his favourite subject: the incompetence of his own officials.

"I hear the lakes in the south east are having drainage problems?" he asks nonchalantly, sticking three big slices of braised pork belly into his Uncle's bowl.

Jin Ling just wants to get through the Discussion Conference with his Sect, his dignity, and his heart intact.

A follow up fic to “Anyways, Here’s Wuji.” I LOVE the Jin Ling/Ouyang Zizhen dynamic of Jin Ling having been raised by Jiang “I keep all my emotions right here and then one day I’ll die” Cheng AND being hopelessly charmed and smitten with Ouyang “President of the I Love Love Romance Novel Book Club” Zizhen! I LOVE IT! EXTREMELY CUTE!

Lan Sizhui's Guide to Courtship by Kimblydot (Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi, T, 23k)

In which Jingyi is a little oblivious, Sizhui is patient (and should have said something in the beginning), and everyone else is resigned to watching them dance around each other for far longer than necessary.

(Or: five things Sizhui tries to do in his courtship, and the one time Jingyi realizes there was one happening in the first place.)

I’ll stop describing fics about the juniors as being “cute” when they stop being SO FUCKING CUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

His Merit All My Fear by violettressed (Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi, G, 16k)

It’s too late for any of Hanguang-Jun’s rabbits to be awake -- one of the sundown chores for young disciples is to herd them back into their hutch -- but the rabbit field is as good a spot as any for quality sulking, so Lan Jingyi makes his way there.

Someone has beat him to it.

Lan Jingyi stares at Hanguang-Jun. Hanguang-Jun stares passively back.

When Lan Sizhui is swept away with the Ghost General, off on a new adventure, Lan Jingyi is the one who returns to Cloud Recesses alone.

Not only another extremely cute Sizhui/Jingyi fic BUT one that includes a Wangji/Jingyi friendship??? Incroyable! *chefs kiss*

spirit running wild by idrilka (Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi, E, 17k)

He doesn’t know, exactly, when the friendship he shared with Sizhui over the years has changed into something that’s made Jingyi finally understand why Hanguang-Jun always wears that expression whenever he looks at Senior Wei. There hasn’t been one single moment that he can point to and say, yes, this is where it started, because the thing about falling in love with your best friend is that it happens gradually, until it’s impossible to tell which step has been the deciding one.

Jingyi goes to Baling with a crush.

Written by the same genius that wrote the first three fics I made you read so you know it’s good. Its truly the childhood best friends to lovers of it all! Sizhui is adorable and Jingyi is a mess! *muah!*

FAMILY FUN TIME (NO ROMANCE, JUST FEELS)

Grow by cafecliche (Lan Sizhui & Wei Wuxian, T, 14k)

“Okay,” Jingyi says, as Sizhui puzzles this out aloud. “Okay! So the demon has been turning its victims into children.”

“I think so,” Sizhui says.

“To make them easier prey,” Jingyi says.

“Yes,” Sizhui says.

“So—” Jingyi’s voice cracks here, “this kid is Senior Wei.”

Wei Wuxian, still tangled in his own massive robes, blinks politely at them.

(Or: Wei Wuxian is cursed on a night-hunt, and the junior quartet rapidly finds themselves in over their heads.)

What I expected to be a goofy, silly fic turned out to be extremely emotional and made me FULLY CRY! It’s a very moving fic about Sizhui coming to understand himself and Wei Wuxian a lot better AND features all of the juniors arguing over who’s turn it is to hold 6 year old Wei Wuxian. A true win/win of a fic.

To The Act of Making Noise by words-writ-in-starlight (Lan Sizhui & Lan Wangji, G, 19k)

His father in white plays the song late into the night, and when A-Yuan wakes up confused and afraid, the guqin lulls him back to sleep.

Lan Sizhui hears his father play the same song every night for his whole life, and never, ever get an answer.

Another very moving and heartwarming fic about Lan Wangji raising Sizhui and Sizhui figuring out Wangji’s past and then eventually reconnecting with Wei Wuxian. It’s cute and soft and Sizhui is my best boy!

History (Proud To Call Your Own) by words-writ-in-starlight (Wen Ning, G, 5k)

“A-Yuan? Um—Lan-gongzi,” Wen Ning corrects, trying to set a good example. The children are young, seven and eight, exactly a dozen of them lined up in two crisp lines of tiny blue and white robes. Wen Ning can feel them staring at him, even though most of them have already mastered that Lan trick of neutrality. The smallest, a little girl with liquid dark eyes, is clinging to her nearest shijie’s sleeve and half-hiding. “Can I—what can I do for you?”

Wen Ning gets himself recruited for services, while he and Sizhui are visiting Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian gets a fan club.

Set in the same universe as “To The Act of Making Noise,” a very cute fic about Wen Ning finding his place in the post-canon world and being proud of Sizhui and being the world’s best substitute teacher. As the official Wen Ning Fan Club President, I had to include this.

the stone-filled sea by yukla (Lan Sizhui & Wei Wuxian, T, 9k) ***

He forgets how quickly Wei-qianbei changes faces, sometimes. Like pulling a theater mask over a bruise—color over color, a diversion with the swipe of his hand.

Lan Sizhui navigates a world that hates his father, one endless wave at a time.

Oh man oh man. I will never get enough of the fics where Sizhui (and the rest of the juniors) get ANGRY on Wei Wuxian’s behalf!! That’s their dad and their teacher and their friend and they will DEFEND HIM!!! YEAH BAYBEEEEEEEEEE!!!

PICK & MIX (MISCELLANEOUS)

This Side of Paradise by greenfionn (Wei Wuxian/Wen Qing, E, 3k)

Wei Wuxian does some very quick math in his head that goes something like this: He is pretty sure he’s in love with Lan Zhan - Lan Zhan is not here and likely never will be here - Wen Qing is here, not to mention very hot and let us not forget, actually interested in sex with him - there’s a solid chance he goes genuinely crazy or dies, or both, in the next few months and really, who wants to die a virgin?

Listen.......the fic premise is “Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing, noted bisexuals, figure life sucks enough at the Burial Mounds, they might as well have any fun they can before they die” and........I Am Looking Directly At It. It features Wen Qing bossing Wei Wuxian around and Wei Wuxian’s canon he-wants-to-be-pregnant kink. It’s........I liked it.

palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss by iodhadh (Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, M, 15k) ***

The realization strikes Song Lan like a bolt of lightning: Xiao Xingchen laughs, and he wants with a sudden, stunning desperation to kiss the mirth from his beautiful mouth. How, precisely, he is meant to manage that—that, he has no idea at all.

Or: introspective meditations on touch, trust, and the problem of desire.

I Am Baby and for some reason cannot handle how sad the entire Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen storyline ended up so I rarely read songchen fics, and when I do they’re always soft pre-canon fics like this one. Luckily there are some very beautiful and moving pre-canon songchen fics!!! I love you fandom!!

purpose and ritual by iodhadh (Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, E, 8k)

Song Zichen has beautiful hands. He's a powerful swordsman, strong and skilled, unfairly impressive and unreasonably handsome. He is devoted and self-disciplined and he takes direction like a dream. And he doesn't touch people—no one at all, if he can help it, except for Xiao Xingchen.

The poets might call him a saint, but Xiao Xingchen is so very, very human.

More of the same :-)

born to sweet delight by la_dissonance (Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, E, 10k)

Xiao Xingchen lightly jumps into the center of the pool, the water a shock that cools his sticky, heated skin, and does nothing for the heat building inside him. When he surfaces, pushing the hair out of his face, he finds Song Lan's gaze and meets it. Between them, everything goes both ways. What Song Lan will offer, Xiao Xingchen will freely give too.

Or, Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan meet, pledge their lives to each other, and then fall in love.

This is about the angstiest I will go for songchen and its still absolutely Baby Soft lmfao!!!!!!

Pin it down by rheawrites (Jiang Yanli/Jin Zixuan, Jin Zixuan/Nie Mingjue, E, 2k)

“Yanli, I did not lie on our wedding night. You are the only woman I have gone to bed with. But… there was a man.”

“Oh?” Yanli blinks up at him. She does not appear horrified, or betrayed, which is surely a good sign.

Jin Zixuan swallows. “It was Sect Leader Nie,” he says quickly, as though that will make it easier.

“…Oh,” says Yanli, and her eyes are dark.

-

Jin Zixuan tells his wife a war story. Or, two thousand words of Jin Zixuan getting railed.

Have you ever looked at Jin Zixuan and been like “I bet that mf likes getting PEGGED!!!!!!!!” Well here’s the fic for you. 

*YIBO VOICE* DIDI LOVES YOU! (YIZHAN RPF)

never really over by gdgdbaby (Yizhan, E, 10k)

The thing is: it would be good to see Xiao Zhan again — if Yibo could just trust himself to be normal.

Author gdgdbaby is the yizhan master, so here are five of my personal favorites of their fics, starting with this post-filming reunion fic that was the first yizhan fic I ever read and HIT real good after having just finished the show myself.

pedagogy by gdgdbaby (Yizhan, E, 17k) ***

Yibo opens his mouth and says, "I want to learn," barreling past the rapid rise of Xiao Zhan's eyebrows. "To last longer. Will you teach me?"

Quick-fire Yibo comes too easily and Xiao Zhan helps train him to last longer :-)

you’re the reason that i just can’t concentrate by gdgdbaby (Yizhan, E, 10k)

Xiao Zhan hears about it from Yu Bin, which probably should've been the first warning sign.

Yibo was only 20 when they filmed the untamed, which lends itself perfectly to fics like this.

a truth so loud you can’t ignore by gdgdbaby (Yizhan, E, 5k)

It's their last day of filming in Hengdian when the secret comes out.

If yibo has to be a fictional virgin than SO DOES XIAO ZHAN!

if you would only let you by gdgdbaby (Yizhan, E, 32k) ***

"Well?" Yibo demands. Past the severe frown tugging at the corners of his mouth, a flicker of the old him slips through, the persistent boy who shoved his way into Xiao Zhan's space without a second thought and made a home for himself there. "Are you coming or not?"

Xiao Zhan's heart twists. He forcibly settles it back in his chest. He's only told Yibo no once in his entire life, and it was already the hardest thing he's ever had to do. "Okay," Xiao Zhan murmurs, quiet but decisive, and thumbs his phone off. "Let's go."

Like I said, all gdgdbaby fics are incredibly good, super well written, and very hot, but this one does stand out from the bunch for being a Full Epic Romance! This is one of Chi’s favorite fics so that should speak to it’s quality!

baby, who’s counting by nobirdstofly (Yizhan, E, 12k)

Xiao Zhan gasps, trying to rein in another peal of giggles. “What do I owe you anyway?”

Yibo shrugs one shoulder, and his smirk deepens. “Haven’t decided.”

Xiao Zhan’s still staring at him, laughter gone in his dry throat, when he hears someone yell for a reset. Yibo’s eyes are so, so dark, and he hasn’t stopped watching Xiao Zhan this whole time. Xiao Zhan swallows, nods, and pushes every dirty thought out of his head.

(Or: Yibo bets Xiao Zhan he'll break first during a take, Xiao Zhan loses, and it's all downhill from there.)

Ah sex bets, who doesn’t love sex bets!

Mystery Dance by mrsronweasley (Yizhan, E, 16k)

"That? That's your confession?" Yibo's toppled onto Xiao Zhan's side and is clutching his shoulder, trying not to fall over. "That's pathetic!"

"Oh, what, you can do better?" Zhuocheng is pretty flushed and there's a challenge in his voice that Yibo just can't walk away from.

"Hell yeah, I can. Hit me, Yu Bin." Yu Bin cheers and refills Yibo's shot glass. "All right!" Yibo downs the shot, gags only slightly, and says, "Everyone! I'm a fucking virgin!"

WHAT’S better than a Yibo virgin fic? A SECOND YIBO VIRGIN FIC!

This author also writes extremely good yizhan threesomes so here’s three of them!

Some Nights by mrsronweasley (Yizhan/Xuan Lu (Jiang Yanli), E, 2k)

Xuan Lu opened her legs to him and Xiao Zhan wasted no time diving in. He pressed his mouth against her pussy, licking her out steadily as her thighs trembled around him. She was nestled between Yibo's legs and if Xiao Zhan looked up, not only could he see the planes of her body, her small breasts going up and down with her breathing, ribs expanding, her tipped back head and open mouth, but Yibo, gaze boring into Xiao Zhan's as he ate Xuan Lu out.

The entire cast is hot and there is no reason they shouldn’t ALL fuck! Not one reason!!!!!!

gege loves you by mrsronweasley (Yizhan/Wang Zhuocheng (Jiang Cheng)), E, 7k)

"We are very sorry," Xiao Zhan murmured as he unbuttoned Zhuocheng's jeans while Yibo kissed his ear, "for how we've been acting."

"Is this how you apologize to everyone," Zhuocheng panted, hands already going for his zipper to help Xiao Zhan along, "or am I special?"

WHEW LORD!!!!!!!!! WHEW!!!!!!!

Talking in the Dark by mrsronweasley (Yizhan (Side Xiao Zhan/M/F), E, 14k)

Xiao Zhan has a light-hearted romp of a threeway with some friends, then makes the mistake of telling Yibo. It goes down.

A non-yizhan threesome BUT features jealous!yibo which is a ton of fun.

Finally, a couple AUs!

With Joy and Purpose by feenwitch (Yizhan, E, 30k) ***

Yibo has been alone for approximately five Earth years when Xiao Zhan crash lands on his planet.

YIZHAN ANDROID AU!!!!!!!! This is a very star trek-esque universe which is fun, but the fic itself is also CRAZY interesting and moving and beautiful!!!!!!!!! It’s A LOT! This was a rec from Nina, so thank you Nina!

Bound With a Same-Heart Knot by mrsronweasley (Yizhan, E, 59k)

London, 1892. Xiao Zhan, a promising young attache at the Chinese embassy is tasked with showing the new ambassador's son Wang Yibo around London. The inevitable happens.

Victorian AU! I actually think you already read this, but included for posterity.

AND SCENE! This is the result of two months of daily fic reading, having 50 tabs of fic open at any given time, reading truly anything and everything, and Loving The Untamed. I’m SO EXCITED you’re diving into fic for this show and I can’t wait to talk to you about all of them and to have someone to scream with! WOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

[echo-bleu]

jump and hope it’s not a cliff

Summary: Five times Alec and Magnus come out, and one time they come home.

“I’m gay,” he blurts out.

Some part of him still expects it to be earth-shattering, but it’s not. It’s almost nothing, just a word, a single syllable that falls out of his lips easily. It doesn’t suddenly make everything click into place, or scramble his whole being.

It’s just a fact.

Malec, about coming out and pride and supporting each other.

A/N: This is set in the same universe as map out a world and there are a few callbacks, but this should easily stand on its own. Alec is autistic, and everything else is mostly like canon, except that I stretched out the timeline. Part 1 to 3 are set somewhere during season 2, 4 during season 3 and the last two at some point in the future. The title is a quote from Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (thank you Cor for the suggestion).

A huge thank you to the amazing @moonlight-breeze-44  who did a great job betaing this and cheering me on, as well as all the wonderful people in the Malec Discord Server for helping me come up with some of these scenes and being super supportive. This fic was truly a work of love and it's very close to my heart, so it's a little daunting to finally post it!

Warnings: part 5 contains a transphobic character who says very transphobic things. You might want to skip that part if it's a sensitive subject. The rest contains mentions of (mostly past) queerphobia and ableism, but it's all fairly light.

Read on AO3.

1.

Alec can’t remember a specific moment when they came out to each other. He remembers Magnus openly flirting with him — right in front of his siblings, too, and Alec is just embarrassed by how utterly clueless he was, though Magnus seems to think it was adorable — and his own clumsy attempts at flirting back, once he got over his confusion. But he doesn’t remember ever saying “I’m gay.”

He’s not sure he’s ever said it out loud, to anyone, like the word is heavy and draining and it’s something best left half-implied, a whisper of a suspicion rather than a hard fact; despite the evidence. Alec is attracted to men — is attracted to Magnus, really, because besides his mistaken infatuation with Jace, he’s never felt that pull for anyone else — but he doesn’t speak of it. Magnus just seemed to know, just like Izzy did, just like Jace did, or maybe he took a leap of faith and he’s really good at appearing more confident than he actually is.

What he does remember is skimming through Magnus’ Clave file, that day before they went to meet him at his club, and the leap his heart made when he read about Magnus’ well known “proclivities” towards lovers of all genders. It was followed by fear and disgust, because of course the Clave would write this down as proof of Magnus’ untrustworthiness and dangerous behavior. Alec was dangerously close to thinking that way, back then, too terrified of people finding out about him to fully question what he’d been taught to believe. He tucked the information into a corner of his mind, and he’d be hard-pressed to tell if it influenced his first impression of Magnus and how.

They’ve been dating for over two months now, and they’ve never spoken about it. They’ve never spoken about Alec’s very public coming out to the Clave beyond agreeing to a date. They’ve discussed past relationships — or lack thereof — and the political issues that come with a Shadowhunter dating a Downworlder, especially as they’re both prominent figures in the city, but they’ve never spoken of themselves or the couple they form in terms of queerness.

And now, staring at the rainbow cover of the new book in Magnus’ hands, Alec wonders why.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts and finishes hanging his jacket on the coat rack as Magnus puts down the book and stands up with a wide smile. They’ve decided on a quiet night in tonight — dinner and a movie — after a week that has been horrendously long for both of them. Unresolved issues are piling up at the Institute, but right now Alec just wants to relax and enjoy his boyfriend.

Boyfriend. He’s still getting used to that. He thought for so long that he could never have any of the things that so many people take for granted, and feeling for someone what he feels for Magnus, having it reciprocated, seemed the most unattainable of them all.

“You seem distracted,” Magnus remarks after a moment of silence in their dinner.

Alec looks up guiltily and stills his fingers, which have been tapping a discreet rhythm on his thigh. “Sorry,” he says, sheepish. “I didn’t mean to zone out.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“You,” Alec admits — it’s not a hardship to admit it at all. He spends most of the time that isn’t directly taken up by Institute business thinking about Magnus, in one form or another. He worries, often, that maybe it’s too much, that Magnus is going to find him too intense, but so far Magnus just preens at the attention.

“I’m flattered,” Magnus quips. “Anything specific?”

Alec’s eyes fall on the rainbow book on the coffee table again, across the room. It’s a book about queer history or something similar, something he hasn’t seen Magnus read about before. It’s flashy and mundane and distracting. There’s a strange tug in Alec’s stomach at just seeing a rainbow here, in Magnus’ living space, a fear that shouldn’t be there anymore.

“I’m gay,” he blurts out.

Some part of him still expects it to be earth-shattering, but it’s not. It’s almost nothing, just a word, a single syllable that falls out of his lips easily. It doesn’t suddenly make everything click into place, or scramble his whole being.

It’s just a fact.

“Okay,” Magnus says slowly, frowning a little like he can tell he’s missing something. “I already knew that, Alexander.”

Alec runs his thumb down the fabric of his jeans and works his jaw. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m not sure I did.”

Magnus frowns further, uncomprehending, then his face lights up. “You’ve never actually said it, have you? If you came out at the wedding—” he waves a hand.

“That wasn’t planned, and my parents aren’t exactly interested in talking about it,” Alec says. “I kinda feel like I used you, actually. We weren’t even dating or anything, and there’s a gap between flirting with me and kissing me in front of the entire Institute.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I was surprised, but I’ve never been shy or particularly closeted, if that’s what you mean. And I was definitely hoping that you’d call off the wedding. It was a hell of a way to come out, though.”

“It sure didn’t help my standing with the Clave,” Alec mutters. “Or my relationship with my parents. But I don’t regret it. I regret not really giving you a choice, though. Even if you’re not in the closet, I know the Institute doesn’t represent something positive for you, and publicly being with a Shadowhunter can’t be good for your reputation.”

“My reputation has been through much worse than this,” Magnus reassures him. “But I appreciate your concern. And I promise you I was a willing participant.”

Alec nods in acceptance and eats a few more bites of his risotto. Like everything Magnus conjures, it’s delicious. They eat in silence for a moment, but Alec feels Magnus’ gaze on him, intense but somehow not heavy.

“I’m bisexual,” Magnus finally says. “I’ve used many labels over the years, some whose meaning is very different now, and often no labels at all, but that’s the one I like best.”

Alec carefully commits the information to memory and looks up to meet his eyes, to show that he’s listening.

“Did you always know?” he asks. “Even when you had no words for it?”

Magnus takes a moment to think about it. “I think so,” he answers. “It was always a part of me, like my magic or my eyes. I didn’t always accept it, but I knew.”

Alec nods, feeling like he can’t relate to that certainty. Clarity isn’t something he’s ever had about himself, about anything. Whether it’s about his sexuality, or his aspirations, or even who he is as a person, it’s always been muddled. The identities his parents and the Clave tried to impose on him, Shadowhunter and Lightwood and soldier, have never felt quite right, like he doesn’t fit into the boxes he desperately tries to hide in, but neither have the labels he’s come across since, not really.

“I’m gay,” he murmurs to himself again. He’s not sure it feels right. Maybe he just needs to get used to it, after years of not daring to apply the word to himself. Maybe it’s really just a word, and its power drained out with the need to hide. Alec shakes his head. It’s better than anything else. It’s enough. It has to be, right?

2.

Magnus claps his hands once, making a bowl of popcorn appear on his knees. “Here,” he says. “The real movie night experience.”

He had been horrified to learn that Alec has never done that before. His siblings have sneaked out to go to the movies with their teenage dates, but Alec was always the good son, and the Institute only has one TV in the break room that is certainly not casually watched by the Head of the Institute, which Alec has functionally been since he was sixteen.

Magnus doesn’t count the few classic movies Alec watched on his own on his laptop in the safety of his room as a real movie night experience. Movie night is, by definition, something you do with others.

He passes the bowl of popcorn to Alec, taking a few pieces with his other hand and popping them into his mouth. They’re sitting side by side on the couch in his living room, rearranged for the occasion. Magnus has pushed aside the two armchairs that usually occupy the other side of the coffee table in favor of a huge wide screen TV, which is currently displaying the opening scene of The Fellowship of the Ring.

“Why does it include popcorn?” Alec frowns, taking a few from the bowl and passing it back. He’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, a fluffy pillow on his lap and his new tangle toy in his hand. He’s very recently started to loosen up around the loft and actually make himself comfortable, rather than constantly staying straight-backed and tense, and Magnus never tires of watching him stim and relax.

Magnus puts his feet up on the coffee table. “It’s tradition, Alexander!”

“Aren’t you way older than the invention of the cinema?”

“Come on, movie night is something you’re supposed to enjoy, not question,” Magnus says. “Shh, I love this bit,” he adds when Gandalf makes his entrance.

Alec huffs and sits back, but there’s a smile on his face, and he’s almost close enough that their thighs touch. Magnus lets him take the first step, knowing that Alec doesn’t always handle touch well, but by the time Frodo sets out of the Shire, Alec has sought out Magnus’ free hand and interlaced it with his own.

He listens amusedly to Magnus commenting on every moment of the movie, marveling at the landscapes and critiquing the largest departures from the books, which Alec hasn’t even read. He doesn’t say anything beyond making some noises at the right places, up until the first sword fights.

“But you can’t hold a sword that way!” he protests. “His posture is all wrong!”

Magnus holds back a laugh. “It’s a movie, darling. Cinematic aestheticism is more important than realism.”

“But this is wrong! How can anyone not see it?”

Magnus keeps it to himself that he definitely didn’t, in spite of his rather extensive training. His martial arts knowledge is very different from Alec’s sword-fighting techniques. “Just relax and let yourself enjoy it,” he says, squeezing Alec’s hand.

By the time they get to the Moria fight, Alec is leaning forward to watch more closely and sputtering. “That’s not how you hold a bow!”

Magnus shrugs. “He looks rather dashing while doing it, so who cares?”

“Who cares? I care! This doesn’t make any sense! Don’t these actors have a modicum of training?”

“I’m sure they do,” Magnus says. Alec’s indignation is rather hilarious, even if it doesn’t let him truly enjoy the movie. His purpose was to show it to Alec, anyway, not to watch it himself. Watching Alec’s reactions is endearing and more fun than the movie itself. “But they’re thinking more about making it look good than realistic. And they’re all really hot doing it, which doesn’t hurt.”

Alec blinks at that and tilts his head. “You think they’re hot?”

Magnus turns his head toward him in surprise. “Don’t you?”

Is Alec jealous? It doesn’t seem to fit with his character, not over such a small thing, but Magnus doesn’t know everything about him yet.

“I don’t know, I guess?” Alec shrugs. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

Magnus opens his mouth and closes it. He pauses the movie, and Alec frowns in surprise. “Alec, do you...who do you think is hot?”

“I, uh,” Alec hesitates. “I don’t know. Why is that important?”

“It’s not, necessarily, but most people don’t say ‘I guess’ when asked if someone is hot or sexy. You can have a type, but—” Magnus gestures in frustration, struggling to explain. “It’s something you see right away.”

Alec stares at him for a moment, lost. “I don’t… I’m not sure I understand. I mean, you’re beautiful. You’re hot, I suppose. Them—” he gestures at the TV. “I don’t know them.”

Magnus carefully doesn’t let the ‘I suppose’ hurt — he knows Alec doesn’t mean it the way it sounds. He smiles at the compliment, instead. “So you need to know someone to appreciate their sexiness?” he asks.

Alec takes a moment to think about it. “You’re the only one I’ve really thought of as sexy,” he says slowly. “And even then...it’s not something I’d think unprompted? It’s just not important to me, I suppose.”

“Alexander, are you asexual?” Magnus asks slowly.

For a moment, Alec looks like a fish out of water. He opens his mouth and closes it several times, searching for his words. He’s twisting his stim toy more and more nervously, so Magnus releases his hand to let him stim freely, putting his own hand on Alec’s thigh instead. Alec flinches away, though, so he lets him go.

“I don’t know,” Alec finally says. “Maybe? What if I am?”

“There’s a bunch of different identities under the asexual umbrella,” Magnus says. “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

Alec freezes for a second, then squeezes his tangle toy hard in his hand. “Is it a problem? If I’m completely asexual?”

“No, of course not,” Magnus says hurriedly. “You’re wonderful the way you are.”

“Then why is it important?”

“For us?” Magnus checks. Alec nods without looking in his direction. “It just means that we need to talk about boundaries a little more than I’m used to. I want to do that with you, anyway, but maybe we should dig deeper than I anticipated.”

Alec nods tightly. “Okay.” He doesn’t sound like he really believes it.

“Alexander, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but it doesn’t make you lesser, or broken, if you don’t feel attraction to people. It’s just different. Some people are straight, some are gay, or bi, or something else. Some are ace.”

“But I’m gay,” Alec says.

It dawns on Magnus then. Of course, in the homophobic environment Alec grew up in, he would have defined a large part of his identity through his gayness, even before he was fully aware of it. Now that he’s come out, there are likely people at the Institute or even the Clave who only think of him as “the gay one”. Or “the gay one who is shagging a Downworlder,” probably, but Magnus doesn’t want to open that particular can of worms tonight.

“It doesn’t make you any less gay,” he says. “You can be asexual and homoromantic. Or gray-asexual or demisexual and still sexually attracted to men.”

“I think I’m attracted to you,” Alec says quietly. “I mean, sexually. I know I want to kiss you and date you, but I think I also want to have sex with you.” He’s red as a brick wall by the end of his sentence, but he bravely plows through, his voice even quieter. “I don’t think I was sexually attracted to Jace.”

Magnus nods as neutrally as he can. “And other people?”

Alec just shakes his head.

“Even romantically?”

He shakes his head again, his cheeks even redder. He’s started stimming again, so fast that his hands are a blur.

Magnus refrains from telling him that he feels giddy about being so special for Alec, because this isn’t something Alec chose. He doesn’t try to touch him, even though he wants to reach out. “So you’ve only been romantically attracted to people you already knew?”

“I don’t know,” Alec shrugs. “I didn’t really know you?”

“When did you start feeling attraction for me?”

Alec bites his lip, thinking. “I liked that you paid attention to me. No one gives me a second look, usually, unless I’m giving out orders. Jace and Izzy are easier to...approach, I guess. But I didn’t feel like...like you said, losing my breath and all that, until later. The day you said that, actually.”

“So you did know me by then,” Magnus says, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Were you attracted to me from the beginning?” Alec asks hesitantly, like he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

“Yes,” Magnus admits easily. “But attraction isn’t something you have to act on. I liked what I saw as soon as I laid eyes on you, but then I learned to appreciate you. Your personality, your sense of humor, your loyalty to your siblings. That’s not just attraction. That’s falling in love.”

“And asexuals can do that?”

“Some of them can, some of them can’t. Some want to and some don’t. There’s no one-size-fits-all with this.”

“So what am I?”

Magnus takes a breath, trying to figure out what Alec really needs to hear. Does he need a label? Or just reassurance? He decides to go for the option that feels the least patronizing and tries to answer his actual question. “You can correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that what you’re describing is demisexuality, and maybe also demi-romanticism. It means you need to know someone, to have an emotional connection to them, before you feel attraction. But you could also say that you’re gray-ace and gray-romantic, since you don’t experience attraction often or in the same way as most people, but you do have some attraction.”

Alec nods throughout, his eyes boring a hole into the TV he’s staring at with intense focus. Magnus can even see him mouth some of the words, trying them out. “I think that sounds right,” he says slowly. “I don’t know, I need to think about it more, but it’s a start.”

“You don’t need to settle on a label tonight,” Magnus tells him.

Alec swallows. “No, I know, but...you deserve to know. Even if you’re amazingly tolerant, you deserve to know what you’re getting into.”

Magnus closes his eyes briefly. “No, Alexander,” he says, pained. “Your identities are yours and yours alone, and you don’t need to put words on them for me. I’m not being tolerant; I love you for who you are, and anyone who can’t accept you, all of you, doesn’t deserve the time of the day. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Alec breathes out through his nose and stills his hands for long enough to look in Magnus’ direction. “Okay,” he murmurs with a tiny smile. He reaches out and takes Magnus’ hand in his. “I love you too.”

3.

“Mister Bane, please refrain from interrupting me in the future.”

Magnus sighs. The meeting has been going on forever, and the President of the Spiral Council, a warlock older than himself but disliked by nearly the entire community, is being downright insulting by refusing to call him by his rightful title of High Warlock. He feels the usual prickle of his skin at the address, at the way she insists on the Mister.

“My apologies,” he relents, all energy to argue drained out of him. He’s been fighting her on this matter — a change in the interrogation protocols for the warlocks captured by Valentine, ultimately a waste of resources — for three hours, and he’s done. He glares at the assembled warlocks around the table, who all agree with him but don’t have the guts to speak up. Why does he always have to do all the work?

He sits through the rest of the meeting without saying a word, resolutely ignoring the constant taunts from the President. She’s not worth his time. Not if no one will back him up.

Magnus is tired and more than a little upset when he makes it back to his loft. Minor inconveniences are piling up to make today one of the worst days of work he’s had in awhile. At least Alec will be here tonight, on his night off from patrol.

Magnus magically summons the few bills that have been left in his mundane mailbox downstairs at the same time as he takes off his jacket and haphazardly throws it on the floor of his bedroom. His heart constricts a little more at the sight of the address, Mister Magnus Bane. He doesn’t want to deal with this today, but he can’t seem to escape it.

He banishes the bills and changes his outfit to a silk robe with a snap of his fingers. There, better. At least now he’s comfortable.

Sighing, he sits down at his makeup console. He looks at himself critically for a moment. He went overboard with the makeup this morning, and the heavy, dark eyeshadow that he thought made him look mysterious now just seems to carve in his eye sockets, and he looks gaunt instead. He makes it disappear, leaving only the light eyeliner lines.

He woke up with a strong need to shave off his goatee, along with most of the hair on his body. He goes through one of these phases every now and then. He would usually do it straight away, but this time, he hesitated. What will Alec think, if he comes over tonight and finds Magnus smooth-skinned, not only his face but also his chest and legs?

Sure, Magnus could technically magic back the hair as soon as Alec gets here, but it doesn’t feel right.

“Everything okay?”

Magnus starts and almost falls off of his chair in surprise. Alec is standing at the door of his bedroom, in his socks. In his distraction, Magnus somehow missed him passing his wards, coming through the front door and removing his shoes.

“Fine,” he says. “Just a frustrating day. But you’re here now.”

Alec smiles. “I am. We can just chill out in bed, if you’re tired.”

“What about dinner?”

“I could do dinner in bed,” Alec shrugs. “I’ve been on my feet all day and most of last night. If I had my way, I wouldn’t move from bed for at least two days.”

“I could arrange that,” Magnus quips. He knows Alec would never go for it — for all that he says that, he’ll still be up at six on the dot tomorrow and unable to go back to bed. So Magnus has to take advantage of him while he’s here.

Snapping his fingers, he conjures a tray filled with Chinese food from a take-out place he knows Alec likes. “Dinner in bed it is,” he says.

“See, that’s why you’re my favorite man,” Alec smiles.

Magnus flinches. An actual, full-body flinch. He tries to cover it up by standing up, but Alec immediately spreads his arms to show his harmlessness, hunching over like he’s trying to make himself shorter. “I said something wrong,” he says.

“No, it’s fine, Alexander,” Magnus waves his hand, annoyed at himself.

“Please, Magnus. I can see it. You don’t have to tell me, but it would be better so I don’t do it again.”

“It’s just…” Magnus trails off, hesitating. He’s been putting off coming out to Alec, and he doesn’t know why. Or rather, he does know, but his fears are barely rational. Alec has taken him in stride so far, barely batting an eye, even at Magnus’ more extravagant habits. He had a truly amazing reaction to seeing Magnus’ warlock mark. So why would this be any different?

No, Alec won’t react badly. But if Magnus comes out now, it will become a thing. They’ll have to talk about it, explain, like every time he tells someone, and it will be weird for days. Magnus is tired. Tired of not being able to be who he is without everyone else forcing him into boxes he doesn’t fit in.

He’s tired and he doesn’t want to explain, but he also wants Alec to know. He wants him to know why words that seem perfectly normal and safe to Alec sometimes feel like a knife to Magnus’ back. He wants to be able to make jokes about his gender and have them understood. He wants to wake up next to Alec and know that his partner knows and respects him for who he is, fully.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m not a man. I’m nonbinary.”

Alec doesn’t move. His eyes widen a little, but he doesn’t turn away from Magnus, keeping his gaze somewhere around Magnus’ mouth as usual. Magnus can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to decide what to answer with.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “I don’t...I think I know what the word means, but I don’t know a lot about it. Do you want to tell me what it means to you or do you want me to research it first?” His gaze trails toward the bookshelf Magnus has put together of books on queer theory.

Magnus gapes, because this is so far from any reaction he expected that it didn’t even come to his mind as an option. “I—” he stammers. “I will tell you, but I’m too tired tonight. And maybe you could...read a couple things first? Would that be okay?”

“That’s why I offered,” Alec says, with a relieved smile.

“You’re amazing, Alexander. You know that?”

Alec grins, with that tiny frown that says he wants to refute it but knows Magnus won’t hear of it if he does. He still can’t take a compliment — he can’t, Magnus has come to learn, think of himself positively without remembering every time he’s been put down and belittled by the people who should have lifted him up. Magnus just pats his shoulder. “How about we go to bed? Tomorrow, we can talk.”

Alec nods, and Magnus realizes that he’s looking forward to it, to telling Alec about himself.

*

When Magnus wakes up the next morning, which is their day off — Magnus has adapted his own schedule to match Alec’s whenever possible — Alec isn’t in bed next to him. Magnus finds him in the main room, sitting crossed-legged in an armchair with his laptop on his lap, a full breakfast ready on the table. He’s obviously been up for a while, if he’s had time to prepare all that on top of his morning run and stretching routine.

“Hey,” he gives Magnus a wide smile.

“Did I oversleep?” Magnus asks. He’s definitely less of an early-riser than Alec, who tends to wake up with the sun whenever he hasn’t been on the night shift, but he’s usually awake by the time Alec comes back from his run.

“There’s no such thing on a day off, but I think you were tired,” Alec answers. “I’ve been up for three hours.”

“Oh my,” Magnus murmurs, checking the time with a wave of his hand. To his relief — and amusement — it’s only eight-thirty, definitely not that late by his standards. “What have you done with all this time?”

“Research,” Alec waves to the books on the coffee table in front of him, which Magnus only now notices. They’re from his LGBT+ book collection, and definitely his top choices for learning about gender identities. “I’m learning a lot.”

“Let me shower and we can talk about it,” Magnus decides, his body tensing with excitement and a touch of apprehension.

“Breakfast is ready when you are,” Alec smiles reassuringly.

He’s just serving coffee when Magnus comes out of the shower. Magnus hasn’t bothered to get dressed or do his makeup yet, avoiding his mirrors — which isn’t the easiest feat in his bathroom, which has no less than two full-length mirrors beside the one above the sink — because he’s not sure what he wants to look like today. His goatee still itches on his chin, but he needs to get a feel for Alec’s reaction before he goes ahead and shaves it.

He forbids himself from pulling at his facial hair and grabs his mug of coffee instead, hissing when it nearly burns his hand. “Hey, you okay?” Alec asks, his voice quiet and concerned.

“I’m fine, Alexander,” Magnus makes himself smile. There’s no reason for this to go badly. Last night, even though Alec didn’t know much, was already affirming and relieving.

The concern is always there, especially given the culture Alec comes from, but Magnus has seen Alec fight hard against his own racism and internalized homophobia, and more recently his internalized ableism — and Alec is someone who doesn’t relent until he makes things right. Especially when he’s the one who made mistakes. It’s going to be okay.

“Tell me what you need,” Alec says, meeting his eyes — something he only does when he wants to show Magnus his support, explicitly and deliberately.

“Ask me?” Magnus tries. He hates feeling this vulnerable. “Ask me whatever questions you have, without beating around the bush.” Don’t make it awkward and painful, please.

“Alright, I can do that,” Alec smiles softly, and Magnus melts a little, like every time Alec looks at him like that. He takes a sip of his coffee. “So, I’ve read that there are a lot of different nonbinary identities. Do you use any of those labels for yourself? If you want to tell me.”

Magnus swallows in gratefulness. “I don’t, not really,” he replies. “Most of those labels are very recent, and they don’t really match with how I’ve learned to think about myself. Even nonbinary doesn’t feel exactly right, even if I fit the definition. But I use it because it’s rare for me to feel part of a community, of a group of people who share that with me.”

Alec nods thoughtfully. “I think I can relate with that,” he says. “The community thing, I mean. I’ve never actually thought about my gender, not beyond where it relates to my sexuality, but I guess not needing to think about it is a good sign that I’m cis.”

“Probably,” Magnus shrugs. “Does it feel strange for you? Realizing that you’re not really dating a man?”

Alec takes the time to think about it, though he never completely looks away. “No,” he says finally. “I won’t lie, maybe a few months ago it would have, because...I fought against my own gayness so much that when I finally accepted it, I needed it to be clear-cut. But I don’t feel like that anymore. If I learned something about identities and labels, it’s that they shouldn’t be boxes where you have to cut off parts of yourself to fit inside. I love you. I’m gay. You’re nonbinary. Those don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

Magnus needs a few long seconds before he remembers how to breathe. “They don’t,” he murmurs when he can finally speak again. Alec isn’t usually eloquent, but he has a knack for finding exactly the right words sometimes. And surprising Magnus, every day.

“Yesterday, you reacted when I called you a man,” Alec says slowly. “I’m probably going to slip up a few times until I get used to it, but can you tell me how you want me to speak of you? What words I should use?”

“Yesterday I was irritated and dysphoric,” Magnus replies. “It usually isn’t a problem. I don’t love those words and I’d prefer to avoid them when it’s just us, but socially, I’ve been taken for a man for so long… I can’t say it doesn’t bother me, but I’m not sure I can really imagine anything else. Sure, I’ve had fun glamouring myself into something more feminine, or cultivating an androgynous style at different times, but I’m still...I’m more comfortable being seen as a man than as a woman. Warlocks are sometimes seen as sexless by mortals, like Seelies, because our customs are so different, and I’ve always played with those perceptions.”

“Your name is masculine, right?”

Magnus shrugs. “Yes and no. It uses the masculine marker in Latin, but Latin was a language with grammatical gender. There are masculine words referencing females, and the other way around. And it’s a dead language, anyway. It was dead before I was born. I don’t think of my name as masculine.”

“Then, that’s what’s important,” Alec says. “What about pronouns?”

“I’ve used many different pronouns in many different languages,” Magnus answers. “I’ve always been partial to languages with no gendered pronouns like Turkish, but I really don’t care. He/him pronouns don’t make me feel bad, and I’m used to them.”

“There are languages with no gendered pronouns?” Alec asks, fascinated.

“A number of them,” Magnus says. “We really need to travel more. But to go back to your question, maybe in a few years or decades, I’ll be more comfortable with the new gender-neutral pronouns in English like they/them, but it takes me a while to get used to new things. So he/him is fine for now.”

“Okay,” Alec nods. “What about...we’ve been calling each other boyfriends. Would you rather I use something else?”

Magnus laughs, relief finally washing over him. He was tenser than he realized, and it makes him feel like jelly, suddenly. “No, Alexander. Hearing you calling me your boyfriend is far too endearing to change that. Please keep doing it.”

Alec’s face illuminates with a wide smile. “My nonbinary boyfriend,” he says playfully. “I know we’ve only barely scratched the surface, but is there something else I should know right now?”

Magnus runs a few things through his head, deciding to keep them for later — he’s very curious, and not all that apprehensive anymore, of what Alec’s reaction to him in feminine lingerie might be — and strokes his chin. “Oh,” comes the illumination. “I really want to shave my face right now. It’s been too long since I last did that.”

“Okay,” Alec says. “That’s a gender thing?”

“Sometimes facial hair feels dysphoric,” Magnus replies. “Like today. Sometimes I just want to look different.”

“I love both looks,” Alec says. “I love all of your looks. I love how I never know what you’re going to go for in the morning.”

Magnus starts eating his pancakes, but he decides that he doesn’t want to wait. He conjures a hand mirror in front of his plate and runs his glowing hand over his chin carefully, leaving smooth skin behind. Alec smiles at him over his coffee mug and Magnus smiles back, glancing at his now hairless face in the mirror. That feels better. Maybe he’ll go ahead and wax his legs and his chest as well.

4.

“Of all the days to be called out on patrol—”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Alec sighs, trying to appease Magnus’ annoyance by squeezing his hand. It’s Sunday, it’s the middle of the day, he wasn’t expecting a call from the Institute at all. “But the nest is in a busy metro tunnel just below the end of the parade. In a few hours, there’s going to be thousands of people down there, and who knows when the demons might try to attack the trains. And they’re bat demons, so they need my bow.”

The curse—and occasional blessing, if Alec is honest with himself—of being the only archer worth his salt in the New York Institute, is that despite now being the official Head, he’s still needed on the patrol roster. Most Institute Heads retire from the field, the administrative and political work being a full time job, but Alec still goes out with his siblings several times a week, and he usually leads the special teams called to handle demon surges.

Today, he curses that necessity with everything he has. Magnus has been excited about their first Pride together for weeks, and Alec was truly happy to do this with him.

“We were supposed to go to the parade,” Magnus sulks.

“I’m really sorry,” Alec repeats. “Maybe if we handle this fast enough, I can join you part-way through? I’ll do my best.”

Magnus looks at him critically. “No. I’m coming with you.”

“I know the parade is important to you—”

“It’s only important if we go together,” Magnus answers. “If I come with you, it will be faster, and then I can portal us into the procession directly, if there’s still time.”

“Alright,” Alec nods.

The team, larger than usual patrols because of the size of the demon nest, is almost ready when Alec and Magnus make it to the ops center. Alec quickly gets his bow and quiver and straps on his thigh holsters, and moves to signal the go ahead.

“Wait,” Magnus holds him up. “If we’re going to do this, we’ll do it in style.”

Alec frowns as he waves his hand, releasing a cloud of blue magic onto the two of them. Alec looks down at himself, his eyes gliding over his outfit before he clocks the changes. The lapel of his leather jacket now holds two prominent flag pins, a rainbow one and one with the black, gray, white and purple of the asexual flag. He sees matching pins, significantly larger, on Magnus’ vest, with his own flags. It’s the first time, as far as Alec knows, that Magnus has outwardly worn his nonbinary identity in the Institute, and he feels a swell of pride at the shine in Magnus’ eyes.

“Look at your arrows, sir,” Underhill’s voice comes from over his shoulder.

Alec twists his head to see the fletching of his arrows, usually red, is now brightly colored. Each fletch bears the colors of a different pride flag.

“So we can defeat the demons with pride,” Magnus smirks when Alec looks back at him.

“I like it,” Alec smiles. The mass of bright colors hurts his eyes a little, but the gazes of his teammates on them aren’t full of judgment but of amusement, and that’s a victory in its own right. He runs a hand over the little pins on his lapel.

“Um, sir?” Underhill asks, clearing his throat.

“Yes?” Alec turns to him, but he realizes that Underhill is looking at Magnus and not at him.

He gestures at the pins Magnus is wearing, and Alec can feel Magnus brace himself for a comment. “Could I, uh, have one too?”

Magnus blinks. “Of course,” he recovers quickly. “Rainbow flag?”

“Yeah,” Underhill nods.

Magnus snaps his fingers, and a pin as large as his own appears on Underhill’s chest.

“Thank you!”

Alec is certain he can see his subordinate’s eyes shine.

“Anyone else?” Magnus asks, full of mirth. A few people grumble, including Jace, until a young Shadowhunter takes a step forward.

“Can I have a trans pin?” she asks, her voice only wavering a little.

Alec feels a swell of pride. Kara is one of the youngest recruits, a sixteen year old who’s mostly kept to herself since she transferred to the Institute last winter, because he was the only Head willing to accept her chosen name and pronouns. Her face is set in stubborn determination as she fields her teammates' stares and stands in front of Magnus. Magnus beams at her. “Here you go, darling,” he snaps his fingers again. Kara looks down at the shiny pastel colored pin in reverence, and flashes him a smile.

“Are we ready to go?” Alec asks. He doesn’t want to break the moment, but they really need to move.

Magnus takes a step back and throws out a portal in front of them. “Let’s go kill some demons,” he says.

Alec grabs an aromantic-themed arrow from his quiver, smiling internally at the pun, and nocks it onto his bow string before stepping through the portal.

5.

Alec does his best to pay attention to what Jia is telling him, but he’s not having the best time of it. He’s had a full glass of champagne already and it’s getting to his head a little, and the ambient noise isn’t helping his concentration — in fact, it’s loud enough that his head is pounding and he’s losing track of what’s going on.

And then, there’s Magnus. Alec keeps stealing concerned glances at him, standing across the room in conversation with an older Shadowhunter from the Prague Institute. It’s been at least ten minutes, and every time Alec looks, Magnus is wearing a new accessory.

Alec knows why Magnus elected for a plain look today, for their very first reception since they moved to Alicante. He wanted to avoid dragging attention to him, knowing that many people in attendance are doubtful toward the new High Warlock of Alicante. Tonight marks Alec’s official nomination as Inquisitor, and he wanted to spare Alec a scene.

Alec is starting to suspect that a scene may be unavoidable, and if the reason is what he suspects, then he will wholeheartedly defend Magnus. It started with earrings. Magnus went for a simple dark suit with almost no jewelry beside his wedding ring, but he’s now sporting a very shiny pair of diamond earrings. And a necklace. And a butterfly hair clip that probably costs more than a year of Alec’s now sizable salary.

And now, lipstick. Very obvious, bright red lipstick.

“I’m so sorry,” Alec turns back to Jia, “but I believe my husband needs my help.”

Even though she’s now his direct superior, he doesn’t wait to be dismissed and he strides through the room, his height and his new status meaning that everyone gets out of his way. Izzy catches his eyes briefly, and Alec signals at her to stand by.

By the time he’s made it to his husband’s side, Magnus’ hair has turned into a vibrant rendition of the nonbinary flag, and that’s not a good sign. Alec steps into his field of vision before putting a hand on his arm.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Peachy,” Magnus says through his teeth. “This gentleman right here was just telling me about a very strange sort of demon that possesses young Nephilim men and makes them pretend to be women in order to assault actual women.”

Alec blinks as he takes that in, as well as the poison in Magnus’ tone. He tightens his grip on Magnus’ arm, feeling the stares on them — Magnus’ new hair color is hard to miss.

“Really?” he asks innocently, tilting his head. “I’ve never heard of those demons. I should read up on them, so I can make sure every Institute is fully ready for an invasion. What did you say their classification was, Mr. Svec?”

The man gapes at him. “They’re...uh...I don’t…”

“That’s what I thought,” Alec says icily. “There’s no such thing. You’re Kara’s father, aren’t you?”

“That monster isn’t my son,” Svec spits out.

“No, you’re right. She’s not. She’s your daughter. And she’s absolutely thriving at the New York Institute, by the way. She’s the best fighter in her class. That’s what happens when people accept you for who you are.” Alec deliberately turns his back to the sputtering man and looks at Magnus. “Honey, it’s getting late, we should probably head home,” he says, purposefully speaking louder than he needs to. Magnus is trembling with rage, fighting to rein himself in. “Let me just tell Jia, okay?” he adds in a murmur, just for Magnus.

Magnus closes his eyes and nods. “Get me away from him,” he says.

Alec gently guides him over to Izzy, who immediately takes Magnus’ hand. “Let’s stay out of the crowd,” she says, nodding at Alec that she’ll take care of him.

Alec finds Jia with Aline by the buffet. “I can’t condone this kind of bigotry coming from the Head of an Institute,” he says through his teeth.

“I don’t think he’ll try that twice around you,” Aline chuckles, nodding toward Svec, who is now glaring at them from across the room, clearly ostracized. “He didn’t make any friends tonight.”

“What happened tonight isn’t enough to remove him, but as Inquisitor, you’ll be able to push for someone else to take his place when his contract is up in six months,” Jia says. “I understand your anger, Alec. But we can’t change people in a day.”

Alec remembers, not for the first time since she offered him the job of Inquisitor, that she’s not just the progressivist Consul that the most conservative Nephilim frown at, or the mother of one of his best friends. She’s also the person who once sentenced Clary to death without a second thought. If he wants change, he’ll have to bring it on himself.

He exchanges a look with Aline, thinking of the folder on his new desk, the proposal they might have a chance at getting through now that he’s the Inquisitor. Jia’s right, it won’t be done in a day. But it will happen. Alec will make it happen.

And if at some point in the meantime, he has the opportunity to get rid of a few bigots like Svec, he won’t turn his nose up at it.

“Magnus and I are going home,” he says. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Congratulations on the promotion again,” Jia nods. “I’ll expect you in my office at eight tomorrow.”

“Good night.” Alec has to unclench his fist to shake Jia’s hand, and he realizes just how angry he is. Aline clasps him on the shoulder with an understanding look.

He finds Magnus and Izzy at the door, ready to go. “Can you portal us home?” he asks Magnus as they step outside.

Magnus wordlessly opens a portal and steps through without checking that Alec is following him, a testimony of how unsettled he still is. Alec takes the time to hug Izzy before he goes through. “You were amazing,” she slips him, kissing him on the cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he answers. “Thanks for your help.”

Alec comes behind Magnus and embraces him as soon as he’s out of the portal. Magnus took them straight to their bedroom, but he hasn’t moved since, standing there trembling in rage — or in something else.

“I love you,” Alec murmurs over and over in his ear. “All of you.”

After a minute, the shaking subsides, and Alec feels his own anger drain with it. It leaves him tired and out of sorts, his head still ringing with the noise of the reception. He loosens his hold on Magnus and takes one hand off of him to pull off his tie.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus murmurs. “I really wanted to avoid making a scene.”

Alec moves to face him. “Don’t ever apologize for something a bigot caused. It wasn’t you.”

“I tried to just ignore him, but—”

“He was awful,” Alec finishes. “I know.”

“I don’t know why I let him get to me so much,” Magnus sighs.

Alec guides them both to sit down on the bed.

“You love Kara,” he says. “He was saying horrible things.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I didn’t even know that was her father.”

Alec shrugs. “We all get triggered sometimes. He just pushed the wrong buttons.”

Magnus curls up and buries his hands in his still colored hair. “I usually have better control than that,” he says.

“I think I know what happened,” Alec sighs. “You were feeling insecure because you toned down your whole identity for me, in a place where you don’t feel safe. You were already on edge, and probably dysphoric, am I wrong?”

“No,” Magnus mutters. “I hate slacks.”

“Magnus, I don’t want you to change yourself for me, ever,” Alec says. He puts a hand on Magnus’ shoulder, to make sure that he’s really listening. Magnus looks up at him. “I don’t want you to make yourself smaller or more acceptable because you think it will be better for me.”

“I just—” Magnus sighs. “It was your day.”

“We’re not, ever, going to be normal. Not for the Downworld, and definitely not for the Clave. And I don’t want us to be, Magnus. I’ve spent enough time trying to make myself fit into a mold that didn’t fit me. I don’t ever want you to tone yourself done for them.”

“Okay,” Magnus murmurs, his voice fragile. Alec feels a strong pulse of anger at Svec course through him again, seeing Magnus so vulnerable. Magnus isn’t supposed to be vulnerable. Not about this.

Or maybe he’s more insecure about it than Alec realized.

Alec holds him for a while in silence, feeling Magnus’ need to recoup. “How did you know I was feeling dysphoric?” Magnus asks suddenly, after a few minutes.

“I’m starting to recognize it,” Alec shrugs. “Also, you might want to look at a mirror.”

Before he can realize it, Magnus is out of his embrace, staring at a hastily conjured hand mirror. “Fuck,” he mutters, showing Alec that his suspicion was right. Magnus didn’t realize the way his magic responded to his discomfort.

“Did I just come out to the entire Council because I was angry?”

“Uh,” Alec hesitates. “I doubt that many of them know what the colors mean. They’ll just put it down as one of your...eccentricities. Izzy might know, though.”

“That’s why she kept saying she loved me,” Magnus breathes out, running a hand through his colorful hair.

“Should I be jealous?” Alec raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, Alexander. I’ve been thinking of leaving you for Isabelle’s legendary cooking skills.”

Alec makes a face at him, then he reaches out and touches the tip of Magnus’ artfully styled hair where it’s dyed bright yellow. “I like this look on you,” he says. “I mean, I don’t like that you felt so threatened that your magic reacted this way, but I like to see you proud and loud. You’re beautiful.”

Magnus beams at him and relaxes back against Alec’s chest, holding up the mirror to look at the both of them, Alec straight-backed in his serious black suit and Magnus boneless against him, a flurry of colors. Alec wonders, often — especially on days like today — if they could make a more disparate couple, at least in the eyes of the world.

And yet the ways in which they fit together outweigh their differences, every day.

+1.

“I asked you here because I want to show you something,” Alec says when Magnus walks into his office on a Friday afternoon, holding his phone in his hand and looking confused.

Magnus stills at his seriousness. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. The opposite, actually. But it’s important to me, and I thought you’d want to see it.”

Alec takes a thin blue folder from his desk and hands it over to Magnus, a small smile on his lips. Magnus opens it with a frown.

“What is this?” he asks.

“The ruling from the latest Council meeting,” Alec answers. “It came in just this afternoon.”

“The one they asked you to testify in?”

Alec confirms with a nod. He didn’t tell Magnus exactly why he needed to talk at the Council assembly, but it’s a common enough occurrence that Magnus didn’t think much of it. To Alec, though, it was a moment he’s waited for for a long time.

He watches Magnus skim the first lines of the ruling, his eyebrows shooting up. “Is that what I think it is?” Magnus asks, glancing up at him.

Alec’s fingers find his wedding ring and start spinning it. “Depends what you’re thinking,” he shrugs, trying to look unconcerned. He probably shouldn’t be anxious about Magnus’ reaction, but he is. “It’s the first part of a set of amendments to Clave law that I’ve been pushing for since before I was named Inquisitor. Aline and I presented them to the Council last month, and they’ve just been voted.”

“You and Aline,” Magnus says pensively. “‘Amendments concerning the inclusion of members of the LGBTQUIA+ community,’” he reads out loud. “You did this?”

“Full marriage equality regardless of gender, including for mixed-species couples,” Alec recites. “Automatic acceptance of name and gender change requests if related to transition. Recognition of the existence of genders outside the binary.”

Magnus gasps in surprise. Alec nods to confirm the truth of it. It’s one of the things the Council fought back the most on, and he pushed hard to get it to pass. It goes beyond even mundane progress in every country he’s looked up, but it was too important to let go.

“Anti-discrimination policies,” he continues. “And this one might affect us directly someday: equal rights to adoption and the use of surrogates.”

Magnus’ eyes light up briefly, though he doesn’t immediately comment. Alec wrings his hands and rambles on nervously. “We didn’t manage to get the legalization of polyamorous marriages, but we’ll keep working on it. We’re preparing a second proposal on Downworlder inclusion, but that one will probably make amendments to the Accords necessary, and that will take a lot more time.”

“Alexander,” Magnus says in a low voice. Alec almost keeps going, too nervous to stop, but there’s something almost dangerous in Magnus’ gaze.

“Yes?”

“You did all this?”

“Not on my own,” Alec shakes his head. “Aline wrote up most of the proposal, and we got as many queer Shadowhunters to come testify as possible. There aren’t a lot of trans Nephilim who are out, but it was important, especially since most of the people on the Council have little knowledge of these issues. Aline being Jia’s daughter probably helped a lot, and our wedding made a lot of noise around here.”

“No,” Magnus catches his wrist. “You did all this and you didn’t tell me anything? Not once?”

Alec deflates. “I, uh… I wasn’t sure it would go anywhere at first, and I know Clave politics can be a touchy subject for you. And then when we finally got the hearing, I kind of wanted to keep it a surprise? I didn’t want you to be disappointed if it didn’t work.”

He doesn’t understand Magnus’ reaction, or rather his lack of reaction. He’s been absurdly happy ever since Aline came by his office earlier this afternoon to bring him the ruling, and he thought Magnus would share his mood once he found out. But he seems pensive instead, like this doesn’t interest him all that much.

“What about you, Alexander?” he asks. “What if it hadn’t worked?”

“We would have kept trying,” Alec shrugs. “Like the last four times we submitted the proposal.”

Magnus blinks. “Four times?”

“The first time, it didn’t even make it past Jia’s office. She’s supportive, but it was shortly after she was elected, and she couldn’t afford the waves it would make when there were still so many Circle supporters around.” Alec consciously stops himself from talking and stills his hands, clasping them behind his back. “Magnus—”

“Yes?” Magnus prompts him.

“Are you angry I didn’t tell you?”

Magnus’ eyes widen in surprise. “No, Alexander, of course not. I’m just—overwhelmed, I suppose. I’m sorry I made you think that.”

“Then what is it? I thought you’d like it.”

Magnus looks away, biting his lip. “I do,” he says. “I—what you’ve accomplished is incredible. It’s going to change—everything—for some people, and that’s amazing. And I know that you didn’t do it for me, but—”

“You’ll be able to get the gender mentioned on your Idris ID changed or removed,” Alec finishes for him. “And anything else you want. I did do it for you, Magnus. Not just you, but for you, too.”

“I’m not a Shadowhunter,” Magnus says.

“You live here, now. This will apply to every Downworlder in Idris, too.”

Magnus works his jaw. “I’m having a hard time processing it,” he admits. “It’s been so long that—to be able to have my whole identity recognized, in Idris of all places—it’s almost impossible to believe.”

Alec’s tension relaxes almost on its own. “You can take your time,” he smiles. “It will still be here tomorrow, and the day after. Are you...mad that I didn’t include you in the process?”

“Why didn’t you?” Magnus frowns.

“I figured you had other things on your mind, with all the work you’re doing to get more Downworlders to move here. And it felt like...like something we should achieve on our own, somehow? I don’t know if that makes sense. Aline and I discussed asking you for advice several times, but we felt like it should be our project.”

“It does make sense,” Magnus nods. “This isn’t just about changing the law. You’re trying to change the culture, your culture, and I’ll never be a part of that. I understand.”

“I don’t want you to feel excluded,” Alec says immediately.

“I don’t. I’m amazed at what you’ve achieved. And if the next step is a rewrite of the Accords, then I’ll back you every step of the way, and push for those changes in the Downworld communities too.” He reaches out to stroke Alec’s cheek tenderly. “I love you, Alexander. You still surprise me every day, and I love you so much for it.”

Alec feels his heart speed up at the declaration, a wave of warmth and love coursing through him, reaching for Magnus. He opens his arms, and Magnus comes to nestle his face in Alec’s neck, hugging him tightly. “I love you too,” Alec says. “It would mean everything to me if we can take this next step in tandem. Change the world together.”

Magnus moves to beam up at him. “You’re incredible, Alexander. You know that?”

“You keep telling me,” Alec smiles, leaning in to kiss him.

As they pull apart again, he can’t help admiring the way the light hits Magnus’ face just right, highlighting the golden sparkles in his blue eyeshadow. Magnus has made it a point to wear warlock blue everyday since they moved to Alicante, but today it’s subdued, down to just his makeup and a discreet sapphire bracelet. He tilts his head, and the light makes his eyes glow.

“When you said the amendment about adoption could affect us, did you mean it?” he asks.

Alec bites his lip. “I know we’ve only talked about children in a very abstract way, but—is that something you’d want?” he asks in a smaller voice than he’d like.

“I’ve never truly wanted it before I met you, but yes, I think I would,” Magnus answers, looking a little awestruck by his own realization.

“It’s not something we need to commit to right now,” Alec reassures him. “But now, if we want to, the Clave will fully recognize any child we adopt as ours, and as a legal resident of Idris.”

“All thanks to you,” Magnus murmurs, tears in his eyes. “Yes, Alexander, I want children with you.”

“Then we’ll start thinking about that,” Alec says with a wide smile. “For now, let’s go home and celebrate properly.”

Magnus laughs wetly and twists his hand to make a portal. “After you,” he says.

Alec grabs his hand and pulls them through together.