#this features some of the notes I had written down to draw later in my notes app

[jellynotbees]

Hey y’all here’s another Narilamb doodle dump to chew on while I work on bigger pieces

[fayes-fics]

The Secrets We Keep: Pt I

Part II >>

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Knowing someone your whole life doesn’t mean they can’t surprise you…

Warnings: none yet… fluff and angst. Childhood friends, yearning, arranged marriage, kissing. Pt II will contain a warning/rating change.

Word Count: 5.1k (this part)

Authors Note: Part 1 of 2. My longest gestating WIP! It’s been more than 18 months since I received a request for this secret diary fic. Tulip Anon, I have no idea if you still follow me, but I hope you think I did your detailed request justice. I won't post your ask yet, as it contains spoilers for the second half. Betaed by the awesome @colettebronte, who I can’t thank enough. I’m in the process of writing Pt II, so there will be a gap between instalments. Enjoy! 🫶

-i-

For as long as you can remember, you have loved one man secretly. To the point that you cannot imagine your life without a deep, burning affection simmering in your very core, as fundamental to your existence as drawing air into your lungs.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Your families have been neighbours in Mayfair and Kent for many generations—two aristocratic dynasties that, despite enduring friendships, have never seen intermarriage. There have been attempted matches down the years, according to family lore, but nothing came to fruition. 

So when you were brought to Aubrey Hall as a mere babe in arms, the eldest daughter, there were many good-natured jokes that Anthony’s future wife had been born. But the Viscount, wonderful as he is, was not the man who stole your heart just a few short years later. A bright sunny day in June that you suspect Benedict may not even be able to recall, but you can with perfect clarity, even now, some fifteen years later. 

He picked you as the first person to join his team for a round of garden games. Paying you heed and ensuring you were included, patiently showing you the ropes and applauding your achievements, ignoring the ridicule from the other twelve-year-old boys for letting a girl - and a little five-year-old at that - join in their games. 

Ever since that day, all you have ever seen is his enormous heart and steadfast empathy: always the one to reach out to those excluded, to be supportive, and to love harder and more expansively than his siblings. Thus, unsurprisingly, he became the focus of your singular devotion—a childish adoration transmuting into something more profound and complicated as you matured.

On your fourteenth birthday, your mother gifted you a thick notebook. And it became your refuge, the private canvas on which you outlet your innermost secrets and thoughts. The beautiful but now slightly battered, silk-covered tome is still your most treasured possession even now, more than six years later, so close to filled now, with only a couple of blank pages left. Never long from your hands, but when it must be, carefully stashed under the floorboards of your bedroom. Its pages the reflection of a naive, growing heart. There is one person who features frequently on its crammed, jumbled pages. Sketches of his handsome face, mostly from memory, interspersed with ardent notes and poems that, while they may not mention his name, are written for him. Adoration writ large in every pen and pencil stroke.

Little were you to know that the secrets you keep within its hallowed pages would one day alter the course of your life…

-ii-

It's the evening of the Bridgerton Ball, and usually, you would be brimming with anticipation for such an occasion, a chance to see the man who holds your most ardent admiration. Instead, you find yourself glum, mechanically stepping into the dress your ladies' maid Rachel assists you with, staring blankly into the vanity mirror as she adorns your hair with jewels. Still reeling from your father's shocking announcement the previous day.

The inheritance of a European title had seen him spend eighteen months abroad. In his absence last spring, you were able to persuade your more indulgent mother to delay your societal debut—a yearning to be free in the ways you know no woman really can be for long. A compounding factor was spending the summer in the Highlands with her sister, your Aunt Eliza, a spirited, independent woman who taught you many things and encouraged your artistic whims. And when you were back in London, your mother’s somewhat inattentive running of the house meant you were often able to slip away in the evenings, spending your time deepening your passion for art. Frequenting galleries and conversing with artists led to you being drawn into the bohemian, artsy underbelly of Bloomsbury, a beguiling, exotic contrast to Mayfair. Another secret you keep.

Upon his return to England, your father was not best pleased to learn that not only had you been allowed to skip the previous Season, but Eliza had also taught you to fish, fence and hunt—most unladylike pursuits in his opinion. He, therefore, made it his mission to ensure not only would you debut this year but also a swift match should be made, lest you “get other fanciful, dangerous ideas”.

Perhaps that is why, yesterday, nary two weeks into your first season, he abruptly announced over afternoon tea that he had secured a match for you and the man in question would be dining with you all that evening. A deal no doubt brokered in a private gentleman’s club as if you were merely chattel to be traded.

Revulsion filled your every fibre as you were introduced to Lord Farringdon a few hours later. A wiry man twenty years your senior with a hawk-like countenance and a disdainful disposition. Apparently, a brilliant intellectual mind but accompanied by a mercurial, malevolent reputation. You had read in Whistledown rumours about his mistreatment of his household staff and his previous wife. A forlorn figure who became a recluse long before she died of consumption tragically young. The idea of being betrothed to this cold, abusive man turned your stomach—a seemingly outsized punishment for your rebellion. Once the man left, you had begged and pleaded with your father to reconsider the arrangement, but sadly, your appeal fell on deaf ears. 

And so here you are. Going to a ball at which your father plans to announce your engagement. The stately beauty of Bridgerton House is not as heartening of a sight as it typically is. Tonight, it feels more akin to a gallows.

As soon as you arrive, you are scanning the crowds for the only friend you know will understand just how ghastly your predicament is—Eloise Bridgerton. A kindred spirit whose interest in marriage is as scant as your own. Bonding over your similar yearnings for freedom, you have been good friends since you were little, many a day spent together as children running through the Kentish fields, escaping expectation and flouting convention.

Acutely aware of time running out until your father speaks up, you fiddle distractedly with your fan, impatiently awaiting her entrance.

“For heaven's sake, y/n, please cease your fidgeting!” your mother chastises under her breath, snatching away the item. “I do not see why you are so agitated. Tonight is to be a wonderful occasion for you!”

A myriad of caustic comments are on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. The last thing you want is to draw attention, and you certainly don't want to be gossip fodder; these ballrooms are a veritable hotbed of eavesdropping if Whistledown is anything to go by. 

When the collective Bridgerton family finally enter their ballroom as hosts, however, your eyes can't help but drift to Benedict instead. A reflex from years of longing, even though it is his sister,  arm looped into his, whose counsel you seek tonight. You excuse yourself to fetch a lemonade as soon as you spy a window of opportunity—Eloise standing alone, looking excessively bored. Abandoning your glass, you hurry over to her.

“I have news…”  You try to keep your voice neutral but grab her arm and practically drag her away from anyone within earshot.

“Well, it cannot be good if you are willing to rip my arm off to impart it,” she remarks dryly as you lead her down a hallway.

“It is not,” you pull a face that you know will convey to her the gravity of what you need to divulge.

With a nod of understanding and a look to a nearby footman, she leads you beyond him into an area of the house off-limits for guests. 

“Tell me…” her tone is sincere as she ushers you into the library and closes the door.

“My father has seen fit to arrange a marriage for me. He is planning to announce it tonight, right here at your family ball!”

She says nothing, only a sympathetic noise as she pulls you into a consoling hug. The emotions you have been tamping down for hours escape as a couple of bitter tears, her arms banding tight around you. You are not sure how long, but you stand in a hug, just grateful for her steadfast support.

“What am I to do?” you whisper.

“I do not know,” she confesses. “Have you tried to reason with your father?”

“A hopeless cause…”  

Her mouth twists in understanding, knowing you will have put up a spirited defence as much as she would have. She detangles from you and goes to a nearby brandy decanter.

“It's the very least you deserve, frankly,” she points out, handing you a glass and pulling you into a loveseat with her, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, clinking her glass against yours in a silent but bittersweet toast about your seemingly futile situation.

-iii-

Half an hour later, your parents are distracted across the far side of the room with friends when a large hand grabs yours out of the blue. You startle when you realise it is Benedict, your heart suddenly in your mouth. Before you know it, you are wordlessly being pulled out of the French doors behind you and into the night air.

“Where are we going!?” you demand when you recover from the initial surprise, his gloved hand tugging yours along through the darkened gardens. 

“Shh, make haste, we must not be seen,” he hushes you but keeps moving, furtive and fast, your feet having to take extra steps to keep up with his long stride over the lush, dewy grass.

“Benedict…” you try again once you round a thick hedge into the rose garden.  “What is going on?”

He slows a little but does not relinquish his tight hold. Gravel path now crunching under his boots as the honeyed scent of damask hangs heavy in the air. 

“Eloise told me,” is all he offers. “So we are escaping.”

“W-we are?” you stutter, frowning, a claggy tumult behind your ribs at his use of ‘we’. 

“Yes! Or at least we would be if you would keep quiet… please…” he amends, sounding a touch contrite about his initial brusqueness, but speeding up again, headed straight for a small wooden door in a high stone wall, almost hidden behind long, draping ropes of ivy, glowing silver in the moonlight.

When you reach it, he releases his grip on your hand and shoulders the door open with considerable force. The weathered wood creaks loudly, almost splintering under the duress. He signals to the inky blackness of the deserted mews behind Bridgerton House.

“It is now or never, y/n,” he warns as you look back at the house, lit up with the life of the ball inside. “So what is your choice?”

He may be presenting it as an option, but really, you know there would only ever be one answer. You would accompany him to the ends of the earth if he so much as asked. And so wordlessly, you step through the doorway and into the narrow street beyond.

“Good choice,” he compliments as he follows suit and closes the door behind him. “You may stay at my friend Granville’s tonight,” he offers sagely, “I have not seen him in a while, but I will explain when we arrive; I am certain he can provide shelter.”

“Benedict, I already know Henry… Quite well, in fact.”

He looks taken aback as if it had not occurred to him that you may move in the same clandestine circles as he does. To be fair, you have always been discreet in your outings, and it’s not something you have divulged to anyone, including Eloise. Still, what confounds you more is why he is suddenly so seemingly invested in seeing you escape from your predicament. It doesn't entirely make sense.

“Well, then,” he cuts into your brief reverie, “you know Henry is a generous host and discreet about the affairs of others. Your father will not come looking for you there. It will buy some time to figure out what to do next. To ensure your freedom.”

“Freedom?” You scoff. “Benedict, as much as I may wish it, there is no other path open to me. Tonight is merely a delay tactic at best. The only way to stop my father’s pursuit of this union is if I marry another….”

The admittance of this truth out loud makes you restless, belatedly realising that it truly is your only way out. You stalk towards the main road, the faint glow of the street lamp guiding your way over the cobbles. You soon hear Benedict’s footsteps behind.

“That is ridiculous!” he exclaims as he attempts to catch up with you. “There are other options available to you…”

“Such as?” you whip around, raising your hands, countering his assertion. When he falters, you return to walking, throwing a tart addition over your shoulder: “Unlike you, a man, I do not have the freedom of choice.” 

“You should always have a choice…” he counters earnestly, still catching up to your furious pace.

“Should and do are different things, Benedict. You do not even know how lucky you are!” You add bitterly, rounding onto the main street.

A gust of wind causes you to pause and a shiver to run down your arms, your gauzy dress not enough to ward off the unseasonable chill in the air tonight. Ever the observant gentleman, Benedict shucks his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. Uncharitably, your ire makes you attempt to shake it off, even while knowing it is intended purely as a chivalrous gesture. You are surprised when he seems to grasp your shoulders tighter, holding the heavy velvet in place. It is cloaked in his woodsy, citrus scent, your vexed state turning into an entirely different type of flush as he crowds closer to you.

“My birth has allowed me certain privileges, I concede,” he replies, his stare seemingly far away as you are unable to look anywhere but the dampness of his bottom lip, shimmering slightly in the lamplight. Then he tilts his head down to meet your eyes. “But that does not mean I am able to have everything I wish for in life, y/n…”

Your tongue burns to ask what it is that he wants but cannot have, yet you do not allow yourself to pry. But seeing the wistfulness in his gaze deflates your irritation, your long-held adoration for this man taking over, making you sigh.

‘You deserve the world, Benedict….’

His face morphs into one of breathtaking intensity, and you realise, horrified, you spoke those thoughts aloud. 

“As do you, y/n,” he murmurs, eyes sincere, your heart beating wildly as his chest vibrates against your own. 

The upheaval of the last day, the man you secretly adore abetting a somewhat daring escape, your heated exchange of words, the lateness of the hour, and the feel of his tall, lithe body pressed against yours…. It's all a dangerous cocktail that culminates in you being utterly impetuous, pushing up onto your tiptoes and mashing your mouth against his with no thought.

His lips are plush and warm, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. It's like a cannon firing in your chest as his warm mouth opens yours. Suddenly, you are urgently taking from each other. A sweeping tidal wave through you obliterates any kissing experiences you have ever had before. It’s a desperate slide of tongues, a passionate continuation of your sparring. His hands are like a hot brand through your thin dress as they sweep around to your back, tugging you into him, his heat, scent and taste overwhelming.

But all too soon you are pulling apart, a need for air in your lungs overriding the spontaneous, reckless moment. For a few seconds, you stare at each other, breathing each other's panted air, hands still grasping onto each other, almost confused by what just occurred… until the whinny of a passing horse carriage has you springing apart as if burned. 

Realisation engulfs his entire being. “Oh god! Please, please forgive me!” he stutters, backing away, holding his hands out in a conciliatory gesture, almost tripping in his haste to put space between you, even though it was you who kissed him. “Please, just go to Granville,” he counsels rapidly before turning heel and disappearing into the night, leaving you standing alone, unmoored and breathless, utterly turned upside down.

-iv-

You drift home in a daze, your family’s London residence only a few hundred yards away. Your escape plans are forgotten in the haze of tumbling thoughts about that blistering kiss. How fervently and immediately Benedict had kissed you back, how wonderful it felt to be caged in his arms….  Climbing into bed and passing out, still bewildered. In fact, it’s only the rude awakening of your bedroom door slamming open the following morning that brings you crashing back to your senses.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” Your father roars, holding aloft what looks like the latest copy of Whistledown. “You have brought shame upon our family and likely ruination to your prospects!!”

Utterly alarmed, you sit bolt upright, blinking, taking a few moments before you can find your voice. “What are you referring to, father?”.

He glares at you, then throws the paper onto your bed and stalks out of the room without another word, puce with outrage. You know there will be crossed words at the breakfast table. The sight of your name on the crisp ivory page immediately draws your eye, and your stomach plunges as you read the paragraph:

The annual Bridgerton Ball last night was, once again, resplendent. A triumph that the dowager Countess can be rightfully proud of. Although less contentment could likely be gleaned from the behaviour of her offspring. The second eldest of whom was allegedly seen escaping into the unlit gardens hand in hand with none other than the most reluctant of this season's debutantes, the spirited Miss Y/n Y/l/n. Perhaps the rebellious Miss will not have to endure many more of society’s events that she so patently abhors, should a proposal from the most wayward of Bridgerton sons be forthcoming? I, for one, however, Dear Reader, am not holding my breath…

Hiding in your room as long as you can, hunger drives you to join the frosty lunch table, apologising for inadvertently ruining your father’s plans to announce your betrothal and meekly explaining the incident with Benedict as a complete misunderstanding. It was merely an old friend helping you to gather some air before the big news was to be proclaimed. His taking your hand was out of benevolent concern, nothing more, and when you suddenly felt unwell, he chivalrously saw you the few hundred yards home. The lies feel odd on your tongue, your thoughts only of Benedict’s mouth and body moulded hotly to yours as your father lectures about appropriate behaviour for a young lady and your family’s long-standing friendship with the Bridgertons not being an excuse for a lackadaisical attitude to impropriety.

“There is nothing else to be done now—I must secure you a special licence to be wed tomorrow before Lord Farringdon hears about this,” he decrees with finality, his tone brokering no argument.

You slump silently into your chair, dread creeping through every cell, silently chastising yourself for not following Benedict’s advice and running away. If only you hadn't been impetuous and kissed him, you might have been in your right mind to do so. It feels cruel that the one moment you chose to throw caution to the wind is the one moment that sealed a worse fate.

-v-

That afternoon, your mother ushers you to the Modiste, paying handsomely for a very rushed wedding dress. Something simple that can be finished at such a late hour. It will only be your family in attendance anyway; so much else seems unnecessary. As you stand forlornly upon the raised dias, ivory silk tacked up around you with pins; your mother announces she needs to depart to secure other last-minute arrangements, leaving your trusty ladies' maid to accompany you home once alterations are complete.

“You do not look a happy bride…” Madam Delacroix mutters after the tinkle of the bell above the door signals her departure.

“Your observation skills are certainly not lacking,” you respond quietly, craning to double-check that Rachel, your maid, is out of earshot, sitting listlessly in the front of the store, staring out of the window.

“I do read Whistledown, my dear,” she remarks delicately, “and this does not appear to be a dress someone marrying a Bridgerton would wear.”

Your stomach vaults at the implication; the thought of marrying Benedict has your heart going haywire, even as you know it would never happen. The crestfallen look as your mind flits to the awful man you will be marrying instead is one you cannot hide as she meets your eyes in the reflection.

“It is not indeed,” you sigh, “but Whistledown has rather accelerated my unfortunate fate. Hence the rushed dress…” you gesture to your outfit.

“Mr Bridgerton is a friend?” she digs delicately.

“Lifelong,” you admit, “but Lady Whistledown could not have been more erroneous in her assertions…”

“That you and Mr Bridgerton are together? Or that he would marry you?” 

You look away from the mirror and down to where she is crouched by your hem on your left side, taken back not only at her astuteness but her drive for information. Almost as if she were Whistledown herself.

“I do not mean to pry,” she modifies, “merely to understand your predicament. Maybe I can be of assistance? I have privately counselled many a young lady on the eve of their wedding. Be it a happy occasion or not. And have kept many a secret of the Ton. ‘Tis the reason my business is so successful, Miss y/l/n. A good modiste can be a trusted confidante.”

“W-we are not together,” you stumble out without meaning to.

“But you wish to be? Or perhaps something has happened between you?”

Your eyes dart furtively, and your cheeks heat at the memory, but you say nothing. 

“You need say no more,” she chuckles and offers a knowing smile that appears as much reminiscent as sympathetic.

You rapidly attempt to deflect. “I do not wish to be married to anyone, really. I do find it so unfair a man is free to pursue his passions in life, but merely due to my sex, I am not.”

There is a nod of understanding, and she stands up with her hands on her hips. “I keep a certain array of refreshments for special clients such as yourself.” She nods to what looks like a liquor cabinet partially obscured behind a curtain at the back of her shop. “If you can dismiss your maid, I can assist you on your last night as an unmarried lady.”

The suggestion is too intriguing to refuse. And Rachel will greatly appreciate your pin money.

A few hours later, you are sat upon a circular conversation chair, Gen, as she insists you call her, pouring you another snifter of brandy.

“Tell me, what is your passion?” she inquires, her polished French accent slipping a little, sounding far more East End than Parisian. Something about that makes you like her more.

“Art,” you answer wistfully, “not that I have many opportunities to practice beyond a private notebook. But it is my most prized possession.” You gesture to your pelisse, hanging on a nearby hook. “I have it with me always. I have sewn a secret pocket into all of my coats myself.”

“Ingenious! ” She declares. “You shall have my job one day!”

You laugh, feeling light for the first time in what feels like days, as Gen leans in, raising an eyebrow. “I can also see well why you may have bonded with Mr Bridgerton…”

You giggle and lower your eyes, taking a fortifying sip.

“But it is not just that, is it?” Her tone is thoughtful, delicate even, as she continues: “A life outside the boundaries of so-called polite society can be so very beguiling, can it not? I have seen you, Miss y/l/n, at parties in Bloomsbury…”

A panicked bile rises as your head snaps up.

“As I said before, I am always discreet,” she reassures, “your secret is more than safe with me,” she winks before taking a generous sip from her glass.

Possibly, it's the alcohol, but her understanding of your predicament and the fact she has, unbeknownst to you, moved in similar circles brings an odd sense of relief. Having a confidante, someone to finally share your secrets with, albeit a somewhat stranger, lifts a burden from your shoulders. Wonderful as Eloise is, being the sister of the man who secretly holds your heart is not without complications in many ways.

“Another?” she chimes animatedly, holding aloft the bottle.

You cannot resist that offer.

-vi-

It’s close to midnight when Gen loops her arm in yours as she guides you, quite inebriated herself, away from the hackney cab to the familiar abode of one Henry Granville. Her declaration that a party is what you need on your last night of freedom is definitely not one you would dispute. A myriad of heightened emotions roil inside as you await the door being answered: contentment at your newly cemented friendship with Gen, bewildered every time you think of your kiss with Benedict and abhorrence for tomorrow. 

As you wander into the debauched tableau of a party in full swing: the air thick with smoke and merriment, the sounds of pleasure, people consorting together, a hedonistic swirl of self-expression unfurling all around you—it all consolidates into a yen to be reckless. Take part this time rather than just observe as you have before. Alcohol mutating the simmering rage about the injustice of your circumstance into a yearning to experience pleasure, especially physical. To get lost in sensation on your one last night of liberty.

So when you encounter Sir Simms - Matthew - friend to your older brother, renowned rake, but quite handsome, you throw caution to the wind. He seems delighted to see you, instantly flirtatious and familiar in a way you would rebuff any other night but this one. Whispering in your ear how very bold you are to be at such a bohemian event and pondering what other adventurous experiences you might be willing to indulge in. At one point Gen pulls you aside, her breath sweetened with fermented fruits, as she leans in and counsels you to be cautious. But you rebuff her concerns, swatting away her hold and returning to Matthew, allowing him to pull you into a kiss. 

It’s not the same as with Benedict; your mind screams at the altogether more jarring experience. A wet invasion of tongue that is less pleasant and certainly doesn’t fire anything inside you the way that he had. Merely kindling a defiant resolve to rage against the dying light of your freedom. And so when he slurs into your ear, you consent to his invitation upstairs, knowing fully the implications of what will transpire—feeling vaguely detached from yourself as he pulls you along by the hand towards the staircase. 

Suddenly, your field of vision is filled with dark blue velvet, a strong arm wrapping around you, caging you into a warm body mass, disconnecting your hand from Matthew’s—crossed words in two male voices. A momentarily confusing blur that only begins to make sense when you tilt your chin up… and the breath is quite stolen from your lungs.

Benedict.

At first, it feels like a cruel mirage, the man you most desire here to stymie your last gamble at impulsivity. His hold is strong as you sense Matthew shrink away, defeated by Benedict’s threat to expose some dalliance or other. But as he whisks you to an empty room within the house, all you feel bubbling up is anger.

“Stop trying to rescue me!” you rail, reeling out of his grip and stamping your foot to emphasise your point, uncaring that you may be behaving more akin to a petulant toddler.

“Stop making foolish decisions!” he lobbies back after a fleeting wounded look.

You glare at him momentarily before turning your back and staring out of the window into the inky blackness of Granville’s garden, frustration prickling a tear in the corner of your eye.

Behind you, there is a sigh; then his voice turns softer. “Why did you not follow my advice? I came here this morning only to be informed you never arrived…”

That he came to check on you weakens your bluster, although you still have no earthy idea why, once again, he is so invested in your actions. But you are not done saying your piece. 

“What does it matter now?” you bite bitterly before spinning around to face him. “Benedict, we are in Whistledown. My father would have arranged a special licence for tomorrow regardless of whether I had come here or not…”

“He did what?” he splutters, shock almost choking the words.

You square your shoulders and cross your arms defensively. “I am to be married in the morning. 11am at St George’s.” When all he offers is floored silence, you uncharitably dig the knife in. “No thanks to you...” 

Your words are like a body blow, a world of hurt in his quiet tone as he stares at the ground. “I was only trying to help.” 

Regret floods your every cell; why you would choose to lash out at him, even you don't know—so many conflicting feelings and strong liquor coursing through you.

“Please… let me return to the party,” you sigh wearily, after a beat, gesturing to his blocking your exit from the room.

“You would regret what you were about to do until your dying day,” he attests, lifting his head, a vein on his forehead pulsing as his jaw tenses.

“Perhaps,” you shrug. “But that is my burden to endure, not yours.”

“I am your friend,” he frowns, “I will always want to alleviate your burdens…”

“I do not want a friend, Benedict, not tonight. I want a beau.” If you aimed to shock him, you are successful; a cavalcade of expressions warring on his face as you plough on. “So please move so that I may continue with my most inadvisable plan….”

“No.” It's soft but unequivocal, resolute.

When you realise he is not going to budge, you throw your hands up in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Benedict?” 

There is a gruff noise in the back of his throat, and then, with two determined strides, he is pressed up against you, his breath hot on your face. Then he is kissing you, ferociously, wantonly, opening your mouth with his, his hands encircling your waist and pulling you roughly into him.

And you are lost.

masterlist • wips • taglist (follow this blog to be tagged)

Benedict taglist pt1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[cryoculus]

— dream a little (dream of me) ⟢

you're a modern-day succubus just trying to get by, and your superior, mister zhongli is next on your hit-list. but every time you invade his dreams, he becomes someone else entirely…

★ FEATURING; zhongli x succubus!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 23.3k words

★ TAGS; modern au, office au, superior-subordinate relationship, angst, like SO MUCH angst, zhongli dreams abt his past life as rex lapis, smut

★ WARNINGS; graphic sexual content (minors dni), some depictions of violence (it was the archon war so), reader gets drunk at some point in the story and a co-worker exhibits unwanted interest, near-death experiences, mentions of pregnancy

★ NOTES; this was the longest thing i've ever written in one sitting TT wrote it for 3 days straight, and i'm honestly still proud of it even a year later! take note that this was loosely based off a manhwa i read in passing called sweet dream, so if the plot is a liiittle familiar to you, that's probably why!

★ HEADER ART CR; donaldakron on twt

★ SMUT TAGS; sex dreams, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, clothed sex, i-thought-i-was-gonna-lose-you-forever sex, riding, the perfect balance of sweet and dirty talk, creampie

“Miss? Are you alright?”

You blink out the spots in your eyes when you hear Ganyu call out to you in a worried tone. She’s standing awkwardly by the side of your cubicle when you finally snap out of it, and you receive the documents in her hands with a rushed apology.

“Sorry, I’ve been feeling under the weather lately,” you reason, signing whatever she needs to have signed before handing it back. “This is nothing, though. Anything else you need?”

She hesitates for a moment, as if gauging whether or not she should pry, before speaking her mind. “Um, if you’re having trouble falling asleep, I could recommend a shop that sells qingxin petal tea. It’s based in Feiyun Slope, and I always order my stress relieving herbs from there.”

Despite the weight settling across your eyelids, you manage to flash Ganyu a gentle smile, tearing a blank Post-It off the pad on your desk before giving it to her. “Could you write down the name of the store? I’ll make sure to check it out before I head home for the night.”

Ganyu visibly perks up. “O-Of course!”

When she slides the piece of paper back onto your desk, the secretary exchanges farewells with a curt nod – saying she has to pass over the files for Mister Zhongli’s perusal before anything else. If Ganyu notices the way your staged grin falters, she doesn’t say anything. But once you’re alone, you can only slink back into your chair with a contemplative look on your face. 

You aren’t going to check out the store that Ganyu recommended like you initially promised. After all, your kind has never responded much to any sort of human medicine. Whatever’s bothering you is only going to be resolved if you stop being stubborn and fed on time – something you only care to do once a month at most. 

Even after living your life as a succubus for almost twenty-four years, the idea of having to draw out your life force from… that still made you sick to your stomach. It’s bad enough that your strange constitution wouldn’t let you settle down and have normal relationships, but having to constantly find a source of nutrition is a pain in and of itself. 

Your body has quite the standard for the men you’re supposed to suck some sexual energy out of, too. When you indiscriminately pick some rando you saw on the street, you might not effectively absorb the energy you harvested if you aren’t invested enough.

Case in point: unless you try to sleep with someone you remotely care about in their dreams, you’re going to keep craving for a proper fix.

Last month, you had to terrorize the poor barista who’s been serving you coffee at that new café across the street. You thought he wouldn’t think much of it, since you had the inkling the guy was hitting on you every time you ordered. But lo and behold, mister charming, suave barista is actually quite timid when it goes down to it. Your sessions usually took an hour at most to complete and you wouldn’t have to harvest energy again for at least another month. But that guy? You could barely ask him to strip without having to deal with him stumbling out of his dream-bed out of sheer embarrassment. Took you three hours in that dreamscape just to get the bare minimum out of him. And that just goes to show that the people you meet aren’t always what they seem to be – yourself included.

As entertaining as that session turned out though, you couldn’t really make substantial progress with mister barista, which eventually led to your premature hunger pangs. You started feeling a bit off-kilter last week, but you made the mistake of listing it off as nothing but a seasonal flu or something. Once your co-workers caught wind of how exhausted you are at work, you knew it was that time of the month again.

You can always just make up for the minimal energy gain of harvesting from a complete stranger by invading multiple strangers’ dreams, but you still have some shred of dignity. Well, you could just settle with the men in your department, but those slobs are the last ones you’d ever consider sleeping with. But then again, your team is working on a big, end-of-year project that you can’t afford to slack off on, so you need to find this month’s match before your body shuts down completely – even if that means seducing your awful desk neighbor in his sleep.

“Hard at work again, I see.”

You startle at the sound of a deep-seated voice coming from behind you, whisking your chair around to see your boss showing you a kind smile. It isn’t unusual for Zhongli to do some rounds in the office, but –

“Ganyu was looking for you, sir,” you blurt out, trying not to focus on how his neatly pressed tie compliments his eyes. “She had me sign some documents for the project you asked me to oversee, and it seems like she was on her way to your office.”

He hums. “I see. I just made a quick trip to the pantry, but I’ve yet to figure out how one operates the machine they installed in the break room. That’s why I just asked my assistant to purchase a drink from the coffee shop down the street… Are you alright? You’re looking quite pale.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been better,” you lie, trying to force out those memories of too-timid-for-his-own-good barista out of your head. “I’ll make sure to follow up on my assigned report at the end of the week, sir.” 

Once again, your senses jolt to life when you feel a large, comforting palm settle on your aching shoulders, giving you a few pats. The sincerity in Zhongli’s eyes doesn’t fade, and you’re seriously wondering how he has it to be so encouraging all the time.

“Everyone deserves to rest when their bodies require it,” he says. “Don’t hesitate to file for sick leave if you’re unable to perform at your fullest because of health reasons. I didn’t overhaul the employee benefits clause in your contracts for nothing.”

Your face heats up at the thought of your boss being this considerate of your well-being. You’ve been working at Wangsheng Corporation for almost two years now, but employees have never been treated the way Zhongli treats them. It’s a miracle that he got transferred here last month – with his gentle voice and mindfulness of others. When he walked through the doors of your department that day, the last thing you expected was a compassionate superior, given that all those assholes in the corporate ladder only cared about money and none else. He was easily a breath of fresh air in the smog of Liyue Harbor, and you’re not about to complain.

“I best be on my way,” he tells you with a hint of remorse. “I’ll be attending a board meeting in thirty minutes. Once it’s been adjourned, you can come to me if you need anything.”

Come to him if you need anything…  

For some reason, his words ring inside your head longer than they have to. But before you can even get your bearings straight, your mind is suddenly plagued with images of your boss in a more sensual setting. 

You picture a Zhongli who’s free from the stifling confines of his suit – regardless of how dashing he looks in it, you always wondered what he would look like dressed down. You imagine him lying on his bed, golden eyes half-lidded as he beckons you closer; how his hot breath would make your skin tingle as he whispers all the lewd things he wishes to do with you – 

“Of course, sir,” you tell him in real life, mustering up a smile that’s enough to hide your own embarrassment. “Thank you for taking the time to stop by.”

Zhongli raises a hand to wave at you before sauntering off to his office, leaving you alone with lecherous thoughts and a growling stomach. But the moment the door clicks shut behind him, you come to a guilty conclusion.

Guess I already found this month’s target. 

The hardest part, you think, is falling asleep before feeding.

You’re still at odds with everything you had to do just to survive, so of course you’ll feel a bit queasy when you lay on your bed in preparation. Whether it’s that one cute barista or your attractive boss, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re nervous beyond belief. Navigating a person’s dreamscape is just as tricky as it sounds, and if you aren’t careful, the slightest mishap can lead to unwanted casualties. Worst case scenario: you might get trapped in the dream until the person you’re feeding off of wakes up. 

But you can trust your worrisome nature to keep that from happening. The only instance you’d ever get trapped in someone else’s dream is if you lose touch with your own existence within it. That’s why you tend to limit the degree of pleasure you feel in the dreamscape during your feedings. Orgasms are one of the many things that make people, succubi included, lose their grip on reality, so you make sure not to experience such a thing, no matter how tempting it could be at times. And while there are no explicit rules stating that your kind isn’t allowed to indulge in the desires of the flesh – let’s face it, you’re basically a sex demon – you’ve always been too afraid to lose yourself in something that isn’t even real.

You heave a deep sigh as you pull the covers up to your chest. It feels a bit humid lately, so you opted to wear a loose nightgown – one flimsy enough to hopefully tempt Zhongli in his dreams. In spite of the impeccable decorum he exhibits at work, surely he’s still just a man under all those layers of courteousness, right? Humans tend to be more unhinged during your feeding sessions (sans mister timid barista). If the Zhongli that regularly checks up on you at work would exercise more self-restraint, maybe he won’t be as gentlemanly once you hijack his dreams.

The plan is set in stone. Fall asleep, make your way into Zhongli’s head, have sex with him, and make a run for it. You’ve outlined the same plan of action during your previous feedings, so this shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

Still, a small part of you still feels the bite of guilt for intruding on your boss’ peaceful night like this. In what little time he’s spent at Wangsheng Corporation, you can already call him the best superior you’ve ever had, and choosing him as your sacrificial lamb makes it seem as if you have no sense of indebtedness to him. But at the end of the day, you’re just a baser creature with needs to tend to or else you can’t move forward as a fully functioning member of society. 

Surprisingly, you doze off much quicker than usual. This must be from the fatigue you accumulated over the past week. Well, that’s what you get for not feeding the moment you started to feel something was off. Either way, you’re en-route to your boss’ subconscious and you’re going to feel much better right after the trip.

The in-between that connects your dream to Zhongli’s looks just like everyone else’s – a dark, narrow corridor that opens up to a light at the end. You traverse the familiar path with bare feet, not so much in a rush despite how hungry you are. Whether it’s your hesitation to use your boss like this holding you back or something else entirely, you’re not very sure. But once you finally step into the light, you close your eyes and hold your breath.

When you come to, you find yourself inside a wide cavern – making your face scrunch up in confusion once your mind processes your surroundings. You expected to appear in a bedroom in his apartment, maybe. But as you glance around the barely illuminated cave, you realize that your timing is incredibly off since Zhongli must have been having a weird dream. It’s happened once before when the person you were supposed to feed on dreamt of living inside the latest superhero movie he saw. Maybe Zhongli watched a strange documentary before heading to bed. That totally sounds like something he’d do.

You decide to have a closer look, noticing that the only sources of light inside are the stone torches perched on the sides of the cavern. Your curiosity gets the better of you when you attempt to approach the flames. But that plan is immediately thwarted once you accidentally step on something solid underfoot. It breaks underneath your weight – the sound echoing deeper into the cave. 

You can’t feel any sort of breeze inside, which cements your assumption that the corridor leads to a dead end. Something tells you that you’ll cross paths with another soul if you press forward, but your instincts, however flimsy they might be inside a dream, insist that you go back. To just forget about trying to feed today and just try again tomorrow. Maybe Zhongli wouldn’t be dreaming about weird tunnels by then. None of this is real, but the dread that’s slowly festering in the pit of your stomach is too apparent to ignore.

But it’s as if your body isn’t your own at the moment. Instead of heeding your own sense of danger, your feet carry you further into the darkness – making your imaginary heart pound with both anticipation and fear in equal measure. 

Your hunch is proven right when you spot a lone figure at the end of the cavern – observing you from afar where he’s seated rather comfortably. He has one elbow perched on the armrest of his seat, the side of his face resting atop a closed fist. You’re unable to recognize who he is at first, but once you’ve crossed the threshold of the man’s vicinity, you feel a pang of surprise surge through your veins.

“Mister Zhongli...?” 

No matter how closely you looked, he's the spitting image of your boss. However, it dawns on you half a second later that he is not the kind-hearted man you've been working with for the past month. This one sits atop a throne of jagged rock, golden antlers sprouting beneath his hood as eyes of a deeper shade glower on with disdain. 

“I do not remember giving you permission to speak,” he says, voice reminding you of untamed tremors deep within the earth – resonating with every word. “You best know your place before I'm forced to remind you of it.”

Back in your bedroom, you awake with a start.

Your heart threatens to bust out of your own rib cage with how hard it pounds against it – as if it’s barely catching up to what you just witnessed and heard. You’ve never once pulled yourself out of a dream so quickly, but there’s just something about that version of Zhongli that sets off every code-red alarm inside your head. That isn’t someone you’re going to easily seduce with a see-through nightgown and a bat of your eyelashes. In fact, that man (was he even human?!) looked like he could kill you if he wanted. 

“What the fuck?” you mutter, throwing the covers off yourself as you watch your hands tremble in your lap. “Who the hell was that…?”

You don’t have the slightest clue why you’re so shaken up. You’ve seen weirder dreamscapes in the past, but for some reason, when you stepped inside Zhongli’s, everything looked so life-like. As if you were actually transported to a real location in this world. If you actively tried to recall the details, you could’ve sworn you felt the gravel on your feet and caught the archaic scent of stone in the air. But what could a strange-looking Zhongli be doing inside such a place? You knew better than to assume there was a rhyme and reason behind a person’s dreams, but –

The sound of your ringtone going off nearly scares the living daylights out of you before you cast a frantic stare at the nightstand. There, your phone vibrates in time with the obnoxious noise, and you force yourself to get a grip. It’s over. You managed to escape whatever harrowing fate you could have ended up with had you stayed in Zhongli’s dream for even a second longer. There’s no use mulling over it now, is there?

Without checking who was insane enough to call you at this hour, you speak. “H-Hello?” 

“Hello. I do have the right number, yes?”

It takes you a moment for your mind to register the voice at the end of the line – that smooth baritone that you’ll never get tired of hearing. Of course Zhongli’s going to ring you up out of nowhere after that. 

If it were any other day, you would have swooned at the notion of your superior calling you so late, but this seems a bit too coincidental for comfort. The recurring joke that Zhongli can be a little bit of an airhead has been going around your department for a few weeks now, but sometimes you forget that he can still be as sharp as a whip. Could he have sensed something amiss from the dream you gave him? How did he even get your number?

“Sir,” you greet him as evenly as you can. “Is there something wrong?”

Zhongli is silent for a moment, as if deliberating the words. “Hmm… Nothing in particular. My apologies for disturbing you beyond work hours, but I feel like I had something to tell you but regrettably forgot.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, shifting on top of your bed as you swing your legs over the edge. “Well, if it’s about the report you assigned, I won’t be able to give you the numbers until the end of the week, sir.”

“You’re mistaken. My inquiry isn’t about work,” he tells you, chuckling in a way that makes you blush for some reason. “It’s something a bit personal…yet I can’t seem to put my finger on it.”

“...Is it important enough that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow to discuss it?”

Alright, maybe you spoke a little out of line there. He’s your superior, yes, but your mind is still a bit frazzled from your earlier encounter in the dream. Zhongli certainly sounds like someone that just woke up, and while you like to entertain the idea that you’re the first person he thought about the moment his eyes opened, it’s not enough to dispel your unease. 

“Forgive me. Calling you at this hour does seem out of turn –” It is out of turn. “– but I had quite the odd dream. I can’t remember what exactly took place anymore, but I do remember you being in it.”

Calm down. He doesn’t remember the details – not that he had a lot to remember anyways. You could have sworn you only lasted two minutes in his head before scampering back to your own body because that’s how terrified you were. What’s even there to recall about it?

“I see,” you play along. “Maybe you were dreaming about work like usual. You do seem a bit more dedicated to your job than most.”

Zhongli breathes out another laugh that makes your insides tingle. Why does he sound infinitely sexier fresh out of slumber? “You really think that?” 

“Wouldn’t dream of anyone who does your job better than you do, sir.”

You wonder, at the last minute, if you said the right thing. But Zhongli lets out a satisfied hum from the other line, coupled with the sound of fabric rustling in the background. You try not to picture what he must look like right now – disheveled hair, unkempt sheets, drowsy eyes – but the image makes its way to your head regardless. The Zhongli you’re speaking to is already so different from the man you met in his dreams, and you can’t even see him right now. 

“I suppose I’ve taken up enough of your precious time,” he murmurs, sounding more and more apologetic by the minute. “Thank you for answering my call, regardless of what little value our conversation tonight harbored. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office, hopefully when I’m in a better state of mind.”

Better state of mind, he says. So Zhongli was affected by that dream, too…

But that’s something you can definitely think about later.

“Anytime, sir,” you reply. “Good night.”

“You’re looking worse and worse each day, you know that?”

This time, the person who bothers you at your cubicle is none other than your superior, Director Hu Tao. Though, even if she holds the highest position in the Wangsheng chain-of-command, she’s a bit too free-spirited to call a proper boss. 

She watches you slave away behind your laptop with folded arms, not looking the least bit amused. Though she wasn’t really meant to know, the director is one of the few people – more like, the only person – who’s aware of what you are and what you do to survive. It’s probably because Hu Tao comes from a family with deeper connections to all things supernatural, and thankfully, she’s more understanding of your predicament than you’d otherwise expect. 

In fact, she was kind enough to let you keep your job so long as you don’t let your…special needs affect your work. But for all of Hu Tao’s usual antics in the office, you know there’s no escaping her when she gets serious about something.

Especially when she’s nagging you about feeding intervals.

“When’s the last time, hm?” she asks, poking your cheek. “Aiya, you’ve lost the flab on your face. Come on, how am I supposed to pinch them now?” 

“About a month ago,” you grumble as you revise an important email for the fifth time today. “Director, shouldn’t you be in your office? I heard from Ganyu that you’ve been passing your work onto Mister Zhongli.”

“Pah, the consultant can deal with all the trifling matters in my stead.” Hu Tao shrugs. “Besides, he’s the one who started advocating for better employee conditions in this dump, right? I’m just making sure my subordinates are healthy and happy in the workplace~”

Speaking of Zhongli, it’s been a while since you saw him around. The last time you heard his voice was the night he called you out of nowhere – the same night you hijacked his dreams. Now, it’s already the end of the week and you’re yet to meet with Zhongli despite the deadline he gave you days prior. 

“I can hook you up with a bunch of guys I know,” Hu Tao suggests, unceremoniously swinging herself on top of your desk. “All you have to do is get inside their heads and do the magic, right? Hmm… If that’s the case, why don’t you just pick a random celebrity or something?”

“It doesn’t work that way, director,” you sigh. “If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be having this problem every month.” 

“Ehh, you’re so choosy.” She pouts. “If sharing a dream with strangers doesn’t work, why don’t you just come after them in real life? Nothing beats the real thing, right?”

You’re mildly aware of how loudly Hu Tao started to mouth off about your…predicament, but fortunately it was the middle of lunch break, and none of your desk neighbors were present to overhear. Pushing your chair from beneath the desk, you breathe in deep as you consider the director’s words. 

In hindsight, she was right. You know a bunch of succubi and incubi who copulate with humans nearly everyday – more because they’re weird sex addicts than them trying to last themselves to the next day. But you were drawing blanks as to how you’re going to explain to Hu Tao that the creatures she might have heard about have sex to enjoy it; you have sex to survive. The act itself still makes you squirm, so even if you have attempted to harvest energy in real life, you’d rather steer clear of resorting to that if you could still do the same thing in an unsuspecting man’s dreams.

But now, you aren’t even able to squeeze the tiniest ounce of sexual energy from your usual method. Hence, the problem.

“I’ll think about it,” you half-promise, stretching your limbs with a quiet sigh. “Oh, and if you see Mister Zhongli anywhere, could you tell him I’m done with my report? I was going to ask when he’d like to see it, but I haven’t seen him around lately.”

“Hm? Oh, right. I asked that guy to secure a deal with a Snezhnayan diplomat who’s visiting Liyue over the season,” Hu Tao tells you before hopping back to the floor. “Well, hope you get some sustenance soon, little devil. Wouldn’t want to find you all shrivelled up from sex deprivation one day.”

“Director, please…”

“Hahaha! Just teasing~”

Hu Tao hums a lively tune once she scampers away, and you’re left staring at the blinking cursor on your screen. The email you were drafting is supposed to be sent to the PR officer of the company you’re trying to scout with your report-slash-proposal attached as an extra file. But you can’t send it in without Zhongli’s green light. What’s worse is that it’s starting to get busy in the office at this time. The end of the year is the most hectic, and you’re not sure if you’re ever going to get used to the hustle and bustle that comes with it. It would make sense why Zhongli is suddenly hard to catch.

And your feeding shortage just had to coincide with all of this.

You pull out a hand mirror from your bag, inspecting the way your face looks. Eyebags and chapped lips can easily be concealed with makeup but it’s more difficult to mask the way you’re abnormally losing weight. Even Hu Tao was able to notice it right away. If only eating human food actually contributed to your body mass…

“Tonight for sure,” you mutter – knowing damn well that your words are only worth half a promise.

In all honesty, you don’t put much thought into the exact time of your feedings. You just lay in bed, get into the minds of your targets, and hope both of you fell asleep at the same time. It’s no different on your second attempt at harvesting energy from Zhongli.

You don’t call him, don’t text him. You don’t even bother trying to get some inside information about his sleeping habits from Ganyu. So when you attempt to just wing it one more time, you’re a little surprised to find yourself transported into the dreamscape – a wave of relief washing over you when you realize you’re not inside a cave anymore. 

You’re seated at the side of a river surrounded by ruins as far as the eye can see. The sound of flowing water fills your ears, a sound you almost find calming. Someone calls a name that doesn't belong to you, but your body responds to it either way when you turn your head around curiously. 

Zhongli stands in front of you, carrying a basket of sunsettias. He doesn’t look as intimidating as the first time you saw him in his dreams, but he’s donned with the same hooded robe, and the same gold-tipped antlers. The cruelty imbued in his gaze in that cavern has long gone – replaced with quiet sincerity that’s reminiscent of the one he exudes in the office. You feel your shoulders relax at the sight of him, but… 

Something doesn’t feel right.

He folds his legs at your side, and when he speaks, you hear nothing but a garbled, faraway noise. But despite not understanding a single word he says, you let out the occasional laugh, sometimes nodding along to Zhongli’s words before biting into one of the fruits he foraged. The wind whistles through the reeds in the overrun marsh, and all you can do is admire your companion’s autumn vesper eyes as you partake in a conversation only he understands. 

But when you suddenly inch closer to him – caressing his face with a hand that isn’t your own – that’s when you finally realize what was amiss.

“Rex,” the woman whose body you hijacked murmurs fondly, the sleeves of her dress billowing in the breeze. “You should give yourself more credit. The faith of the people has always been well-founded.”

Zhongli gazes at you (at her) with wide eyes before the look melts into a fit of chuckles. His lips move in response to what the woman said and, still, you don’t catch any of it. But when your eyes drift to where his strong arms peeked from the holes of his robe, you’re surprised to see his hands shining like molten amber in the waning light. Golden veins can be seen jutting across his forearms, eventually connecting to the odd patterns depicted on his bicep. The longer you stare, the more you question why your boss made himself look so godly in his dreams. As humble as he is, he does look highly of himself after all.

Turns out, you’re not the only one who was ogling Zhongli in the most inopportune moment. It seems like the woman you’re possessing(?) also treated herself to some eye candy the same time you did, and now you can feel your face heat up with embarrassment when he catches you staring. 

You expect him to laugh it off like usual. Your boss gets thrown compliments everyday since he started working at Wangsheng – compliments that never seem to do him enough justice. But he takes them all in stride before resuming the conversation like nothing happened. This Zhongli does none of that.

One of his strange, golden hands seizes your wrist tightly – your bashfulness suddenly morphing into confusion. Zhongli’s mouth twitches into something akin to a smile as he presses forward, forcing you to lean back to introduce as much space between you as possible. You can feel his breath fan against your face – cor lapis eyes glowing with desire – and you’re too stunned to retaliate. His other hand forces itself against the ground next to your hip, caging you in the heat of his embrace. Zhongli speaks again, and you’re starting to feel annoyed with the fact that you can’t make sense of what he’s even saying. But you can’t exactly relish in the feeling much because your body is reaching a fever pitch that’s making your head spin.

This is what you came here to do, isn’t it? Sure, you’re not really the person he’s seeing right now, but anything to get the deed done, right? All you had to do was suck out the sexual energy emanating from the god of a man that’s about to ravish you out in the open. Easy as pie.

His mouth latches onto yours in a way that’s almost familiar – which tells you that this isn’t the first time that Zhongli and this woman met each other so intimately. You respond in kind, letting your borrowed body take the reins as you feel him nudging apart the lapels of your dress, exposing supple breasts to the humid air. A full shudder runs across your skin when he growls against your lips, one arm curling around your waist before Zhongli possessively pulls you to his chest. 

Mine. 

You don’t hear his voice, but you feel the intent resonate all the way to your core as he practically tears off your clothes. Zhongli rests you atop the grass with little care for possible on-lookers, rolling his hips against yours as he decorates your neck with lovebites. Your fingers rake through his long, dark tresses – imprinting the image in your head for years to come. Your boss Zhongli always ties his hair with a jewel-encrusted band, so this version is definitely one for the books. 

I should’ve done this sooner, you think to yourself – whimpering when you feel the ridge of his cock straining against your middle. Much sooner… 

The rest of the details are lost in the muddled haze of your thoughts. You don’t remember if Zhongli even prepared you for what’s to come – all you know is the feel of his length prodding your slickened entrance. His grip on your body never falters even as the tip of his cock glides teasingly across your slit. You desperately move your hips closer, begging for the friction he’s holding over your head like a prize. But then, you meet his deep, amber gaze and for a moment, his eyes seem to soften in the midst of his lustful display.

When he kisses you again, your heart – this woman’s heart – comes alive. You can feel how much love she harbors, how she aches for him despite the fact that Zhongli’s hands roam around her body with the intent to leave no inch of skin untouched. 

I love you. That’s the only thought that echoes in your mind when he finally takes you – here, by the riverbank where you were the only two people in the world. These emotions aren’t your own, but you feel a surge so intense that you gasp aloud when Zhongli presses himself into you deep enough to make your vision blur. It all feels so real that you don’t even notice it when you naturally absorb the energy you’re meant to take in the first place. 

You’re not sure how it’s supposed to work in this situation, given that the body you’re using isn’t even yours. But you practically feel how Zhongli’s libido indirectly rejuvenates your spirits. Despite the fact that you’re being pounded in the middle of nowhere, you feel more refreshed – mind clearer as opposed to the jumbled mess it’s been over the past week. You never actually realize how your hunger can drive you into so much lethargy until you’re finally given the clarity of your sated instincts. 

“I don’t care for the humans like you do.”

You startle when you finally hear Zhongli’s familiar voice – hoarse with need, but still the same one you’ve come to admire. His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts his hips relentlessly, with a desperation you can almost see on his face. The woman lets out a sigh before she caresses his face with a gentle hand, thumb gently sweeping across the cut of his cheekbone. 

“You will,” she murmurs. “You’re their god, Rex. Their archon. You might not have any love for them now, but in time, you’ll understand.”

Her reply seems to irritate him. You watch as those golden eyes flash yellow with rage, but Zhongli is quick to manage the split-second shift in his emotions. Instead of lashing out, he buries his face into your neck, murmuring so softly, you almost didn’t catch the words.

“You’re the only one I’ll truly care for,” he says, fingers raking through your hair as he stills – filling you with the white hot rush of his release.

“I hope you know that will never change, Guizhong.”

There are two things that you end up mulling over when you finally get back to your own body. The first is the fact that Zhongli has way too hyperactive an imagination. About ninety-five percent of your feedings take place in your targets’ bedrooms, so having sex in the middle of a field is quite the new experience for you. The second is how your boss might actually have a girlfriend and you just…gleaned your monthly sustenance from him. Just like that. 

Your latter realization took you the fuck out. The moment you woke up, you marched into your kitchen, popped open whatever cans of beer you had inside the refrigerator, and decided to contemplate your actions for a long time. You typically don’t think about whether or not the person you’re feeding on has a significant other because…you’re not exactly committing adultery if it only takes place in their dreams, right? It isn’t supposed to be a big deal unless they try to make a move on you in real life. But thinking about how you unknowingly trespassed on an ultra hidden fantasy that Zhongli must’ve been having about his girlfriend introduces a spectrum of emotions that you’re too tired to sort out. Embarrassment, regret, shame. Those are just some of the things you’re feeling right now, and hopefully a six-pack is going to be enough to drown your not-so sorrows.

…On the bright side, at least you don’t feel like shit anymore. As you finish your third can of beer tonight, you make the effort to take a look at yourself in the mirror. The color in your cheeks has returned, as well as the so-called flab that Hu Tao misses so much. Those dark circles beneath your eyes have gone too, and admittedly, you haven’t seen your skin glow so much since your last successful feeding two months prior. 

But even if this is a cause for celebration – because finally, you won’t have to deal with those nasty hunger pangs again for at least another month – you can’t find it in you to be pleased with your results. 

You’re still a bit…conflicted with what you saw in Zhongli’s dream. You assumed it was just some weird fictional fantasy of his, but you’ve been inside the dreams of other men often enough to know that your boss’ dreamscape is a lot different from the rest. You’re yet to put a finger on the rhyme and reason behind your logic, but the experience filled you with the kind of curiosity that’ll get you in trouble one of these days.

“No more prying into your boss’ private life,” you say, pointing at your reflection in the mirror with a frown. “You are not a homewrecker. Got that?”

Now that you’ve recovered from being “under the weather”, all that’s left is to get your work quota over with before the year ends. You’re practically brimming with ideas now that you’re finally in the right headspace to brainstorm about the project that Zhongli entrusted you with. As you pop open your fourth beer alongside your laptop, you’re quite horrified to see the mess of a proposal that you worked on during the onslaught of your physiological suffering. Dear gods, you’re never going to deprive yourself like that again. It’s a good thing you waited for Zhongli’s approval first or else, you might’ve made a fool out of yourself to your clients.

When you finally finish proofreading and making all the appropriate edits, you hop into the shower for a nice, hot bath. And when you crawl underneath the covers, the smooth glide of your sheets feels like heaven against your skin. But regardless of how comfortable you are in your own bed; how relaxed you feel for the first time in weeks, you can’t bring yourself to fall asleep as easily as you’d like. 

Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is a man with molten gold irises and branches sprouting from his rich brown hair. You can even remember the smidge of red decorating the fine line of his lashes if you recalled the dream vividly enough. But the moment you start thinking about how he spread you apart and had his way with you –

I’m fucked, you realize as you wrench your eyes open – staring at the ceiling as if it’ll show you even an ounce of sympathy. I am so fucked.

Little did you know that ‘fucked’ is the understatement of the century.

“Ganyu, can I ask you something?”

The next day, you coincidentally find yourself sharing a table with Zhongli’s secretary during your lunch break. Ganyu looks up from the salad she’s been happily feasting on and flashes you a questioning look. “Of course. How can I help, miss?”

You pause for a while – deliberating whether it’s even worth looking into at the last minute – but you’ve already bothered Ganyu so… 

“Do you know a woman named Guizhong?”

You’re purposely avoiding her gaze when you bring up the question, casually sticking your fork into the food you ordered at the office cafeteria. But when you notice how Ganyu fell silent for too long, you flick your gaze back to her in the most casual way you can manage. To your surprise, she’s staring at you like you just insulted your family.

“H-How did you hear of that name?”

Brows raised, you offer a nonchalant shrug. “Hmm… I was looking through some old company records and found that name listed in the contacts. I just thought you might know who she is.”

You’re not even sure Ganyu is even going to take the bait for that white lie. There is absolutely no one who knows Wangsheng’s documents better than she does. This woman used to work under the Liyue Qixing, so it’s only natural for her to be meticulous in every aspect of her duties. But instead of laying suspicion on you like you expected her to do, Ganyu seemingly heaves a relieved sigh. 

“Well, yes. Miss Guizhong was one of the company’s contacts, but…” She bites her lip, fingers drumming nervously on her thigh. “Please refrain from mentioning that name to Mister Zhongli. As for the reason, it’s…quite complicated. I hope you understand why I can’t disclose any further, miss.”

…So Guizhong is a real person. A real person that Zhongli cares about deeply. But from the way Ganyu responded to your question, things might’ve gone awry between them at some point. 

Why do you feel…relieved all of a sudden? 

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” you promise – this time, you mean it. “I was just a bit curious.”

The secretary nods. “Mister Zhongli should be coming back today as scheduled. I’ve already gone over your proposal like you asked, and I don’t see any flaws in your plans, miss. I’m certain he’ll approve of it.”

Way to shift the topic of conversation. You might’ve applauded her for how smoothly she made that transition, but Ganyu just indirectly reminded you to keep your head in place. There’s still work to do, and you shouldn’t spend what little time you have fretting about your boss’ not-girlfriend. 

“Copy that,” you tell her, finishing the rest of your food with a newfound resolve.

When Zhongli finally arrives back at the office, you make sure to act like you usually do – timid yet just a touch daring when needed. You presented your proposal to Zhongli and the board of directors, since your boss insisted that they’re entitled to study its contents last minute. The idea of having an on-the-spot address makes you queasier than the moments leading up to your monthly feeding. But the entire time, the expectant stares of your other superiors didn’t faze you as much. All you can really focus on, aside from the important points you’ve outlined, are the vibrant gold of Zhongli’s eyes – peering from the nearest seat in the front in silent observation.

He looks so composed, like a slab of unmovable stone. You find it quite difficult to believe that your boss and the man who shows up in his dreams – the one with unruly hair and golden ichor horns – are the same person.

Once you’re finished speaking, the board begins to ask questions one by one – clarifying some things they wanted you to expound on. Thankfully, you’ve gone over your report multiple times before coming into the office this morning. Whatever inquiry they could throw at you, you justified with answers based on the sufficient data you’ve gathered over the past two weeks. You have to admit that being on the receiving end of their impressed stares is doing things to your ego, but what’s important is that your proposal has been pretty much approved. Nothing beats a sense of accomplishment, after all.

Zhongli is kind enough to escort you back to your cubicle, but you insist on dropping by the pantry first for a much-needed coffee break. You tell him that it’s alright if he doesn’t stick around if he has other matters to attend to, but it seems that your boss is going to take his time giving you his brunt of the praise.

“You did well. Far exceeded my expectations, even.” He smiles so radiantly that you can almost feel your chest twist with an unfamiliar feeling. “My apologies for suddenly disappearing all of a sudden. I was planning to help you work out the necessary details for this, but something else came up at the last minute. Though I know this all sounds like me making up petty reasons for my absence.”

You shake your head, taking a sip on your cup of instant coffee. “Not at all! Director Hu told me about your dealings with a Snezhnayan diplomat, so I figured that I needed to step up one way or another.”

Zhongli’s expression morphs into something unreadable before he reaches for one of the paper cups stashed away – filling it with cold water from the dispenser. “Is that what she’s told you all?” he sighs, taking a long gulp of his drink before setting the cup down on the table. “That child… I’m aware she has her way of running things in this company, but she needn’t lie about my whereabouts.”

…Lie? Wait, what exactly did Hu Tao –

“Since I forced you to spearhead such an important project alone, I might as well let you in on the truth,” he laughs softly, lips pressed into a small smile. “Would that make for sufficient compensation?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. “Um, you don’t have to if it’s a touchy subject, sir. I respect that we all have lives outside of work.”

“I insist,” Zhongli says, leaning against the wall without breaking eye contact. “It’s also a…means for me to ‘let out some steam’, as the director might’ve put it. But I won’t divulge anything you don’t wish to hear, of course.”

You take a moment to mull over his words. Is he saying that he wants to open up to you or something? Well…

“I don’t mind,” you reply, feeling the skin of your fingertips buzz underneath the heat of your cup. Anticipation –  that’s what you’re feeling. “You can tell me anything, sir. And I swear upon my end-of-year bonus that I won’t share it to a single soul.”

Your boss flashes you another smile, shaking his head in amusement. “I’m grateful for your promise of confidentiality. You truly are a worthwhile companion.”

“...As for the real reason behind my absence, no I did not meet with a non-existent envoy from Snezhnaya. I made a three-day trip to Guili Plains.” Zhongli speaks each word carefully, as if not wanting you to miss a beat. “You and the rest of the department aren’t familiar with such a tradition that I make sure to uphold every year, since I was just newly transferred. Ganyu, however, has known me long enough to know that I pay the cemetery there a visit during this season if time permits it.”

The break room is quiet, save for the ever-present hum of the water dispenser. You don’t know why, but there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that tells you you’re not going to like what he’s going to say next.

“When I was still pursuing my Bachelor’s, I had this…friend,” he continues, eyes trailing up to the ceiling as if reminiscing about a better time in his life. “A friend that I held closer to my heart than anyone else. We were supposed to build a company that could change the world together – a pipe dream that youths often pour their souls into when they think they can do anything and everything they desire.

“But one day, that friend fell ill all of a sudden. We both thought it was just a mild sickness, nothing so severe that we should fret about it.” He sighs, and you can see how his mild-mannered demeanor makes way for the sorrow that roots itself on his face. You’ve never seen Zhongli look so…downcast before. It makes you want to reach out and pull him into an embrace, but you know better than to overstep your boundaries. “I’m sure you know where this leads. Turns out, the disease wasn’t just an ordinary coughing fit. She was diagnosed with lung cancer and died of it faster than I could even complete my final semester in college.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you blurt out all of a sudden – the shock on your face surfacing too suddenly for you to hide. “Oh, gods. You didn’t have to tell me this if it pains you to remember sir –”

“None of that,” Zhongli interjects, waving a hand in dismissal. “I chose to tell you this tale, didn’t I? Insisted, even. So you don’t need to worry about my grief, as this is something that I’ve long come to terms with.” 

Holy shit. Now you feel twice as terrible for feeling relieved that things between him and Guizhong have gone south. It’s all because she was dead. Great, now the fates are probably going to turn you into a lizard in your next life just to call it quits or something. But you don’t really have much room for those self-deprecating thoughts after everything Zhongli just told you.

“Guili Plains is quite far from here,” you comment, choosing your words carefully. “Did she live there? 

Zhongli hums. “Yes and no. The two of us lived together here in Liyue Harbor while we completed our studies, but she grew up in Guili. They’re no longer growing there today, but she used to tell me about how much she loved the glaze lilies that bloomed outside of her childhood home.”

…A ‘friend’ he used to live with. A ‘friend’ he held closer to his heart than anyone else. If there are awards for being the worst at masking hidden details, Zhongli is definitely raking everything in. Though you suppose now’s not the time to be nitpicking about your boss’ lack of subtlety. 

“How long has it been?” you ask. “If…you don’t mind me asking.”

“I think we’re both past the point of minding,” he chuckles, despite everything, and you can hardly believe it. “But…it’s been six years since she passed.”

Six years, and he still dreams of her.

You nod slowly before finishing the rest of your coffee – now cold with how long you took to drink it. 

“Thank you for sharing all this to me, sir. I–I…don’t know what to say,” you admit. 

“Nor do I expect you to say anything at all,” he tells you. “Just having an ear to listen to my…troubles is worth more than all the mora in this company combined. It’s quite rare for me to find anyone willing to hear me out.”

You wonder if it’s because of Zhongli’s picture perfect image that no one would stop to think that he experiences the same things everyone does. He grieves. He loves. He even lays himself vulnerable like this. Hell, you wouldn’t even dare to imagine Zhongli being anything but the unflawed superior everyone knows and adores if he never spoke about this at all. 

But he did. He trusted you enough to share a part of himself that he doesn’t just let anyone else know about. Whether it was just to repay your so-called stellar performance or something else, you’re grateful for his faith in you either way.

All of a sudden, you stride closer to Zhongli – the sound of you bumping against the side of the table at your urgency surprising him a bit. Before you can slip-up any further, you hold out your hand as you cast him a determined stare. 

“I’ll be looking forward to working on this project with you.”

Zhongli is at a loss for words for a while, those deep amber eyes alternating between your face and your outstretched hand. You wonder if he thinks you’re doing some sort of alien gesture. But in the end, your worries are dispelled the moment he shakes it gingerly.

“I feel the exact same way,” Zhongli says – in a much brighter tone now that the storm has passed. 

You just hope it will be a while before the clouds roll overhead once more.

The days pass by before you know it.

Along with the end of the year comes the beginning of your newest project. Zhongli was kind enough to lay all the groundwork in your stead, and all you had to do was secure some due partnerships with other companies residing in Yujing Terrace. With just a bit more convincing, you might even get the Liyue Qixing to become one of the official sponsors for the event, especially with someone like Ganyu by your side. Rumor has it that she’s one of Lady Ningguang’s favorite secretaries, until Zhongli whisked her away. You just prayed that she won’t take your boss’ past history of secretary-nabbing personally. 

Your reputation has slowly picked up in your department as well. For the past two years, you were always careful about the connections you made because even if Hu Tao is privy to your unique constitution, you’ll be forced to switch locations if someone catches wind that you’re a succubus. You’re certain that the director could pull a few strings if something like that ever happened, but you never really liked relying on others too much – more so making them share your burdens.

At least, that’s how things were before Zhongli entrusted you with such an important task.

“There’s a drinking party somewhere at Chihu Rock – one of the newbies is treating,” Zhang, the desk neighbor you used to hate so much, informs you as he stuffs his laptop into his backpack. “The girls from accounting asked me to invite you, if you’re wondering.”

You cast him a surprised stare while you tidy up your own workspace, sparing a quiet laugh once you get ahold of yourself. “You guys aren’t bullying the new employees into footing the bill, are you?”

“Hey, if this is how they want to get in their seniors’ good graces, who am I to say no?” He shrugs, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “So, you coming or not?”

Now that you think about it, you don’t particularly have anything else to get done for this week. All the necessary preparations for the first leg of the event are in place, and your team members assured that they’ll give you a ring once something comes up. 

“Sure thing,” you tell Zhang with a smile. “There better be finger food.”

Company drinking parties aren’t as bad as you thought. They’re not mixers in disguise, like all the manga you’ve illegally downloaded off Inazuman websites suggested. You got to know your close colleagues, and some other people in departments that rarely come into contact with yours. The alcohol isn’t half bad either, especially when the lively newcomer Zhang told you about is going to make good on his promise. You’re not so stuck-up that you’ll deny free food and drinks once they’re offered.

To your dismay, you still aren’t used to drinking with a lot of people as company. Normally, you just grab a few packs of beer from the supermarket before consuming them in your lonesome at home. You realize a little too late that if you’re drinking out, you really shouldn’t be chugging glass after glass as if you’re the only person enjoying the liquor out here. 

After a few more pints, some of your co-workers have started to tap out – making you pout at them, red-faced and more pissy than usual. “What? You guys are going? And here I thought these drinking parties lasted until morning.”

Zhang shakes his head at your side, clinking his glass with yours before downing his drink. “Right? These guys have been hanging out with us for months, but they act like they can’t handle drinking on a work night.”

“Hmph, we all know why you’re insistent on staying behind tonight, Zhang,” one of the girls from accounting – Chen? Was that her name? – says, rolling her eyes as she hoists her handbag over her shoulder. “Just…take care of her, alright? Zhongli’s going to kick your ass if something happens.”

You’re still feeling a bit woozy from the beer, so you can only crane your head in confusion. What did she mean by take care of you? You can take care of yourself, thank you very –

“I will, I will,” Zhang chuckles, and suddenly, you feel a heavy arm drape itself across your shoulders – making you wrinkle your nose. “I never expected her to drink so much, but it’s a good thing that I’m here.” 

“I doubt that,” Chen scoffs. “Oh, well. See you guys tomorrow!”

Once the others make their leave, that’s when you start mumbling under your breath “Ugh. The first time I actually come along to these kinds of things and the people who invited me don’t even last until the end,” you complain, pressing your face against the wooden table in front of you. “Where’s the kid that said he was going to pay for everything? It’s just the two of us left…”

Zhang rubs your back in a way that isn’t really soothing the way your skin burns from the alcohol, but you’re a bit too intoxicated to tell him off. “Aww, don’t worry. Some of my pals helped the poor guy home, but he asked the bar to put everything on his tab before he passed out. So if you still want to have a go, I’m down.” 

You can feel something buzzing in your bag, but it’s probably just a text notification from your phone carrier. You’ve been receiving a lot of those lately. Maybe you should pay your bill soon. But your thoughts about phone bills are rudely interrupted by the feel of Zhang snaking an arm around your waist – pulling you upright as he steadies your shoulder with his free hand.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep here,” he says. “You’re going to feel like shit once you wake up from a drunk nap, you know.”

“Don’t care…” you mumble, eyelids drooping as you lose your grip on the handle of your glass. “‘M so sleepy. Can you get me a cab back home, Zhang…? Don’t think I can commute anymore.”

Zhang doesn’t respond right away, and you nearly doze off in that short bout of silence. But eventually, your desk neighbor helps you back to your feet and walks you out of the bar – exchanging farewells with the bartender on your way out.

The late evening breeze feels chilly against your legs, even through your stockings – yet that isn’t quite enough to make you snap out of your drowsiness. You end up leaning against Zhang for support as you wait for him to call a cab, all the while you screw your eyes shut – trying to stop your head from spinning. 

“You know… There’s a hotel nearby that we can just crash in for the night.”

You’re too far between consciousness and slumber to fully process what he just said. All you can do is press the side of your face against his shoulder as you attempt not to fall asleep on the spot. But, apparently, Zhang takes your lack of a response for confirmation – wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he leads you to the direction of the hotel. You don’t really think of it much, since the desire to sleep is the only thing weighing on your mind right now. You’re just glad someone’s patient enough to guide you as you stumble around the sidewalk. 

Suddenly, though, Zhang’s strides come to a halt. 

Your mind vaguely registers the sound of him speaking to someone else. Huh. You could’ve sworn the others have already left. But their conversation lasts a bit longer than you anticipated, and you force yourself to listen in. 

“...Thank you for watching out for her all this time. I’ll take it from here.”

This voice…? Is that –

“U-Uh, sure, sir,” you can hear Zhang sputter beside you before you feel him shift your weight onto something – no, someone else. “I don’t really know where she lives so –”

You don’t really hear the rest of what Zhang has to say because you’re distracted by the person who just joined the fray. His clothes feel thick underneath your touch, like tailored fabric made from the most exquisite material, and they carry a familiar scent that reminds you of incense – one with a unique spice, just a touch archaic. You might’ve been too drunk to tell at the time, but if you had more strength than you did, you would’ve pushed Zhang away because his touch alone already didn’t feel right. With this person, though? You’d gladly lay in his arms for days. 

The last memory you have that night is the sensation of being gently ushered into the passenger seat of an unfamiliar car. A soothing voice speaks to you constantly, as if trying to keep you awake. But the gentle lull of his words do little to aid that particular cause, and when he slides into the driver’s seat next to you, you’re already out like a light.

“Is anything the matter?”

You blink in non-plus, feeling like you’ve just woken up from a dream despite the fact that you’re sitting in a vast field of flowers. Wait a moment. 

Glancing at your side, you see the Zhongli’s humanoid counterpart – those draconian eyes of his scanning your face to see if something was wrong. In his hands is a bundle of pale blue flowers, clutched tightly between his clawed fingers, and you feel your shoulders sag. The idea that you unknowingly stepped into his dreams again as Guizhong incites a rush of guilt that you have all the reason to feel right now.

You don’t even remember planning on feeding tonight. Sure, it’s been a while since the first time you collected energy from your boss, but you’re not particularly in need of a refill right now. How did you even end up here in the first place?

Thankfully, Guizhong does all the talking while you accustom yourself to your unplanned invasion. “I just never thought you’d humor my request. You were never that fond of the glaze lilies.”

“This is where I met you all those years ago,” he reminds you. “Why would I ever loathe the thing that brought us together, my love?”

Silence envelops the two of you for a sliver of a moment, and you catch the scent of the ephemeral flowers even in the filtered reality of Zhongli’s dream. Guizhong lets out a peal of gentle laughter as she picks one of the lilies that grew in abundance – examining the unassuming bloom rather fondly.

“These flowers take the memories of the land and transform them into an unforgettable fragrance,” she murmurs. “When the war is over, do you think they’ll still carry the scent of our union, Rex?”

…War? There’s a war?

But in the end, you never get to hear Zhongli’s answer nor the proper explanation behind what Guizhong just said. When you open your eyes, it’s to an unfamiliar room that makes you bolt upright – eyes frantically darting around the vicinity while you try to recall what happened before you fell asleep.

Drinking party. Zhang being all touchy feely. Being taken care of by someone else.

You try not to think about the awful taste that lingers in your mouth as you try to figure out whose house you’re currently crashing. This obviously isn’t yours because you can’t afford the imported rug that’s tucked underneath the queen-sized bed. However, when your gaze lands on the dark-wood nightstand, you see a couple of glaze lilies sitting in an expensive-looking vase.

The next thing your barely sober mind takes note of is the presence of another person on the bed right next to you. Anticipation coils in your gut as you turn around slowly, and when you see Zhongli sleeping soundly a respectable distance away, you can’t help the way your heart throbs at the sight. He looks a bit more like the man in his dreams like this – dark hair pooled messily across his pillows. And you also notice that he’s still in the dress shirt he often wears to work, further suggesting that he might’ve fallen asleep while watching over you. The idea is enough to make your face flush with shame.

You spot your bag placed on top of a table at the other side of the room, so you quietly slip out of his bed before retrieving your phone inside. How did Zhongli even know where you were? Was he aware that you were out drinking with your colleagues? A single glance at your lock screen is all the answer you need because there, you bear witness to several unanswered calls and text messages from your boss himself. 

From where you stood, you cast the man in question a longing stare. He was kind enough to take care of you when you obviously couldn’t do that for yourself – even going as far as to let you sleep on the same bed as him. Zhongli is quite the busy man. Busy enough that he always turns down any and all invitations for drinks, yet he showed up outside the bar earlier tonight and just…took you back home with him? You don’t see any signs that he might’ve tried to take advantage of your inebriated state either – not that you believed that Zhongli is capable of such a thing. He was a proper gentleman through and through.

But…good intentions aside, you’re still at a loss for answers when you recall the dream you shared with him just now. This is the first time you found yourself inside a dreamscape without meaning to, and you’re unsure of whether or not this is a cause for alarm. What’s more is that his dreams always seem to take place in a world that’s wholly unfamiliar to you – a place where you take the form of his past lover without any real reason behind it.

Not wanting to overstay your welcome, you quickly type in a text message to Zhongli – thanking him for everything he’s done, along with an apology that you’ll probably repeat once you see him again in the office. Although you’re more conscious of his aberrant dreams than you imposing on his kindness. 

You tell yourself to just leave whatever you saw, whatever you heard there in his mind. There’s no reason for you to keep nosing in. You already got your fill, right? And you never feed on the same person twice – never.  

You just hope you can live by that personal rule of yours for as long as you can.

News flash: you cave to your pesky, curious tendencies not two days since the incident.

Zhongli makes it terribly easy for you, too. Every night, by eleven P.M., your boss is already sound asleep – providing you with ample time to travel in-between dreams before reaching the one that perpetually occurs inside his head. 

The more you make these timely visits, the more you learn about the life that Zhongli – no, Rex Lapis – lives in this world. He’s someone that mortals call the God of Contracts. Someone who shows no mercy to anyone who dares break any sort of agreement that they willingly set in stone. He and Guizhong live in an era where the gods fight for the title of archon – a concept that you’re still having some trouble wrapping your head around. But in the most fundamental sense, Rex is someone equally respected and feared, and you can’t blame others for feeling that way.

When he speaks to people that aren’t Guizhong, he dons a stone-cold visage that still makes your blood run cold despite how many times you’ve seen it. It wasn’t a bluff when he said he didn’t care for the humans he and his lover watched over. All he wanted was to give Guizhong a place to live comfortably – and if that meant felling other gods just to attain that goal, he’ll gladly bloody his hands for it. 

But Guizhong, the God of Dust, was never that fond of Rex’s violent ways of doing things. 

She reminds him that humans are just as small and fragile as dust. They do not know when they’re bound to lose their lives to disaster or strife, and so they live in fear. Because they live in fear, they try so hard to be much more than the small, fragile creatures that the gods have reduced them to. Guizhong is a god who’s more human than divine, and you suppose that’s something that Rex is yet to fully understand.

These are only some of the things you learned during your visits, and you can’t help but tune into every scenario that unfolds. Like a television series you can’t quite get enough of. However, you’re careful not to let the curious tale of Zhongli’s dreams hinder you in your waking life. 

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to remember any of the things that take place in his dreams. Whenever you run into him at work, Zhongli simply greets you with that trademark smile of his before discussing business as usual. No telltale signs of any sort of disturbance rooted from his slumber. 

At the office, you notice that you’ve become closer beyond measure as well – both as colleagues and, you daresay, friends. Along with the team you’re heading for the project, your boss is one of your constant support systems during such a hectic time in your career. 

Not only does he serve as something similar to your advisor, but he also keeps you company whenever you need to unwind.

During one of your late dinners, you share a glass of wine in his company as he shares some embarrassing work stories over the years. Zhongli is about three years your senior, so it makes sense for him to have more tales to tell. Nonetheless, you enjoy every minute of it, and in the back of your mind, you wonder when he’ll take you out like this again.

But when Zhongli drives you back to your apartment that night, he abruptly grabs hold of your wrist as you open the door to the passenger seat. You shoot him a startled look, but your boss’ alluring gaze doesn’t waver. You want to ask him what’s the matter, but before you can even get a single word out, he’s already pulling you close enough for a kiss.

You can’t process what was happening fast enough – simply sitting there in shock as you feel your superior’s mouth move against yours. When Zhongli doesn’t get so much as a reaction from you though, he pulls away with a troubled look on his face. 

“I apologize. Really, I do,” Zhongli says. “Perhaps I’ve had too much –”

This time, your senses finally kickstart into motion as you throw your arms around his neck before pulling him in again. You return his kiss in earnest, even going as far as licking the swell of his bottom lip to show you that you’re more eager for his affections than he initially assumed. And when you feel his strong arms circle around your waist in the same, possessive way he held you in the first dream, you all but moan into his mouth.

You’re not sure how things led up to this point, exactly. It’s true that you and him have grown more familiar with each other since the project’s launch, but you never would’ve imagined doing this with Zhongli in real life. You thought you were content with having sampled the more sensual side of him in your dreams, but as it turns out, Hu Tao was right.

Nothing beats the real thing.

“What does this mean?” you whisper in-between gasps, laughing a bit as Zhongli chases after your lips. He lets out a disgruntled noise when you pull away, and you feel the urgency in his touch when his hand rests against your cheek.

“It means I fancy you very much,” he tells you bluntly. “Though I admit, this might be too sudden. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, or if you don’t wish to do these kinds of things with me. I just hope my admission doesn’t change our dynamic at work.”

…Is he being for real? Did Zhongli just assume that you didn’t feel the same way? 

“Everything happens all in due time,” you tell him with a smile, brushing away some of his bangs as you take the time to admire the man before you. “And who said I wasn’t at all interested, sir?”

Zhongli sighs, dipping his head closer to press a fleeting kiss on your forehead. The sensation sets your heart alight with glee, and you can’t help but lean closer to his touch.

“When it’s just the two of us, I’d prefer it if you called me by my first name,” he tells you as he presses another kiss to your cheek. “Would that be alright?”

“Of course,” you breathe – placing your hand over the one he’s using to cup your face. “I’d love that.”

At that moment, you don’t think about how it’s been tough for you to find yourself a boyfriend over the last few years. How starting a relationship like this with Zhongli is going to give you more problems than you bargained for. All that matters is the comforting warmth of his touch as the two of you bask in each other’s company in the privacy of his car. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

Times where you attempt to contact people like yourself are few and far in between. You want little to do in the lifestyles of other succubi and incubi, but it’s a different case with Xingqiu.

You met him by chance in the most awkward way possible. One time, you decided that a college boy who once interned at Wangsheng was going to be your target of the month. But on the night you tried to harvest energy from him, someone else was already occupying the dream – doing the things you were supposed to do before you could even arrive.

Long story short, you ended up doing a little snooping around with your targets first before going in for the kill. You wouldn’t want to run into Xingqiu in the middle of a feeding again, after all.

“It’s been a while,” he comments as you slide into the seat across from him. Xingqiu closes the book he was reading and props an elbow on the table, resting his head against the curve of his palm. “I’m guessing this is really important if you came to me for help.”

“It is,” you sigh.

Your companion nods along and smiles. “Okay, I’ll hear you out. Make sure to order something first because I can tell this one’s going to take us a while.”

Wanmin Restaurant, the place he chose for your quick meeting, serves the best Black-Back Perch Stew you’ve ever tasted in your life. This makes it a whole lot easier to settle down and explain your situation to Xingqiu to the most minute details. He quietly eats his own food as you tell him about the dreams you experience inside Zhongli’s head. How it always takes place in the same setting. How the sequence of events seem to have a linear pattern to them – which is quite rare to encounter in a human’s dreams. You’ve never once felt any sense of order whenever you hopped into the minds of your targets, but it’s as if you’re witnessing something straight out of a film reel when it comes to your boss-turned-lover.

You suspect that Xingqiu has been an incubus long before you’ve even been born. In spite of his appearance, you can tell he holds more wisdom about your kind than one would expect. So it doesn’t come as a surprise when he quietly hums at the end of your story – an answer already prepared in advance.

“Memories,” he says simply. “You’re not just witnessing that man’s dreams – you’re watching his memories.” 

You frown. “But…that place is something that’s straight out of a fantasy novel. Gods and monsters? A world plunged into a war? How could Zhongli have memories of that?”

Xingqiu spares you a soft laugh. “How do creatures like us still exist in a world catered for humans and humans alone? There are many things that can’t be explained by pure logic. But I have a hunch that the owner of the memories you see is both your boyfriend and isn’t at the same time.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Do you believe in past lives?” he asks. “Reincarnation, exactly. Do you believe that all of us have already lived once before?”

“Are you saying that the stuff I’m seeing in his dreams are memories of a past life?” you clarify, face twisting with confusion. “Xingqiu, isn’t that a bit…”

“Crazy? It is,” he chuckles. “But like I said, this world leaves a lot of things unexplained. Some details are meant to sound crazy so you wouldn’t think they’re actually possible.”

You toy with what’s left of your dish, the appetite you’ve built up suddenly dissipating at the idea that Xingqiu just proposed to you. So even in a past life, Zhongli adored Guizhong to the point that he’d tear both heaven and earth asunder all in her name. You wonder if the Zhongli in this world, the one you’re currently dating, loved Guizhong to the same degree as well. He probably did, and you probably wouldn’t compare to someone like her.

“Is it possible for past lives to have some…parallels to the ones we live now?” Your voice is quiet, almost as if you fear for the answer.

The incubus considers the question for a moment. “Well, yes. The saying ‘history repeats itself’ isn’t exactly true because history doesn’t repeat itself – sometimes, it just rhymes. Things that occurred in the past can occur again in the present, but they won’t always entail the same meaning.” 

You receive his words with a solemn nod, feeling your chest twist uncomfortably. Somehow, you don’t really like the sound of that.

“Thank you,” you tell Xingqiu when the two of you are done splitting the bill. “You seriously shed some light on a lot of things that were confusing me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he insists, tucking his book underneath his shoulder. For a moment, you think that this is where you part ways, but Xingqiu suddenly pauses – eyes narrowing as he leans closer to you. “When was the last time you fed?”

You’re taken aback by his sudden inquiry, but you manage an answer all the same. “Um, a while.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? You have a boyfriend that’s more than willing to help you, right?” He posits the question like he expected the answer to be yes, but when you shyly avert your gaze, Xingqiu’s smile falls almost immediately. “Oh, no. He doesn’t know what you are, does he?”

“It’s kind of hard to just go off on a tangent and say, ‘hey I’m actually a demon that receives my life force from dream sex’,” you point out, but know he’s right either way. “I…I do plan on telling him. Just not anytime soon. We’re kind of busy with a huge project at work, and I can’t really drop something like that out of nowhere.”

Xingqiu sighs, pinching his nose between his fingers. “But you’ve been spending a lot of time in his dreams anyways. Am I right? You seem to know an awful lot about his past life now that I think about it.”

…Of course Xingqiu’s going to be the one who catches you red-handed.

It’s really no secret that you still frequent Zhongli’s dreams, not to feed but to learn more about the life Rex lived alongside Guizhong. Since you started going out with your boss, the details became more descriptive with each visit. It’s as if you’re starting to assimilate yourself better in Guizhong’s body, and you could glean more insight about that strange, strange world with more certainty. Last night, she and Rex talked about how they plan on transferring the Guili Assembly to the harbor city, where they’ll be far from the evil gods that wish to kill them all.

“Well, whatever your circumstances are, you know what happens when you don’t feed,” Xingqiu reminds you almost grimly, not leaving any trace of his once cheerful façade. “Don’t downplay the effects of hunger. We’re already an endangered species as is.”

As you head home that day, you end up thinking about his warning more than you should. Everything Xingqiu said is in the right – you knew as much. You’ve had to suffer through the aftereffects only recently yourself, but...

You can take it. Just a bit more.

The next day, Zhongli comes over to your apartment to prepare dinner for you. He’s been excited all week to serve you his signature bamboo shoot soup, but Xingqiu’s words haunt you for the entirety of the day. You try your best not to make your distress obvious to your boyfriend, but you’re gravely mistaken if you thought Zhongli wasn’t going to catch on.

“Is anything on your mind?” he asks softly, pressing his lips to your neck. You’re seated comfortably in his lap as the two of you lounge on the sofa. But even if this has become one of your favorite places to relax with him, you just can’t bring yourself to do so now.

“Just…work,” you sigh as you rest your head across his chest. 

The beat of his heart is steady like usual, reminding you that Zhongli is real and breathing right beside you. That he’s not just a product of your dreams, like your mind always leads you to believe.

“Somehow I don’t believe that.” You can almost hear him pout. “Was dinner not to your liking, perhaps?”

“No, it’s not that,” you insist. “I’m just…really tired is all.”

That’s not exactly a lie. You’re starting to feel the effects of your own self-deprivation with each passing day. And even if you already learned your lesson last time, your conscience can’t take the idea of feeding on another person when you have a boyfriend. To further add to your list of problems, even if you wanted to harness energy from Zhongli, the setting of his dreams is too convoluted for you to pick up the right momentum. 

Rex Lapis was working hard to defend the land that he and Guizhong dedicated their lives to protect. Even if you appeared as the woman he loved more than anything else in his dreams, you doubt you’ll be able to seduce him during such a crucial period in the war. 

So now, you’re stuck in a stalemate between your own stubbornness and physiological needs. You’re not even going to be surprised anymore if your body just suddenly gives out on you one of these days.

“Can I propose something that could take your mind off such trifling affairs?”

The room falls silent once he utters the words, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. Was he suggesting what you think he’s suggesting? 

As far as intimacy goes, you haven’t really gone all the way with Zhongli. Apart from the occasional makeout sessions in the break room, in his office, and sometimes even his car, you never really sought for anything more than that. You’re well aware that Guizhong’s death is still fresh in his heart, and if he ever considered the possibility of sex, you’d want him to come to you in his own time. 

This is quite the opportune moment for it, too. You’re barely keeping up appearances now that your stockpile of sexual energy started to dwindle. But now that Zhongli was coming onto you, you suppose it won’t hurt to kill two birds with one stone. 

There’s something different in the air as he carries you to your bedroom – lips never straying too far from yours. Zhongli’s eyes are heavily lidded with want, a look you have a tough time imagining on him given the man’s saintlike patience. But as he carefully peels off your clothes, you can’t help but think how different he is from Rex. Where the God of Contracts is ferocious and impatient, Zhongli seems like he’s going to take all the time in the world to drown you in his love. 

“That tickles,” you mewl as his fingers trail across your inner thigh and you feel him smirk against the skin of your throat. 

“I know,” he says. “I quite enjoy seeing you squirm underneath my touch.”

“You’re mean…”

You can barely contain the gasp that resounds from your lips when you feel him tracing your slick entrance with the prod of his fingers. Zhongli murmurs the sweetest things against your lips, yet the things he’s doing between your thighs are anything but innocent. He keeps your knees apart, spreading you open for only him to see, and as he gazes at you from above, you clumsily tug off the tie that’s holding his beautiful hair in place.

Dark brown tresses cascade across the sides of his head. You stare up at the gorgeous man above you with a longing sigh.

When his long, thick digits sink into you, you silence your moans in the curve of his shoulder – teeth biting down at his flesh as Zhongli loosens you up. You feel his thumb occasionally catching on your clit, as if meaning to tease a momentary sensation of pleasure before denying you a few moments later. He’s cruel like that. Nonetheless, he watches you with quiet fascination as you practically grind yourself against his hand – feeling just how wet his fingers have gotten in the short time you were inside the room. The squelch of your cunt is a sound you would’ve been too embarrassed to hear, had you been with someone else. But with Zhongli, everything just seems so right.

“That’s it,” he goads you huskily, teeth grazing the side of your jaw. “Lose yourself for me, darling. Think of no one else but me.”

Darling? That’s new. But the new pet name only serves to push you over the edge – making your walls clench around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. Zhongli claims your lips in another heated kiss, relentlessly plunging his digits into you despite the overstimulation. You beg him to stop, but the only sound that comes from your mouth is a broken moan of his name.

You’re nothing but a boneless pile on the bed when you finally come down from your high, breathing heavily as you attempt to reorient yourself to your surroundings. The sensation of Zhongli shifting above you registers a bit late in your mind, but your frayed nerves jolt back to life when you feel him rubbing the head of his cock across your glistening seam. 

“Too much,” you whimper. “Zhongli, i-it’s too much…”

He leans down to press a loving kiss on your mouth, one of his hands rubbing your hip soothingly. “Shhh, I know you can take me. Just like you always have.” 

…Wait, what?

You can’t even offer what he said another thought because Zhongli makes good on his words and slowly slips his length into you without much warning. A sob nearly tears its way out of your throat with how his thick cock stretches you to the brim, but your lover kisses away the tears before they even come. 

“You mean so much to me,” he murmurs, twining his hands with yours. “More than you could ever know.” 

That was a given. Having Zhongli as a boyfriend made you feel like you were important; you were loved. Though you haven’t been dating for all that long, he never once gave you a reason to doubt the sincerity of his feelings. So despite all the odd things you unknowingly witnessed in his dreams, you like to believe that he meant every word. 

His hips slap against yours unabated, pumping his length hard and fast enough to make you croon his name over and over. And even if he managed to exhibit some degree of patience a while ago, it takes little time for Zhongli to move past his courtesy and bite down on the skin of your throat hard enough to bruise. 

“Mine,” he growls. “I’ll never let you go, my love.”

You would’ve teased him for such a cheesy choice of words if you were under different circumstances. But the moment the new endearment falls from Zhongli’s lips, you go completely still underneath him. 

“Stop. Zhongli, please stop.”

To his credit, he listens just as told – gazing at you with a puzzled look as he takes his length out. Zhongli is concerned for a moment, because you’re staring at him as if he’s killed a man right in front of you. When he reaches out a hand to touch your face, intent on asking what was wrong, you instinctively slap it away.

“I…” Your voice fails you. After all, how on earth can you just tell him that you wanted to stop because that was the very same thing that Rex calls Guizhong in his dreams. You can’t help but think that Zhongli used to call the Guizhong of this world the same thing, too.

Sometimes, real life could coincide with what happens in the dreamscape. Inside his mind, Rex Lapis sees Guizhong, not you. And you’re more than inclined to believe that it’s the same case here with Zhongli.

You’re not the one he sees – it’s the dead woman that he’s never stopped loving these past six years.

You know you’re being obtuse. Your boss isn’t the kind of person who lets his past grievances interfere with his present relationships. But the anxiety you’ve accumulated since your meeting with Xingqiu had boiled over with the worst timing possible. 

Instead of talking it out, you roll over to your side of the bed – pulling the covers tight enough around your body so that he sees no inch of it. You know that what you’re doing is probably hurting Zhongli more than you think, but you shut out any hint of remorse that threatens to make you waver.

It doesn’t take long for him to settle on the spot right next to you. Zhongli doesn’t ask why you suddenly pushed him away, nor do you make an effort to explain. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His words ring sincerely enough, but it sounds like he doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for. You don’t fault him for it. You’re still unsure why you even let yourself be consumed by your own doubts. Didn’t you just say you believed in Zhongli when he told you how much you mean to him?

You suppose this is where you fall short compared to Guizhong. The God of Dust put her faith in Rex Lapis despite his violent tendencies. She believes in him both as his follower and lover in equal measure. You, though? You’re already lucky enough to be dealing with a mellowed down version of the man in your dreams, but you still decide to take it for granted. Because…what? You’re insecure? You’re jealous of a woman who’s been dead for six years?

In the end, you decide that you’re too tired to think about it at the moment. Since you interrupted your own feeding session, your body wasn’t able to gain even an ounce of energy. You’re better off preserving what little you had left if you knew what was good for you.

(If Zhongli hears you choke on your own sobs later in the night, he says nothing of it in the morning.) 

“Can you make a contract with me?”

Rex Lapis is cleaning the blood off his polearm when Guizhong’s voice cuts through the silence of the night. He stares at her hard, yet his gaze still carries a hint of fondness he’s reserved for her and her alone.

She purses her lips before continuing, “If I were to be infected by the miasma that’s tainting the guardian yakshas in the front lines, I want you to take my life.”

“No.” His answer is quick and precise, as if he’s already mulled it over several times before she even brought the matter to light. “If that happens, I’ll turn this world upside down just to find a cure that can save you.”

“Yet you can’t even do that for the children who devoted their lives to you?” 

He stills, feeling the jab of his lover’s accusation hit harder than he expected. It’s not that he doesn’t care for the adepti – he simply knows that it’s in their nature to be more tenacious than the rest of their soldiers. Rex Lapis is certain that they can resist the effects of the miasma on their own merit. Guizhong, however, is just as delicate as the dust she holds dominion over. He’d rather watch the world burn first than let her die either by his hand or the corruption induced by that pesky miasma.

But still, he respects all his lover’s thoughts and wishes. She isn’t the brains of their operation for nothing. Without her, he wouldn’t have made it half as far in this war as he did now.

“Very well,” Rex Lapis agrees, albeit reluctantly. “I will honor this contract until the day I die.”

Guizhong’s eyes soften at his decision, and when she smiles, he feels his stone cold heart thawing at the radiance that only she can ever exude.

“I know you will.” 

“You’re doing it again, huh?”

Hu Tao ambles by your cubicle with that knowing tone of hers, arms crossed in a way that suggests you’re about to receive another thorough scolding. But you’re really not in the mood to be told off by someone who hasn’t lived in your shoes before, so you opt to ignore her. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she huffs, fingers pinching your face like she often does but you keep your eyes straight on the screen of your laptop. “Aren’t you and the consultant seeing each other lately? Is he not good in bed or something?”

Thankfully, the director has the decency to lower her voice when she speaks, making you heave another sigh before glancing at her warily. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Hmm… Let me guess. You’re doing something you’re not supposed to, aren’t you?”

Hu Tao’s perceptiveness is absolutely beyond you. You’ve always known that she’s quicker on the uptake than most people you’ve met in life, but it’s almost scary how she’s seemingly aware of your actions. You’re the succubus and she’s the human, but sometimes you feel like Hu Tao has more power over you than you initially assumed.

You try not to think about the more recent additions to your vignettes of Zhongli’s past memories. You can tell that the stakes of the war were growing higher and higher each time you visited his dreams. Could that be the influence of the current events in his life?

Ever since the night you pushed him away, you and Zhongli haven’t been on speaking terms. Sure, the two of you still conversed about details that need fine-tuning for your project, but beyond that, it’s complete radio silence. His good morning and good night texts have stopped, and he’s never once dropped by your apartment in that time frame; nor has he invited you over to his own. His distant behavior tears you up more than you realize, but you tell yourself that he has all the right to avoid you if he’s upset about what you did.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell Hu Tao. “Director, forgive me for being blunt, but I’d like to focus on this report now.”

Your superior sighs. You assume she’s going to concede early for a change, but the moment you think Hu Tao is already on her way, you feel her lean closer to your ear, whispering something that sends a chill down your spine.

“Don’t dive too deep into matters that don’t concern you. Don’t try to change things that have already been set in stone,” she says calmly, her fingers digging slightly into your shoulders. “If you lose sight of what’s really important, you might lose yourself in the process, too.”

When she lets go of you, Hu Tao continues humming that same, lively song she always sings – leaving you to deal with the guilt that grips your heart like a vice.

About two weeks since Zhongli started giving you the silent treatment, you come to a sound conclusion.

He’s still thinking about Guizhong. Well, she was his first love – meaning, your boss isn’t exactly going to stop thinking of her anytime soon. But you thought about your conversation with Xingqiu several times over the last few days. You hypothesized that the reason why Zhongli was continuously dreaming about his memories of a past long gone is because his grief cuts even deeper than he let on. 

Though you have no means of making sure, you’re almost too certain that the reason Zhongli still thinks of her even if you’re right in front of him is because her memory is too painful to let go. He clings to it subconsciously, and that desperation manifests itself in his dreams – back to a lifetime where Guizhong still lives.

The things that happened in the past are bound to happen in the present; that’s what Xingqiu told you the last time. So if the Guizhong in this world has already passed on, it’s safe to assume that the one in his dreams is bound to face the same fate as well. 

But…you have the power to change that.

Even if it’s nothing but a memory now, what if you could alter the outcome? If Zhongli is left with memories of Guizhong that aren’t tained with sorrow, maybe he can finally move past it.

Maybe he can finally see you instead of her.

It’s a fool’s line of reasoning – you know that. This was going to be one of the most dangerous things you tried in anyone’s dreamscape. But you’re so catastrophically in love with Zhongli, that you’d give up anything just to ease his pain. 

You’re well aware that your body is deteriorating at an exponential pace. Not only are you expending a lot of energy to tinker with Zhongli’s memories, but you don’t even bother with feeding anymore. You tell yourself that you can do that later, once you manage to save Guizhong from her timely demise. 

Everything you can think of to keep her from dying, you made sure happened in the dream. You don’t let her walk out to the front lines to give orders like she usually does. You make sure to avoid all the guardian yakshas, who are already tainted with the corruption that craftier gods weaponized against Rex Lapis’ forces. And most of all, you don’t let her leave his sight longer than she needs to – because if there’s anyone you can rely on to keep Guizhong alive, it’s Zhongli himself.

Of course, you’re still doing splendidly in keeping your work life separate from everything else. Your project has officially come to a close, raking in more revenue for Wangsheng than anyone expected. 

Today, you’re scheduled to give a speech addressing everyone’s efforts in the company’s conference room – something that you’re a bit reluctant to do because you know Zhongli is going to be there, too. The idea of him looking at you from the crowd with none of the adoration he used to give so freely is enough to make your stomach turn.

But still, you compose yourself. You’re no stranger to adversity, so seeing your boyfriend (can you even still call him that?) in a crowded room is the least of your problems. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

When Director Hu Tao calls you up to the platform, you're raring to go – practicing with deep breaths as you repeat the gist of your speech inside your head. You made sure to cake your face with a heavier layer of makeup this time around because the last thing you need is for her to pull you to the side and scold you for still refusing to feed. 

But the moment you get up from your seat, the world suddenly tilts to the side – your vision going black within seconds.

The last thing you remember is being whisked into a pair of strong arms. You want to curl your fingers in the fabric of his coat, to apologize a million times over, but the familiar scent of his clothes is enough to put you straight to sleep. 

“Goodness, miss. You had us terrified back there.”

Ganyu is sitting by your bed in the infirmary when you regain consciousness, wiping the tears off her face with a dainty handkerchief. You mumble a half-hearted apology, but immediately seize up when you see Zhongli leaning against the wall in front of you. 

“The nurse told us she suspected that you might have an eating disorder,” the secretary continues, rubbing your hand comfortingly. “It did seem like you were pushing yourself harder than usual during the last few weeks. You should really take care of yourself more.”

An eating disorder…? Well, if depriving yourself of your required sustenance can be translated into a human affliction, you suppose that was the most obvious counterpart. Still, you’re still feeling a bit too groggy for conversation, so instead of addressing Ganyu’s plight, you sink further into the mattress.

You can feel his gaze on your pitiful form – those eyes of endless gold. But you’re too much of a coward to face him when you’ve been reduced into such a state.

A little while later, you hear the door to the infirmary swing open. Is it odd that you can tell that the newcomer is Hu Tao based on the sound of her footsteps alone?

“Leave us,” she says sternly – addressing both Ganyu and Zhongli at the same time. “There’s something I need to discuss with her.”

You half-expect Zhongli to complain, or at least contest the director’s orders. But your heart sinks when he resigns himself to what he’s told, quietly ushering himself and his secretary out of the room.

Hu Tao waits for about two more minutes before speaking again.

“You better feed now or you’re going to die for real.”

“...But –”

“I can’t have you dying on my watch just because you’re being stubborn about it,” Hu Tao nearly snaps – eyes alight with rage. “Feed now. I don’t care who it is, just do it. I won’t let you out of this place until you’ve gotten better.”

To say that you’re terrified is putting it lightly. You’ve never seen Hu Tao get angry before, but the absolute urgency in her gaze – practically begging you to please just save yourself – makes you consider her request. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, only surrendering because you can’t save Guizhong if you’re dead. “See you in a bit.”

‘A bit’ is a lie that you didn’t really mean to tell. When you entered the crossroads of the dreamscape, you didn’t bother picking targets anymore. You slipped into the dream of a man who’s probably in his thirties, intent on just getting him off, sucking out some energy for yourself before making your leave. 

But no matter how many times you attempt to drive him to an orgasm, you don’t feel yourself getting any better. The energy that always emanates out of a man post-coitus is nowhere to be found. 

You switch targets faster than you can even blink. This time, it’s a boy that’s probably fresh out of high school, and you feel a bit horrible for having to trespass like this. But instead of fretting about common decency in a goddamn dream , you make him come about two consecutive times before realizing that –

This isn’t working, you mutter to yourself. Why the hell isn’t it working?

You’ve always had a hard time harnessing energy from strangers, yes. However, those instances granted you at least a tiny ounce of energy that could stem the hunger for a while. Now, you’re getting absolutely nothing.

It seems that Hu Tao is already privy to your dilemma when you wake up in your own body. 

“I’m going to put him to sleep,” she decides with a vexed sigh. “Make sure you get enough energy to last you for an entire year, got that? No meddling with anything else.”

“W-Wait,” you croak out, and damn, you feel even weaker than before. “What do you mean you’re going to put him to sleep? Are you talking about Zhongli?”

“Who else could I be talking about, little devil?” The director rolls her eyes. “Now, I’m going to ask you to pretend I’m not about to do something illegal and just rest. The moment you fall asleep, get into Zhongli’s head and feed. Okay?”

You don’t even get a chance to respond to Hu Tao’s words because you’re already nodding. Your bones feel like lead, limbs feel like they’ll fall off any minute. If you stay conscious any longer, your eyes might just dry out. 

It doesn’t take five minutes for you to fall asleep again. And as you drift aimlessly in the depths of your subconscious, a part of you that’s still coherent anticipates that it might take a while before you find Zhongli’s dreamscape. You’re not sure how long ‘putting him to sleep’ is going to be, but surprisingly, your existence is abruptly transported to the familiar marshlands of Dihua. 

You chalk it up to how often you’ve been hopping into Zhongli’s dreams, but you immediately notice that something isn’t right. The skies have turned into an ashen gray color – columns of smoke rising in several locations at once. When you gaze around, all you see are the fallen bodies of both soldiers and monsters alike. 

Rex. You need to find Rex Lapis.

That’s your very first instinct once your consciousness fully pulls through, careful to step over the decaying corpses as you mutter a silent prayer for each one. But just when you thought you’re going to end up tripping on one of them, you watch in equal parts horror and confusion when you witness your leg pass through the carcass of a dead monster.

All it takes is a single glance down for you to know that you’re no longer inside Guizhong’s body. Instead, you drift around as an apparition of sorts – arms, legs, and torso appearing less saturated than usual. It’s like you’ve become a transparent cut-out, and you give yourself a minute to think about what the hell was going on. This has never happened in your previous feedings. You’ve always been able to maintain your form, despite the numerous instances you’ve hopped in between dreamscapes. 

In the distance, however, you find the answer to all of your questions.

You spot them amidst the debris left behind by the battle. Rex Lapis kneels at the side of the most beautiful woman you’ve seen in your life – cradling her frail body in his arms as golden tears flowed forth from his eyes. It’s the first time he’s surrendered the unmovable visage you’ve gotten so used to seeing in this dream. Gone is the unfeeling, uncaring God of Contracts who felled his own enemies like it was as easy as breathing. In his place is a man who only wanted to live with the person he adored the most.

Guizhong’s pale skin is overrun by dark lacerations that look like black veins rooted into the surface. Her own eyes glisten with tears as she reaches up to cradle Zhongli’s face. She says something that you don’t hear over the wind howling in your ears, but you don’t let yourself remain stagnant for a second longer. 

You run straight to them with what little strength you can muster – intent on shaking Guizhong by the shoulders to scream, “No! This isn’t how things were supposed to be! You were supposed to live. I was supposed to save you!”

But none of these messages get across to either of the two. To them, you’re nothing but the breeze on their skin – violently whipping all around as the war only worsened. There aren’t any clear winners here, this is becoming clear to you. But as the God of Dust heaves her final breath, you hear Guizhong speak for the last time.

“Thank you… For honoring our contract,” she sighs, blood dribbling down the sides of her mouth as she forces herself to smile. In her hand, she lifts up a stone dumbbell with a complicated structure – something you’ve never seen before despite all the time you spent in her body.

“This is the mark of our pledge, and it is also my challenge to you.” Guizhong hands it to him shakily, still careful despite being on death’s doorstep. “All my wisdom is contained inside. If you can unlock it –”

She never gets to finish the words. A loud clap of thunder booms across the marsh – deafening even when you don’t have the body in this dream to perceive the sensation. Zhongli makes a mistake of letting the noise distract him, because when he glances at Guizhong once more, the woman he loves has already crumbled in his arms. 

Once the dust settles over the war-torn battlefield, Rex Lapis rises back to his feet. You can see the weight of his grief in the way his golden hands tremble at his sides. But just as quickly as his lover’s passing, he summons his polearm back in his hands – thrusting the hilt into the ground hard enough to break through the barren soil. The God of Contracts lets out a monstrous shout – terror rooting itself into your being. The sound is fearsome. Inescapable. 

And with a single twist of his hand, the earth starts to shake beneath your feet.

Xingqiu arrives at Hu Tao’s quarters faster than she anticipated, blue eyes startled to see the two bodies resting on top of her bed. The director pays his reaction no mind, though. Instead, she fills him in on the situation.

“I had my guards carry these two up here,” she explains, pointing a finger interchangeably at you and Zhongli. “That guy, I drugged to put him to sleep so she can get inside his dreams for sustenance. But it’s been about three hours, and neither of them are waking up.”

“What? She still hasn’t fed?” The incubus asks incredulously. “It’s been almost a month since I last saw her. Back then, she was already starving. Don’t tell me she’s been holding out all this time.”

“You’d be surprised at the lengths that stubbornness can take a person,” Hu Tao chuckles, leaning back into her seat as she twists some of the rings on her fingers. 

Xingqiu lets out a long, exasperated exhale as he sits by the bed – watching you and your so-called boyfriend doze soundly next to the other. But your deathly pale complexion doesn’t escape his notice. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve assumed you were dead.

“While I am very concerned about my friend’s destructive behavior,” he begins, casting a sidelong glance at the Wangsheng director. “I’m more curious about why you’re helping them in the first place. It’s not like you to meddle in things that are none of your business to begin with. And yet…”

Hu Tao sighs. She’s been hanging around this demon boy from the Guhua clan for too long. He can already discern what’s normal and unusual for her behavior, and she isn’t really a fan of being perceived like that.

But unwittingly, his words got her thinking.

“Remember how you pulled me out of the in-between when I tried to reach out to Grandfather in the afterlife? I nearly died because of it,” she sighs, remembering her past experiences with meddling none-too-fondly. “I can’t just stand here and watch my subordinate slowly kill herself the same way when I know someone who can help.”

Xingqiu sighs again. “Director, I’m an incubus, not a miracle worker. Us crossing paths at the in-between was nothing but a coincidence… But then again, that’s the same way I met her back then, too.” He casts your ghastly form a wistful glance. If he’d known that divulging information about your lover’s past memories would lead to this, he never would’ve said a word. 

“I need you to fetch both of them before they get trapped in their own dreams. I’ll fork over whatever amount you like,” Hu Tao proposes, her usually playful demeanor now replaced by something more grim. “Just – please. Save them.”

“...That’s a really tall order, you know?” The incubus shakes his head in disbelief. “The in-between is the last place I’d want to hang around, but this woman is my friend, too. You don’t have to cough up any –”

To both their surprise (and relief), Zhongli seizes up on the bed, sitting upright as he gasps for breath. Hu Tao uncharacteristically scrambles to hand him a glass of water, which he empties in the span of five seconds. But even if the sight of your boyfriend rousing himself from the dream is a good thing, Xingqiu notices how you’re yet to follow suit.

It seems that Zhongli followed his line of sight as well, and both him and Hu Tao can practically hear the sound of his heart plummeting straight to his stomach at the sight of you. 

“No,” he murmurs, a shaky hand reaching up to caress your face. “Not again…”

Again?

“Xingqiu, change of plans,” Hu Tao calls out softly as she meets his eyes. She doesn’t even need to elaborate further for him to understand. 

“What plan are you talking about?” Zhongli interrupts with a hard frown. “What did you do to her?”

“Oi, consultant. Don’t go accusing the people that are trying to help,” Hu Tao snarks, shooting him a dirty look. “We’re running out of time, so I’m going to give you the abridged version. Your girlfriend? She’s trapped in some place called the in-between. It’s the space that separates dreams from reality; the afterlife from the human realm.”

“But if she’s really trapped in your dream, she should’ve woken up at the same time you did,” Xingqiu adds. “That’s why I’m assuming she wandered too far and got herself stranded in your memories instead.”

“...My memories?” 

The director nods. “Yup. And unless she finds the key in her own subconscious and escapes on her own or someone else enters the same dreamscape and helps her…”

“She’ll be trapped in there forever.”

Both director and incubus stare at the poor man expectantly, wondering how he’ll take the information they just dumped on him. Xingqiu wouldn’t be surprised to see him call them a bunch of lunatics before contacting the authorities for the unsightly method Hu Tao employed just to get him to sleep. But Zhongli is strangely composed, nodding once, twice before turning to his half-dead lover.

“Tell me what I need to do,” he says quietly. In turn, Xingqiu breathes out another sigh in relief as Hu Tao claps her hands together gleefully.

“That’s the spirit, consultant!” The director beams. “Now let’s save your girlfriend, yeah?”

You didn’t want any of this.

The sounds of a never-ending battle rages on outside – the impact of gods fighting to the death causing your temporary shelter to quake where you hide yourself away. The cave you took refuge in resembles the one you woke up in the first time you attempted to feed on Zhongli, but you don’t bother making comparisons. Not that it matters. You’re nothing but a ghost anyways – unable to go back from whence you came, and unable to go to the next place you’re supposed to be.

Still, you didn’t want to bear witness to Zhongli slaughtering hundreds in mere seconds. You’ve seen him fight before – he’s always fought valiantly in this war especially when Guizhong was by his side. But now that she’s gone, the God of Contracts is nothing but a husk of a man.

All that’s left is a bloodthirsty killing machine that intends to paint the land in the angry red of his grief.

Despite how hopeless your situation is, you can’t help but pray to whoever’s listening. You want them to remind Rex Lapis of the dream he once shared with Guizhong – to build a nation by the harbor, where no gods nor monsters can hope to harm the Guili Assembly. But as long as he continues his onslaught of carnage, that dream will never be realized.

Then, you think about the Zhongli that’s waiting for you back home.

Regret is the first emotion that occurs in your ephemeral form. You wish you could have apologized for that night – for assuming that he still isn’t over his dead ex-lover. For attempting to alter memories that aren’t truly his own for the sake of your own ego. 

For never saying how much you loved him before disappearing for good. 

If only you communicated with him normally like a proper girlfriend should. If only you didn’t assume the worst about him just because he once loved someone more than he loved you sometime ago. 

You’ve heard of incidents where succubi and incubi aren’t able to wake up from their feedings. It’s either they’re trapped in an unstable human’s dream or trapped in their own because of internal instability. You don’t know exactly how to classify your situation, but you suppose that the reason why you can’t wake yourself up is because of Guizhong.

She became your vessel in these memories during your first successful feeding. And since then, you’ve used her body to traverse the strange land that she and Rex Lapis supposedly hold dominion over. But regardless of how careful you were with Guizhong, she still died. There was nothing you could do to change something that was already set in stone, and instead you lost your way back to where you truly belonged.

For someone who claims to hate her own heritage as a succubus, this just goes to show how much you actually relied on your powers.

Gods. This fucking sucks.

You can only imagine how devastated Zhongli would feel to find your lifeless body in the real world – clutching you to his chest the same way Rex did with Guizhong. Two girlfriends dying on him in the span of six years. You wonder if he’ll ever love again.

…If Zhongli was in your place, he would have spoken to you the moment he felt uneasy about your past. He would’ve asked for some reassurance so he wouldn’t have to worry like this. 

He never would’ve tried to change you.

He would’ve told you that he trusted you.  

You miss him so much that it tears you from the inside out. If only you can see him again – see that beautiful smile again – you’d hold him tight and tell him a million times. 

You’d tell him you were a coward. That you were too afraid of splitting his affections with a woman who doesn’t even exist anymore. 

But…it’s too late for all that now, isn’t it? 

Helplessly, you pull up your barely-there knees to your chest, burying your face in between as you make yourself smaller. You want to cry yourself hoarse, but the tears never come. All you can do is sit alone in the darkness, where you can only dream of someone finding you in the middle of the chaos.

You’re too caught up in your own sorrow to discern the beam of light that splinters through the darkness. You don’t notice the man that steps into the in-between with you; don’t notice as he approaches. It’s only when you feel the familiar sensation of a large, comforting hand on your shoulder that you snap out of your misery.

“There you are,” Zhongli – your Zhongli – breathes out. 

When you finally wake up, you feel like someone brought you back from the dead.

You can barely breathe without it feeling like the oxygen is ripping your lungs to shreds. But before you can asphyxiate yourself, a familiar figure hands you a glass of water, along with a handful of dried leaves. You glance up at Hu Tao in confusion as she stares at you nonchalantly. 

“You were in the in-between for gods-know how long,” the director reminds you. “Go chew on those to recover.”

“...I was what?”

“You were as good as dead.” The sound of Xingqiu’s familiar voice makes you jump, but the incubus simply turns the page on his novel from where he’s seated by the foot of the unfamiliar bed. “I’ve heard of succubi going a few weeks without food, but two months? Do you have a death wish?”

Your head is spinning from all the whiplash, and you actually take Hu Tao’s advice and drink some water before chewing on her magic leaves. But when you notice that there’s someone else occupying the mattress with you, your heart soars with relief.

“Hello,” Zhongli greets you.

“Hi,” you greet him back.

In your peripheral, you can see Hu Tao mouthing something you can’t decipher to Xingqiu – a message that your incubus friend is quick to pick up on before the two of them step out of the room to give you more privacy. Now that you noticed it, you were probably taken up to the director’s quarters at some point during your coma. Either way, once the door clicks shut, it’s just you and Zhongli – the first time you’ve been alone with him since that night in your apartment.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it?” you say nervously, unsure where you should even begin. But you suppose an apology is a good starting point. “I’m…sorry. For everything.”

Zhongli sighs, sitting up right to pull you in a tight hug. The abruptness of the gesture makes you drop the leaves on the bed, stunning you into complete silence.

“I thought I lost you,” he nearly chokes – a sound that you never would’ve imagined Zhongli making. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

The pure anguish in his voice makes your heart clench, and now that you have a body that actually lets you feel things, you’re finally given the familiar sensation of eyes stinging with tears. You return Zhongli’s embrace with equal fervor – letting yourself sob into the hollow of his neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you babble, chest seizing with tremors as you curl your fingers into his hair. “I never should’ve hidden the truth about me. I never should’ve meddled with the past. And… I never should’ve questioned the way you feel about me.”

You can feel Zhongli’s erratic pulse against your chest, and you find the fact that it’s possible for his heart to race a relief to know. When he pulls away, his cheeks are wet with tears – not the golden liquid that poured from Rex Lapis’ eyes, but the very same tears that you’re crying right this second.

This is your Zhongli. This is the man you fell in love with. 

You wonder why you even tried to change a past he experienced in a different life – knowing full well just how different he is from the God of Contracts.

“I love you,” you murmur, pressing your forehead against his. “Zhongli, I love you.” 

“And as I do you,” he breathes. “The director and the Guhua boy have already informed me of your…special circumstances, but I’d like to hear the tale of your escapades in my dreams some other time.”

You pause. “So you don’t want me to explain why I did everything I did?”

“Of course I do.” Zhongli shakes his head. “But…I was also told that you’ve been depriving yourself of sustenance for nearly two months now. As your lover, I’m inclined to help you out of your predicaments, yes?”

Oh. Oh.

“B-But we’re in the director’s room…” you tell him bashfully, feeling a surge of heat creep up your neck. “And I owe you a proper explanation for –”

He promptly shuts you up with a kiss. The nerve of this guy!

“Darling, will you allow me to make love to you?” he murmurs the words against your lips, already pulling you to his lap. “Properly this time.”

You know you should snap him out of it and insist that you’re fine. That you’ll last another day without sex if that means you can sufficiently explain yourself because Zhongli deserves as much. But you remember, at that moment, that you’re particularly weak when he starts to trail featherlight kisses along your neck. Zhongli knows this as well as you do, and you can feel him smile triumphantly when you let out a sigh in defeat. 

He doesn’t bother removing your clothes; practically tearing a hole into your pantyhose at his impatience. You balk at him for doing such a thing, but Zhongli promises to buy you another set once everything is settled. 

“Do you find it strange that I’m terribly aroused despite everything that happened?” he asks you, hauling his cock out of his unzipped trousers as he gives it a few pumps. 

“Not at all,” you respond in kind. “I’ve always thought you were hornier than you seemed. It’s always the prim and proper ones, you know?”

You bite your lip as you grind your clothed cunt against his hardening length, feeling your desire pool in between your thighs at the mere thought of him inside you. Zhongli bites down his laughter, nuzzling the crook of your neck as he spreads you open on his lap.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Nudging your underwear aside, you sink yourself onto his thick length with a blissful sigh – feeling his cockhead hitting all the right spots. Zhongli plants his palms firmly on your hips, barely able to contain the hunger in his eyes as he watches you bounce on top of his dick. Your skirt hikes further up your thighs with each downward plunge, and your lover cares to swallow your moans with an open-mouthed kiss.

You all but muffle a scream into his lips when you feel Zhongli thrusting his hips up to meet the cadence of your movements. Tears catch in the lines of your lashes from how good it feels, and you nearly come right then and there when he pulls away to whisper in your ear.

“I’m going to fill you to the brim,” he promises. “My seed will drip down your thighs from here on out so you’ll never forget where you belong.”

“By your side?” you whisper, purposely clenching your walls around his length to elicit a reaction.

Zhongli grunts in approval, much to your amusement. “By my side.” 

He switches things up at the last minute, flipping you over so that you’re lying down on the bed. You open your mouth to protest, but Zhongli is already pressing your knees against your thighs – plunging his cock into the velvet heat of your cunt as he hits it deeper than before. 

“I’d gladly fuck you everyday if that means you’ll never starve again,” your lover tells you with a growl, golden irises boring deep into your own. “Would you like that? Would you like me to sate your needs?”

“Yes,” you mewl as your fingers rake across his back. “Yes, yes yes! I only want you, Zhongli. Please –”

Your climax blindsides you out of nowhere, cunt squeezing around his cock impossibly tight. You screw your eyes shut, burying your face in his shoulder as your body shudders and trembles from the force of it. Zhongli, however, is intent on taking advantage of your vulnerable state. He doesn’t relent – just continues pounding you into the bed as he chases his own high.

“You’re the only one I love,” he tells you all of a sudden, momentarily pulling you out of your lustful haze. “You might not be the first, but you’ll certainly be the last.”

“Stop saying cheesy things while you’re fucking my brains out,” you moan. “You’re going to make me cry…”

“Heh, that’s the point.”

As promised, Zhongli finishes inside you with a shuddering sigh – and you feel the surge of his hot seed painting your insides. You’ve never felt so satisfied after having real sex with a real human, but when you’re actually in love with the person you’re sleeping with, you suppose there’s lots of room for exceptions.

“So why were you chasing ghosts that don’t even haunt me anymore?” 

You finish the rest of the water that Hu Tao offered earlier when Zhongli asks you the million-dollar question. Your heart twists with both guilt and apprehension, but you know that this is the best time to lay the truth on the table. 

“I was…bothered when you called me by the thing that Rex Lapis called Guizhong the goddess in your dreams,” you admit. “I thought you were thinking about Guizhong your ex while you were with me.”

Zhongli nods as he fixes his own clothes, an unreadable look settling on his face. “Rex Lapis…is the identity I had in a past life, isn’t it? And Guizhong was his lover.” 

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t explain why you tried to alter my memories, though,” he points out.

“Well, I thought if I could lessen the pain of your memories of Guizhong, you’d stop thinking about her and start thinking about me.” Gods, you sound like such a fucking brat. “That – That was really childish of me. I’m sorry. I even got the director and Xingqiu involved because of my own impulsiveness…”

“If you look at it that way then, yes. It is very childish of you. But I think that just goes to show how deeply you feel about me,” Zhongli suggests with a handsome smile, reaching out to hold your hand in his. “You want me to look at you, and only you?” 

“Of course I do,” you mumble. “You want me to do the same for you, right? I’m just trying to make things even…”

Your lover lets out another laugh, raising your hand to his lips as he places a soft kiss on your skin. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to Zhongli’s show of affection.

“Guizhong…is a person who’s near and dear to me even now,” he says, going off a tangent as he rubs comforting circles into your wrist. “But do you know the last thing she told me before she passed?” 

You shake your head. “What?”

“That I shouldn’t chain myself to the past, no matter how painful it is to carry on,” Zhongli continues. “My life here is much simpler than the life Rex Lapis lived. I have no idea what you saw in my – rather, his memories to make you assume that the same applies for me. But I assure you that I’m not a man who’ll punish himself by constantly mulling over what-ifs and could-have-beens.

“All that matters is the present, and what I choose to do now, while you’re still by my side.”

…Damn it. You’re feeling the waterworks again.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you whisper, squeezing his hand just to make sure he was real.

“That, I’m afraid I can’t answer,” he chuckles. “But, on the topic of your immeasurable love, the Guhua boy imparted another interesting piece of information before lending me his powers to save you.”

“...Wait, I’ve been wondering how you got inside the in-between,” you tell him. “So it was Xingqiu? How the hell did he do that?”

“Darling, please refrain from asking questions I don’t have answers to.”

“Fine, fine. What did he say that was so interesting then?”

Zhongli laughs, and something about the shift in his tone makes you narrow your eyes in suspicion. “Director Hu said you tried to harvest energy from other men while you were on the brink of death but it didn’t work. Xingqiu informed us that when your kind starts to feel strongly about a certain human, you won’t be able to harness energy anywhere else apart from that person.”

“...Why do I feel like you’re just gloating now?”

“That’s because I am.”

The sound of the door sliding abruptly catches your attention. Hu Tao emerges from the entrance as she claps her hands loudly. “Alright, that’s enough lovey-dovey chit-chat. I’m going to have the maids launder my sheets first before I sleep in them tonight!”

Your face flushes with embarrassment. “Director Hu Tao, I –”

“Aiya! No apologies. It’s all good,” she insists. “But hey, consultaaant~ Now that I let you and your girlfriend have reunion sex in my quarters, you’re not going to press any charges for assault, will you?”

“Wait, what charges?” Your gaze darts between the two of them curiously.

Zhongli drags a palm over his face, as if having just realized something terrible. “In order to help you get into my dreams, the director laced my tea with a potent drug. I was unconscious for quite some time. But I won’t press any charges, since I have little patience for the tedium of the Liyue Police Station.”

“Aww, you’re the best!” Hu Tao gushes before turning to you. “By the way, Xingqiu already went ahead, but he asked me to give you this.” 

You blink as Hu Tao hands you a sleek black business card with the words “Dr. Paimon” printed with embossed lettering. Zhongli peers over your shoulder, examining the card with the same degree of curiosity.

“He didn’t really elaborate, but rumor has it, that person can turn you into a normal human,” the director explains, smiling with intent. “I figured that since you’re probably gonna want to spend the rest of your life with the old man, you’d want to give up your immortality.”

Immortality… A staple that comes with being a succubus. It’s one of the most fundamental reasons why your kind fed on sexual energy in the first place, yet you never stopped to think of your future if you stayed immortal, while Zhongli continues to age with the passage of time. 

You won’t be able to start a family with him; have his children; grow old with him. Because that’s the fate that your kind has long been cursed with since they first walked the earth. But now, you’re given a way out – even if it sounds too good to be true.

You’re afraid to look at Zhongli. You feel like you should accept the offer, but everything that transpired today is just so overwhelming that you’re not sure if you can make the right choice…

But as always, he’s here to support you.

“You don’t have to make a decision now,” he reminds. “We still have work tomorrow, so I suggest we head home and rest first. I’m sure that can wait.”

…Being thrust back into the nightmare that is the Liyuen corporate ladder after nearly dying in the in-between. Way to maintain a sense of normalcy, Zhongli. 

Well, ‘normal’ is the best thing that the universe can give to you right now. Too bad you’re not selfless enough to deny the one thing you’ve been craving after all this time.

“Miss? Here’s the tea you asked for.”

Ganyu’s voice flits through your ears like a calming breeze. She places your drink on your desk – just behind a plaque that reads Wangsheng Corporation - Consultant. The scent of freshly brewed qingxin petals wafts to your nose and you feel every nerve ending in your body relax at the more aroma.

“Thank you,” you tell her kindly. “You’re right. This tea really does work miracles.”

Your secretary hides a giggle behind her hand. “Both Lady Ningguang and Mister Zhongli became fond of it when I started working for them. I figured it would be the same with you.”

The golden band on your finger seems to glint in the sunlight streaming into your office as you take a few sips. You used to think that tea was nothing but leaf water, but if you have someone like Zhongli for a husband, you’re bound to start appreciating the finer things in life – Ganyu’s herbal remedy included.

“Oh, that reminds me,” she perks up. “Is the director coming back soon? I heard that four months is already a good time to check for the gender.”

You’re a bit surprised by her words, but Ganyu has always exhibited her excitement for the budding life in your womb the moment you made the announcement a few months back. 

“Zhongli’s secretary told me he should be home by the end of the week,” you tell her kindly, free hand instinctively going to the slight swell of your belly. “Once we figure out whether it’s a boy or a girl, I promise you’re the first person we’ll inform.”

She gasps. “You really mean that, miss?”

“Why not? You’re the godmother after all~”

Once Ganyu recovers from the initial shock from being assigned as your child’s godmother, you’re left to your lonesome once more. 

It’s been six months since Hu Tao stepped down as the director for Wangsheng Corporation – passing the title onto Zhongli – and six months since you’ve held office as the company’s new consultant. At times, you still find it strange, how you’re the one giving advice with regards to your husband’s dealings with other businesses. But you remind yourself that everything happens all in due time. 

Your old life as a succubus is way behind you now, but there are moments where you still think of what happened to Rex Lapis after Guizhong’s death. Did he get killed by the other gods? Did he lead the Guili Assembly to the harbor? What happened to the stone dumbbell Guizhong gave to him? You’ll never know now that you’ve lost the ability to travel through dreams. 

But in the back of your head, you hoped he was able to find some sort of deliverance from the pain induced by his lover’s passing.

In the midst of your contemplation, your phone buzzes with a text – one that you’re quick to open.

Zhongli [10:54]: I’m boarding the plane at Fontaine National Airport right now. Should be back by tonight :)

Huh. That was earlier than expected.

Me [10:54] We’ll be waiting with a nice bottle of osmanthus ^__^

Zhongli [10:55]: Darling, please. Drinking is bad for the baby

Me [10:55]: One glass won’t cause genetic disorders, Zhongli.

Zhongli [10:56]: Very well… I’ll still make sure to watch your consumption though.

Me [10:56]: Fine by me <3 Take care on the way back. I love you.

Zhongli [11:15]: Sorry, just got past a checkpoint. I love you, too.

You put away your phone with a sigh, tracing the rim of your teacup absentmindedly. For good measure, you pinch your cheek the same way Hu Tao used to do when she was still in charge – just to make sure you’re not dreaming. 

But the baby is intent on helping you out with that when you feel it kick a bit too hard against your navel.

“Okay, point taken,” you mumble. 

A year ago, you wouldn’t have pictured yourself carrying a human child – much more picturing yourself as a human. But you learned that time is kind to those who wait. It’s just as Zhongli said: regardless of everything that happened in the past, what’s important is what you do now in the present. 

And to you, that’s all that matters. 

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[blueskittlesart]

hi :] this isnt really a reqest cuz it'll prob be a longer answer but im rlly curious abt ur comic process

i love all ur comics and somehow they always manage to gutpunch me- and ur composition and the way they read is always so beautiful and adds so much to the message youre trying to get across

yeah lol let's get into it! Ive spent maybe 5 or so years refining this process to the point it's at now so it's pretty much my standard procedure now. I'm going to use Now that you're gone as my primary example here since i still have most of the planning stages associated with it (my laptop does not have a whole lot of storage left so i usually delete my planning once the comic is finished lol) but i'll try to throw in some other examples too!

I almost always start with a written script. (the exception for this is longform oc comics which i find easier to write in the moment, but for my shorter character studies I almost always write first.) I use discord to write because it's convenient, but before i had a dedicated discord server for my stuff i was using txt files on my laptop which i do NOT recommend. anyway, this is what the written script for ntyg looked like:

note that some small elements changed in production, like the amount of time that had passed since link's death. the lines "I look at her and i am only afraid. i remember all the ways in which i hurt you. She's almost as old now as you were then. I cannot stand the thought of outliving her, too" were also added during the rough stage because i felt like there wasn't quite enough emphasis on aryll in the initial script, and since this was a major change that necessitated a whole extra page in the comic I went back and edited those lines into the script so I wouldn't forget them. (both these changes were made during the rough stage. i'll almost never make major script adjustments after the roughs are finished.)

more examples of my scripts; specifically the original script for totk: failure and two versions of oot: adulthood (one before some major refining and one after.) with comics like these, where i have a very clear idea in my head of the imagery i want to go along with the words, i'll sometimes include it interspersed in the script, either spolier-marked or denoted with brackets.

with ntyg and some of my other more. canon divergent? i guess? comics, there's sort of a mini phase in between scripting and roughs where I do some minor character studies to get designs nailed down in the early stages. with ntyg I already had a clear image in my mind for aryll, but the central character was link's dad, whose design wasn't quite so solid in my head. I really wanted to make sure that his design was well thought-out and consistent throughout everything, so i did a few mini sketches and studies to ensure I had his design memorized and could execute it consistently:

these are sans hair and accessories because nailing down consistent facial features was my main focus with them, and both these sketches ended up getting used as references for certain panels later on. This isn't a step I ALWAYS take with my comics, but if there's a central character that i'm not super used to drawing i find it helpful to get some practice in before jumping into the real thing!

after the scripting and design phases i move on to roughs, which I consider to be the most important stage in my process. roughs are very very quick approximations of what I want the final pages to look like. they usually don't take me more than a few minutes per page to create, and their sole purpose is to help me visualize the flow of the page and the placement of major elements like panels, characters, and dialog. this is what the 1st page rough for ntyg looked like compared to the final page:

as you can see, all i have laid out is the major text and visual elements, but it really helps me to visualize how the finished comic is going to flow. i do the roughs for every page before i start on the finals so that i have an idea of what the entire comic is going to look like before I really start finalizing it. it's important that these roughs are FAST--i almost never draw fully-fledged characters unless the pose or expression is particularly important to the scene, and that's because the goal is to allow everything to flow quickly and easily from panel to panel and page to page, and getting too caught up on one panel or element often breaks that flow. Nowadays, i have a pretty good idea of how much room my writing takes up so i don't write out the entire script in my roughs, but back when i was a little less experienced i took the time to write everything out in this stage to ensure that my dialog would fit into the space it was given without getting cramped or cutting off other important elements. doing that really helped me build awareness of how much dialog and panel placement matters and how i could use it, so this rough stage is non-negotiable for me even now!

after the roughs i go straight into finalization. I never enjoyed lineart back when i was learning to draw digitally so i basically built my art style to be understandable and visually appealing after one sketch phase, meaning there's legitimately no in-between stage between that rough and that final page, i just sort of. go for it. this is what works for me, but i think most normal people would probably find a second sketch phase helpful LMAO i'm just crazy and i need everything done as fast as possible. the finalization stage usually doesn't contain any major adjustments of script, composition, etc; i make it a general rule to keep most of the major adjustments confined to the earlier stages, for my own sanity. One thing that DOES occasionally change in this stage is my plans for color--ntyg in particular was originally planned to be completely black-and-white with no grays added, but when looking at my completed pages i found them sort of empty and unengaging without the gray, so i added it. usually if my color plans DO change it's something small like that--I'll almost never switch between full-color and grayscale on a whim because the way that i sketch for those two versions differs significantly so it isn't an easy switch to make.

anyways i hope this is what you were looking for! I'm very passionate about making comics and this process is a result of years of experimentation & finding what works for me, but i hope it's of some use to you as well!

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: Learning to Crawl (issue 35)

Moon Knight, Issue # 35: Second Wind

Written by Tony Isabella and drawn by Carl Potts

Hey look! The X-men are in this one! And the Fantastic Four! That’s a lot of cross-over. As I’ve stated before, a lot of times when you have a ‘features’ on the cover, it means the characters show up briefly to do a one liner, then leave. A ploy to try to draw in more readers and sell more issues. Let’s see how much they all feature in this! 

And the plot summary? “Following last issue’s devastation, Moon Knight is at a crossroads on whether or not to continue his vigilante career. Guest-starring the X-Men and FF!” 

Now, keep in mind that this is a new writer (One that was acclaimed and recently retired that came out of retirement to guest appear) right after Moench left Marvel. So we're getting the character intro that feels more geared towards the writer than the audience. ALSO this is a cross over ultra long issue so they are hoping to have NEW readers that are here for the X-men and that will get interested in Moon Knight and then start reading regularly.

So we're not only going to get over intros of the characters, but we're also going to get a heavily watered down edition of the characters because the new readers aren't here for lore, they're here for X-men. 

We open at midnight in Manhattan. 

"It's Midnight when the man born Marc Spector (but who has long since glided into other identities as easily as he now glides over the city) spots the quarry that has brought him out into the darkness. 

Thus Marc Spector begins this in his identity as the costumed adventurer Moon Knight. When it ends he will know who he truly is...and why." 

His prey is "The Fly", who focuses on robbing rich vacation homes while the owners are away. 

After noting that The Fly recently went up against Spider-Man and lost, Moon Knight sneaks up on The Fly and immediately gets his ass kicked. He spends a lot of time on the ground. 

He’s doing well. 

OH. OH NO. I know this comic! (it may come as a surprise to some of you that I do not read the comics then write these analysis. I do a life reaction.) I knew this was coming but it had completely escaped me that THIS was how it happened. Oh. My. Khonshu. This is embarrassing. 

As always, Frenchie is up above keeping an eye on things. When he spots "The Fly" getting away, he radios down to Moon Knight. 

Worried for his friend, he climbs down from the chopper and finds Marc laid out on the roof, unable to move and barely able to speak. 

I must say, the art and colors on this issue are spectacular. 

Frenchie gets Marc to his chopper. 

"Moon Knight glides from pain to oblivion to delirium in no discernible pattern. Once he curses himself through agonized tears for being so sloppy this time. 

Once he wakes in madness to quote Keats. 'There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.'" 

Side note: We've seen Marc, specifically Marc, quote classical literature before. Marc is shockingly well read and it makes me wonder why he hides how smart he is. In later issues he talks about his struggles in school, but Marc Spector really is very smart. (An idiot but smart). 

John Keats is an English romantic poet. He is famously known for "Beauty in truth, truth in beauty".

Jean-Paul takes Marc to a private hospital that 'doesn't ask questions'. 

He undergoes surgery, but his spinal damage is great. They tell Marlene that they've done what they can and the rest lays in subsequent therapy. "I'm afraid it's entirely possible that Steven Grant may never walk again." 

We move to Paris where a young up and coming dancer is running for her life from some unseen danger. 

Her assailant is a woman who accuses her of abandoning Russia and taking all her gifts with her. The attacker uses the wind as her power and sends the girl off into the sky to meet a terrible fate. 

Back in Grant Mansion, we see one of the Moon Boys working on parallel bars to learn to walk again. The whole time, he curses himself for letting The Fly get away. 

Now, for the past couple of issues, Moon Knight has been facing another internal conflict of if he is doing any good. The people he was supposed to help turned out to be th villains and the villains turned out to be guided by circumstances and then paid a terrible price. 

"I'm not sure I should ever think about Moon Knight again... I mean, what if it's somebody else's life on the line next time I screw up?" 

Marlene calls an end to today's therapy session and helps 'Steven' back to his wheelchair. 

Samules, the butler, announces a guest and Gena busts in at full speed. 

"Guests, Sammy? We're family. Right Lockley?" 

"How's the kids, Gena?" (Jake is always such a sweetie). 

She gives him a hug and I may tear up. I love Gena so much. 

Crawley bursts in next. 

Jake's friends have always been his support and his heart. 

Jake is worried about the boys. 

Gena is too. "This sure isn't the easiest city in the world to grow up in...Even for good kids." 

They reflect on the gangs always recruiting new members. 

They talk about how Lenny, from the Music box issue, is serving time despite being a good kid. They reflect on the gang that was poisoned and attacked Gena in her diner. 

"Those are the reasons I'm thinking of leaving. My brother has a place in Houston. He needs a manager. Hard decision to make." Gena admits. 

"Do what's best for you and the kids. But... If you can --stay. You've got family here too." 

It's hard to let go of friends. Especially someone as important to their way of life and joy like Gena. Jake relies so heavily on his routine. He visits the diner for breakfast frequently and he goes there when things are stressful or he wants to get away from Steven's life and people. 

Gena heads out, back to the diner. Crawley lingers to have a word. 

Moon Knight used to pay Crawley for information. Crawley has always had a gambling problem and he admits that he's been in it again and is out of cash and overdue on the rent again. 

"I...I was wondering if Moon Knight would be requiring my services soon." 

I'm not sure who is fronting at this junction, but he's giving Steven vibes so I'll say Steven. 

Steven admits that he doesn't know when he'll be up and able to walk again, much less Moon Knighting... 

"I'm not sure Moon Knight will be back." 

Marlene offers to put Crawley on a retainer and holds out some cash. 

"Oh, no. I'm afraid I've gotten to enjoy working for a living again. Not to worry, my dear, I'll be fine." 

Crawley refuses help and asks to be notified if his services are needed. He heads back to the diner.

Steven is angry. "He's my friend, Marlene, and for the first time I'm wondering if it hasn't been my needs as Moon Knight that have kept him down in the gutters--While I come home to THIS every morning.

Maybe it is time to retire as Moon Knight." 

He heads into the room that houses his Khonshu statue. 

"What do you say, Khonshu, Old boy? Is the wheelchair and the legs that won't work some sort of sign that my tour of duty as Moon Knight is over? Have I paid for the crimes of my past? 

All the men I am... Can I put Mercenary Spector to rest? Can I stop driving Lockley's cab?

Can I finally be the man I want to be? I WANT to be Steven Grant, Marlene. He's a good man...The kind of man who could make you happy." 

"That would be nice. Let's talk about it...Sometime." 

"Right. Well, wheelchair or not, I've still got a life to lead. Let's get on with it." 

Narration: And if Khonshu has any thoughts of his own to add...He keeps his own counsel.

So we are dealing with Steven primarily in the chair. It’s interesting that Steven is the one dealing with the PT and learning how to cope. We get glimpses of Jake, but mostly it’s Steven wondering what sort of life he is supposed to follow. The desire to just be Steven. To be a good man. To make Marlene happy. 

Next we see Marlene and Steven going to a Ballet. Steven has sponsored the local ballet in an effort to be "just a good citizen doing what he can." 

Steven goes to meet the star, Sergey Valberg. He's brought along the media to help promote the company and get more people to the Ballet. 

As the media sets up, we catch a glimpse of the angry woman from before that sent the other dancer to space. 

Sergey has agreed to let the media record his rehearsal. They watch in amazement as he dances when suddenly...

A gust of wind knocks all the security around and the woman enters the room. "Sergey... Your dance is over." 

"Marlene... I think she's here to kill him! Try to cover me while I...I... Sit here like a helpless cripple." Steven is realizing he can't do anything.

Wind lady blows the chair over for his trouble. 

Sergey recognizes her. He calls her Bora. 

"I have heard...of a woman whose heart is as cold as the frigid winds she commands. I had hoped I heard wrong." 

She had once rehearsed under Sergey, dreaming of being a great ballerina. Then she found out that she was a Mutant as she not only gained wind powers, but she also grew to over seven feet tall! 

When she went to him for help, she found out that he had fled Russia to America. 

Her dreams of being a ballerina were over. 

"I awoke to find my long cherished goals thrust eternally beyond my reach, for what choreographer had ever conceived a ballet for a seven foot tall artist?!" 

So naturally she decided to punish all those who defected from Russia. 

She drops the temperature to below freezing as the winds swirl around them.... And Sergey starts to dance. 

"If I die, It will be as I have lived--Honoring life through my dance!" 

Steven is helpless to watch from outside of the rehearsal room as the temperature drops and the winds blow. 

"The Bora is a cold, dry wind. It can reach speeds of 125 miles per hour and has been known to overturn trucks. He lets the gusts catch him in mid leap.

His dance has become a language now... His movements its alphabet. The opposition of arms and legs create words. His dance speaks to Steven Grant. It speaks of courage unconquerable." 

Steven crawls to the glass and struggles to get to his feet. 

"The temperature in the enclosed studio is now sixty degrees below zero. The sentences form more slowly. Indeed, there is only breath left...for one... final... statement." 

Sergey takes a final leap. 

"The dancer is dead... But not his dance." 

The wind woman departs and Steven is left helpless. 

He has realized a truth. He asks Marlene to take him home. 

Love the imagery of Khonshu’s statue behind Marlene. “Inside the mansion there is a cold silence. It reminds Marlene of a tomb…in Egypt.” 

"Because I have to be here. Because I'm needed." Steven sits in the wheelchair clutching at the Moon Knight cowl. "You know what's out there. It's a world in which the savages all too often rule our cities, our streets, our souls. 

The Good citizens... The Grants, the Lockley's...They fight that tyranny as best they can. They aren't always enough." 

Steven is starting to understand that as much as he wants to be the good person and the only person, he can't. 

"Moon Knight is more than a good man. He's a force that transcends the brutality and the fear that are the savages' main weapons--Because he can use those weapons himself. 

He's a savage on the side of the angels. A protector of innocents... A symbol of vengeance and hope. And, God willing, If he does his job well enough... He'll be the last savage." 

It's an interesting understanding by Steven. Viewing Moon Knight a a necessary violence force. But does he see Moon Knight as his own person, as Marc Spector, or as all of them working together? 

I know how Moench would portray Moon Knight, but with him out of the picture, how is Marvel going to let the character of Moon Knight advance? 

Steven attempts to stand. 

He fights through the pain. 

For once, he’s not looking to Khonshu for support. Or a miracle. 

"This is the truth learned. That being Moon Knight is not a curse... Nor a state of penance. It is simply who and what he was always meant to be." 

So what is Moon Knight's first course of action? 

He goes to see Professor Charles Xavier's school for gifted youngsters. 

Alright. We are a little over halfway through the comic and we are finally bringing in the X-men. 

He speaks with the Professor himself. 

"The Russians have been unusually co-operative with the bare facts. She's fourteen, off her nut, and operating without their sanction. Not enough. I need to know how her powers work!" 

Moon Knight notes that there are four more defectors in the ballet company and he bets she'll strike again on opening night. 

Professor tells him how he thinks Bora's power works then asks if Moon Knight thinks one man can stop her. 

"I don't know. I don't see where I have any choice but to try. Thank you for your help, professor." 

Leaving, Professor X watches him go. 

"He has doubts. His injury--His recent failure....The pain that yet wracks his body. They all work against him. And still he strives to overcome. The man's determination is both inspiring and frightening." 

He calls in Colossus and Nightcrawler. 

Mostly because you can’t have a comic that boasts about an X-man crossover without the x-men. And any time there’s a one off X-men crossover, they tend to just kinda throw Colossus and Nightcrawler at the situation back in the day. (Current day it’s more like wolverine or some random side characters that Marvel wants to promote at the time for a smaller comic). 

Nightcrawler makes the argument that Mutants should deal with Mutants. 

"I would agree...Normally... But Moon Knight is at a crossroad in his life. He must be given the chance to prove himself to himself. He is a powerful force for good. 

Perhaps more powerful, in his own way, than we X-men. We will not interfere unless necessary." 

Yet... They do all agree that a night at the Ballet might be nice. 

Outside the school we find Frenchie chatting up Storm. 

Opening night, the theater is packed! And what's this? The Thing! 

He says his hello to Nightcrawler. 

Nightcrawler admits that he's there as 'unofficial back-up'. 

Ben laughs. "I guess that makes yours truly and pals the "Official Back-ups, then." 

It would seem that Moon Knight knew he wasn't fully up to full strength so he called in a little extra help. 

"The Fantastic four!" Kirk turns to his row and admits "I, too, came with 'Pals'!" 

And there we see more of the X-men! I'm not a big X-men reader, so I only recognize two, maybe three of the ones there. 

It's also interesting that Moon Knight would specifically ask for help from the fantastic four. He's only had run-ins with DareDevil, Ben, and the Hulk up to this point. Inviting Dare Devil to the ballet would be... a bit off. And the Hulk wouldn't exactly be good backup. 

It's also hilarious that to this day, Ben still considers Moon Knight a friend and every single year will send him Hanukkah cards. In later issues, Moon Knight admits that there aren't a lot of Jewish heroes and that Ben needs to meet others besides himself, since he isn't exactly the most observant. But it's still touching how Ben said "This is my friend." and clung to him for so long.

We see Moon Knight himself up in a box seat overlooking the stage. (And this image really tickled me for POTO reasons. If you know, you know.) 

"But if Kurt Wagner has gained new respect for the Moon's Knight of Vengeance, the object of that praise is himself still wrestling with doubts.

Bora has the power to level this theater. He was crippled by a glorified burglar. Memories of past failure assail him. The waiting is a battle in itself. And that he does not surrender to his doubts in those seemingly interminable minutes is a victory as great as any he has known." 

Okay okay okay. Let's take a moment to appreciate the actual Ballet! 

"Laurencia" - A story of love and tyranny. 

A ballet by Chabukiani. As wiki informs me, "Created at a time when 'choreodrama' was considered in the Soviet Union the only acceptable form of contemporary ballet.' 

Basically it stresses that dance was an ultimate form of expression and all movement should serve as a purpose. 

So ballet at the time seemed to focus heavily on drama based plays. 

The story the ballet is based on is one of a peasant revolution. Which, if you know the most basic of Russian history, this was a big deal for the Soviet Union. 

Now, Chabukiani created his own form of choreographic language in Ballet where he focused heavily on the Male Dancer and created 'the heroic male dance'. 

The play is pretty simple. Village awaits the return of some grand Commander with his army. Meanwhile a girl and her admirer are flirting. The commander returns and immediately desires the beautiful girl. She rejects him so he leaves with his army. The admirer asks the girl to marry him but she isn't sure and doesn't answer. The Commander returns and tries to have the girl. She rejects him again and this time he leaves promising revenge. The girl marries her admirer but the commander interrupts the wedding and arrests her groom. Pretty pissed off, she rallies the village and they storm the castle. They kill the commander and free the groom. 

The original story was written in the 1600s and was based on a real story. 

Back to the comic! 

Bora interrupts just as the revolt against the evil Commander is taking place. 

Winds batter around the ballerinas as Bora steps on stage. 

"The winds of retribution have pursued you from the homeland you hae betrayed! They have decreed your punishment! And they have named Me Your executioner!" 

The X-men and the Fantastic Four hold off, wanting to let Moon Knight take his chance to redeem himself to himself. 

(It's also funny to watch a woman command the winds and have Storm be there like, "Oh she is not going to get away with this".) 

Moon Knight leaps down onto the stage. 

She immediately blasts him with wind. This gives the dancers time to make their escape as he fights against the wind storm. 

Professor X had guessed that Bora's powers were psionic in nature. She was not generating the wind herself like Storm does, but she was opening a sort of portal to harness the winds from their original location. 

Off stage, Marlene and Frenchie flip on the lights and buzzers, giving Bora a massive headache and thus she loses control of her wind. 

The notion that Steven goes around building things ‘just in case Moon Knight needs them’ is hilarious. 

The Fantastic Four do their thing and ensure that the audience and fleeing Ballerina are not injured in the wild winds. 

You gotta love cross-over comics. The X-men could have ended this immediately. Much less the Fantastic. Both in the same building? Come on. But this isn’t their comic. They are guests in this comic so they gotta watch Moon Knight, a man without a single ounce of power who just finished recovering from massive spinal injury crawl across the stage. Look at him go. He’s used to being on the ground anyways. 

We get to see the Various X-men like Kitty Pride and storm and Colossus do their thing to help people. We also see the Fantastic Four do their own thing. 

Pretty pissed off, Bora now focuses fully on Moon Knight and he's getting blown around a bit. 

"The temperature drops rapidly, a full degree per second. He cannot feel what he clutches in his hand. He does not stop. Ice daggers cut deep into his flesh. And still he does not stop." 

Nightcrawler pops in just behind her, giving her a start. The momentary distraction is enough for Moon Knight to get to her and...

DID HE JUST CHLOROFORM HER?!

Yep. Sure did… 

Well... It worked. She passes out. 

Later, back at Grant Mansion Marlene and Steven talk.

"You're tired." "I am exhausted--and in excruciating pain--and feeling completely, totally wonderful!" 

"No more doubts?" 

"Lots. But I won't quit again. What we do is important." 

"I can live with that." 

And we end on Khonshu's statue gazing at Marlene and Steven embracing. 

OKAY. Coming from the future and gazing upon the past, we know what is to come in the comics much much distance from when this one was written. 

He does in fact quit again. He also ends up in a wheelchair again. What’s the difference? This time, it is Steven that handles it. In the future issue, it’s MARC that handles it. Another huge difference? In the future issue with Marc being left crippled, his friends have all left him and he suffers alone, angry, and in despair. This time, we see their friends rally around him. Steven is practical in how he confronts the problem, and Steven takes them through the rehab PT, he puts in the work, and he understands what it means to not be able to recover. He accepts potential failure and he makes peace with it. 

Marc does not. In that future episode, Marc pushes himself over and over again and suffers in miserable agony as he fails and fails and fails. Steven accepts that he is a good man and he can live with himself if he can’t be Moon Knight. Marc cannot. 

We also see the general use of ‘What WE do is important.’. He won’t quit again. He, being Steven Grant, acknowledges that he gave up too soon. He settled too soon and didn’t leave the others any say in the matter. He wrote off Jake and Marc and Moon Knight. Now he sees that he can’t do that. Moon Knight needs his place. 

What I also love is that this was again another show of a battle against oneself. We see him struggling again with his own failures and dip into self depredation. They suffer with imposter syndrome and doubt and depression. He acknowledges that the doubt is still there. That they are still struggling, but that they now know that they need to keep pushing on and forward. 

What I didn’t like about this issue? What happens to the girl? What happened to Bora after she is defeated? 14 years old and her dreams of ballet are gone and she is obviously not taking anything well. Do they just hand her over to the X-men to deal with? Also the main ballet dancer was killed! And the ballet just goes on? He was a pretty important figure it seems like! And the girl from earlier that was killed! I hate loose ends. 

Overall, I really did enjoy this issue, even if it was a cross-over with loose ends. This is the last we see of special guest writer Tony Isabella. In the next issue, we get our first full one from Zelenetz!

[unsaid-stardust]

Lockwood & Co. Ep 5 and The Foreshadowing of George's Spiral

Hi friends! thanks to a lovely discord server I joined I have basically written an analytical essay on shots in ep 5 that foreshadow George's spiral into the bone glass. In other words, Lockwood & Co. is a masterpiece and here's why.

In the beginning of the ep, we can already see George slightly crumble. He is jealous of Lockwood and Lucy getting to be in the action and getting closer together leaving him to just researching. This leads to our first scene at the archives that show is slow decent.

Does the staircase on the right look familiar to you? I'll give you a hint

While the staircase is obviously a bit more squared out than the pattern George is drawing, it still has that spiral effect that is prominent in the design. We can also tell that this was done on purpose because the desk that George is sitting in is literally connected to the staircase. This was no accident by the brilliant directors and writers of the show. The staircase is shown once again a few moments later this time, however, both Pamela and George are on it.

It's important to note that George and Pamela are walking down the staircase while the other passerby is going up. Pamela and George are both sinking into the spiral while the passerby is getting away from it because they have no connection to it.

After this scene, they go to Pamela's place where apparently this woman has 5,000 mirrors for some unknown reason, but it comes in handy for foreshadowing.

We get these beautiful shots because of it

it's important to note that they are in chronological order here. In the first shot, we see only George's face in the mirror with the back of Pamela's head in view. This is when George is explaining what he saw in the mirror and that he had to urge to peer deeper into it. This is why it's only George's face in the reflection--the camera literally zooms in on it as he speaks making it feel like we are spiraling with him.

The second shot may be the most important shot of them all. Not only is there a mirror in focus, but there are two mirrors and both show George's face. George is fully in the spiral now. He is mentally blocked off from the outside world. He even begins to forget about Lockwood and Lucy and Pamela's reflection being shown straight in the middle of George's a literal reminder of that. She is a literal obstacle trying to coax him deeper into the spiral.

Her face is quite possibly shown there as well to remind us that the feeling she and George have is mutual about the bone glass. They want to know more and Pamela is using this as an advantage.

Then, as George and Pamela discover their mutual understanding, there's the tense hissing sound and a clock chime and we get the third shot featuring a mirror only this time, there is no reflection in it. For the time being, George is snapped out of the trance. There is no remnants of it. Pamela isn't in the shot. Only George-the real George, not his reflection. He's back to the real world where he remembers Lockwood and Lucy are waiting for him (another foreshadow to how George is saved).

And there we have it. TL;DR there are so many little details in this show it's insane. Later in the season, Lucy is wearing a shirt with the spiral pattern half on it when she is learning to talk to the skull more BUT that's for another post. ALSO lesson of the day--look at mirrors in any piece of media. My one professor told us this a couple years ago and I have used to knowledge since. Happy rewatching everyone!1

[americasass81]

The Sweetest Treat

Warnings:- Fluff, Mild M & F Smut (nothing too graphic).

Parings:- TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Named Female Baker Character (This is a gift fic).

Synopsis:- It's said that smells can trigger memories, but no one really tells you that smells can also create new ones.  This is a lesson Bucky Barnes is about to find out.

Author’s Note 1:- Written as a gift for the sweet and talented @candy-and-writing I can only hope this brings a smile to your face the same way My Resolutions always has and still does to mine.  Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful talent with all of us.  Hope the wait wasn't too long.

Total Word Count:- 6,573

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Driving leisurely away from the town, Bucky's eyes darted from the road every now and then to glance over to confirm the safety of his contribution to the Wilson's potluck as an innocent smile graced his features.

But then again was it really his contribution?

Oh sure, he had been allowed into your inner sanctum to watch you work and after some prodding, poking and pleading with just the right amount of puppy dog eyes you had even agreed to let him help.  But being honest with himself, it had been your hands that did all the work.

And what skill those hands were capable of.

Thinking back on that morning when Sarah's beautiful boys had woken him up to playful antics with their uncle's shield and joyous memories of a childhood spent rescuing Steve in various parts of Brooklyn, sitting down at the table listening to Sam and Sarah discuss the repairing of the boat and the community gathering that would ensue, Bucky knew exactly what he planned to contribute.

While it's true he hadn't done much exploring here since Sam had extended his, and by extension his sister's hospitality, he had managed however to find himself a little slice of heaven and he couldn't hide the smile as his thoughts invariably drifted to you.

Heading into town one morning to give Sarah and the boys some space, a walk along the street and a smell like nothing he had ever remembered in his war ravaged life called out to him and led him to the spot that would all too soon claim his attention and his heart .... The Sweetest Treat.

Oh how his heart still beat a little faster at how appropriately the place had been named.

A delightfully bright looking cafe, its window adorned in delicious looking cakes and buns, the smell that captured his attention and lured him inside was nothing to what greeted him as the little bell signaled his arrival and your image flooded his vision.

Glimmering like a sweet summer's morning as you explained the various items waiting behind the counter to the little girl standing beside her mother with her eyes about to pop from the excitement, Bucky couldn't help but wonder if perhaps you were some ethereal goddess whose special skill was to draw people to you with food.

But then again, he would soon come to realize that what you created could not really be classed as food.  And you were no ordinary baker.

Taking a seat at a vacant table, Bucky watched with fascination not only as you gave the little girl ample time to pick out her dessert, but also minutes later when you suddenly stood before him with a black coffee and what looked to him like a lovingly decorated slice of carrot cake.

"Excuse me, but I didn't order this," he replied as the cafe now turned quiet with the few patrons present tucking into their own orders while spending a few precious moments enjoying one another's company.

"Oh I know," you clarified with the same warm smile that not only put him at ease but also made a strange sensation flutter in his chest.  "But something tells me I'm not gonna hear you complain.  Enjoy," you continued as that same little tinkle that earlier signaled his arrival now brought both of your attentions back to the newly arrived customer.

Turning your back on him then and returning to your duties, Bucky sat there dumbfounded momentarily at this weird development as his eyes rested on the items before him and questions silently filled his mind.  How did you know he took his coffee black?  How could you possibly know he had spent his childhood living on his mother's carrot cake?  Okay well maybe not living on it, after all Winnifred Barnes had always made sure her children were properly fed.  But still, carrot cake was definitely something the Barnes' children knew well and thoroughly enjoyed.

As such he had to wonder if this would even hold a candle to that memory?

Taking just a few seconds longer to contemplate this as more customers came and went, finally picking up his fork and taking that first bite told him all he needed to know .... you were most definitely a goddess.  Now he just had to know how you did it.

Oh it wasn't the baking that intrigued him, even if he had to admit the dessert was divine.  No, what grabbed his attention now was the trick you had pulled with him and two little boys who came after that who just stared unendingly at the treats before them, unable to zero in on what they would like.

Watching from his spot with all the observational skills he had acquired throughout his long life while slowly savoring the sweet treat you had delivered to him, he was captivated once more as you looked the boys up and down, asked them some seemingly random questions about their interests and then disappeared into the back room only to return some seconds later with one Hulk cupcake and one Hawkeye cupcake.

And the response you got in return blew his mind.  You had made their day.  Their year.

Finishing up his items soon after that and heading over to the counter to pay for his order, you shocked him once more when you simply pointed to the basket on the counter attached to the red balloon before speaking.  "No one pays here today.  The last Friday of every month I simply ask people to give what they can.  The proceeds are then divided up between the local causes that need them."

Looking surprised by this development, he wanted to ask you so many questions, but the ringing of your phone told him this would have to wait.  Still, he figured any excuse to return.  So shoving his hand into his pocket and tossing out some bills that more than covered what he had consumed, Bucky left you with a smile before walking out your door with the promise that he would return.

And return he did.

A month after that first encounter, your shop had become his little refuge.  And perhaps his guilty pleasure.  Slowly talking to you and carefully watching you, he had started to let his guard down and get in touch with the carefree youngster he had been before war, Hydra and rampaging mad titans had stripped away any humanity he possessed.  Which was kind of how you had described him when he finally plucked up the courage to ask you about that first order you had placed before him.

"Ha, what can I say Bucky?  Carrot cake suits you perfectly," you started when the door had closed on the last customer and the question had finally left his lips.

"Excuse me?  I think you're gonna have to explain that one a bit more," he replied cautiously as the lock turned and your eyes finally landed on his.

"Well ... ," you replied, heading off behind the counter to fill out a black coffee and hot chocolate before loading them on a tray with your latest creation .... a beautifully decorated Avengers cake.  Walking then towards an empty table away from the windows, you signaled Bucky to follow and waited until both of you were seated before continuing, "carrot cake suits you because who really wants vegetables for dessert?  Hell, half the time, who wants vegetables at all?" you questioned, as you cut into the cake before you to reveal a marbled inside in six vibrant and glorious colors.

Slicing off two portions as you handed one to Bucky who still awaited the rest of your explanation, you took a bite and an accompanying sip of hot chocolate while allowing Bucky to do the same before carrying on.  "This is where the comparison to you comes in," you picked up again as Bucky began to really enjoy the dessert before him.  "I suspect, and please know there's no judgment here, but something tells me people's first reaction to you is always to see the Winter Soldier instead of the compassionate soul tainted by all the trauma you've experienced."

Pausing in his eating to look at you now as if seeing you again for the first time, he would have asked you why you too didn't see Hydra's weapon, but your next words provided that explanation beautifully.  "That's why carrot cake.  Just mention the word and no one really wants it.  But taste it.  Allow yourself to really savor that first glorious bite and you are treated to a moist and dense cake that typically has a slightly spicy and sweet flavor.  I bet you Mr. Barnes are just the perfect blend of sweet and spicy once someone sets aside their initial discomfort and peaks beneath your ... layers," you finished coyly, before licking your lips and leaning forward to pinch a piece of his cake and bring it to your lips.

Watching now like a starving man as the same cake sat on your plate while this small piece of his breached your lips, his throat and pants tightened considerably as the confection disappeared at the exact moment a sinful moan left those very lips.

God how he longed to have you make that sound for him.

Shifting in his seat now as images flashed before his eyes of you in the back room surrounded by the smell of freshly baked cakes and buns, both of your bodies dusted with flour as his aching manhood brought you to heights never reached before, the moan you had just released now mingled with his name as his seed burst forth, stained your warm walls and marked you as his until the end of time.

But wait, he did hear his name leave your lips.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts to look now at your concerned face as you asked him again if everything was all right, he quickly and easily slipped into the role of his alter ego and took a generous mouthful of coffee before answering.  "Of course Maegan, I just remembered Sam mentioned that he might try to fix up more of their boat today.  Perhaps that sweet part of me you believe still exists should probably go help him.  Do you mind?" he asked, unsure now how you would react and how he in turn would feel should you shut him out.

Smiling over at him however as you reassured him in your own carefree way that he always knew where to find you, he took your hand in his and kissed it gently before skillfully removing himself from your presence without having to explain the almost obvious tent now forming in his jeans.  Making it to his truck then and checking his phone after sitting carefully behind the wheel, he thanked whomever was watching over him when the time displayed told him that Sam wouldn't need him for two more hours.

Plenty of time.

Turning on the ignition then and pulling into the sparse rural traffic, he headed out of town towards the Wilson's home place before the images that caused his current predicament forced him off the road as his sense of decency kicked in.

He couldn't take care of this particular problem under Sarah Wilson's roof.

On the one hand his blessed Ma would turn in her grave if he even attempted such an act under someone else's roof and on the other, Sarah had been so kind in not only extending her hospitality to someone who was simply an acquaintance of her brother's but that hospitality had even extended to allowing that same relative stranger with a very murky and violent past sleep under the same roof as her children.

No, the good man he once was and hoped to be again couldn't do that.

So looking at his phone once more, he sent off a quick text to Sam to let him know that he would drop by to help him with the boat and then heading back into town, booked into the local hotel for 24 hours and set about making himself more comfortable.

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And so that was how his days were spent and the peace he once glimpsed in Wakanda found him once again.

Heading into town most mornings under the guise of giving the Wilson's some space or helping out with errands, your easy smile, some black coffee and a slice of your latest creation kept him busy even if it didn't occupy his mind.

Learning more and more about you and your interests the longer he spent in your company, the day before the potluck and his dreams of finally having you became a reality.

Leaning casually against a counter in your back kitchen as the day's cream buns sent heavenly smells wafting throughout the room, your playful smiles as you busied yourself with the next creation gave Bucky the courage he needed to finally take Sam up on all his teasing.

Working with his friend most evenings after finally pulling himself away from your effervescent company, Sam it seemed had made it his other mission to hook him up as a means of keeping Bucky's eyes off his sister.

If only he knew the truth.

Of course Sarah was indeed a fabulous woman to be admired and respected, but even if he hadn't already given his heart to you, Bucky was not about to jeopardize his friendship with Sam to pursue her.

Still it was fascinating to see this side of Sam.  Always so guarded around Bucky, it seemed getting his friend laid brought out his playful side as evenings on the boat included the now customary C.I.A. like rundown on all the available women in town that Sam felt were right in some form for Bucky.

Which eventually worked their way around to you.

"You know man, if you haven't been to The Sweetest Treat yet you really ought to check it out," Sam called across the boat with a devilish wink as Bucky schooled his features before glancing over at him.  "I swear, not only is it the best bakery in town, outside of the fact that it is the only bakery in town," Sam added with a laugh before continuing, "but Maegan ... definitely one of the kindest people you will ever meet."

"Yeah?" Bucky asked while making sure not to give himself away, "so how come she's not spoken for?  Why haven't you staked your claim?"

"First off man, one doesn't stake their claim on Maegan," Sam huffed out in offense between breaths as the metal coating along the top of the boat seemed to be proving far more formidable than any of the Flagsmashers they had so far faced.  "Second of all, she's a sweetheart.  Kind as a button and the type of woman you woo," Sam now continued as Bucky finally took pity on him and wrenched the metal from the boat.

Tossing it aside with a smirk then as Sam now looked at him as if to say 'I had that,' his friend it seemed would get the last dig in however as he called after the retreating super soldier.  "You do remember how to woo a woman, don't you Barnes?"

Returning to the task Sam's talk of you had pulled him from, Bucky simply replied that there was no fear of him in that department.  But he just wasn't looking at the moment.

Totally understanding his friend's feelings as well as the journey he was on to reconcile his past actions, even as Maegan reassured him it was not his fault, Sam let his teasing slide.  At least for the time being.

Then finishing off another's evening work before Sam headed home, Bucky seized on their earlier banter to make his excuses to Sam.  "Listen Sam, if it's okay with you I'm gonna skip away this evening.  I owe the Wakandans a debt and all the pieces have finally fallen into place.  Will you make my apologies to Sarah?" Bucky asked at the end as Sam closed up the back of the truck and turned to look at his friend.

"Of course.  But are you sure you don't need a hand?" Sam asked, even if he already knew what the answer would be.

"Thanks, but I got this covered," Bucky easily lied as Zemo was now a two day resident on The Raft and Bucky's thoughts were already well on their way to you.  Promising then to check back in with him tomorrow, Bucky got behind the wheel of Sam's truck and waited until Sam was driving off in Sarah's before heading back into town and the treasure waiting for him there.

And waiting you were.

Parking well away from your shop and walking in just as your last two customers were sitting down with what looked like chocolate fudge cake and cream, Bucky took his now usual seat and waited to see what treat you would deliver.

Oh sure, he could have acted like most regular customers, gone to the counter and ordered what he wanted ... but where was the fun in that?  Where was the surprise in discovering a new and exciting flavor for himself?  Where was the thrill in watching you walk away from him after placing down his order as his eyes roamed over every inch of your glorious frame and tried to imagine what your delicate skin would feel and taste like?

Hopefully tonight would give him some insight into that particular question.

And that's exactly what happened.

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This time pulling down the shutters and locking out the world completely, Maegan found herself unable to turn around for the warm, strong body pressed against her back.

"Hey gorgeous, I've been a good assistant all week wouldn't you say?" he asked as he slowly turned you around to face him now.  "When are you actually going to let me get my hands dirty?" he continued as his lips, which still retained the hint of coffee, moved down to skim ever so slightly over yours.

"Now, now Mr. Barnes I'm pretty sure that mind of yours is dirty enough for everything," you teased as he pulled away and the resounding laugh that left his lips filled your heart in a way few other sounds ever could.  It was better than music.

Taking pity on him however as his hands continued to roam over your clothes and an uncomfortable heat began to build between your thighs, you figured maybe a distraction was absolutely necessary after all.  So taking Bucky by the hand and leading him back towards the kitchen, you started collecting up all the necessary equipment while watching Bucky travel around rounding up the ingredients for the chocolate cake he planned on taking to the potluck.

Then placing everything on the counter in the order they were to be used, you grabbed a seat and began calling out each ingredient required and its corresponding amount.  Watching in awe as Bucky carefully measured out everything according to your instructions, you were amazed at how well he remembered all you had taught him until the super soldier picked up the icing sugar and prepared to toss it into the bowl along with the flour, eggs, butter and smaller items necessary to make up the actual cake.

"Bucky no!" you called out while leaping from the counter and sprinting the short distance to his side just in time to catch his hand and stop the catastrophe that was about to happen.  "That's the wrong sugar," you clarified while removing it from his hand and picking up the caster sugar instead.

But it seemed Bucky may have known exactly what he was doing.

Standing behind you now as his empty hands came down on either side of you, your caged body had nowhere to go and the smirk you saw on his handsome face told you all you needed to know.

He had planned this.

Sighing to yourself now as he used his body to close the distance between you and the counter, his obvious need pressed against your ass was nothing compared to the feelings his voice in your ear was sending through your body.

"Oops my bad, guess you'll have to punish me for that later," he whispered as he now took your hand in his, tipped the caster sugar into the bowl and then handed you the waiting mixer.  Placing both of your hands on it then before turning it on, the vibrations which usually had a calming effect on you now only served to make you more aware of what was happening as Bucky slipped his metal hand up your dress and allowed his fingers to skim over your panty-clad core.. 

Circling your bundle of nerves as you tried to focus on the task before you, the sneaky little bastard knew exactly what he was doing however as his keen eyes watched the mixture you were working on and knew exactly when to stop.  Removing his hand just as the mixer shut off and you were about to come, you would have protested if you weren't acutely aware that that was exactly what he had in mind.

He wanted you to beg.

But you weren't about to give him the satisfaction.

No, instead upon lifting the mixer from the bowl, you ran your index finger along one of the prongs and sliding off some of the mixture, brought it to your mouth and sucked it off at the same time your ass began to grind against his covered manhood.

Moaning out in unison with him now as you teased him every bit as good as he had teased you, you had to remind him the oven was on and the cake mix was ready to bake when the sound of a belt unbuckling could be heard clearly throughout the room.

"Damn it you little minx, are you really going to do this to me?" he asked even as he pulled back and used the hand not currently back groping your intimate area to slide the baking tins across the counter towards you.

Simply winking at him as you picked up the bowl and carefully divided the mixture evenly between the both of them, you had to admit teasing him would have been funny if his metal fingers hadn't somehow slipped beneath the fabric and started to play around the entrance to your pussy.  It seemed either way he was determined to wear you down.

And he appeared to be succeeding.

Breaching your opening and sliding his finger in at just the right angle, the moan you allowed past your lips as a hand grabbed hold of the counter told Bucky all he needed to know.  He had found your sweet spot.  Moving it back and forth now as his lips by your ear chanted over and over again what a good girl you were, your facade slipped and a slew of swear words left your lips as he pulled out at just the right second again, walked off towards the sink and washed his hands as he called back over his shoulder towards you.

"Hey gorgeous, weren't you the one that said that mixture needed to go in the oven.  Gonna be kinda hard to have dessert later if you don't get a move on," and the grin he sent your way would have been enough to have you throwing something at him if he hadn't just spoken the truth.

Moving away from the counter then with the cake tins in hand as Bucky, ever the gentleman, came and opened the oven door for you, it seemed his patience had finally snapped when the tins hit the shelf and the oven door closed.

He just had to have you.

Encircling his arms around your body before falling back onto the floor and carrying you with him, the squeal you released was a sound he wanted to hear until the end of time as his lips now skimming along your neck caused your body to react in a way that told him now was his chance.

You wanted him too.

Carefully moving you off him as he followed after you and his lips descended to capture yours, your tongues warring with each other as he nibbled your lower lip and your moans filled his ears made him feel like the luckiest man alive.  You tasted every bit as sweet as the treats you created and soon he would taste the sweetest nectar of all.

But first you needed air.

Rising up and kneeling above you now as his eyes gazed down over your heaving body and kiss-swollen lips, the laugh you now couldn't live without echoed around the silent room as you just about managed to give voice to your current location and the original activity both of you had been engaged in.

"Hey there soldier, you may want to stop your gawking and get a move on.  The cake we just put in the oven will be ready in twenty minutes," you remind him with a cheeky grin before grabbing at his watch to check the time.  "Better yet make that sixteen minutes," you clarified.  "4 minutes gone and we're still fully clothed.  How long exactly do you usually spend on foreplay?"

Appalled now that you would dare mock his skills, even if only to get a rise out of him, your grumpy boy was back as a dark cloud settled over his features when his metal hand reached down beneath your dress again and ripped your panties from your body.  Then reaching forward and running his fingers through your folds as the cold air met your warm flesh, the waiting wetness brought a playful smirk back to his face.

"Oh Maegan really?" he tutted as his fingers began an easy trail up and down your lower lips while his flesh hand began to undo his belt buckle once more.  "And here I was all prepared to worship you the way you deserve and you just want to be finished in time to play around with some icing.  Well, if that's the way you want it," he continued as his jeans and boxers now made themselves at home around his ankles and his leaking cock told you you were about to feel all kinds of sore come morning.

Glancing at his watch once more to see that this exchange had only taken up one more minute, you were about to call out his name in protest but his finger coming to your lips to shush any such action was enough of a warning as his own lips came to rest against your ear.

"Don't worry yourself doll, I know how to be gentle.  Trust me.  Seventeen years or seventeen minutes, all you will feel is loved beyond belief," and with no more words a gentle gasp left your lips the same time as Bucky's finger as the head of his manhood breached your entrance and skid home as if you're pussy was meant for him alone.

Taking a few precious seconds now to rest within you as your body adjusted to a feeling of fullness it had never felt before, an imperceptible nod soon told him that enough time had passed.  Pulling out gently then as his lips remained in contact with your neck and face, words of love and praise mingled with your soft moans and the purring of the oven created a symphony neither one of you wanted to end as your hips began to move in tandem with the soldier's and pushed both of you nearer an edge you were now longing to fall over.

Whining out his name soon after as your body needed just a little extra push to cut the invisible cord strangling your body, Bucky eventually took pity on you and reaching out to stroke your sensitive clit, he circled it slowly until he heard your breathing change and then burying himself deep within your core, let himself go as his fingers squeezed your clit and you followed him over that waiting edge into oblivion.

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Coming too a few minutes later to find him now resting along your side, the timer on the oven put your mind firmly back on the super soldier as it told you seven more minutes were still available to you.  Asking Bucky now how long you had been out, his confirmation that it was possibly only a minute made you feel a whole lot better.

You had managed to keep up.

Taking a few extra seconds now to assess your body amid the workout it had just received, a mild ache between your legs and a pleasant thrumming in your core would have brought your attention back to the cake now sending a soothing smell throughout the kitchen if Bucky hadn't a more pressing issue that needed your attention.

"Hey sweet cakes, I know it's a bit short notice," Bucky suddenly spoke up as his fingers began to slide up and down your arm in a soothing motion that threatened to lull you back to sleep if his next few words hadn't woken you up completely, "but will you come to the Wilson's potluck with me at the weekend?  As my date?"

Trying to figure out now how best to answer this without hurting the super soldier's feelings, you figured honesty was best but knew you had completely missed the mark with your "I don't think so" reply considering the reaction that followed.

Turning you around in his arms to face him, Bucky's expression, though still adorably cute, turned decidedly grumpy again as the hurt you had hoped to avoid became evident in his voice.  "Wait, so are you saying you don't wish to be seen with me?"

"Of course not Bucky," you reassured as you took his hand in yours and placed both of them over his heart.  "But answer me this," you now continued, looking deep into his sorrowful eyes as you chose your next words carefully, "do you want me at the potluck to introduce me to your friend or show me off to the town?"

Understanding clearly now that your fear of rejection so clearly matched his own, Bucky smiled at you gently before speaking.  Reassuring you through words, kisses and touches that were threatening to get your body going again, Bucky confirmed that it was his friend he wanted you to meet, especially since that same friend had been singing your praises to him without knowing you had already stolen his heart.

Beaming back at him in return now as you informed him your own heart now belonged to him, Bucky rising from the floor then and reaching down to lift you up before turning off the oven, kissed you once more before continuing on his way to the utility sink to wash up and make himself presentable as you smoothed down your dress.  Giving the kitchen floor the once over then in the hopes of finding your discarded panties, finding no trace of the missing garment however left you thinking that it was simply one more job to add to your list.

Walking towards the sink then to freshen up while noticing Bucky smiling over his shoulder, you now knew the look that told you his playful side was coming back to play.  "You doing okay there doll, you look a little shaky."

"Never better.  And yourself?" you asked, by way of a reply.

"Well and truly worn out," came the reply and you had to admit every word he spoke was true.  After all, despite your miniscule participation, you had mostly allowed Bucky to do all the work while you basked in the neverending pleasure he seemed only too happy to provide.

And what pleasure it was.

Still a little shaky on your feet as your body too felt well and truly worn out, the mini vibrations still radiating outwards from your core only made you wonder what it would feel like if you actually had more time.  If the cake in the oven, tomorrow's shop orders and the life of a superhero didn't yet make room for a social life.

But they would have to.

A few minutes of Bucky's tool and past days of his wonderful company had easily confirmed that you now not only wanted more, but you also wanted to show him that you too could provide all the pleasure he had given you.  Washing your hands now with this thought, you then headed back to the scene of the crime to find the cake cooling on the counter as Bucky, perched atop the nearest island unit, played with a familiar piece of fabric between his fingers.

Laughing to yourself now as you simply walked past him and went about mixing up the ingredients for the cream filling, telling him then to wash his hands again so you could teach him how to pipe it out, Bucky still couldn't set aside the horny behavior as the last of the cream covered the base and a lingering streak from the bag found its way onto his finger.

Raising an eyebrow and looking between you then and the chocolate covered digit, your core started pulsing again as your hand reached out for his while your tongue snaked out to lick the tasty fondant from his finger.  Listening to him moaning then as your lips closed around him while your other hand found his package beneath his jeans, your laughter filled the room now as Bucky just about held on and pulled back before your actions caused him to come in his boxers.

"That's not playing fair Maegan," he huffed out now as you wiped your hand across your mouth before glancing down to see the outline of a wet patch forming on his jeans.  Maybe he wasn't as in control after all.

Beaming now at this proof of the effect you had on him, you beckoned him forwards and wrapping your legs around his waist as your lips met his, you then reminded him it was punishment for the caster sugar and he had to admit if this is what you had in mind then being bad was something he would definitely have to try again.

Washing up again then for more times than you could ever remember having to do while baking and decorating a single cake, you then watched Bucky place the top layer of sponge on top of the cream before hearing him remark that it was probably time to call it a night.

Agreeing wholeheartedly, a glance at the clock told you it was now the perfect time to head home, have a bit of fun and still catch a good night's sleep before morning's rays reminded you of all the work that still lay ahead.  So setting aside the cake until tomorrow as Bucky kindly went about putting away all the leftover ingredients, both of you then left the store and walking hand in hand to Bucky's waiting truck, your plans for the rest of the night struggled with how the soldier might react.

Still though, it couldn't be that much of a stretch surely.  He had just made you come after all.

As if somehow sensing the shift in your mood and your growing anxiety however, Bucky caged you between himself and the passenger's door before making sure the conversation that followed was strictly between both of you and the stars above.  "Something on your mind gorgeous?"

"Not really.  Just going through the plans for tomorrow to make sure I'll have enough time to finish decorating your cake," you lied, but it seemed Bucky now knew you as well as he knew himself.

"You sure that's it?" he asked as he leaned forward now to rest his forehead against yours.  "Nothing else rattling around in that pretty head of yours perhaps?"

Shrugging off his remark in the hopes that he would simply ignore it and kiss you goodnight, your disappointment didn't have to appear however as Bucky somehow tuned in to  exactly what your lips were afraid to give a voice to.  "You wouldn't have had something else in mind for the hours to come between now and tomorrow, would you?" he questioned and your eyes now failing to look at him told him all he needed to know.

You weren't yet ready for this night to end.

Placing his fingers now beneath your chin and raising your head so you could not look away, the gentlest of kisses brought you back to the present and the words that now left his lips.  "I'm totally up for anything you've got planned Maegan, but you're gonna have to say the words.  Can you do that?"

Gazing straight into his baby blues eyes then as nothing but love and reassurance stared back at you, you swallowed the lump in your throat, ignored your fear of rejection and taking the final leap admitted you would love for him to spend the night at your house while finding interesting ways to welcome in the new day.

Smiling back at you now with the warmest grin you had ever seen, Bucky then opening the truck's door and helping you inside did a fabulous job of melting away any anxiety you asking him home had inadvertently created. As did the activities that sent both of you off to sleep and woke you up the following morning to a whole new world.

Heading in to work then after a delicious breakfast and Bucky's truck being early enough that no tongues would set the rumor mill whirring, a relaxing day doing what you loved, accompanied by the glow of new love kept you on a high even as Bucky stopped by quickly to collect the cake, pay the bill and disappear with nothing but a wink.  Knowing however now that your future lay with this wonderful man, customer after customer filled the rest of your day as Bucky headed off to join Sam, Sarah and their friends as his thoughts brought him back to the present when the truck finally arrived at the wharf.

Parking up then and turning off the ignition, he took a few moments to school his features and take in the fun yet chaotic scene before him before finally exiting the vehicle and picking out the people he was looking for.  Weaving gingerly through the chatting men and women now while also being careful of running, rambunctious children, Bucky carefully held aloft the cake as he made his way to the table nearest the boat.

Joining Sam and Sarah there while chatting away with the various characters who extended their generosity in his direction, an amazing day was had by everyone until evening found him standing alone beside Sam gazing out towards the water.  Soaking up the beauty and privacy that this rare moment of calm now presented, Bucky seized the opportunity before them and told Sam all about the wonderful woman that had captured his heart, the connection they had made and the life he now hoped to build with her.  Glancing over his shoulder then with a smile that told Bulky all he needed to know, the two friends then returned to the party with Bucky promising to bring you round for breakfast as soon as possible before heading off to share his news with Sarah before Sam beat him to it.

Tagging:- @candy-and-writing

[imfullofworms]

Regularly scheduled moping and poetry will recommence shortly, but many of you may not know that Irish-English actor Ray Stevenson has sadly passed away at the age of 58.

While recognized for playing Frank Castle in The Punisher: Warzone (2008) and Titus Pullo in Rome (2005), I'd like to draw your attention to a lesser-known indie film; Outpost (2008).

In war-torn Eastern Europe, a mysterious businessman hires a group of mercenaries on a routine mission to protect him not knowing of the long-hidden secret that lies there.

-IMDB

Made on a shoestring budget by devoted Scottish couple Arabella Croft and Kieran Parker, Outpost features some of the best character actors America, England and Northern Ireland had to offer at the time.

Essentially, the plot boils down to Nacht Der Untoten from Call of Duty: World at War.

Ok, that's not fair.

Having picked up the trail of a super-secret Nazi experiment to produce super soldiers, shady English businessman Julian Wadham hires Ray and Co to tag along with him to a hidden bunker in war-torn Eastern Europe.

Arriving and opening the bunker, the team discovers exactly what Julian was hoping to find: Die Glocke.

However, upon trying to dismantle the machine so Julian can copy it and sell it to the highest bidder, the corpses of the Nazi experimenters begin to rise as night descends, leading to a fight to the death between Ray and his team and the reanimated SS troupe.

This film does not end on a happy note.

Despite the tiny budget, the sparse CGI holds up even 15 years later, the practical effects are insane, the set design, costume design and makeup effects are all amazing, the actors relish their roles and have metric tonnes of fun with them and the zombies... Menacing, unkillable, determined— truly scary. Not to mention the plot and central mystery being both interesting and tightly written! Did I mention the atmosphere?? It's grim, it's dark, it's blood in your face.

It goes without saying that Ray is the stand-out amongst the cast as grizzled mercenary DC, but Julian Wadham as Hunt, Richard Brake as Prior and Michael Smiley as McKay give their all in this excellent Nazi-zombie horror; all of whom are blasting out great performances elsewhere today.

While mostly unknown, the film was picked up and distributed and would go on to spawn a pair of sequels; one of which, a direct continuation in-fact, delved deeper into the mystery of the bunker and Die Glocke housed within, but both were ultimately panned by audiences and critics alike. Outpost: Black Sun— check it out (the other one isn't that great...)

So if you like horror, indie horror or have a Nazi-zombies fix that Call of Duty can no longer scratch, put this on and have a ball; it'll be the best 90 minutes you'll ever spend (just don't ask me where the hell you'll find it...)

Thank you, Ray, for your contributions to horror cinema and cinema in general 🩶 Despite being a relatively big name, you took the time and care to give your talent to an indie production who just so happened to make one of my favourite movies.

[yuexuan]

[Review] 置换凶途

Title: 置换凶途 Replacing the Evil Way

Author: 猫茶海狸

Length: 99 chapters + 5 extras

Tag: crime, mystery, parallel world, time travel

Summary [taken from novel updates]:

He Wei took over a murder case in an abandoned mansion, and the deceased Cheng Zesheng, Male, a pianist, was killed by gunshot.

At the same time, in the same mansion, Cheng Zesheng was leading a team to inspect the scene. The deceased, He Wei, male, a company employee, died of suffocation.

Different worlds, and different professions, the only thing in common was that they had died in each other’s world.

What was it that connected the protagonists of the murder investigation in the two parallel worlds? With the collision of time and space, the two parallel spaces had quietly changed. He Wei gradually found that this was an unsolvable situation. Struggling in the cycle of fate, how could Cheng Zesheng be saved?

Without meeting, there would be no beginning.

When the clock strikes zero, would he still stand the opposite?

Novel | Novel[translated] | Audio drama

Comments **Contains spoilers**:

The story starts off with two cases in parallel timelines, with MC and ML investigating each other’s death. Their worlds collide, however, when they stay within the 404 apartment unit: it starts with seeing signs of each other’s presence to eventually seeing each other’s full body manifestation. 

The clues of the two unsolved cases start making more sense as they take into account the parallel worlds, with people traveling between the worlds and time, including their alter-self. Everything seems to culminate around the scene of the murder. Just who killed MC and ML’s other selves? 

Highlights

I love stories that involve time travel and parallel worlds. They are such a headache to decipher, but at the same time it’s also so fun to try to figure out how the clues piece together and how MC can break through the cycle of unhappy endings. The different clues fit so well together and MC’s actions at one point in time have immediate bearings on subsequent events (so remember to bring pen and paper to note down the clues!).

There is something quaint about the structure and style of the story that reminds me of other danmeis such as 小镇 and 桐花路私立医院, which I really like. It’s the type of story that draws one in with the mysterious and strange setup, but also leaves one satisfied without having to give full explanations of why the parallel worlds and time loops happen. I really can’t explain it other than give the story a try and see whether you like this style of stories.

Along the same line, the creepy vibe of living alone in an apartment with clear signs of another inhabitant is very well written. I find myself sitting on edge while reading MC and ML’s initial meetings, even though I know they are each other’s ‘invisible’ roommates, but the way it is laid out nevertheless sends chills down my spine.

Cons

The mystery part mostly lies with the parallel worlds and less so with the actual cases, which leads to some pretty sus police behavior. For example, the fact that the police ignored the lake where the body of Xiao Shen was thrown in seems like a huge oversight and doesn’t read well when the story tries to show MC and ML’s ingenuity.

The story also isn’t fully resolved - It is not clear what happens to Cheng Zesheng in the parallel world where he has the cat that could travel between both worlds. The story focuses only on MC, thereby completely omitting the other ML in another world.

This might be a con for others - The later part of the story pretty much omits ML and features more interactions between MC and ML’s older brother. So if you’re into romance, I feel like this might not be a satisfying direction in the story.

[tacthescribbler]

Hey, saw your reblog on a post about writing, and since I had a creative block that lasted about a decade and kept me from writing or drawing, it resonated with me. A lot of things happened to finally get me out of that block, including changing meds, but a big one was just that stupid Comic Sans trick. (And this coming from someone who also loves writing in notebooks!)

Have you heard of it? You just write in Comic Sans, and it makes it impossible to take your writing seriously, so all the dread of the expectation of truly ~writing~ is lifted from you. I amplify the effect by using Notepad++ (no fancy formatting to distract me), using a theme with candy colors (even harder to take seriously), and keeping the window small (just a little things to ramble and jot notes in, not a big important writing document, goodness no, but if some writing should *happen* to happen...).

I also just don't worry about writing a story linearly. I write scenes as they pop into my head, however short, and then I stitch them together later.

As it is, my story still isn't finished (in part because it's the script for an animated series I'm working through animating at the moment)... But, counting all the AU tangents, I've gotten a Moby Dick length corpus out of it and counting, and I've had a hell of a lot of fun. Writing is back to being fun!! And that's all I could have hoped for.

Hey-o! I'm sorry it took me so long to respond. I drift from one thing to another sometimes and I was hyperfocused on Minecraft for a bit there!

I've heard of the Comic Sans trick, but haven't yet tried it. I tend to use Arial myself, since that's the Google Drive default. Might try it on my next story attempt, though, since I'm moving back to Word and pulling my writing off of Drive. (I want to keep my own backups and not worry about what's synced where.)

I also snagged an app on Steam called Nimble Writer that I want to try out. It apparently has some neat features to help with focus, but I haven't really played with it yet beyond booting it up and checking out the UI.

In terms of trying to write, I often find myself in brainstorming documents where I half-outline, half-brainstorm ideas. I get a lot of character backstory by doing that, and a lot of them have turned into full-blown worldbuilding with magic systems and descriptions of fantasy races, geography, weaponry, and so on. So it's not like I don't write anything, but it's not the prose I'd really like to be writing.

There are some other factors. My sibling is living with me. they're only 22, and they're still figuring things out, but there are also a lot of things they could be doing to be a better roommate. I prefer living alone and I knew I would only be able to tolerate them living with me for a little while, but this has gone far beyond that. I won't write that novel in this post, though. Suffice it to say I'm looking for my own place, and I know my creative productivity will vastly improve once I have a space where I can actually decompress after work.

On the linear writing thing: I used to be a panster. I wrote linearly, but I wrote what was fun. I've never written out of order before, but that has more to do with my ability to keep track of what's happened, and it's easier when I do it chronologically. I think I'll try an out-of-order story just to see if it breaks the block, though. Maybe if I break my own mold, I'll find another shape that fits, to follow the metaphor.

One trick I've been tempted to try is to pick one of my very old fanfictions, from back when I was a wordy teenager who had to describe everything in exacting detail, and copy it all down word-for-word until my writer's brain kicks in and diverges with it. I'm not the same person I used to be, so I'd like to think my old self would drive me just crazy enough to force me into action writing something new. Or maybe the same thing but better. Who knows?

On that last point: You're writing a script?! Am I allowed to ask about it? And animating! I've been wanting to relearn how to draw, but animating seems so daunting! I wish you the best of luck!

Thank you for the ask, and for the chance to get some thoughts out. I'll put some of your suggestions to the test and see what happens. :D

[fineartsjournal]

213341 Art Studio IIIA ⋆ Interim - A Mad Dash

Beyond our Instagram group chat; a huge chunk of group organization takes place in our dedicated "Planning Slides" document.

Olivia had taken the reins with getting our progress and ideas jotted down; which has really helped keep us all on pace.

Alongside a timetable, these slides act as one big checklist - with sections for planning materials, room painting, and a moodboard.

We all invited friends and family to the exhibition, with an estimated 40 people checking it out at once - to which we've been informed could be on the unsafe side, as 2E Dark is not the most crowd friendly.

The room is also a little inconspicuous. Sandwiched between two studio spaces, we should aim to draw people in with wall text. There's also talks to remove the door in favor of a curtain.

On the first Tuesday of the study break, (almost) all of us met for a discussion. Written atop this note page is the 'pipeline' for getting our space primed and ready for presenting.

Two days later, we met up with Mike Bridgeman to lock in our equipment requests.

There were bundles of extension cords, a projector and three spotlights already in our space, so a lot of the borrowing would be on my end.

This was a little humbling. Turns out - I don't know much about mixing. There was an expectation that I would be practicing mixing in my own time - or in the very least learning more about it, and I watched Mike's smile quickly fade as he had to explain that there are different inputs for mono and stereo sound, and different audio jacks, too! If I wanted to play music from four different MP3 players, I'd need a very large, expensive mixer for the task! And amps are a thing that exist too! Jesus Christ.

It needed some more thought; and I have a lot to learn. From this, I started re-drafting my presentation. I was not letting go of my driving concept, but how could I adapt it?

I came up with an alternative, and emailed Mike.

Back at home, I started toying around with SM64 loops in Audacity, with the idea that I could load them onto my SP-202, and divvy the mono tracks up from there.

It's a unique challenge - create four 'songs' that can play over each other at different timing, all in the same key and timbral range.

I amassed seven loops in Audacity, and arranged them in a song format for your enjoyment.

While some of the more 'textural' sounds that came from this are worth looking at further, such things as drum beats and chord progressions quickly become a slippery slope.

The same problem forms as did back with my presentation back in Week 6 - where the processing is too clean, and the action of sampling is lost on the listener.

Instead, the loops have to be rougher. Simpler. More jarring. The SP-202 was going to be used regardless, but instead of Audacity being the middleman, the SP-202 is where the bulk of the composition takes place, and I'll load sounds right into it.

This was also the time that my group began drawing up our pamphlet. I let my creative desires get the better of me and largely left myself with designing the whole thing - however I did consult the group every step of the way, sending screenshots and drawn-ideas:

As a successor to our proposal document, I made sure to format the pages in Word, as this meant the formatting could actually transfer all the symbols over to a PDF. Microsoft Word also comes with some ancient, deep-down features that can still be used: like this palm tree border which really ups the tackiness factor.

The cat you see was picked by Ruby and I, when we were Googling 2004-2010-era cat images. This one is from 2010, and immediately struck us as representative of our shared concept.

To match the font-graphics theme, I gave the image similar treatment - using point-and-click-paths to give this clean look without any line wobbliness. I also turned the whole thing into a vector, allowing it to be infinitely scaled, like a font!

And I wonder why I'm sleep deprived.

I was battling a bit of music block at this point, but Em was a great motivator for getting my sampler back out and jumping back into it.

The workflow was straightforward. No pre-preparing samples in Audacity, just recording them straight in and going from there. Old school.

Samples used:

Koji Kondo - Lethal Lava Land

Koji Kondo - Inside The Castle Walls

Koji Kondo - File Select

Recording back into audacity, I would then trim-up the tracks, loop preferred sections, and bring up the volume. No further polish from there, this was time for the SP-202 to shine.

Listening back on Time Isn't Real Strategy, copying the mono tracks into each ear and pacing them slightly didn't cut it, and the resulting sound was hollow. With the mono inputs of the mixer in mind, it was best to let that mono goodness shine.

Mike got back in touch, and the ball was rolling once more. This time, he'd acquired four MP3 players, along with a mixer, which for the meantime, was still sitting in the Block 6 recording studio.

This meetup was a godsend. My two-MP3-player-audio-split idea could work, sure, but with the power of a stereo-to-mono jack converter, using four MP3 players was possible again.

We tested on the mixer, and I got a crash course for how I'd be wiring up my project in practice. I needed four 3.5-to-3.5mm (stereo) cables, two of which he could provide. An equal amount of 3.5mm-to-6.5mm (mono) jack converters were also needed, of which I'd also need to buy another two.

Hooking one MP3 player up with this 3.5-6.5mm, stereo-to-mono array, we tested the mixer audio - which was great! The cables, jacks and all four MP3 players were provided in a Tupperware container, and I head off to Jaycar to get the rest of my equipment.

Back with the team, I locked my attention into getting the pamphlet done, first and foremost. Olivia and the others went into our newly assigned space for some mapping, as we needed a top-down view. These were their notes, along with some format planning for our pamphlet.

By this point, the first page of the pamphlet had shaped out nicely, with all subsequent pages following suit.

Following another pamphlet-making session on Word, I got back around to my sampler, and loaded up all eight pads with enough material for three whole tracks.

Samples used:

Koji Kondo - Game Start

Koji Kondo - Peach's Message

Koji Kondo - Powerful Mario

Samples used:

Koji Kondo - Dire, Dire Docks

In-Game Ambience, "Outside Peach's Castle"

Samples used:

Koji Kondo - Cave Dungeon

Koji Kondo - Inside The Castle Walls

The text on the front of our pamphlet was tricky, as we all had a fair bit in common, but enough differences that making one big mission statement would not be easy. Olivia shared around a word document with the first draft I made, and we each had a hand in editing in/out parts that best represented our works, to which I made the final edit, which the others greenlit.

We went with the following:

"OH HI – we come from internet. It’s been around for about two decades longer than we have. In that time, it has expanded exponentially alongside the development of the devices we now glue our minds and fingertips to. We frolicked freely in these pixelated fields, while the world played catch up. Where did those good times go? It was all so fun, but how much of it was real? At best, it was a lens. At worst, a mirror.  "We didn’t feel alone, but nobody else was in the room with us. It wasn’t an exclusive experience, our consciousness was part of a collective, our realities fractured and sewn back together. The emotions of self and stranger were intertwined and projected back out; and as we retrospect, simulated familiarities pull us back into the maelstrom of bygone emotions, a haze of ‘better days’ to feed into our past, present, and future. How do we get back there?  "The digital age is a perpetual melancholy, the past unobtainable – but that is all the motivation we need to chase it endlessly. Each of our artworks follow memories and experiences in these real and virtual spaces; familiar motifs spoon-fed into our young minds, and the lives that are both fictional and our own.  "From thereon, we are what we eat.  "This is Personal Storage."

Stevee-Renee's portraits came in, and we each got to submitting our individual work profiles for adding into the pamphlet, to which I formatted like so:

I then got back into Audacity for the rest of the tracks...

…pushing through a couple late nights...

…until everything sounded just right!

[darktalesofharperfoxx]

Just One Of the Shadows

Written by Harper Foxx

It's rare but it happens, I fell asleep in the University's library. I've been studying for hours, preparing for midterms. The lights overhead do very little to illuminate the isles of history below in these old buildings of mindless youngsters and mildew paper. The thoughts of life after graduation consume my very essence from time to time. College is nothing more than training to join the ranks of other mindless drones, who didn't know what they wanted to do with the rest of their existence. I will just become another cog in the machine called life, once one cog begins to get old and break down, I will be there to take its place in society and recycle its infinite process. My hand aches from excessive note-taking, my eyes grow heavy and my mind feels hazy. My uniform is even starting to smell like the day. 

"I should head back to the Dorm" I thought to myself.

Drawing my attention to the nearby window, I see nothing but darkness and a faint glow of street lights.

Damn it! It's late... Later than I'd like to think. My eyes are recovering from the strain of seeing the text literature printed in books I have little to no interest in. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired… One of my favorite quotes. I begin to pack my bag with all my current studies. I'm listening to the mute sounds of surrounding depleted students, signing their lives away to an academic future of uncertainty. I too… am not far behind.

As I exit the building, and emerge into the cold of night on campus. I'm sick of the sight of this place. Being outside now, taking a deep breath of the cold air comforts me somehow. I begin to trek the cobblestone walkway to my dorm room. I attempt to speed up my pace but it only makes me more exhausted. My arms begin to lose their grip on the shoulder straps of my backpack, and my feet start to drag with every step I take.

"Sigh, I'm so tired." 

I remember there is a small underpass walkway tunnel beyond the garden in front of me. Taking that way, I'll get to the Dorm a lot faster. As I cut through the bushes, and shimmy my way past some of the sharp branches, I find myself at the tunnel's entrance. Oddly enough the lights in the tunnel aren't radiating off its concrete interior. It's so dark… so dark in fact that I cannot see the walls nor the floor to guide me. Although I am able to see my Dorm out the other end of the void, like a beacon of salvation. Luckily the tunnel is short, no more than about twelve steps. I should be fine.

I take my first steps into the tunnel, and begin my short walk. Walking through the shadowed floor, I find myself stumbling over things that feel like heavy towels. I struggle to kick it off my foot. Doing that, only makes my feet bump into another object, that I once again have to kick off my foot.

"You can't leave." A voice from the shadows says.

I don't say a word… to be honest… I'm too afraid to. My lips instantly begin to crack, from the cold wind and the sense of dread I've just encountered. You cannot begin to fathom the boulder of dried saliva I've just tried to swallow to quench my fear of the unknown. 

I reach into my uniform pocket, and grab hold of my smartphone and use it as a light source. As I begin to wave the phone in the direction of the voice, there is someone sitting on the floor with they're back up against a door that says "No Access". They're arms clutching around they're kneecaps hugged close to they're chest, they're face was burrowed in they're citadel. So I couldn't make out they're features, but… it was a student, they had on my same uniform. I didn't want to say anything, hell I was too creeped out and too tired to start a "Is everything okay?" icebreaker of empathy conversation. 

Before I can leave the student to tend to their own problems, another towel-like object wraps its way around my foot when I begin to step towards the exit. I shine my light to my feet to get a good look at what keeps tripping me over.

 A uniform jacket!? Why is this on the floor!? As I peer my radiant light source slowly around I'm bewildered by the sight. It's a sea of the University's uniforms and backpacks lying on the tunnel's asphalt. Some even piled up on top of one another.

"What the hell!?" I whispered out.

I thought to myself maybe, it's a bunch of students streaking. Students play pranks like this every now and then to break up the monotony of school life. 

Something… something just doesn't feel right though. As I pan my phone around to the sight of confusion below I notice…

All of the uniforms… down to the backpacks… they're all the same. Every. Last. One.

And they're all similar to my own. The thought gave me chills, I just want to get out of here. I began to power walk towards the tunnel's end. I walked.

And walked.

And walked…

…walked…

……..walking.

Those Twelve steps turned into twenty-two, then twenty-two turned into forty-eight, forty-eight turned into screams for help. The more I walked towards the tunnel's exit, the more I moved in place. The more I moved in place, the longer I was stuck here. Not moving forward, no progression, no hope. I even tried going back the way I came… but yet all was still the same. Yelling for help on the deaf ears of the world so silent… It was hopeless. The tunnel's shadows swallowed my cries for a savior. As I cry rivers in my palms, I lose balance and trip over one of the many backpacks that plagues the floor around me. Luckily the tunnel's walls were there to catch me as my back pressed up against it. I weep as I slowly slide down into a seated position, as I hear the scraping of my backpack kissing the tunnel's walls. I've given up… I hug my knees close to my chest, and I allow the realization to run its course. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a silhouette of someone entering the tunnel. Poor soul… I thought about warning them, but what's the use, they're here now… my selfishness cannot seem to halt when I've had enough. I hear them stumbling through and kicking off the shadows of uniforms. When the person got close enough… then, I spoke.

"You can't leave."

The silhouette reacts to my voice, by shining a light on me, and before I can react…

It's rare but it happens, I fell asleep in the University's library…  ….

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 2 - Pour myself a cup of ambition

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (also features Thomas Dorset x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x Tessa), Modern AU

Chapter Summary: Set 5 years after Chapter 1 (linked above). As your job takes you abroad for the very first time, you bump into the last person you expect on another shared journey full of revelations.

artwork credit: @colettebronte

Warnings: none really… some sexual language, swear words, bickering, and flirting.

Word Count: 2.2k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Chapter 2 of my multi-chapter modern rom-com, heavily inspired by When Harry Met Sally. Sorry that it's taken a while to get this next part written. I hope you all enjoy! <3

7 years ago (5 Years Later)

You stand just before the security gates at St Pancras International, engaging in a rare PDA moment. But you justify to yourself that this is the first time you have had to go away on business since you started your new relationship three months ago, and this one seems like great potential. Dr Tom Dorset. Friendly, sweet, handsome and, so far at least, well-adjusted and emotionally mature. Your friends agree he’s quite the catch. And he is pretty fantastic in all sorts of other ways too. You certainly have no complaints in the bedroom.

Just as he whispers how much he will miss you and kisses that spot on your neck that makes you a little weak, your moment is interrupted.

“Tom? Tom Dorset? Is that you?”

There in front of you is the man you thought you would never see again. Looking a few years older and dressed better, but there’s no doubt who it is. You’d never forget those eyes.

“Ben? Ben Bridgerton?!” Tom seems delighted, and it occurs to you that they must be old friends as Tom takes his arms from around you and shakes his hand warmly. Just fucking great.

“I thought it was you! I haven't seen you for years! Was the last time when I came to Ant’s at Trinity?! What have you been up to?”

“Medical school mostly,” Tom offers demurely, then turns to you. “Oh, sorry, Ben, this is y/n y/l/n, y/n this is Ben Bridgerton; I was his brother’s roommate at Trinity College, Oxford.”

Ben’s eyes cut to you, and you see a confused look pass over his face; like you are familiar, but he can’t place why. 

“Well, I must get this train, but it was great to see you! Email me!” Ben smiles warmly, and with one last brow knit in your direction, he takes off. 

“Thank fuck he didn’t remember me,” you exhale loudly when he is out of earshot.

“Ben?” Tom looks confused.

“Yes, We drove from St Andrews to London together five years ago, and it was the worst road trip I think I've ever had,” you bemoan. “He was dating a friend of mine, and I agreed to split the drive. Urgh, it was terrible. He’s so obnoxious.”

Tom looks over your shoulder. “Well, looks like he just got on your train, honey, so umm, good luck with that,” he chuckles, bemused as you roll your eyes.

“Just fucking great,” you sigh sarcastically and plant your head on Tom’s shoulder as he draws you into his safe, warm embrace again. 

“I love you; I will miss you,” he says softly, cupping your jaw lovingly as he gently kisses your lips.

It's only the second time he has said it, and your heart flutters as you break into a huge smile. “I love you too. I will be back before you know it,” you promise, pulling him in for a passionate kiss you hope he will remember.

As you part, he exhales raggedly. “God, now I’ll miss you even more.”

“Mmm, that’s the point,” you whisper coquettishly and run a hand down his back, inside his coat, unseen by people around you. “Text me, sexy stuff,” you request quietly, then gently bite his bottom lip.

He groans, “Good god, woman, get on that train before I drag you somewhere or buy a ticket to join you.”

___

You are still giggling and feeling so fizzy and light, like champagne is in your blood, as you skip onboard the train to Paris. Taking your seat in First Class that you’ve been assigned by work feels like such a luxury; excited to cover your first story abroad.

Your phone pings just as the train slips out of the station. Love you. Safe travels. Txx

You can’t help your little titter of happiness, and just as you go to type a reply, someone leans over from the seat diagonally behind you, across the aisle.

“I swear I recognise that giggle. The University of St Andrews?” 

It’s Ben. Of course, it is. Thanks for that fate.

“Yes,” you sigh, not turning around, annoyed he doesn't remember more detail. How could he possibly forget calling you beautiful? Your traitorous brain yells in your skull.

“Did we date?” he questions.

You can't help but almost snort at that. “Hell no!” You twist around. “You were dating my friend Gen. We drove to London together after term ended.”

“Oh, I remember now!” he smiles, “you wouldn't give me a Malteser.”

“You propositioned me!” you blurt out as you watch him pull an apple out of his bag.

“No, I didn't,” he laughs, “I just said you were beautiful,” and he takes a bite out of the fruit. “You still are, if it's any consolation,” he offers, around a mouthful.

“None whatsoever,” you fib, feeling your cheeks heat at the compliment. “And you still talk while you eat, like an animal,” you roll your eyes, barely believing how riled up you are from exchanging less than five sentences.

“Would you two like to sit together?” the man opposite you at the table offers.

“No, that's really not….” you begin.

“Yes, thanks!” Ben interrupts, and you scowl at him as he stands immediately, throwing his bag down next to you before swinging over as the man moves aside.

“So you were going to be a journalist?” he winks after he settles into the seat opposite you.

Up close now, he is still just as handsome as he was. Maybe more so, jaw more defined and smattered with stubble. The utter arsehole.

“I am a journalist. My internship at the Guardian turned into a job. I'm going to Paris to cover the climate summit,” you state proudly, squaring your shoulders a little. “You?”

“Visiting my fiancee,” he grins, and something twinges in your gut. Maybe getting tacos for lunch wasn’t a good idea.

“You are getting married? You?” you laugh in total disbelief.

And you are suddenly back in your old studio flat, hearing more about his player reputation. A few months after the drive to London, Gen came to crash on your sofa and commiserate her reentry to single life. She didn't seem that upset about the dalliance ending, to be fair, mostly about how much she’d miss the ‘fucking mind-blowing fucking’ as she had so indelicately put it. You can see the words floating like a speech bubble above her face in your mind “Y/n, I can live without the dick attitude, but damn, I don’t know that I wanna live without that dick, you know?” Then threw herself face-first into a cushion. You cut off her margaritas at that point. How much that had to do with not wanting to think about him and his member, you decided not to dwell on.

“Yes,” he cuts into your reverie. “Her name is Tessa. She's an artist too. She's Parisian.”

“Tres chic.”

“How long have you been with Dorset? Wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess,” he smirks.

You fold your arms and raise an eyebrow. “This ought to be good,” you mutter as much to yourself as to him.

“Hmm, three months?” 

Dammit. How did the bastard get it spot on?

“Why?” you try to bluff, but the victorious crooked grin that unfurls over his face shows he knows he's right without you having to say it.

“Goodbye before a trip. Classic three-month behaviour,” he opines, taking another huge bite of his apple.

“Glad to see your eating habits have at least got healthier,” you state dryly, trying to change tack.

“Tessa likes to eat healthily,” he explains with an almost dreamy expression. Part of you is already impressed by this woman you have never met who has turned the human rubbish bin into a more impressive version of a man. “Has he told you he loves you?” he queries, spittling just a speck of apple onto the table.

“Why is that ANY of your business?” you frown.

“Because if he hasn't, he's a fool,” he shrugs casually as if those words aren't some of the sweetest you’ve heard.

“Luckily, he’s no fool,” you respond, confirming without actually confirming.

He nods. “Good. Dorset is a good one. Don't ‘y/n’ him away,” he jests, using air quotes.

“What the fuck does that mean?” you spit, suddenly whiplash angry when just a few moments ago you were impressed with his sweetest.

“You can't smoke in my car. Eating that will kill you,” he adopts a high-pitched voice and waggles his head as he mocks you.

“Fuck you,” you grumble.

“I would have, happily, but you said no,” he winks, and you want to punch him.

“I thought you just denied propositioning me!” 

He just shrugs and laughs loudly. You can tell everyone around you is most amused by your back and forth, so instead, you shoot him a glare and then change tack, staring out of the window as the countryside of Kent zips by. So irritated you forget to text Tom back for another five minutes.

___

“Do you know anyone in Paris?” he asks, pulling out an AirPod as you close your laptop sometime later. 

The train is somewhere under the Channel, and the darkness of the tunnel outside the window makes the train feel a touch more intimate, claustrophobic even.

“No,” you admit.

“How about Tessa and I take you out for dinner?” he proposes.

“Isn't tonight your first night together in a while?” you frown.

“Yeah… and?” he seems to be either not catching your train of thought or being intentionally obtuse, goading you into a trap to state the obvious.

“I would have thought you'd be otherwise occupied,” you arch an eyebrow pointedly.

“Oh…” he suddenly catches your drift and, rather adorably, a spot of pink dust his lovely cheekbones. OK, maybe not the latter.

“Certainly not wanting a third wheel, like me hanging around,” you point out meekly with a knowing smile.

“If that is your way of offering a threesome, I’m down,” he flirts, his voice suddenly velvet smooth, so much so the hairs on the back of your neck prickle up.

“God’s sake,” you mutter, feigning more indignation than you actually have.

“You're the one who told me about your lesbian experiences at uni!” he argues defensively.

“I was just trying to prove a point!” 

“Got to be honest, don't remember a damn thing except the visual that almost had me drive into a bus shelter,” he admits with a chuckle.

“And take out that delivery cyclist,” you remind, joining in.

There is a moment where your eyes meet in a joint nostalgia of amusement, and something feels softer between you.

“Listen, Tess’s brother is a chef at a great little bistro; we will almost certainly end up there anyway, as we usually always do. I'm sure she would be delighted for you to join us,” the sincerity of his offer touches you.

“Thanks, but I have to do some research ahead of tomorrow. I’ll probably just order room service and crash out,” you admit, knowing that is a lame response.

“Fair enough. Well, let's at least exchange numbers this time. Stay in touch? If you are at a loose end at any point, let me know, and we’ll happily give you a tour or just grab a drink?”

“Okay”, you capitulate and hand over your phone for him to punch in his number.

“Wonderful” he smiles genuinely, and his hazy eyes dance. “Are we finally becoming friends?” he teases gently as he seems to fiddle a little longer than needed to put in a few digits.

“I guess so,” you respond with a laugh.

He hands back your phone, and weirdly it's screen locked.

“Good, And as my very first act as your friend, may I make a comment you are not allowed to take offence to?” he questions, with an odd tone.

Your dander is suddenly way up. “Whatttt?” you elongate the word rife with suspicion.

He leans over the train table suddenly, and you startle as his lips are warm against the shell of your ear, your heart-rate spiking. “You have a fucking fantastic pair of tits,” he murmurs.

You splutter, shame, outrage and desire flooding your system in almost equal measure. Incapable of forming words, you sharply pull back into your seat and shoot him your most sour glare.

“Maybe don't hand your phone over when it’s open to the message thread with your boyfriend,” he chuckles.

You feel mortified, recalling the photo you'd texted Tom last night as a going-away present, and you are almost blinded as the train suddenly swoops out of the tunnel and sunlight floods into the compartment.

In fact, you are grateful that he gets a call just at that moment. It seems to last ages, and he wanders away, probably to find the buffet car, knowing him. By the time you see him making his way back through the carriage, the train is pulling into Gare Du Nord. You are on your feet and walking to the next carriage to alight. Not certain you can live down your embarrassment. 

There are a few moments as you wander around Paris over the next two days when your fingers itch to dial his number… but you never do, something always stopping you. Bizarrely, you think it might be the idea of meeting his fiancee, and you have no idea what that means, so avoidance seems like the best tactic.

After all, he’s probably moving to Paris soon, so really, what's the point?

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz

[shadow-lag]

Promised add-on bc I have too much on her lol

(Commission from my friend JC, @//socorro-x. Featuring my other silly, Sunsprite.)

Alright some random notes I've have jotted down in my discord, a rapid fire. (These contain a lot of mk headcanons too bc I've really leaned into them being gsa partners and later great friends)

-Metaknight flying Nismo around bc she doesn't have wings of her own. Metaknight definitely has some scrap papers filled with early engineering drawings of "wings" for nismo. He had kept hold of them, stashed in a long forgotten folder of some dusty drawer after the war. After his battle with Galactaknight, he's probably left later wondering why he doesn't have horns, or why she never had wings. He quickly chalked it up to it being an aging thing (assuming gala is older), but deep down he believes it's the unnatural tampering from Nightmare, and loaths it.

-Nismo is *barely* taller than MetaKnight without boots (he is deeply wounded by this fact /hj) [also I had this headcanon written down that meta knight is below average height for a puffball due to his growth being tampered with and stunted during his time with nightmare. which I'm not sure about anymore but is kinda interesting!]

-OMG. NISMO. HER HORNS ARE MADE OF A SIMILAR CRYSTAL AS THE STAR ROD. BOTH CREATED BY MAGIC AND DO NOT EXIST NATURALLY. Since I'm thinking some failed experiment being the cause for her crystal horns (dont naturally occur for puffballs) Okay so maybe a bit op but like ?? Ayo?? Maybe Magolor and figure this out through his studying of the ancient times and long talks about adventures with Kirby.

-What's you're favorite color? *answers with a hex code of their very specific favorite color(s)*

-She loves glowberries and idc that those are minecraft

-She adores the waddle dees. Mostly bc of how cute they are in current times but also vastly respects their loyalty and dedication. As well as greatly appreciates their help and hard work in the GSA times.

-MK has gone on record to say that Nismos color reminds him of the orange ocean. Even when they are apart, flying the Halbert over the ocean brings back fond memories.

-Nismo loves all of the meta-knights like family and most certainly does not have any favorites (it's Sailor)

-Nismos horns grow continuously so she has to shave them down or use even stronger material to cut them. She can use this extra material to make things, she usually carves arrow heads out of it. This means those arrows are extremely powerful (and usually quite sharp) This crystal material isn't natural and she wasn't meant to grow horns. (Perhaps some ancient magic? Or void matter?)

-I think during her time in the GSA she would make spear heads for her favorite waddle dees (they were servants(?) in the GSA. Skilled with spears for backup, but they did mostly cooking and cleaning and such at the camps)

-Once she moved to dreamland, she would make a new bow from the fabled yggy woods, he had kindly offered her a fallen branch. She quickly befriended the greatly talked about bandana waddle dee (he's the talk of the town, spoken about highly amongst his fellow dees for his bravery and how he's such great representation for the dees as a whole) she thought highly of the waddle dees working in the GSA. After hearing all the adventures this one had been on, she had to check him out for herself. They become quick friends and she made him a spear in whole. Using some leftover wood from yggy and a crystal spear head.

-Even after the GSA disbanded, she kept her star symbol on her pauldron. Even though the war only really ended with kirby summoning the star rod, she wore it pridefully. They may have "lost" the war, but they put up the good fight. It was in honor of the fallen she would tell you.

-Crystal horns glow. Ever so slightly

-Nismo loved baking before joining the GSA, and therefore usually cooked for whoever she was stationed with. Due to being spoiled on this and only really learning war ration ass meals (mandatory training) is why metaknights cooking sucks lol

Alright!! That's all of them (I think-) mostly in order from my most recent notes to the older ones. I'm sure there's other scattered elsewhere. I have so much to say about her lol

Some more doodles lol

And! A whole clay figure of her!! Which unfortunately got knocked off my desk not once, but twice- and is no longer with us lmao

I think that's all!! Good luck everyone:D

@kirbyoctournament

Introducing...NISMO*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Prior GSA member, she is an archer powerhouse. Using arrowheads made from her unusual and ever-growing crystal horns, she can scope out hundreds of enemies from Nightmare Enterprises. Frequently sent to work with one of the GSA's top solider, Sir Metaknight. 🦇⚔️🫐

Though despite the sad appearance her masks downturned shape may portray, she is heeps more cheery then the blue knight. Often going as far to tease him, but always brightening his mood (even through his denial)

After the GSA decided to disband, she continued wearing her star badge. Through this, she managed to navigate her way through off-handed conversations and small mentions straight back to MK, and to the beautiful Dreamland. Where she meets the King's hoard of waddle dees. The GSA had plenty of trained waddle dees working to maintain and protect large bases, all in which she held high respects, but none were quite like the largely spoken about and highly regarded Bandana Dee. Whom she made very quick friends with, even going as far to use scrap Iggy Woods wood and her crystals to make him a custom spear. (A cherished gift)

Avid pop flower enjoyer<3

[chayscribbles]

chayscribbles’ monthly writing update ☆ november 2022

☆ STATISTICS.

words written: 9835 drafting; 17606 redrafting/editing

projects worked on: Andromeda Rogue, Andromeda Rising

proudest accomplishment: i published my first art zine! oh and finishing the first draft of AR3 is also a thing that happened

books read: Memoria by Kristyn Merbeth; Cinder by Marissa Meyer, A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine

☆ GENERAL COMMENTS.

(book comments first: Memoria (the sequel to Fortuna, which i read a few weeks ago) was MUCH better imo than the first, 4.5 stars. Cinder was very enjoyable but i do feel like i am simply getting too old for YA and would have liked it better if i had read it a few years ago, 4 stars. A Memory certainly wasn't bad, but in the end it fell a bit flat for me, 3 stars.)

this month has been Very Weird. within the span of like 3 days a lot of things happened, including finishing AR3 and other Personal Stuff that resulted in me suddenly having a lot of free time on my hands that i did not know what to do with. but everything ended up working out! and a lot of that free time went to working on my wip.

i had thought that after finishing AR3 i'd work on one of my lower-effort sidewips, or work on other hobbies like drawing, but the motivation for those things just... didn't manifest itself? (also the Secret Space WIP, has become bigger than i thought it would, and i felt it would require more commitment than i am currently willing to give it)

anyways i just ended up going right back to AR kjdfgkjfds whoops

more specific wip-related comments + featured excerpt below.

☆ COMMENTS: ANDROMEDA RISING (finishing the draft)

did i really finish this draft this month? it feels like forever ago jkfdjk

so my unofficial NaNo goal was to finish AR3. i had originally estimated it would take 15k, and then adjusted it to 10k. i didn't quite make the 10k either but i DID finish the draft, so that's still a win. to me.

this draft turned out way shorter than i had hoped... and there's a LOT that needs to be fixed, and i'm not completely satisfied with how it turned out. but i really was at the point where i had to just get through it to call it done otherwise i never would, so thank fuck that's over with.

(trying not to think about how much needs to be fixed yet. gritting my teeth.)

☆ COMMENTS: ANDROMEDA ROGUE (draft... 2!!!!)

so i had this whole plan of letting the entire series rest, then rereading, reoutlining, reworking some plot, character and worldbuilding stuff, and only starting draft 2 in 2023... and then i got impatient lmao.

i was somewhere in the reoutlining stage about a week after finishing AR3 when i realized it felt like i was wasting my time. not much of the main structure of this book is gonna change, so i was pretty much just rewriting the exact same outline i already had. (i plantsed through draft 1 but made a reverse outline as i was writing.) most of the changes are adding or changing certain details to scenes and no amount of planning was gonna help any more than just writing out the changes. so, on the 18th, i started draft 2.

(besides, it's not like i didn't let AR1 rest. i finished it in june 2021 after all.)

i also had a bunch of editing notes from when i was drafting, + stuff i thought about later while writing the sequels on how to better set things up, + notes taken during my reread. so i ended up just annotating the hell out of my first draft to show where i would add or change things, and then i put the old draft on one side of the screen and a new doc on the other side and started rewriting it to include the changes.

i've gone through about 5 chapters and added an epilogue so far! it's going pretty fast haha. i've already added over 2000 words just by fleshing things out a bit more, now that i know my characters and the world much better than when i started. it's SO much easier now that i have the entire series in front of me.

chapter 5 is where i've been slowed down as there is a considerable amount of stuff that needed to be rewritten completely-- it's quite exposition-heavy (it's the scene where Petra gets a rundown of her xenobotany mission), and when i first wrote it, i wasn't exactly sure where i was going with the story. and even though i now have a fuller picture in front of me, it's always hard to write an exposition-heavy chapter and include everything that needs to be said without making it drag. not to mention, foreshadowing and setting things up appropriately.

right now, i'm taking a quick break from redrafting to iron out some of the political backdrop of the story. not only did i need to rest after wrestling with chapter 5, but i was disappointed reading A Memory Called Empire, which was supposed to be a political intrigue, and it was one heck of a motivator to try to make the politics in my book better haha.

☆ FEATURED EXCERPT.

very short passage i added to AR1 to further demonstrate how much of a nerd Petra really is.

“Petra,” Dr. Derosy said, “you did your thesis on vitaplants. Would you mind giving us a brief definition?” Petra coughed and sat up straighter in her chair. “Vitaplants are a category of plants that boost the growth and health of other living organisms around them, specifically through the emission of vitawaves," she said. "Vitaplants have been found to have evolved independently on multiple planets around the sector and are not confined to a single genus, which has confounded taxonomists—"

“Thank you, Petra. I did say brief.”

☆ TAGLISTS. let me know if you want to be added/removed to either.

general taglist:

@nicola-writes @dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @stormharbors @quilloftheclouds @ashen-crest @writeblrfantasy @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @extra-magichours @avi-why @lefttigerobservation @chazzawrites @bardolatrycore

andromeda trilogy taglist:

@bebewrites @nicola-writes @dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @stormharbors @akindofmagictoo @quilloftheclouds @nora-theteawriter @ashen-crest @corpsepng @writeblrfantasy @toboldlywrite @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @cheerfulmelancholies @extra-magichours @writeouswriter @cilly-the-writer @lefttigerobservation @rose-bookblood @drowsy-quill @chazzawrites @cynic-and-chief @enchanted-lightning-aes @aesa

[kookiecrumb]

jjk|| Your Head

"tags": @kazthebrekkerofinej

word count: uhhhh

summary: Jungkook is the heir to the throne of your Kingdom! In this tale of duty versus heart, will love prevail victorious?

tags: Royalty!Jungkook x Peasant!Reader, oneshot, smut, fluff, slight angst, some crack, pining, forbidden lovers, Jungkookie has a sweet tooth, strangers to friends to lovers

warnings: explicit language, impact play, birthday sex (technically), fingering, oral (m receiving*), love marking, alcohol consumption, s&m themes, horny grinding, praise kink/body worship

a/n:

hey guys!

Firstly, I want to say how proud I am of myself for growing so much during this fic. I learned a lot about what I'm comfortable with, what I'd like to work on, and where my confidences lie.

I won't lie and say it's been easy, because writing this meant dealing with a lot of my fears? I'm excited for all the works that are to come.

The only thing I can do is be as receptive to growth as possible, so I'm looking forward to learning...

*I actually learned that Vaseline wasn't invented until like the 1870s? The fic is written in the 1810s, so I actually had a choice between having them do it with vegetable oil or spit. Spit won.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

5 years ago

You bend over to pick up an apple that had rolled over under your father's produce cart, praying that it isn't bruised so that you have to pay for it out of your dinner, when a crumpled piece of paper hits you in the ass.

Confused, you crawl out from under the stand and unwrap the paper.

The paper itself is of the finest quality you've ever seen. It's a sturdy cardstock, bleached white with gold etchings on the borders. The print on the top of it reads "His Highness Jeon's Royal Study," and scribbled in some kid's amateur cursive below, "Nice butt."

You directed your gaze upwards, towards the towering castle walls. Sure enough, a boy no older than 15 had his noggin popping out from the top of the rampart, with two wide eyes staring down, curious as to your reaction. This was Prince Jungkook, heir to the throne of your kingdom.

"Shouldn't you be equestrian horse riding or playing polo or something?" You shout. He furrows his eyebrows, apparently offended at your assumption, and then disappears behind the edifice.

Moments later, another paper hits your shoulder as you're practicing your caligraphy behind your cart. It lands between the apples, so you reach your hand over and fish out out.

You glance up at the anticipant, and sure enough he's there with his doe eyes and his coconut head, ogling.

"No, dumbie. That's at MID-day." Well how were YOU supposed to know the royal schedule of the crown prince, it wasn't just common knowlegde you learned from being a humble farmer's daught--

Ah!

"Will you STOP?!" You put your foot down. "Unless you're here to buy my apples, then you're not getting ANY, little Prince." Oh, shit. You gave him ideas. Now it was really over for you.

In less than half an hour, half a company of men arrived at the marketplace, asking about your little old apple stand, and sure enough, Jungkook had bought out the entire cart so that you were forced to help with the transaction.

The young prince had eyes frankly too big for his head, with the most prominent cupid's bow you've ever seen. His nose slightly outgrew his face and his ears were hidden away behind his short, black hair. "Now you can talk to me." He gave you a rose he'd stolen from the royal garden. "I am Jungkook, heir to the throne of--"

"I know who you are." You interrupt him, documenting His Highness' total in your calligraphy book.

With a hand perched on his chest from surprise, he scoffed. "And I happen to think you're really pretty, so I was going to ask you to be my very first consor--"

"You're 15, you have playmates not consorts."

"And how old are you?!" He's had it, raising his voice and taking a bite out of one of your apples with force.

"16, old enough to have suitors." You tease. Jungkook hangs his head a little. He just needed someone to talk to, it would seem. Reluctantly, you scribbled down your address down on a piece of note paper and handed it to him.

"Look, if you buy more of my apples, I'll have an excuse to tell my Dad so I can hang out with you." You spoke in a low voice as to not raise suspicion.

Your dad is standing negotiating with the guards about prices, his usual embarassing haggling gruffly overpowering the guards elegant twiddle-tones.

"Wonderful! See you soon, my sweet!" He resumes his confident demeanor, tucking the paper into his overcoat with a small smile. He salutes you boyishly and marches away with a year's supply of apples.

For the next week, the royal kitchen had baked 3 apple pies, made 5 fruit salads, 4 batches of apple muffins, and threw the rest of them in Sangria; that's the same Sangria as King Jeon finds himself drinking in his wife's drawing room on Sunday.

"Call Chef, fetch him up here." He waves to his assistant, keeping his eyes on the outside. He was deep in thought, his hands stoicly behind his back.

The Kingdom had been prosperous for over many years now, and war had not come close to threatening its borders in a lifetime. Negotiations were always successful, and quality of living was high. The work of a King, in a situation such as this, was to perfect the image of the royal family as strong rulers, and to paint his daughters as desirable to foreign heirs.

"Your Grace," the assistant called his attention, "Head Chef Sung." The dainty man bows and scurries off somewhere else.

Chef Sung is a portly man, who carries himself heaving with every step, his great belly inflating with each hefty inhale. He approaches the King, and kneels down to kiss his hand with his fat lips.

The King recoils in disgust, but quickly collects himself and his words. "Where are these apples from, is it France or Spain?" He demands.

"Neither, Your Highness." Mr.Sung lifts up his eyes. "They are from our Holy Kingdom; by order of Prince Jungkook, an entire cart was purchased of these apples and we have not been able to get rid of them." Tears threatened Chef Sungs eyes at the very mention of the fruit.

'Well, there's one thing the kid's done right.' King Jeon now faces the Chef, setting down his drink on a mahogany table, leaning against it casually. "Well! Good. I'd like to meet the owner of that cart, invite him to my Sunday brunch."

"Oh, yes, of course sir! You'll never see them in our kitchen aga--What?" Chef Sung takes out his handkerchief, waving it around in the air and drying his tears at once. "So you like them! Why...Yes! Yes, of course!"

Your father thought it would be valuable to have you around the kitchen, learning from the skilled men and women employed by the Jeon family. He only visited once a week to drop off fresh produce, (he'd been officially hired to handle restocking of goods) but you, after showing promising signs of being a gifted baker during one of your father's restocks, were granted scholarship by Ms.Kang to be her aid.

You were now, officially, a resident of the Jeon Estate, residing in the servant's quarters, immediately adjacent to the kitchen. This was convenient. It was far too convenient for a certain little Prince to get the idea of wanting a midnight snack and wandering downstairs.

One day, he does just that. He finds his way into the first bedroom to the right of the stairs facing the kitchen, and that happens to be your bedroom.

He pokes you awake. "Ow! Ow, whyyy~" You whine and toss yourself over to the other side of the bed. His irritating poking persists. You grab his fingers and your eyes shatter open.

You sit up, alarmed. "You could have me arrested, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I wanted a midnight snack! Besides, I wanna talk to you." He pouts, still holding a small teddy companion.

"Fine. I'll bake you ONE sheet of cookies." You slip on your night shoes and shuffle to the kitchen, and Jungkook tags along.

By the time Jungkook's 18th birthday comes around, he's in the kitchen helping you whisk buttercream to top his cake while having a tease at the Austrian Princess' mole.

"You have one right under your lip, look!" You take a little buttercream from the bowl and stain the dark spot with it.

He licks it up and hastens to add, "it needs more sugar, lady!" as he turns to grab a puffy bag of confection sugar.

"You're impossible to please." Snatching the sugar away from him, you smirk. "You can gobble down as many sweets as you want when the ball commences. Remember, this is the year you're supposed to be keeping your eye out for a girl of a good fam--"

"Yada yada, must have hips for childbearing, yada yada yada..." He mocks the speech his mother had told him that morning when he got dressed.

"Exactly." You set your bowl aside to fix Jungkook's tie. "Yes, and that's your duty, as our heir."

You step back and examine Jungkook one more time. He'd grown so tall in the last year, his legs like spider's and he was just beginning to grow into his features. Handsome boy.

You, too, had grown into an elegant young woman. You had a poised complexion, ready-mannered and graceful. Your hands seemed out of place in your otherwise feminine frame, carrying an extra bit of girth from baking. You were 19 years old.

Marriage was becoming an uncomfortably frequent topic during your visits home, as your mother had married young, herself, she expected the same of you.

Truth be told, there were plenty of offers for your hand. You were a skilled and very esteemed individual, who had broken into thr artisinal class. But your father knew better than put a dowry on your happiness. So long as you worked, he saw no reason to marry you off just yet.

"Now, go. Your sisters must be worried sick! Go out there." You shoo him, pushing him out the door of the kitchen despite his flailing arms.

Throughout the party, you'd been carrying a platter of your own baked goods, serving them to the aristocrats attending the Princes' coming-of-age ball. Accents from all over Europe and some from Kingdoms as far East as Cyprus jubilantly engaged in artful conversation which filled the air with good spirits.

Jungkook, himself, was busy being introduced to as many women as possible, a medley of presenting duchesses, ladies, and even Princesses of your Kingdom. They were each more qualified than you'll ever be, ten-fold.

One was a Greek Princess, her hair cascaded in darling curls down her shoulders and her eyes were deep-set, her voice a flirtatious trill.

Another, a Prussian Princess', posture radiated excellency, and whose complexion sparkled like powdered snow. Jungkook greeted her warmly, pleased with her appearance.

Distracted, you tripped up your skirt and dropped the remainder of your pastries. With that, you stepped off to use the restroom.

The sound of Strauss' Rosen aus dem Süden faintly loomed in the air as you wiped tears from your waterline in the mirror. That was just the way it was, wasn't it? Princes come of age, and they find wives who they commit their lives to.

"Married men don't have friends who are girls." You say out loud, just to realize it. Jungkook was now expected to find a mate within the season, and he was, in fact, quite the eligible bachelor.

Little did you know that Jungkook had been keeping an eye out for you throughout the party, not only because you were carrying his favorite Danish pastires, but because he knew your company was his greatest comfort.

He's in the midst of greeting the Duchess of Kent when he excuses himself to go look for you. He finds your mess first, frowning as he realizes something has gone terribly wrong.

He catches you in the hallway, face puffy and shaky. He grabs your wrist to keep you from darting back to the kitchen.

"Please don't do this, it's my birthday, y/n." It's as if an unspoken rule had been broken between you, and he feels it. Something is making you uncomfortable. "Was it the girls? You told me about this, it's my duty to at least greet them and--"

"Yeah, you sure did greet the Prussian woman nicely." You speak through tears. "She's the girl you were born to be with, huh? Your birthright?"Jungkook is silent. "Every girl at that ball wants to be your wife, want to have your children. They haven't known you for a day and yet they're ready to be your bride."

You search Jungkook's eyes for any sign of coherence, hoping that he would defend against you, that he would speak up and tell you otherwise. No such argument comes.

You yank your arm from his grip and march to the kitchen to remake the pastries you spilled.

You had the job of clearing off all the tables upon the departure of the last guests. It is midnight, and the windows of the castle stream moonlight down on the carpet beneath your feet. The glow of candles soothe you as you hum the waltzes which echo in your mind. It's a brilliant evening.

The centerpieces of the tables were gardenias, lush rose-like flowers with yellow pistils.

Summer, 1809

"Jungkook, wait! You're going to make me trip!" You shout from the top of the hill.

"You've gotta come see before the sun sets! It's the only way we'll get there on time, now run!" Jungkook's speeding down the terrain towards the Sycamore tree which grew deep and wide beneath the banks of a great rushing river.

You groan and throw caution to the wind, rolling down the steep mount in your Sunday dress. Jungkook turns to watch you, a grin spreading across his handsome face. "Look at you!"

You land on your feet at the bottom and scurry off to join Jungkook under the grandfather tree, out of breath entirely. "Now, look what you made me do. You're such a boy, you know that?! Making me come out here just to see some bloody--"

Jungkook has plucked a gardenia and placed it behind your ear. "Would you shut up? We got here on time. Behold."

In all its glory, the sun bathes you in its vivacious rays, creating a feeling of heavenly bliss as it dips below the horizon. The sky blushes pink, its clouds mere whisps above you. Wind rustles the leaves of the grand tree, rousing the birds to chirp their afternoon song.

"Mom used to come here all the time with my Dad, because of these." Jungkook clasped the blooming flower in his tender hands.

After a while, he says "the bugs will come out soon, so we ought to go back," as if he's trying not to scare something away. He helps you up, and with one last look across the valley, you walk next to each other back to the East Quarters.

You take all the silverware and plates by the tub to the dish-washing station and toss all of the linen napkins into the washing machine. All you had left was to blow out the lights in leading upstairs.

"Prince! It is very late, and there are no guests left for you to entertain. What troubles you?" Jungkook's sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands, still wearing his best suit.

"I disappointed you, y/n...I didn't like any of them." He admits, lifting his head up to sulk at you. "I should have told you then, but I didn't want to make you upset!"

Did Jungkook mistake your jealousy for disappointment?

"I'm not upset because you didn't hit it off with the girls..." You sigh. A confession is due, and he's ready to hear the truth from you about how you feel about him.

"Well, the truth is, I didn't like any of the girls because I like you, y/n. But you know that, don't you?" You pause, asking him to elaborate.

"Remember when I bought all the apples because I wanted to be with you? Like...I told you that you were my consort and I kind of meant it?" He felt pathetic now, realizing that you weren't just ignoring his advances. "So you didn't friendzone me for 2 years, you actually didn't know that I liked you."

It was almost laughable, a situation you would read in one of your illegal novels which you kept tucked away in your pillow at night. "No, Kookie, I didn't." You admit to your insolence.

You can't bear to lead him on any longer. You needed to put duty over your own self interest for the sake of the kingdom, even if it shattered his hope. It was better this way.

"But, you do know that we can't ever be a thing, right? It's just silly." Your heart tightens with the words which fall out of your mouth. "It is. Nevermind what your parents would think, what would it do for your image? You're on the world's stage, Jungkook, and you're a selfish person if you think you can just throw all of your duties away to date a scum of the Earth like-- like me!" With your heart in your throat, dry your eyes with your sleeve. "And...I want to, I really really want to, more than anything else to love you, Jungkook. I love you! I...can't." Through the blur of your tears, the shapeless blob that Jungkook has become stands up.

Taking his thumb and swiping it under your eyes, he sighs. Words escaping him, he takes your trembling body against his chest and nestles his head in the crook of your neck. Your cold hands travel underneath his overcoat to hold his waist. The Princes' lips plant a gentle kiss on your neck, chaste yet deep and satisfying.

"I will not accept any bride if not you, my love." He draws back, meeting your fervid gaze. "To the world, I remain a bachelor for a few years."

"And after those years, Jungkook?" You ride your hands up to caress the man's jaw. "You will still love me after those years, and then what?"

"I don't know," he says, voice as soft as powder. "I don't know many things, y/n, that's why I need you to teach me." His palms are rubbing at your waist, beckoning you closer.

His breath quickening as you lean your body against his hold, and you figure it must be the wine he drank to calm his nerves. That was it, wasn't it? He was drunk.

"You're not drunk, are you?" Your face sours, really hoping it's not the case as you feel your body temperature rise.

"Y/N, I've only had a glass. You saw I was a wreck back there." His lips kept chasing yours in a dance you can't quite describe. "I have wanted to hold you like this since I saw you selling apples on the street. Give me the honor..." His forehead against yours and his strong hands supporting your back, he's already fucking you with his eyes.

"The pleasure of being your lover." He squeezes your waist tight with his forearms, planting brisk kisses behind your ear and breathing in your scent. He smiles against you. Your skin pebbles at his affectionate touch, purring softly as your eyes roll back in delight.

"Kookie..." You breathe, leaning on his broad chest. "Kook, the maids are wondering where I am, I have to go..." You slur, tugging at his collar.

He grunts in protest, taking your ear between his teeth and nibbling it.

"If you let me go, I'll steal some cake for you tomorrow at breakfast." If there's anything Jungkook likes more than Cream Ice, it was cake. He unravels you from his arms and nods, his eyes softening.

"Request my service tomorrow, from Ms.Kang. She's been sweet on me lately." You peck his cheek before stepping back. Your rouge has embarrassingly stained His Grace's cheek.

Jungkook bows and presses a kiss on your hand, eyes rising to meet yours. "Til' morrow, babe."

Jiyoo shakes you awake the next morning, handing you a cake and a note that reads: "Prince Jungkook has a commission he must discuss with you. Meet him at his chamber immediately."

Lacing on a simple corset over your nightgown, you try not to look too red in the face as you climb up the stairs to His Majesty's room. You'd be up there alone, as requested. The girls would absolutely start rumors based on that alone-- rumors which you realize are probably totally true. This was stuff of scandal, after all...

'There shouldn't be anything scandalous about love.' You decide as you rap on His Highness' door.

"Please enter...but only if you have my cake!" Jungkook says in his morning voice. He's so cute.

The simplicity of Jungkook's abode takes you by surprise. His bedroom is very well lit, a capital display of the flowered valley through his bay windows washed the room in gold, painting his porcelain white carpets and his cotton sheets a warm creme color. His drawers and vanity were etched in gold, with breathtaking detailing.

The Monarch himself was splayed across the bed, laying on his side casually. He held a glass in his hand, holding a white wine. He puts down his glass and sits up as your presence.

"We both know that you didn't come here as my servant." You lock the door behind you. "And I have no such commission to give you, darling." The innocence which undertones his usual speech is missing as he coaxes you towards him.

"This much I know, Your Majesty," You say, taking a bit of frosting on your index finger and smudging it on the Princes lips. His black eyes, as cunning as a viper, watch you dangerously as you push two fingers past his plush lips. He wraps his hands around your wrist and draws your hand away, his gaze fixating on you.

"Set the cake down." At his command, you carefully place the confection down on a nearby chest, feeling Jungkook's eyes on you, drawing you back towards his grip.

"Let me pull your laces apart," with your waist held by his Herculean hand, he hums "and then let me pull you apart. I want to memorize your pleasures and gratify your desires, I need it, y/n..." Your back flush against his chest and your thighs split, his hands knead into you as he litters your collar with his mark.

You gasp softly against the crook of his neck, giving into his hold of you. His hot tongue spreads under your jaw, closing into a hard kiss as his hands travel back up to undo your corset and free your tits.

One by one, his fingers pop open the buttons left on your gown until the collar hangs off-shoulder to expose your collarbone. At the sight of new skin, Jungkook's tongue darts to stain it.

His hands stagger above your breasts. "Is it okay if I touch you here?"

"Oh, Kookie, touch me everywhere~" Your hands form fists around Jungkook's shirt, beckoning him impossibly closer.

Grasping one ever so carefully, his thumb grazes your bud as he playfully bites under your ear. "ah-- ahh,"

Jungkook groans in response, he can't believe how cute you sound. Curious, he wants to hear more, so he traces your thighs and experimentally pushes up the outside your cunt.

You squirm, tensing up immediately in response. You bring your hands down to find the latch on his trousers and dip your hands below to rub him through his undergarments. He heatedly bucks up to meet your touch, a panting mess.

You face him now as he watches you ride his fingers while you grip his girth through his clothes. He takes you by the ass and places you on his prominent bulge, hips rolling into you as he hungrily kisses you, his firm hands grinding your core on his cock.

His face is a sinful red, panting under you desperately.

"I've been wanting to do this," His voice warbles through your touch, running your thumb along his underside. It's his turn to gasp. He sits up and collapses his lips into yours, softer than rose petals and his taste faintly like wine.

You place your hand on his chest, and his heart is pounding, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his honeylike complexion.

Hastily, you pull your dress over your head and lean back to allow him to familiarize himself with your stark form, a dainty chain hanging between your bosom. Jungkook bites his lips as he wriggles out of his clothing, desposing of it beside the bed.

He's giddy behind those sultry eyes, you know him well enough that he's overexcited to get inside of you. It goes straight to his cock, your playfulness as you feel up his bare shoulders and discover his abdominals, your fingers tracing his ridges with a sense of innocent wonder.

He takes your hands and looks at you in this way-- Butterflies fill your stomach instantly. Jungkook's thumbing at your pout with his intrepid fingers.

His eyes flutter when grip his base and submerge your upper body below his hips. You lick a long, thick stripe up his underside, causing his breath to hitch and his head to fall back on to the bed.

Those goddamn cupid's bow lips of his would whisper the dirtiest things under his breath, lewd thoughts that sounded completely alien coming from His Majesty's mouth, he said for you.

"Oh, such a pretty mouth~ It's so good, y/n, you swallow me so good--" he moaned like a mantra, trying to keep his hips from snapping up into you. Your hot, wet tongue wrapped around his throbbing cock was only a fantasy to him for years.

He fills your throat with his girth, his taste tantalizingly smooth. It leaves your mouth with a 'pop.' You struggle to keep your legs apart as you crawl up to kiss him.

He takes those fingers of his and slides his index and middle into you and languidly thrusts them, smirking against your lips. "Shit, you liked that, hmm..."

"Kookie...please," you whine as he squeezes your ass hard before smacking it. You yelp, the sting of his fingers radiating from your skin.

"I like it when you beg, y/n, it's so cute..." He pulls your ass up to his thighs. He's flush hard against your abdomen, already sticky with his precum and your spit. You marvel at the self control he has.

You don't finish your thought before he has his head inside of you, impaling you on his cock and stretching your entrance, hissing at how incredible it felt to have you around him.

His shaft reached pleasure points within you had yet to discover. You clench, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. "Wh... hngh," he groans, "how did you do that, do it again--" You wrap your legs around his thighs and clench around him, biting your lip. You watch as he shivers from pleasure, feeling his skin horripilate under your touch.

His thumb is softly circling above your clit as he pulls out of you carefully. He swirls back in, nestling himself inside your heat, hissing. "Ahh~ Jungkook~!" At the sound of his first name moaned out of your mouth, he groans and rolls his hips up to create messy friction. That familiar knot in your stomach tingles as he plays with the bundle of nerves buried within you.

He glances up at your ruined lips, clashing with them again as he lifts your knees up with his hands and thrusts nice and rough, making you yell with every jolt of his cock. The smell and sound of sex fills the room as he experiments with positions, laying you on all fours.

"Get your ass up for me." You obey, ever servile. You're reminded-- you're his servant. He owns your work, he owns your services, and now he wants you in the most lucrative way, he wants your soaked cunt around his imperial cock. He gets what he wants.

Jungkook's palms smack against your ass one more time, just to watch the way it jiggles for him. He smirks a little before he shoves himself into your pretty little cunt. You bury your face into the pillows in pelasure as he chases your orgasm with vigor, fingering your clitoris while you move your hips back to meet his hard thrusts.

You whine like a harlot, his cock allowing you every satisfaction as he works a head-spinning orgasm out of that cunt. "I'm gonna cum, Kookie~!" you warn as you spasm against his length, moans ripping from your throat as you coat him with your thick juices.

His hips stutter up and he just barely pulls himself completely from you as he paints your back white, a guttural groan escaping his mouth.

After a while of loud panting and scattered giggling, Jungkook reaches over for a wet cloth and cleans the both of you gingerly. You trail your hands up to caress his jaw and kiss his lips softly.

"You need to tell everyone that I had a long and extensive request for the Harvest party, that I wanted a lot of fall fruits and vegetables featured in the baked goods, make it as specific as possible and make sure that you mention that I want to meet with you again, over dinner." His labored breathing punctuate his words, as youd kisses consume him. "And..."

"And?" You cock an eyebrow, simpering.

"Doyouthinkmaybeyoucouldbringmesomemilktogowithmycake?" He mumbles, eyes glued on the bed.

"What?" (If you give a Kookie a Cookie...)

Disgruntled, he sighs and repeats: "Milk! Milk for my cake. I know it's moist cause you made it but I'm really thirsty, especially after..." His cheeks flush a cute pink. You wait for him to continue just to fluster him a little more. "Y/N, just please!" You can't ever refuse his pouty face.

Next week, Jungkook's got you pinned against the hallway wall, making out with you hungrily as his hands ride up your dress. Just across the hall, his Dad is negotiating war with Portugal over land in the West.

The next month, you have his cock buried in your throat underneath the table at an important conference about how to create jobs.

All this while the pressure for Jungkook to find a bride continues to rise as he reaches seniority, and as his father's grey hairs pronounce themselves.

Warm touches are always hidden away to the public eye, but often shared between two kindred spirits underneath the man in the moon's watchful eye. Jungkook, as he reaches his maturity, grows strong. His jaw sharpens, and his eyes darken. His hair grows long, and he gains weight. Now at the proud age of 20, Jungkook had become a man before everyone's eyes, including the eyes of foreign monarchs and their eligible bachelorettes.

One day, you're serving the Royal family at a private dinner, when the topic of marriage comes up for the first time since his birthday.

"Your mother has made friends with the mother of the Austrian Princess, and she's invited you to the cordial ball to introduce yourself to the Princess. An allyship with Austria would prove advantageous for our relations with France, so you are to make your best impression." The King wipes his mouth. Setting his fork down, he continues: "It is in the family's best interest for you to marry her, if the French Princess, Anastasie, does not present this season or the next." The Queen holds the King's hand firmly, reassuring him from his shoulder. She wears a slight frown on her face, her eyes worrisome, somber. The King hides his anxiety, as he's been accustomed to from decades of responsibility. Would this be the face of Jungkook soon?

For now, Jungkook's face is scrunching at the thought of marrying Anastasie. She's not the most delightful young woman, her imprudence ruined her enjoyment of any event. She couldn't keep an intuitive conversation about regional politics and domestic policy for the life of her. Her people were on the brink of overthrowing the aristocracy, he was sure of it.

"Yes, father," is what you hear from him before you disappear down the stairs to fetch desserts.

Jiyoo interrupts your quest for sweets with a letter, signed by His Grace. She has a naturally innocent demeanor, her cheeks rosy and her frame as delicate as a feather. "Y/N, you have another special request from His Majesty...can I ask you why you get so many of these?" She looks genuinely curious, not a single menacing thought behind those eyes.

"It's because the Prince really really loves his cake." I mean, technically it was true. Jungkook never passed up an opportunity to squeeze, smack, or dig his fingernails into your ass during your sessions.

"Oh." Jiyoo pouts. "So it's not because you're like, in love or anything?" Her eyes are glued to the floor. You were expecting this question eventually, as the other girls in the kitchen were already suspecting it. It was only a matter of time before word slipped into the girl's ears.

"As much as I enjoy the Prince's interest in my baking, it isn't my place to confess any sort of feeling for him." Your answer is straightforward enough, so Jiyoo nods and hands you the letter. Another request.

Outside the Palace, Winter came like the wind. Lakes froze over, and couples tied up their skates and danced on the ice. The trees were bare and brown, not a single leaf persisting through the chilling breath of Jack Frost.

Jungkook had left for the Winter Palace, to volunteer and raise spirits up in the North. As heir to the throne, he was to be Commander in Chief of the Royal Armed Forces, and therefore needed to undergo intensive training in order to boost morale.

You're back home, and in your wake is your father, who has now grown tangibly tired. He's been on a strict diet of warm vegetable soup for about three months, now. His eyes are sunken, but he still wears a subtle smile even during his most trying days.

Match girls make their rounds at night, you watch as the lamplighters illuminate the streets with their tall ladders and their taller peacoats. Shop windows glow warm shades of yellow and creme; inscriptions on the glass create shadows on the white snow.

"Wow. It's almost as cold as the King's heart out here." You step outside one day with a cup of tea, sneaking in a cheeky smirk. Yeah, good one.

"I heard that!" You turn towards the little voice. A child, maybe about 9 or 10 years old is pointing at you. You squint at it.

"Well, it's true..." You mumble. You have a bit of change in your pocket, so you walk towards a stand to buy a hot bun and a paper.

"Chilly today, hon...Best you take this on the house." The tenant hands you a steaming cake wrapped in a simple cloth and your paper. You stick the paper in your dress pocket and take back your change. You nod a 'thank you.'

You spill the contents of your pockets on the dining table and snatch the paper, snapping it open. Your eyes eagerly skim the headline: "Prince Jungkook Fires Up Royal Army." Below is an article detailing the happenings of His Majesty. All of it sounded very intense, the running, strategizing, first aid training...Was there anything Prince Jeon couldn't nail on the first try?

You set the paper down and pick up your now lukewarm tea. In the back of your mind you're coping with the fact that the Spring Solstice is next week, and that marks the beginning of Jungkook's last season as a Prince.

The King is ill with tuberculosis, and recovery is unlikely. If Jungkook is to marry, it is next season and that was final.

Sitting at the window of his Winter Castle study, Jungkook plays with a ring nestled between his fingers. He looks out onto the lake, as if he's trying to reach you with his gaze. His heart is tight knowing that it would be the season he chooses his bride. Actually, he'd already made up his mind long ago. If his duty was to marry, there was no way to evade such a responsibility. He had to fulfill it, despite his anxieties.

He straightens up and walks out of the hollow room with a firm step.

You awaken with the sound of horse's hooves thudding against the Earth. It is yet to be dawn, and in the distance, thunder roars mightily.

A figure wearing a long, black hood hoists itself off of the animal, tying it to a nearby post. It walks towards an obscure entrance, unknown to many staff.

Intrigued, you wrap a blanket around yourself and peek out at the stranger. His fingers are shorter than his palms, and that's when he tosses of his hood, his eyes set on you. "Y/N..."

You're bewildered by his guise, questions filling your head.

"I was horny, so I left camp" He sits down at the counter, catapulting a cookie into his mouth.

You roll your eyes. "And the guards let you?! Jungkook!" You whisper-yelled at him, readjusting your makeshift blanket-dress.

"Obviously not!" He puffed out his chest with pride. "I bribed them," he smirks.

"You're insufferable," you scoff, your eyes wandering down to observe his physique. His shirt is anything but conservative, highlighting the muscle he'd earned through laborious, sweat-inducing drills. You can feel his eyes on your face as you observe him.

"You can't hide it either," he crosses his arms. "You're standing in the kitchen with a blanket around your naked body." He flicks his tongue. He steps forward, putting a finger under your jaw so you're looking him in the eye.

Your eyes fill with lust as he speaks over your lips. "Look at yourself..." A crash is heard in the other room.

Jungkook's head darts up and in a flash, he disappears into the night.

'Fuck.' You gather your dress from the floor and shuffle back to your chamber.

The first event of the season commences with the most exaltant of spirits as friends of old greet each other with youthful smiles. Juicy exposés, enticing tales, and thoughtful greetings are exchanged in the most formal manner, and the conversation is lively; the most controversial topic of conversation, however, is the rumor that Jungkook is to marry this season.

So far, he's been to four different private residences within his own Kingdom and has been invited, by the secretary of King Louis XVII to meet their daughter. It would be an understatement to say that stakes were high for the pending King.

You were kneading your dough a little too hard thinking about it. "Not so rough, y/n!" Ms.Kang snatches the mixture from your hands. "What is up with you lately, you're so tense! It's really disrupting the kitchen's dynamic."

You shrug it off. "It's going to be hard sedating Anastasie's sweet tooth, I suppose."

"Well, you seem to be doing just fine dealing with Jungkook's addiction to cakes...She's perfect for him, really." Ms.Kang throws more flour on your kneading table and steps off. You give up on the dough, covering it with a cloth and letting it rise.

Jungkook is tapping his feet, munching on finger sandwiches as he waits on you to make an appearance.

"Dearest Prince, look, I am wearing Mediterranean violet!" A duchess shouts as she passes by him, to which he raises his eyebrows at. Another, with dark green eyes approaches and begins speaking rapidly in French at him. Frightened and undereducated, his canned response was: "Excusez-moi, Pouvez-vous répéter plus lentement s'il vous plaît," to which the duchess furrows her eyebrows before something else catches her attention, elsewhere.

Truth is, Jungkook is incredibly shaken at the thought of announcing his engagement tonight. Well, that and the fact that you had yet to pop out of the kitchen. Man, those finger sandwiches were good.

As the night progresses, Jungkook realizes that if he doesn't get up on that platform and say what he needed to say, he'd have to say it in London. Setting his fears aside, he plants himself on top of the orchestral stage and taps a champagne glass with a cheese fork. The music comes to a stop.

With conviction, he begins: "The time has come that I announce my engagement. To all of my beloved friends, who have introduced me to the most beautiful, talented, diverse, and benevolent ladies I've come to get to know over the years, I thank you from the depths of my soul." He swallows and continues, his confident voice masking his trembling. "The life of a Prince is defined by the virtues presented to him at birth. Those virtues are: duty, responsibility, grace, kindness, mercy and integrity." Here comes the part, oh shit.

"I am abdicating my throne to my Cousin, the Duke of Namseong."

Silence sweeps the room. You poke your head out to see what was going on.

"...to marry the love of my life, y/n." He points at you. Your face is cherry red, and you find yourself dropping those same Danish fucking pastries all over the carpet.

"Shit," you fall on your knees, plucking them from the ground one by one. You don't know whether to run as fast as you can or to present yourself, but your body seems to be currently doing the latter. You go along with it.

Jungkook takes your hand tenderly on the stage. "I am unable to perform my duties as King, and therefore am ineligible for the throne." His touch gives you the will to continue beside him. You feel the pure fear rushing through your love's veins, and he knows that this is the hardest thing he'll ever have to do, yet he stands by his announcement.

So, if Jungkook doesn't get to be King of this World, he at least will forever be the King of Your Heart.

But all this, of course...is all in Your, dear reader, Head.

~

a/n:

hope you enjoyed.